Introduction:
Kristi is shocked by her lesbian wife's strange behavior after the Best Buy Incident. , The Devil's Pact
by mypenname3000
edited by Master Ken
Copyright 2014
The Devil's Pact, Tales from the Best Buy Incident: The Lesbian Cuckold
Note: This takes place in the week that followed the Best Buy Incident, following Kristi, whose wife, Ashley, was one of the victims of the Incident.
Thursday, June 6th, 2013 – Kristi Shelley – Tacoma, WA
“Hey, Kristi,” Adam said, peering over the top of his cubicle. “There's something wild going on in South Hill.”
I glanced up at Adam. He had piercing blue eyes, the kind that made every woman in the office melt whenever he looked at them. Well, every woman but me. I much preferred melting, blue eyes on a woman—like my wife, Ashley. She had these beautiful, gray-blue eyes that I could just lose myself in for hours.
“What?” I asked, curious.
I liked Adam. He didn't get the hungry look in his eyes like most guys do when they find out you are gay and you have a pin-up model for a wife. Since I started working at DaVita's Tacoma office last fall, I had become fast friends with Adam. It turned out we had a lot in common—the Seahawks, enjoying a beer after work, and staring at a pretty woman's ass and tits. We were both married, but there was no harm in looking, right?
“Some gas attack,” Adam answered. “At the Best Buy.”
I frowned, something nagging at the back of my mind. Then my eyes widened in sudden fear. As I headed out the door this morning, Ashley vaguely mentioned that she needed to go to Best Buy for something. I reached for my phone; I had to call her and make sure she was okay. The phone rang and rang and rang. When she didn't answer, my heart felt like it was in my throat.
“Call me right away,” I all but shouted at her voice mail.
“I'm sure she's fine,” Adam consoled, walking around to sit on the edge of my desk.
“I…yeah, she probably just was driving, or something,” I lied to myself. Ashley always answered her phone, even when driving. It drove me nuts.
Adam squeezed my shoulder then swore. “Here comes Gretchen.”
He ducked out of my cubicle before our boss, the uptight Gretchen Dicks could yell at him. She was in her fifties, skinny as a dry stick, like all the fluid had been sucked out of her. Her hair was pulled back into a bun so tight her face was permanently stuck in a scowl. She was like a vulture, always hovering at the edges, waiting to swoop in and devour a dying animal.
“Ms. Shelly, this is work, not a coffee social,” she snottily said, looking down at me over her long nose. “Stop flirting with Mr. Upton and do your work. I need those Medicare invoices.”
“I wasn't flirting, Mrs. Dicks,” I answered. Gretchen is a big stickler on last names. I pitied the poor man married to this harridan. “I'm gay, remember. And married. So, if you wouldn't mind, its Mrs. Shelly.”
“By noon, Ms. Shelly,” she continued, ignoring my words. “Your six month review is coming up.”
I gritted my teeth and nodded my head. I turned back to my computer, but I couldn't make any sense of the Medicare accounts. My mind was too preoccupied with the possible fate of my wife. Gas attack. What does that mean? Like sarin gas? Are people dying in South Hill? I called Ashley a second time. Nothing. What was going on? Was Ashley okay? Shit!
I stood up and walked to the bathroom, entered the farthest stall and felt tears running down my face as I hugged myself. Ashley's fine, I kept telling myself. Ashley's fine. Her phone must have died and she hasn't realized it. Ashley's fine. I grabbed my phone, googling the gas attack. There weren't any casualties I saw with relief. Just some gas that made people act inappropriately.
Inappropriately? What did that mean?
Feeling a little more relieved—at least she wasn't dead—I left the stall and splashed water in my face. I dried off with a paper towel, then checked my makeup. I touched up my lipstick and mascara. Even with make-up, I was plain; dull, brown eyes set in a round face. My lips were small, my nose a little too big, and my brown hair fell lankly about my face. Flat, uninteresting brown. I was the opposite of my wife in every way. She was tall and blonde; her face beautiful, with strong cheekbones that gave her a fierce aspect. A gorgeous Valkyrie, I would joke. And her breasts. They were 36 DD with large nipples that I loved to bury my face in. I just had little B cups. They were practically A's. I had no hips and a flat butt, while my Ashley had an hourglass figure and a gorgeous rear.
