Oh, Damn — Part 1
Prologue
Eight years ago, I went off the deep end. My first marriage was falling apart. Work was a nightmare to begin with, but adding a failing marriage to the mix nearly cost me my job. Friends my wife and I had maintained for years were suddenly disappearing. The night she left to go fuck some stranger she met online, I decided to kill myself.
I don’t know what I took. I just grabbed whatever pills were in the cabinet. Some were mine, some were my wife’s. I figured it would be best to have something of everything in there. And to top it off, I tried to drink some of the cleaner under the kitchen sink. It was hard even getting it down.
I started to write a suicide note. I don’t even recall what it said. At some point, I passed out, pen and paper still in hand. Maybe I died—who knows at this point. As you can tell, I pulled through, or wouldn’t be telling you my story.
I woke up two days later in the hospital. My wife was pissed. She’d come home around 4AM to find me dying on the couch. Medics came and took me to the hospital. They recovered most of what I’d ingested, and what they didn’t get was followed by charcoal and a cathartic. To spite me, my wife came to the hospital with some guy she met at the club the previous night, while I was in a coma. She was a vindictive bitch.
After she left to go do who knows what, I stayed in the hospital for two more days. I cried most of the time. The loss of my wife was hard. Seeing her with other guys was harder. But knowing I’d failed at suicide was hardest. I had my solution in hand, and I couldn’t even do that right.
But little did I know that my solution HAD come at my own hand.
It was the night before I would be discharged, after hours of crying, that a new nurse came in. Her name was Brandi. She was 19, and had taken nursing classes while still in high school, only to graduate with a degree a year later. I know I was lonely and sad, but Brandi was a vision to behold. She was tiny, but had killer curves. Her breasts were average-sized, but on her small frame they appeared huge. You could tell that her hips were to die for, even under her unflattering scrubs. Her long, blond hair accentuated her perfect little face. Even her tiny, upturned nose was enough to get my blood boiling. I was desperate to have her.
That’s when I felt it. I can’t quite describe the sensation. It was like I could feel myself thinking. A tingling moved through my brain to the center of my forehead and gushed out as if my head were a fire hose. And it was aimed right at Brandi, who had been taking my vitals at the time. It hit her just as forcefully as it came out from my head. One moment she was watching the blood pressure gauge, the next she was tearing at her own clothes to remove them.
Oh, damn, I could feel the power!
I was hard in an instant, and as soon as my gown could be pulled aside, she had engulfed my entire length. Her head never stopped bobbing up and down as she suctioned at my cock with her mouth and tongue. It had been weeks since I’d been with my wife, so I didn’t last long. She took every spurt into her mouth and savored the flavor before swallowing it entirely.
She never kept moving. At that point, she alternated between her hands and her mouth to get me hard again. The best recovery I’d ever had was after at least six or more hours, and even then my dick was unimpressive. This time, I got hard in a flash, and I swear it was better than the one I’d had minutes before.
Once she got it to full-size, she leaped onto the bed and impaled herself on my cock. Her luscious, tiny body took it all in one motion. I could feel something touching the tip of my cock inside her, and the sides were already being massaged by her hot and well-lubricated passage. She started lifting herself up in the air with her legs, only to drop all the way down to my abdomen over and over again. She must have come a few times, given her reactions and muscle spasms. I lasted forever, compared to normal. At some point, she started speeding up to an intense pace. The moment she came, she started gushing with moisture. The moment before, I wasn’t even having to hold off my orgasm, but the second she came, I dropped a second load inside her body. It was the most intense sexual experience I’d ever had.
She dropped down and laid on my chest, breathing heavily. I thought she had passed out, but the second another nurse came in to see what was keeping her, she jumped up like a rocket. Blushing wildly, she dressed and ran out of the room. The second nurse asked if I was OK, and if she had forced herself on me. I simply told the lady that it was a moment between two people that felt right. The nursing staff ignored me that evening, which was fine by me since I was exhausted. I slept well that night.
The next morning, as I was being discharged, I tried to call my wife. Her phone was off, going right to voicemail. I wasn’t sure how I’d be getting home until my wife’s best friend showed up to take me home.
My wife’s friend was one of the people who had convinced her that living a naughty lifestyle would be so much fun. I didn’t want to be near this woman, to say the least, but I needed a ride home.
As I would have expected, she tried to intervene a bit before I saw my wife at the house. She told me that my wife was discovering herself, and to have faith in her. I kept my mouth shut the entire ride. I was pissed, but I also didn’t want to walk home.
As she kept talking, my anger boiled. She thought she was going to calm me down so I wouldn’t fight my wife when I saw her at the house. The opposite was true—the more she talked, the more I hated her for introducing my wife to this “free” lifestyle. Just because it worked in her marriage didn’t mean it worked in mine.
I walked into my house, where my wife sat on the couch, waiting for me. Instead of stopping to talk to her, I simply went to the bedroom to lay down. For a few minutes, I could hear my wife conversing with her friend. I heard them laugh a few times, which started pissing me off. Then I heard a couple of beer bottles opening. I looked over to the clock. 11:13AM. I knew they’d be shit-faced within hours, and the drunkenness would last through the night. Most of it would be enjoyed at a club, or even worse, at some stranger’s house. I’d had enough. And for the second time, I felt the tingle in my head.
Where the first was a fire hose, this was a water main. It felt awesome, having this strange energy gushing from my mind. I heard my wife and her friend squeal as if something had scared them. Curious, I got out of bed to see what had happened to them.
