It was infuriating, and embarrassing.

[Tmmldr]

Dolly stood by the sofa and studied Tony leering and smiling at her. She made the perfunctory little laugh at his little risque comment about her short cutoff jeans and how they showed off her slender, athletic body. She handed him the beer, looked over at the half dozen friends of her husband watching the game, back at Tony still looking up and smiling at her, gave him another little smile and turned to go to the kitchen.

She knew where his eyes were. On her butt and on her legs. She could feel those eyes. But was he the one? Dolly felt it coming on again, the crushing feelings of embarrasment, which was always followed by almost a panic attack. She leaned against the kitchen wall, closed her eyes, and tried to get under control. She couldn't lose it, not now. It was just a Sunday after noon football game with some of her husbands buddies over. The waves of fear washed over her, her heart started beating double pace and the cold sweat came on. Nothing was threatening her. Hang in there, baby. Everything was okay.

Except it wasn't.

Was Tony the one? It'd been three months since she and her husband had gone out and had a wonderful night dancing and talking. She'd been so excited as they drove home that night, not just a warm glow from the love her husband showed. No, she'd been totally horny. All the signs, wet between the legs, nipples erect and chafing in that skimpy top with no bra, hurting every time they rubbed against the cotton top, when she laughed at a joke he made.

Had it been Tony? One of the others? Some stranger?

It was so maddening. How could she find out? She thought back. After they'd arrived home, they'd immediately gone to the bedroom. She'd changed and freshened up, then came out to a dark room when she felt her love behind her, his hard cock in her ass crack. She'd felt him run his hands up and down her almost naked body, then she'd felt him slip the blindfold on. She'd shivered as he caressed her nipples in the dark, his hard, muscular body behind her and pressed against her. His entire body was hard, like his cock. He'd led her over to the bed, then tied her down to the bedposts on her stomach. Then he'd started kissing her.

Was Tony the one? That cock that'd entered her and fucked her, while her husband kept holding her head and kissing her. He'd held her head so she couldn't look around or see under the blindfold, but it'd been dark anyway. And he'd kept kissing her deep, so she couldn't say anything at all. Had that been Tony's cock? Or one of the others in the living room watching the game? Her husband had pretended like it hadn't happened. He'd laughed off her questions, and said she was just drunk and imagining things.

She had to know. Who fucked her?

 

[DocCIS]

This is a clever idea. I can foresee her sleeping with man after man trying to figure out who it was, her desire and the incessant burning in her mind wanting to find out who it was overriding any morality and shyness she has...

Great start, and keeping an eye on this for any takers. I'm currently too busy with several other stories to jump on it now, but may in the future!

 

[MatthewVett]

I love the idea, as well! Lots of possibilities...

 

[JRaven]

Okay, this got me wet.
I see her asking her husband again who it was. When he refuses to answer, she tells him that she'll just have to fuck all of them once just to find out who's cock it was in her.
She asks who she should fuck first. He tells her 'Bill'. So she fucks Bill. The next weekend, he has her fuck Tom. And so on until Tony is the last one, and the one that fucked her that night in the dark.

So many possibilities...

Jenny

 

[Tmmldr]

Okay, this got me wet.
I see her asking her husband again who it was. When he refuses to answer, she tells him that she'll just have to fuck all of them once just to find out who's cock it was in her.
She asks who she should fuck first. He tells her 'Bill'. So she fucks Bill. The next weekend, he has her fuck Tom. And so on until Tony is the last one, and the one that fucked her that night in the dark.

So many possibilities...

Jenny

I thought so, too. The many possibilities. In fact, let's name her Jenny (LOL).

I see the husband as someone who keeps telling her she imagined it, maybe he's a narcissic overpowering personality, and she's somewhat submissive and very moral. She accepts his apparently sincere repeated statements that it didn't happen when he says them, but then, at night she dreams. She feels that strange cock pumping in her again. She feels herself cumming on that cock in her dreams, again. When she wakes up, she remembers how good it was. She wants it again, and at the same time knows that's a very bad thing to think about, let alone to be obsessed about. And since her husband says it didn't happen, she must be a very bad girl to want strange cock. It's very confusing and it tears her apart.

