The Bad Wife
by ithkoryn@yahoo.com
A husband struggles to maintain his masculine dignity, but fails horribly.  


"Remember why you're fighting her," my wife Sue said while I drove, "She said
that you were a no-ball coward, a half-wit, a loser. She said you're nothing
but show. She said she could kick your tattooed ass in the time it takes to
toast a pop-tart."

Her friend Mary, the bitch with the slanderous tongue, was a lean,
pony-tailed, five-foot-four former cocktail waitress. She was as stupid as she
was arrogant. I can't even remember how our conflict actually began, but it
seemed like we never liked each other. Finally, one night while all of us - me
and my wife, Mary and her African-American husband, Blake - were all drinking,
the tension erupted into a verbal altercation. After returning home later that
night, I boasted to my wife that if Mary weren't female, I would have beat her
to a pulp. My wife mentioned this to Mary, and Mary took exception to it.
"Let's just see him try." So an actual fight was arranged.

Fine, I thought to myself. If this flimsy cunt consents to me thrashing her,
I'll do it.

The fight was to take place in their back yard. She and Blake trimmed their
lawn almost like a putting green - perfectly smooth and lush. Nice padding in
case I had to toss the self-aggrandizing bitch onto the ground, I reflected.

After brief greetings - and a warm hug between my wife and Blake - Mary and I
glared at each other as we walked through the house into the back yard.

It was decided that Mary and I would fight almost nude, so that no dangerous
objects could be concealed. I was wearing tight white briefs, and Mary was
wearing black panties that seemed to be made of spandex, or something else
shiny and elastic. A tight red sports bra held her C-cup breasts against her
chest. I could swear I saw her genital cleft through her panties. Did this
turn her on? The crisp outdoor air simultaneously hardened her large nipples
while making my scrotum tighten.

"I should've known you had pygmy genitals," Mary taunted me. I didn't have a
comeback so I raised my firsts.

"You gonna throw the first punch?" I invited her. "Or are you all talk?"

With that, Mary lunged at me. I easily sidestepped her, thinking, what an
idiot. Then I realized she had been faking, and anticipated my step. She swung
her left hand at my face and connected with my cheekbone. I heard a smacking
sound and immediately saw stars. It was a surprisingly firm blow, and in my
momentary daze, she landed several more blows: A right hook to the other side
of my face, an uppercut to my solar plexus which knocked the wind out of me,
and then a quick combination of blows landing alternately between my nose, my
mouth, and my stomach. I couldn't believe it; her fists were like a blur,
hammering all over me. Finally, before I could even take a viable swing at the
loud-mouthed bitch, I fell to my knees. I tasted blood in my mouth, my face
felt numb all over, and felt hot tears pooling up in my eyes. And I heard
laughter; from Mary, from Blake, and even from my wife.

As I hit my knees, I raised my arms in front of my face to block Mary's
on-going attack, and my fingers touched my own blood. This defense was
pointless, however, since Mary was throwing no more punches. She had obviously
won the fight.

"I thought you were going to kick my ass, Larry! I thought you were going to
beat me to a pulp! Where's the big strong man now, Larry? Broken, kneeling,
and - oh, my god! - weeping?"

With that, Mary grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands away from my face to
look at the tears on my eyes.

"I'll teach you to mouth off to me, little bastard. Look me in the eye."

I looked up at her stern face. As we made eye contact, Mary smacked her bare
foot into my groin. I howled in agony, collapsing at her feet and clutching my
balls.

"Don't ever mouth of to me, you fucking little pussy."

After the beating my wife drove us home, saying nothing the entire time. She
was clearly disgusted at my pathetic defeat. She frowned, scowled, and shook
her head in disappointment. She opened the door for me, and guided me up the
walkway with her arm around my waist.

Inside, she lead me into the bathroom. I assumed she was going to splash me
with antiseptic, maybe give me a bath to relax. But she didn't do that. She
pulled off my t-shirt, unfastened my belt, pulled down my pants and my briefs,
then leaned me face-first over our sink. Raising my eyes I could see my
bruised face, with my split, swollen, bloody lip a few inches from the mirror.
My ears were still ringing, my head was still swimming. My knees felt weak,
like they could give out at any moment.

"Larry," she said, "I thought I married a man. A man doesn't get his ass
kicked by a girl."

"She fucking cheated," I moaned, my head turned down and eyes closed.

"No, Larry, she beat you fair and square."

"She kneed me in the balls. It was not fair."

