Lots of insight’s in the responses to the OP…
Being the center in a gang-bang is high on the list of common fantasies for women. It’s more difficult to know how many women realize their gang-bang fantasy.
KK’s fascination with gang-bangs started in college. She pulled a train at a frat party. That experience led to months of being a frat house fuck-toy. The young men even dedicated a special room in the frat house for KK.
Since that initial experience, KK’s centered in dozens of gang-bangs; spontaneous events, organized events, in venues from outdoors to clubs, hotels, adult bookstores and theaters, private parties in homes…
Adult bookstores and theaters (I’ll abbreviate these venues under the collective acronym ABS) are among the least well-controlled for a gang-bang.
Positives include a collection of horny, willing, eager men in the ABS patronage, in some cases a sort of taboo aura because of the semi-public setting and related factors, and the logistical ease of just showing up, without the effort of planning an event.
Negatives include things ranging from hygiene, the lack of controlling “quality” of a partner (ABS patrons are just random men from any/all walks of life), health risk, law enforcement presence/intervention, to cleanliness of the venue (many ABS are filthy).
The remainder of this is long, no gang-bang involved, but is some insight into our earliest experience in the ABS environment. It took place decades before our “official” journey down the hot wife road.
My obsession with KK engaging in sex with other men began as the result of emotional trauma, during my undergraduate, collegiate years. The triggering event was KK’s decision to break off our engagement - a traumatic, heart-breaking moment.
During that period, I developed a growing, seemingly perverse obsession over thoughts, visualizations, and my imagination, thinking of KK having sex with other guys. Some was based on suspicion, some on innuendo, some just on logic, and knowledge of KK’s personality and needs. Those feelings intensified throughout the period of our break-up.
Eventually, we got back together, KK and I resumed our engagement, and we got married shortly after completing our undergraduate programs. There was possibly a relatively short window in time, six to eight months, in the period just prior to the wedding, through the first several months of married life, during which I was relatively free of the obsession. That did not last.
Setting other details aside, the “perverse” obsession returned. It was a sort of gradual thing, like a day becoming slowly overcast. The obsessive thoughts of KK having sex with another man returned as a sort of simmering, ephemeral wisp of mental imagery during sex.
There is an entire story behind the “dam burst” event which revived my obsession, the summary is of note in the context of this narrative. KK and I were doing well in our early married life. We were enjoying frequent, and “dirty” married sex, in its full bloom, still relative newlyweds, fucking like bunnies.
Through my job, I had been granted use of a VHS recorder/player, allowed to take it home to view work-related recordings for analysis and research purposes. In that era, VCR’s and players were a relative luxury, expensive, and in a sense primitive by contemporary standards.
I’d had the VCR at home for about a month. One evening, KK and I were watching the local news on TV. There was a piece about crackdowns on adult-oriented businesses in town, including a strip joint, and an adult bookstore. The strip joint was in violation of a local proximity ordinance, too close to a church that had moved into the vicinity, in which the club had been operating for a half-decade. The adult bookstore (ABS) was notorious as a property of nuisance; frequent law enforcement visits related to public lewdness reports, altercations involving ...... and alcohol use, battery, robbery, and other issues.
The news report seemed to garner undue attention and interest from KK. At the time, I had no idea why, no insight. Youth and inexperience likely, I was curious about KK’s discussion:
“Baby, have you ever been to one of those places?”
At first, I was unable to come up with a response. I hedged, “What places?”
KK’s facial expression was hard to characterize, kind of a sneer/smirk, her lips pursed, jaw set, “You know what I’m asking… Don’t lie. Have you ever been to one of those places? Tell me…”
After a long silent pause, I decided to play her game. “Yes. I’ve been.”
KK said, “Really? You’ve been to a titty bar? To a porn shop? Really?”
Another pause, after collecting my thoughts, “Yes, I’ve been to a strip joint, and to an adult bookstore.”
KK’s response was oddly rapid, “Would you take me to one of those bookstores? If I wanna go? What’s inside them?”
Her barrage of questions was almost James Joyce style, stream of consciousness, a flow of unpunctuated inquiry about the ABS environment. It was all I could do to mentally keep up with the flow of her questions. In the end, I agreed to take her for a visit - to satisfy her unexpected curiosity.
The following Saturday night, we made a “date” to visit an ABS that I’d scouted earlier in the week. KK was on pins and needles the entire day. We had dinner out, as preamble, including a couple of glasses of wine for KK - liquid courage. The drive from the restaurant to the ABS was short.
The venue was in a sort of rundown, seedy strip mall. It was dusk, not quite fully dark. KK said, “What if somebody we know sees us?”
I said, “That’s not likely, and if they do, what are they doing here?”
That seemed to quench her concern, at least in the moment. We parked, but not directly in front of the ABS, deciding to walk the distance to the entrance. KK had my hand in hers, a near vice-grip. My beautiful, young wife was wearing jeans, a sweater, and a pair of white, low-heel pumps - not outrageously, “fuck me” attention-getting, but subtly sexy, sort of innocent.