My phone rang and I jumped. I scrabbled to pull it out of my purse. I couldn't find it. My purse was a mess, filled with my large, black leather wallet; extra tampons; lipstick tubes, half of them empty; blush; packets of moist towelettes; and plastic wrappers. Finally, I uncovered my phone and saw with relief that it was Ashley calling.
“Oh, thank God,” I gasped into the phone.
“Hey, babe,” Ashley answered, sounding a little tired. “I…um…am going to the hospital.”
“Oh no, is it serious?”
“Um…well, it's hard to explain. I was at Best Buy, and, um…”
“I heard there was a gas attack,” I quickly said.
“Yeah, that's what they think happened. Um, it was weird. The gas made us do things…”
“What?” I asked.
“Um, it's hard to explain. Just come to the hospital, okay? It's Good Sam.”
“I'm on my way, Ashley.”
I sped the entire way to the hospital, not caring if I got a ticket. I had to see my wife. I hugged my wife when I found her in an exam room. She sat in stirrups, like she was about to get a gynecological exam. I was crying by the time Ashley told me what happened. My wife had been gang-raped. Some maniac made an entire store full of people fuck each other, and guy after guy took advantage of my wife.
“I'm fine,” Ashley protested after the exam. “Just take me home, Kristi.”
Ashley said she was fine, but she wasn't the same. In the days that followed, her interest in sex plummeted. My young wife used to be always begging me for sex, and it was usually me that said no. Now when we did have sex, Ashley would give me some great orgasms, but when I would return the favor, she just couldn't get going. I just had to be patient, I told myself over and over. She went through an ordeal. I encouraged her to go see a therapist, but she insisted that everything was okay. So, I decided to be the best, most supportive wife ever. I didn't marry her for the sex, but because she was a wonderful, caring woman.
“Kristi, the sink broke,” Ashley said as she called me at work. It was Monday morning, my first day back since the attack. I took last Friday off to spend time with Ashley.
“Well, ask Rick if he can fix it.” Rick was our next door neighbor, and he always helped out when things went wrong in our house. I had two left thumbs and Ashley was just hopeless with tools. Ashley is a college student on summer break. She was looking for a part-time job, but for now she had nothing to do but lounge around the house. “I got to go, Gretchen is walking this way.”
“Okay, love you, Kristi.”
When I got home from work I could hear the washing machine going and found Ashley making our bed. That's weird, I thought. I made the bed this morning before I went to work. Ashley wore a bathrobe, her blonde hair wet like she just got out of the shower.
“Hey, babe,” I greeted.
“Oh, hi, Kristi,” Ashley muttered and blushed guiltily.
“What?” I asked, frowning. “And why are the pink sheets on the bed?”
“I…uh…spilled red wine on the sheets,” she answered. “Sorry, I'm washing them now. I don't think there will be a stain.”
“Oh, that's okay,” I said and kissed her. Ashley broke the kiss, and quickly went back to making the bed. I suppressed a sigh. “So, did Rick come over?”
“Yeah,” Ashley answered, breathless, a smile playing on her lips. “He…um…he took care of the…eh…problem.”
“Oh, good. He's a helpful guy. Good with his hands.”
Ashley smiled fondly. “You have no idea, Kristi. And he's amazing with his tool!”
It was nice to see her smiling again, even if she was acting a little weird.
That night Ashley was more relaxed then she had been since the incident, almost back to her normal self, I was happy to see. Ever since the incident she had been tense and I was glad to see she found a release. In bed, Ashley went down on me and licked me to a screaming orgasm. When I offered to return the favor, she yawned and said she was too tired. After that amazing cum, I was tired as well, and I snuggled up to my wife and fell asleep.
The next day, when I got home, Ashley wore her bathrobe again, looking like she just took a shower. I found the blue sheets back on the bed and the pink sheets in the laundry. Neither of us liked the pink sheets. They were a gift from my mother who had weird ideas about what lesbians liked.
“I have good news,” Ashley said with excitement. “I got my old bartending job back at the Lady Luck.”
I blinked in surprise. “I thought you hated working there. You said all the guys just hit on you.”
Ashley shrugged, “It wasn't that bad, and I made good money. Maybe we can afford to get that jacuzzi.” There was a twinkle in my wife's eyes. She must be really excited about that jacuzzi to go back to work at the Lady Luck.
“Okay, but don't let those men paw you,” I joked, reaching out to grab my wife's butt beneath her bathrobe.
“Oh, yeah,” Ashley answered, shifting away from my playful hands. “I wouldn't want to be pawed by a bunch of guys.”