"She did that because she was pissed off that you started crying. Larry, we
all saw it. She had you beat, and when you started weeping like a schoolgirl,
she decided to punish you. If you're going to hold yourself out as a man, but
then act like a little pussy when you're challenged, you deserve to be
punished."

I felt Sue's hand between my legs; she smeared a scoop of petroleum jelly from
my balls up across my anus.

"And I agree with her. Men should be men, not petulant little wimps. And I
thought better of you. If you're not going to be a man, then I'm going to
treat you like the pussy that you've become."

With that, my wife began anal-raping me with a succession of strap-on dildos.
The first, which ruptured my anus with an abrupt jolt of pain, was 8" long. I
cried out.

"You like this, pussy husband? It's a fuck of a lot bigger than your sorry
cock, isn't it? This is what a real man is like. Feel a real man. Feel it in
your sorry ass."

I watched my tears spill into the sink, and heard myself grunting in reaction
to my wife's pounding.

After a few minutes of pounding my asshole, she stripped off the 8", and
strapped on a much thicker, 10" weapon. It stabbed into my body like a deep,
huge throbbing paid erupting in my lower guts. I whimpered for her to stop, my
crying becoming increasingly desperate.

"No, you little faggot. I won't stop until you're ready to be a man."

She leaned against me, causing my face to press against the mirror, and gave
me a rapid series of particularly barbaric thrusts, forcing a wail out of me.

"That your idea of being a man? You little fucking faggot. All right, I'm
going to rip your pussy wide open."

With that she tugged the 10" dildo out of me, then kneed me in the ass, right
where my cheeks converged. I grunted. She lashed my ass with the dildo a few
times, then said, "This is what I wish you were. Look, Andy."

She grabbed my hair, and yanked my face away from the mirror to flaunt her
next tool: A 12" monster of shocking diameter, fixed to a leather harness.

"I would love to feel what you're about to feel, but no. I had to marry a puny
little micro-man. A mouse-dick little man-twat. My husband gets beat up by
girls. Now bend over and feel the glory, husband."

My wife pounded the massive thing into me so deep I felt like it was bruising
my ribs from the inside. It knocked the air from my lungs. It was so damn
thick., I felt myself tearing to admit it into my asshole. I made no attempt
to conceal my grief and submission; I sobbed, trembled, and shook. The only
thing that kept me from collapsing onto the floor was the power of my wife's
hips, thrusting her huge penis deep into my aching, suffering body, pushing me
upwards. I intermittently wailed and sobbed, and babbled entreaties for her to
stop.

When my wife stopped sodomizing me, she told me that I would have to have
rematch with Mary.

"And you'd better win, or I'm going to kick you out of the fucking house."

A week went by, in which my wife taunted me at every opportunity. "Ready for
your rematch, Superman? Gonna get your balls back?" My bruises healed, for the
most part, and the internal pain from my wife raping me decreased quite a bit
after a few days. I was relieved by this; at first I was convinced I'd have to
go to my doctor, who happened to be my wife's cousin.

To avoid my wife's humiliation, I tried to stay away from home, working long
hours, pretending I had overtime assignments. In retrospect, this was stupid;
I should have trained, spent some time in the gym. Instead I just pretended it
wasn't really going to happen; I convinced myself that my wife was just being
cruel to punish me for being so weak.

But it did happen. We did have a rematch. The very next weekend after my fight
with Mary, my wife intercepted me on the way to the bathroom after I woke up.

"Put on your cape, Superman. We're headed to Mary and Blake's later today."

I spent the day tortured by anxiety, and frustrated by how nonsensical the
situation seemed. I mean, I was a strong, healthy, youthful guy; I ought to be
able to annihilate Mary. Comparing us side by side, no one would question my
physical supremacy.

I convinced myself that the first time, Mary had won by surprising me; with
one lucky move, she was able to throw me off-guard. And I was probably a
little tired that day. But this time, I would be ready for her. I would take
nothing for granted. And - most of all - I would not psyche myself into a
loser mentality. No; I would dominate this vulgar little cunt; beat her like a
dog; pound any trace of self-respect from her wretched little body.

When we arrived at Mary and Blake's, Mary showed mock surprise.

"I can't believe your husband came," Mary said. "What unexpected courage!"

I was about to tell Mary off, when my wife responded, "He knew he'd either
have to man up, or find another home."

They both laughed. I was stung by my wife's response, and I felt like glaring
at her, but the last thing I wanted was to give her an excuse to sodomize me
again. I realized I'd just have to do well in this fight, then her respect
would be restored.

Again, we all went into the yard. This time, Mary said, we should fight
totally naked.