Inside, we were met by a sort of barricade - a clerk manning a desk, with a swinging, token operated gate adjacent. It was reminiscent of a public transit turnstile. Both KK and I were nervous, likely for different reasons. The clerk was surly, silent. The hand-drawn signage read: “Two tokens for $2.50”
The hand-scrawled sign on the turnstile read: “Entry fee 2 tokens. Ladies free.”
On my scouting visit, I discovered that everything except for merchandise sales was token-based. I knew that KK’s entry was free, so the extra tokens were contingency - enough for watching five minutes of video in one of the booths, if KK felt daring enough. I had about $60 in cash with me, with the foreknowledge that the place was cash-and-carry, no checks or credit cards. I had the extra cash in case KK got interested in a toy.
I fished five bucks from my wallet, paid the clerk, who concluded the transaction on the cash register - the change dispenser emitted four tokens about the size of quarters. The clerk said, “She goes through first. Then you follow.”
The clerk buzzed the turnstile’s bolt, KK passed nervously through the gate, then turned facing me, waiting for me to pass through. I fed two tokens into the slot on the turnstile, heard the bolt buzz as it unlatched, then made my way through.
The merchant operation in the front-end was mixed; crappy, but overpriced lingerie, sex toys, magazines, and video tapes (this was pre-digital era). The media merchandise was organized as “straight,” “gay,” “bisexual,” including a tiny section, in one corner of the room as “transsexual.” The straight/gay content was predominant, the bi/trans stuff a small fraction of the merchandise.
KK was visibly nervous, but clearly aroused, stimulated by the environment. We wandered the front end of the store, at first alone, other than the surly, disinterested clerk. It seemed a little off, given the number of vehicles parked in front. Intuitively, I figured most of the patrons were in the back.
During my scouting operation, I discovered that there were at least two-dozen video viewing booths in the back. There were also two larger rooms, configured as small, open-seating theaters. During my scouting, both were empty - one was apparently intended as a “straight” environment, the other “gay,” each with three rows of five seats, a projection screen, otherwise spartan.
Over the next several minutes, patrons came and went, making their way from the video booth area to the exit, or from the turnstile to the booths. Going and coming, everyone took note of KK, pausing to get a long, long look at my beautiful young wife - a relative rarity (at least likely) in an ABS. A few times, KK blushed from the attention. We’d been there maybe fifteen minutes when a gnarly looking character entered the merchandise section, “browsing.” He was mostly shadowing us, ogling KK.
The attention he was giving KK was weirdly hot. A couple of minutes later, KK pulled one of the boxed VHS tapes from the rack, exclaiming, “Let’s get this one baby… looks hot and sexy! Can we? Can we?”
She was emphatic about it - in the time, at $35, it was something I’d considered expensive. I indulged her. We made the awkward trip to the counter, finally got the clerk’s attention, me handing him four tens. I got back four tokens as change, with the tape in an opaque, thin plastic bag.
KK and I made our exit. On the drive home, KK had the tape out of the bag, examining it over and over, front and back, in the dim light through the car windows. She almost sprinted from the car to the house when we finally got in the driveway, hurrying inside with the tape.
By the time I caught up with her, she was fumbling around - KK had the plastic over-wrap off the cassette, out of its cover, trying to figure out how to put it in the VCR. I distracted her, asked her to go fix us a drink and roll a joint, to enjoy while we watched.
It was the first porno we ever watched together. The title KK’d selected was "Sex Boat" - this was an 80s feature in VHS… it’s now a vintage classic, campy script and all. Thematically, the story’s based on husbands who send their cheating wives on an all-female cruise as “punishment.” Somehow two dudes stow away on the ship, eventually “heroically” saving the crew and passengers from traffickers/pirates/slavers (costumed as stereotypical pirates, including a hook and eye-patch in at least one case).
I had no idea why KK selected this video, at least not at the time. In retrospect, it was likely some sort of signaling, at least at a subliminal, if not overt level. I was just too inexperienced, lacking the insight to understand it all.
Once KK got back to the den with cocktails and a couple of fat joints, I started the tape. We were snuggled together on the loveseat, enjoying the refreshments as the scene opened.
The opener is two related scenes “mashed” together. The unsuspecting, cheating wife rolls up home in her Corvette, finds her husband, and her lover in a tense situation in what appears to be a den, study, or library. There’s confrontation, anger, threats on the part of the husband, begging, pleading, looking for an out on the part of the cheating wife and her lover.
The husband forces his wife and her lover to have sex, while he watches, photographs, commenting on the situation. The first part of the opener concludes with the lover’s money shot, a combined blowjob/facial cum shot. The husband ejects his wife’s lover, chasing him off butt-naked.
The second half of the scene starts with the husband dragging his naked wife out of the house, to the pool/grotto area in back, tying her up, as she resists the entire time, forsing his bound wife to watch him have sex with two young women.
I’ll spare the remainder. Suffice to say, the cheating, adulterous, hot wife aspect was pretty clear. We didn’t make it through the entire video. KK replicated parts of what she watched on tape, using me as a toy. (continued)