I frowned, her eyes grew distant, like she was thinking about something, and a flush grew on her cheeks. “What?” I asked her.
Ashley frowned at me in confusion.
“You had this weird look in your eyes,” I told her.
She smiled, “Just imagining how much fun I could have in a jacuzzi.”
“When do you start?”
“Next week. They want me to work Fridays and Saturdays and maybe pull a shift in the middle of the week.”
When I got home from work on Wednesday, I found my wife sleeping naked in our rumpled bed. “You okay?” I asked.
“What?” she yawned, and then her eyes opened in shock. “Oh, you're home early?”
“No, you fell asleep, silly” I said with a shake of my head.
She pulled the sheets over her body, seemingly embarrassed at being caught sleeping naked. I pulled off my work blouse and skirt and pulled on some more comfortable clothes. “I'm going to start dinner,” I told her and I saw relief pass over my wife.
I shook my head, wondering at her odd behavior, as I headed for the kitchen. Just be patient with her, Kristi. It hasn't even been a week yet. I heard the shower going; she sure showered a lot these days. Maybe she feels dirty because of what happened to her. As I put the chicken in the oven, I heard the washing machine start up then Ashley walked out. She was happy, almost skipping around the room and positively glowing.
“You're in a good mood,” I smiled.
“Yeah,” she grinned. “Umm, I'm starving.”
“Hmm, because lying around the house all day really makes you hungry,” I joked.
“You have no idea,” Ashley laughed.
“What are you washing?”
“Oh, the sheets,” she sighed. “I spilled more wine on them. Sorry.”
“You're turning into quite the klutz,” I giggled, shaking my head at her. “You're going to wear out our washer at this rate.”
After dinner, Ashley positively attacked me. She pushed me down on our bed, ripped my panties off, and just went to town on my pussy. Her tongue was everywhere and she used three fingers inside my cunt. She managed to give me multiple orgasms and when she finished, I was looking forward to returning the favor.
“I'm fine,” Ashley shrugged, rolling over to go to bed.
“Oh, okay,” I sighed in disappointment. I just needed to be patient with her.
The next day was Thursday, one week after the attack; I decided to take off work early to cook Ashley a delicious, candlelight dinner. I was going to make her favorite dish, so I swung by the market on the way home to pick up some lobster tails and a nice bottle of wine. After dinner, we could drink the wine and cuddle on the couch.
I walked into the house; the front door was unlocked and Ashley's car was in the driveway. I quickly put the lobster in the refrigerator and wondered where my wife was. I heard something, a noise, coming from the back of the house. I frowned, it almost sounded like a woman moaning. Moving through the living room to the hallway that led to our bedroom, I heard another moan.
A passionate moan.
That was clearly a woman panting in pleasure. Fear clutched at my heart as I stared down the hallway. Our bedroom door was open. Was Ashley cheating on me? I was frozen in place, my stomach roiling in terror.
“Oh, fuck!” a man's voice moaned.
I relaxed; she must be watching porn. We had a small collection of DVDs and some had guys in them. Ashley had a fondness for cuckold porn. She got off on the thought of some wimpy husband letting his wife fuck whomever she wanted.
I decided to catch her in the act. Maybe I could help her finish, I thought naughtily. I pushed off my shoes and walked quietly down the hallway. I could hear the slap of flesh and the creaking of a mattress. Closer and closer I drew to the bedroom door. The hallway light was off, and I was hidden in the dark shadows. I knew from experience that Ashley wouldn’t be able to see me until I reached the door.
“Fuck, your cunt is tight!” the man moaned.
The woman giggled. “Umm, your cock is so fucking hard, Rick!”
I froze. That was Ashley's voice.
No, I told myself. It just sounds like her voice. And it's just a coincidence that the guy in the porno is named Rick. It's a common name. Ashley's gay. She wouldn't be fucking our neighbor. Just take a few more steps and you'll see her masturbating with one of our many sex toys. I forced myself to take that step. I could see into the room, but not the bed. Another step.
My heart broke.
There was my wife, my beautiful Ashley, naked and riding atop a man. Atop Rick. I could see the side of her left breast bouncing as she rose up and down. Rick's hand gripped her plump ass, and I could see his hard cock disappearing into my wife's pussy. Ashley's head was thrown back, her blonde hair flying wildly about.
“Why, Ashley?” I whispered to myself.