"Why?" I demanded.

"My shorts are in the wash. What's the matter; afraid we'll see how small you
are?"

I'm sure I blushed while I undressed, but I swore to myself that I would save
my energy for a physical retaliation, rather than a verbal one.

Stripped of our clothes, Mary and I faced each other. I crouched a little,
holding up my fists. To my utter surprise, Mary spat on my face.

"Fucking bitch!" I said, wiping the spit from my forehead. As soon as I did
so, Mary swept her feet under my ankles and through her fist into my stomach,
knocking me onto the ground. I was winded, by sprang up to my feet almost
instantly. Mary's fists thundered against my face as I rose up. So before I
could fully catch my breath, I was knocked dizzy from the blows to my face. I
began seeing stars, and swayed on my feet. Fuck, I thought. Fuck. And again
Mary plowed her fist into my stomach in a quick right-left-right combination.
My hands fell to my knees; I barely kept myself on my feet. Once again, hot
tears pooled up in my eyes.

And she stopped. Rather than shattering me completely, which she could have
done, she just stopped. I could hear my wife sigh noisily. I could sense her
utter displeasure. As the ache in my gut loosened up a bit, I straightened my
back. Should I raise my fists again, I wondered, or should I just give up?

Mary took a step toward me, staring me straight in the eyes. Standing with her
face only inches from my own, she reached down between my legs and grabbed my
balls. She was smiling calmly, as if she felt no danger or fear whatsoever. I
turned my face down; I could not look her eye-to-eye. Her grip tightened, and
I heard myself emitting a high-pitched whimper. Through my squinting eyes I
saw that the lips of her pussy were thick, swollen with excitement, and her
pubic hair was dripping wet. As a final desperate attempt to do something to
defend myself, I tried to swat at her pussy with my fist. But this was
suicidal; this just pissed her off more, and she strengthened her grip on my
testicles until a horrific, pitiable shriek pierced the night - it sounded
like a piglet being slaughtered, but it came from me. As Mary annihilated my
manhood with one hand, she began punching my face with the other. The blows
from her fist knocked me back, but the steady tug on my genitals pulled me
forward. Finally, afraid that my squeals would cause the neighbors to call the
police, she let me go. I felt onto the lawn.

"I'm sorry, Sue," she said, walking over to the kitchen door. "Your husband
might make okay money, but he can't fight worth a damn." She and Blake stepped
inside the house.

My wife looked down at me with utmost contempt.

"I should just cut your balls off, you fucking loser."

With that, she kicked me feet apart, spreading my legs, then swung her foot
into my testicles. I screamed, my body thrashing involuntarily, my hands
clutching at my genitals. My wife left to join the others.

I wish that were the end of my sad story, but what happened then was as
humiliating as anything that had happened before. A few minutes later, after
my crying had subsided, the three returned to the back lawn, all of them
holding mixed drinks, acting festive and tipsy.

"Hey, Blake, have you ever fucked another man up the ass before?" My wife
asked.

"He's not into that," Mary said. "But I'd love to see it happen!"

"I'm game," Blake said, setting down his drink. Our wives cheered, and clinked
their glasses together. Blake quickly unbuttoned his jeans, dropped his boxer
shorts, and almost in a heartbeat his large cock sprang up like a bowie knife.
His balls were huge. I was already lying on my belly when Blake kneeled down
next to me. He pulled me up by my hips, forcing me onto all fours.

"I've fucked him up the ass before," my wife said casually.

"Really?" Mary giggled.

"He's going to start crying again. He's a feeble little faggot!"

Blake was laughing as he forced his cock into my anus. I was being raped by
another man, but I could not bring myself to resist the indignity. I didn't
want my wife to beat me, and at least I could give her pleasure this way, even
if I was not man enough for her in bed.

Blake's cock wasn't nearly equal to the 12" monster my wife fucked me with.
But as Blake took me from behind, I could feel his massive testicles slapping
up against mine. Each one of his testicles must have weighed twice as much of
both of mine, combined. And I wasn't the only one who noticed the size
difference.

"I love your husband's balls," I heard my wife tell Mary. "I wish my husband
had a pair."

"You should touch 'em," Mary chortled. "Go ahead."

And Sue, the bad wife, did just that; she knelt behind Blake, reached up
between his legs, and smiling sweetly, fondled his hefty testicles while he
continued to fuck me up the ass. When he came, the semen flooded all over my
ass in unbelievable quantity. My wife smeared her hand across the hot mass,
then wiped it on my face.

The End.