She masturbates, thinking about that strange cock, and cums. But her husband can't get her off, so she fakes it with him when he wants sex. She becomes obsessed with the idea of cock, and a need to find that particular cock that fucked her.

Jenny realizes that she may be going crazy. She has panic attacks where she has to hide so nobody can see her crying. They last ten minutes or so and go away, leaving her exhausted and weak. The attacks seemed to be usually brought on by a man looking at her perfect, slender body - they are brought on when she sees the stares and thinks "Was it him? Is this the nameless stranger who did it to me, who made me cum three times that night?". She'd see a man looking at her, as if he was feasting on her pert tits, or those shaped, athletic thighs, then the slightest accidental eye contact with the man would start it. She'd feel a wave of heat go over her, just as if she'd opened an oven with a roast in it. That itchy feeling would come, and she'd know her nipples were erect. Then the sudden dampness between her legs. Jenny would fight these feelings, but they surged back. That was when she'd panic, when she couldn't control her own feelings. When she knew she wasn't in control of her body, and what it did. And what it had done. When she was powerless. Like she'd been that night.

Then she'd remember how the orgasms had came over and over with the stranger. And she'd force those thoughts out of her mind. They'd come back, stronger and stronger. She'd force them out again, but each time she was weaker. She had thought she knew her body very well, having lived in it for twenty six years. Now she didn't know it, and she couldn't control the body she lived in, and it would of its own accord at times became a stranger to her.

After the latest of these attacks left her weak and crying from trying to control her thoughts and her emotions, she'd started touching herself. She was so tired, she just gave in to the bad thoughts. She gave into the images flooding into her mind, she gave into the memory of being on the bed doggy style, with that hard cock entering her from behind while her husband held her head. When he had held her so she couldn't see.

Jenny came to after one of these sessions on the rug, by the bed where she and her husband slept. She realized that her head was on the very spot where the stranger's feet must have been placed, as he grabbed his dick with his hand and looked at her ass, and looked at her exposed, open pussy and asshole. She imagined him grinning as he slid that cock into her pussy, him laughing as he used her just like a piece of meat, like a whore, not caring whether she felt pleasure, or pain, or nothing. Not caring what she felt or wanted, just using her for a moment's pleasure. She remembered that first little touch against her behind, and how it almost felt around her ass, down her crack, over her tight, clenched up asshole, down to her pussy and her clit. She'd remember that electric shock when it touched her clit, how she'd made it all wet. How that slick, wet cock with precum had moved around up and down her asscrack again. How he'd teased her relentlessly. Until finally when he was poised over her cunt again, she'd gave in, and moved her own ass to sink it in deep. He'd made her do it herself, all by herself. She was so ashamed at what she was doing, even as her body did it and thrilled in it, another part of her was screaming and crying. She'd took it all the way in, then started using it like a tool, using it just like he was using her. How she'd cried out as she let go and gave in to the part of her that was a mindless hunger, the part that just wanted cock, the part of her that only wanted to feel, not to think.

But this time, as Jenny slowly opened her eyes, or maybe as they focused after being open but vacant, as she regained consciousness, on the floor after frigging herself to an orgasm, she saw it. It was right under the bed, maybe six inches in. Something that wasn't hers or her husbands. Something....that must have dropped from someone's pockets. Something that maybe dropped from a man's pants, when they were crumpled around his feet, as he stood there wildly pumping a cock in and out of a equally eager cunt. She reaches a trembling hand out and clutched it.

Then she propped herself up on her elbows, her tits and nipples scraping the rough surface of the carpet, the cool air from the air conditioning making the insides of her thighs cold, touching her entire body and drying the sweat from it, drying the sloppy wetness from her frenzied sex.

Jenny lay on her stomach, naked on the floor, her ass up slightly in the air, and she knew.

She wasn't crazy.

She examined the (lighter, keys, pocketknife ???) in her hand, the finger with a wedding band behind it.

She WAS fucked by a stranger. On that very spot.

She was going to find the stranger that fucked her.

And her husband was a lying, creepy bastard.