And it all made sense. Why Ashley was changing the sheets, taking showers, acting so weird around me. My wife was having an affair. With a man. I wanted to burst in and shout at her, to explode with righteous anger. I wanted to make her feel as terrible as I felt at her heart-wrenching betrayal.
I wanted to burst in, but I was rooted to the spot, my eyes glued to the sight of the cock disappearing into my wife's cunt. I licked my lips. She was enjoying it so much; that hurt the most. Not only was she cheating on me, but it was with a man. I felt an itch between my legs, and without realizing what I was doing, I slipped my hand down into my slacks, into my panties, and found my pussy.
I was wet.
I started rubbing my pussy, rolling my hard clit between my fingers, as I watched my wife writhe atop Rick. She bounced faster and faster. I slipped two fingers up inside me. I never felt so wet in my life; my breath quickened as I furiously masturbated. I bit my lip, stifling my moan. Why was I so turned on? This was so wrong!
“Oh fuck, I'm cumming!” Ashley panted. “Oh god!”
“Fucking slut!” Rick groaned. “Oh fuck, your cunt is rippling on me! You fucking whore! I'm gonna cum in your dyke cunt!”
“Yes, yes!” she moaned. “Cum in my pussy!”
I came as Rick flooded my wife with his cum, shuddering quietly in the hallway. I nearly fell, catching myself with an outstretched arm on the wall as the powerful pleasure just exploded through me. My vision darkened and I saw stars. It was one of the most amazing cums I ever had in my life. Guilt flooded my veins, pumping cold through my body. Why had I masturbated? Why did the sight of my cheating wife fucking a man turn me on so much? What was wrong with me?
“Hmm, I needed that,” Ashley purred. “But you should get going before Kristi gets home.”
“Yeah. Same time tomorrow?”
“Sure, stud,” Ashley giggled.
I came to my senses and quickly retreated down the hallway as I heard Rick start to get dressed. I ducked into the dining room and waited for him to leave, my heart pounding in my chest. I licked my tart juices off my fingers. Images of Ashley atop Rick kept flashing through my mind, and my rebellious pussy was growing damp again.
What was wrong with me?
I heard the shower start up and the front door slam as Rick left. I decided to confront my wife. I didn't care what happened to her last week at the Best Buy, that didn't give her the right to cheat on me. To hurt me. I marched quickly through the house, letting my anger build. I walked into the bedroom, the bed still mussed from their adultery, a large wet-spot staining the sheets. I threw open the bathroom door and I saw Ashley jump through the distorted glass of the shower door, her form a pick blob through the glass.
“Kristi?”
I could hear the guilt in her voice and the fear. My anger burned through me. That was the same guilt I've been sensing from her all week. God, how could I be so stupid. All the signs of her adultery were everywhere. I grabbed the sliding door to the shower and threw it open. Steam poured out and Ashley was frozen, water running down her lush body, a loofah held in one hand, frozen at her groin.
My cheating, slutty wife was trying to clean up her betrayal.
“Kristi?” Ashley asked again. “What's wrong?” She was trying to sound casual.
I stepped into the shower, dropped to my knees. What was I doing? Why wasn't I yelling at her? My work clothes were getting soaked by the warm water. I didn't care. I pushed the loofah aside and buried my face into her pussy. Oh, my God, what am I doing? Why was I eating her pussy? I tasted bitter soap, then the tangy, sweet flavor of my wife, and finally something salty.
Rick's cum.
It tasted delicious.
“Stop it!” Ashley protested in fear. “I'm not in the mood, Kristi!”
I ignored her as I devoured the proof of my wife's adultery. I shoved my tongue up her pussy, trying to find every last trace of cum. Ashley's hands gripped my head, trying to push me away. So, I reached around and grabbed her ass, holding on tight, and kept right on eating the delicious, cheating mess I found.
“Please stop!” Ashley shouted. “What the hell, Kristi!” She tried to pry my hands off her ass. “Goddamn it stop, Kristi! I'm not in the mood!”
I rubbed my nose against her clit, enjoying the feel of her intimate flesh upon my face, as my tongue quested for more and more cum. I knew just where to touch her to drive her wild and a throaty sigh escaped her lips.
“Oh damn!” my wife moaned.
Ashley's hand on my head relaxed and she stopped trying to push me away. I felt the tension melt out of her body, and then her hips started to writhe as the pleasure stole through her. I looked up at her and saw her face smiling through the valley of her heaving breasts.
“Mmm, Kristi,” she moaned. “I don't know what's gotten into you, but goddamn if that doesn't feel amazing!”