The sight I opened my door to was the last thing I expected. My wife and her friend were on the floor, naked as can be, eating each other out. Now, I’d been with my wife for nearly ten years, and I’d known her best friend for at least three years. Neither of them had a lesbian bone in their body. But here they were, going to town on each other like their lives depended on it. My wife had found one of the knick-knacks she left on the coffee table and had started to wildly fuck her best friend with it. Her friend was busily licking away while trying desperately to get her fist inside my wife.
As I stood there, I couldn’t help but get hard. I was still attracted to my wife, who was average-shaped with some slight curves to her. She had big tits, which I’d loved to hold on to during what little sex she’d let me have over the years. Admittedly, I had always found her best friend more attractive. She was tall, red-headed with tons of freckles, and very curvy. I’d fantasized a couple times about her. Now, standing there, a new fantasy formed in my mind—one where I fucked her while my wife at her out.
I was naked by the time I managed the fifteen feet into the living room. Neither seemed to notice me. That is, until I stabbed my wife’s best friend in her wet cunt. I thrust in and out a few times, and eventually found myself dangling between her cunt and my wife’s face. My wife took as much of me into her mouth as she could manage from that angle, then took my dick and popped it back into her friend’s snatch. The second I hit the back of her hot cunt, the friend came all over my wife’s face.
My cock now extremely well lubricated, I pulled out and decided it was time for my first anal experience. I’d always wanted it to be my wife, but she’d never been willing. So, I simply lined my cock up with her friend’s pucker and started pushing. It took almost no time to find myself buried to the butt cheeks in hot red-headed ass. It hadn’t dawned on me before that the woman had probably taken it up the ass dozens of times. I started pumping in and out, being sure not to come out completely. It was much more intense than fucking a pussy, but I held out for a few minutes. Once I reached my apex, though, I came. Hard. So hard that it hurt. I couldn’t come fast enough for what was coming from my balls. After a minute of throbbing and squirting out every last drop, I pulled out with a pop. The moment my dick fell to my wife’s face, she was cleaning me off like a vacuum. And when I was spotless, she scooted up and started sucking the cum from her best friend’s ass.
I stood up and walked to the kitchen. Pouring myself a glass of milk, I heard the two of them revving up again. This time, my wife had produced a vibrator from her purse and was buzzing the fuck out of her best friend’s clit.
Reflecting on what had just happened, I recognized that I’d been the cause of both instances. I tried to duplicate the effect, with no success. Over and over, I failed to recreate the feeling within my brain. Frustrated and angry, I thought about paying my wife back for her actions the past few months. I thought about how naughty it would be for the old man next door to come over and fuck my wife’s best friend, to teach them a lesson about getting what they ask for. No sooner had the thought come through my mind, as a small squirt gushed out of my head. It felt like the opposite of a water pistol releasing water. A second later, I heard the door open.
The old man who lived next door was standing on the welcome mat, naked, a semi-hard cock in his hands. His wrinkled body wasted no time as her walked over to my wife’s friend, knelt behind her, and tried to insert his straining penis. She could care less about who was fucking her, so she pushed backward onto his cock. As the two of them started thrusting back and forth, my wife crawled out from under her friend and walked into the kitchen.
She told me she was sorry for what she’d been doing. It was as if the wave of passion had left her, and she now realized that something wasn’t right. I felt like I could punch her in the face. To find remorse after months of fucking around town really pissed me off. A thought formed in my mind, boiled up, and pushed through my skull. My wife started crying as she walked out the door, naked, and across the street. I’d willed her to go fuck the teenage boy across from us, and if his sister was there, to fuck her too. I could care less about my wife’s remorse at this point. I wanted her to suffer.
That was when I lost myself. For the next few months, I learned how to control my new-found power better. It wasn’t perfect, as I was prone to rash thoughts in the heat of the moment. But I could exert some control when I needed to.
I forced my wife to do all sorts of things. At first, she started working at a local strip club. I forced her to have sex with the owner and other women that worked there, even though none of them were really that interested in her. I forced her to have sex with random people, male or female. She paraded around town naked on several occasions, which caused her to get arrested, at which time I would force her to pleasure the police officer to let her go. No one was off limits. Hell, I was so pissed that I forced her to go down on her own mother.
While having some random teen from the local grocery store suck me off in the car one day, I realized what I’d become. It had been six months since my suicide attempt, and it was as if part of me HAD died that day.
I pulled the girl off me before even dropping a load into her mouth. Pushing her out of the car, I didn’t undo the need to taste cum that I’d instilled in her, so she followed a couple teenage boys to their SUV and got inside it. I drove off, with no particular destination in mind.
Hours later, I pulled into my own driveway. My wife was at the strip club, as she’d been altered to do. I forgot about a woman who lived down the street who would come over for a fuck every once in a while, so I pushed her to go home to her husband and find satisfaction from him.
I packed some of my things. I left anything that would remind me of my wife. I grabbed what I needed to survive on my own, and left.
I ended up on the other side of town. I had to push the landlord of an apartment to not worry about my referenced, but I had a new place to stay.
I went to a lawyer the next day, and drew up divorce papers. I knew I’d have to push my wife to accept them, but I had some time before I’d have to do that. I found a group for recovering addicts, and sat down for my first meeting. I was determined to wean myself from the temptation of my own power.
It wasn’t easy. I’d become familiar with the joys of sex after years without it, and had to bring home a fellow recovery attendee a few times. It took me months to make my last push, which was ultimately to give my wife freedom from her new life. I returned her back to as close to normal as I could imagine.
It was the final act of my power.
Or so I thought.