The Devil's Pact, Tales from the Best Buy Incident: The Lesbian Cuckold - Sex Stories

The Devil's Pact, Tales from the Best Buy Incident: The Lesbian Cuckold

... 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, ...