I redoubled my effort. For the first time in a week, I gave my wife pleasure. My anger faded as I kept devouring her cunt. I started to only taste her tangy juices; there was no more cum left, so I concentrated on her clit, flicking my tongue around the little pearl, as I slipped two fingers into her tight pussy.
“Yes, yes, eat me Kristi! Oh, God, your lips feel wonderful! Umm, keep doing that with your fingers! Oh, you dirty slut! Oh fuck, oh fuck, I love it when you play with my clit, Kristi! Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum!”
I happily devoured my wife's juices as she came on my face, her body shuddering delicately as her orgasm rolled through her. I stood up and Ashley hugged me tightly, kissing me with her tongue and pressing her large, wet breasts against me. She broke the kiss, stroking my face, and I saw love in her eyes. The last of my anger faded and I hugged her back.
“I'm the luckiest woman in the world,” Ashley smiled. “Let's get you out of those clothes and I'll return the favor.”
As Ashley went down on me, I pictured her writhing atop Rick. The way her breasts bounced heavily as she rode him; his hard cock spearing in and out of her wet cunt. I had promised myself that I would be the best, most supportive wife ever. Maybe this is what she needed to do to get over what happened to her. Maybe I just needed to keep loving and supporting her.
Yes, that's what I will do, I promised myself as I came on my wife's mouth.
“I don't know what got you all fired up, but that was fucking amazing,” Ashley said as we toweled off. She paused, swallowing, then asked, “I tasted fine, right? I didn't taste funny, or anything.”
“You tasted great, Ashley.” She relaxed and smiled. “Tomorrow, don't take a shower. Let me clean all of Rick's cum out of you.”
Ashley froze, then gave me a considering look. “And you're okay with that?”
I bit my lip. “Well, I was angry at first when I saw you riding him. But, it also turned me on.”
A playful smile appeared on my wife's lips. “It turns you on, huh. And you are just dying to eat more cum out of my pussy?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, feeling embarrassed.
“I found it so fucking hot when you ate out my cream-filled cunt, Kristi,” she smiled. “Hmm, why don't you help me get ready to go out?”
“Out? Where?” I frowned. “I bought lobster tails for dinner.”
“That can wait,” she said firmly as she walked to our walk-in closet. “Now, which dress should I wear?” She held a slinky, black dress and a tight, red one. “I like the black, it shows off my cleavage. But the red just screams 'fuck me.' What do you think, Ashley?”
“I don't understand?”
“Ever since I got gangbanged, all I can think about was how great getting fucked by a cock felt!” A look of ecstasy crossed my wife's face. “I need them, babe. I learned that I love cocks! They are all I could think about. When Rick came over on Monday, I just couldn't help but invite him into our bed. It was so wonderful!”
That stung, but I forced it down; I promised to be loving and supportive. “So, why are you going out?”
“I'm going to go out to find some guy and let him fuck me,” Ashley explained. “I've only been holding back so I wouldn't hurt you.” A smile split her lips. “You can sit here at home and wait, and imagine what nasty things are being done to my little pussy. When I get home, you get to clean me up.”
I wanted to object, to tell her to stay home, but my pussy felt so wet. “The red one,” I heard myself say. “You want to get fucked after all.”
Ashley laughed. “That's my good little cuckold. Now, why don't you chose the sluttiest underwear I own.”
I don't know what came over my wife, but I was so turned on as I pulled out a black thong from her dresser, knelt down and pulled them up her smooth legs. I adjusted the thong, making sure it rode through her ass and was tight against her pussy. I chose her bra, styled her hair, and helped her with her make-up. She looked like a sex goddess when she left the house, her plump rump swaying sexily as she walked out to the car.
She paused before climbing in our car. “Thank you, Kristi, you're the best wife ever.”
I flushed. Part of me wanted to stop her; she was my wife. I should be the only one to touch her, but one look at the desire in her eyes shut me up. This is what she needed. And my pussy was wet with excitement thinking about her messy pussy and how delicious it would taste as I cleaned her up. So I said nothing and watched her drive off.
I went back inside, heated up a microwave dinner, and sat on the couch. As I ate, I imagined what my wife was up to. When I finished eating, I started to rub my cunt, fantasizing about my wife getting fucked in every different way possible. I had promised to be supportive and help her through her experience. No matter how long it took or how many men she had to fuck, I would be eagerly waiting for her.
So I could lick her pussy clean like a good, little cuckold.
,