Slut Wife

I paused one of the videos and thought of a few business friends who had gone through divorces and they admitted their failures in the marriage. A few of them had been in affairs with other women, frequently an employee, which I felt was way out of bounds. In my case, it was simply a matter of neglect. Diane deserved better than that.
The heartache I felt became numb, as the DVDs played on. By the third one, I began to feel some anger toward her. She had really gotten into these scenes and they were becoming more bizarre. Her vulgar requests were spoken, as any gutter tramp would say them. I could tell that it further increased her arousal to speak thusly and to be spoken to in kind.
I began to rerun certain scenes. They reminded me of our earliest sexual adventures, when we were young. She had a penchant for salaciousness back then and I had too. I asked myself why we had veered away from the very acts and comments that we once shared. The answer came quickly…the twins.
After they were born, we slowly settled into a different type of family. We were no longer a husband and wife who shared the occasional wild night of sexual bliss. Intimacy had become nothing more than a mild sexual release; something that we were required to do, to satisfy a basic human need. We had lost our playful edge. I realized that it wasn’t just my fault, but hers as well.
That brought about the sense of anger I felt at her. I watched some more of the seemingly endless encounters and found myself becoming aroused at her intensity and willingness to perform any sexual act. For instance, I couldn’t remember the last time she had performed oral sex on me and swallowed the results. She used to do it with passion and it made me feel like a God, as she took every drop.
By the fifth of nine discs, I had removed my trousers and began to masturbate. Diane was no longer my wife on the screen. She was just some hot whore who was being taken by a well-hung porn star. I began talking to her, as I stoked my prick, calling her vile names and loving it.
When I reached my conclusion, I shot my load on the cocktail table, saying, “Lick it up, you fucking cunt.” It had been a very long time since I had succumbed to that sort of vulgarity and it felt wonderful to release my frustration that way.