The Caravan Wife

1. Through the large gap in the hanging drape, my wife's bare bottom was hanging over the bed, her legs around Martin's shoulders, his cock wedged into her cunt, and he was pumping her without mercy. She was making noises akin to both pleasure and pain. My dick strained against my trousers. I would to fuck her once he had deposited his semen deep in her pussy.

My wife was raised among the Caravans, and every new moon, a young woman would be chosen by lot to take all the men in the clan carnally. My wife was good at this duty, and had performed this Rite several times.

There was a special lorry just for the ceremony. She would lie amongst rugs and pillows in the bed of the Rite Lorry and take each man's cock one after the next.

Among the Caravan Clans this service was considered a great honor. The woman was viewed as absorbing the men's special life force communicated through the medium of their semen. This rendered the woman strong and her status rose. The ability to fuck so many men was considered a sign of physical and spiritual strength. This was difficult to do so experienced Caravan Women were held in high esteem.

When the Rubon Government came to power, they dismantled the Caravans. The Grand Counsel saw the Caravan Folk as dangerous, morally compromised degenerates. Some of the Caravan Folk were sent into exile, some were imprisoned, and very many were shot.

My wife and women like her survived because they were attractive and wily. When she fled the roundups, she lived with several men. She shed her Caravan attire and ways. It was never very clear how she wound up in my Burg selling vegetables. I did not ask uncomfortable questions and I wanted her. I kept buying her vegetables until she agreed to marry me.

Part of her appeal, of course, was that she was a caravan woman. Our men always looked at them as creatures of incredible sexual power and prowess. How could a woman fuck fifty men in a day? We all wanted them as sexual partners and wives. My wife was young and robust. She had raven hair that went down to her waist. She wore loose fitting blouses that couldn't hide her ample tits. She had wide, childbearing hips and shapely legs. Her neck was l noble. She was intoxicating. When I gazed at her, blood flowed to my cock.

When we had sex in the early days of our marriage, I imagined her as a Caravan Woman, taking man after man after man. I imagined them entering the lorry to copulate with her, one after the other. Fat men, thin men, handsome men, ugly men. She takes them all. Her legs are high in the air and flailing as her body is mercilessly pumped with cock. Or she'd be on all fours with her splendid, broad backside in the air, her pussy being pummeled by dicks. Or she lays old men and rides their gray poles while they slap her bouncing tits. She is crammed and slathered with the come of fifty men. She was gorgeous and she is a whore.

Visions of this filled my mind during sex in our first years, but I never utter a word. Such visions made me have the most intense orgasms. Later, I wanted more. That is how I laid the groundwork for her to once more perform the Caravan Rite.

Five years after our marriage, I started: I was pressed against her, my face sucking her long, noble neck, my arms around her arms and her tits squeezed together by the might of my embrace, her long muscular legs wrapped around the small of my back. I fucked her like crazy and she squealed. It was amazing, but I knew if she told me a story of the caravan ritual while I fucked her that I would come like a mad man. I wanted to feel that, so I started.

I was fucking her hard, and she was about to come, but I stopped. She whimpered.

"Why did you stop?" she pleaded, panting. "I'm almost over the edge."

"I won't start again unless you tell me something," I told sternly. I was still inside her, but stone still.

"What?" she asked. "Anything, just keep fucking me!"

"Tell me about a story about when you performed the Caravan Rite," I ordered.

"No! Why?" she began to move her hips, grinding her cunt into my cock. I pulled out. "What is wrong with you!" She screamed with real anger.

"I'll fuck you deep and hard," I explained. "But tell me a story if the Rite while I fuck you." She moved her hand to her mons to stimulate herself, but I slapped it away.

"Do what you're told," I spat. "And you'll get relief." She looked at me with a hint of sorrow, but much more lust, for she knew what door she was opening, and where it would lead. She gestured that I should enter her. I pushed into her cunt, and she sighed.

"There was once two men who came into the caravan, and that was not allowed. But no one must have seen them..." as she began the story, I moved in and out of her slowly. "I had been taking men all day. Probably forty at that point. The two entered near the evening. 'We will take your cunt at the same time,' they told me. I answered, 'What do you mean?' I was still a bit naive outside the sex of the Rite, even though I was a thoroughly fucked woman. 'We'll show you,' one said. They removed their clothes quickly. They both had the massive cocks of caravan men.

"One lay on the rug, pulled me on top of him, and impaled me on his cock. I started riding on him. Then the other came around to my upturned ass. 'Stick it in this whore Jacq,' the man beneath me hissed. 'She's been fucked by forty men, but she's as tight as a virgin.' The other one mounted me from the ass, and pushed his gigantic cock up my hole, joining his comrade. They began to saw into my cunt like animals. It was all too much. 'Did you like it?' The lower one hissed. 'You were already being fucked by scores of men and now you have two cocks about to cream in you!'"

My wife moaned deeply. She stopped the story. She grasped her clit, and came with gusto. When she concluded, I began pounding her relentlessly. I thought I would explode.

"What did they do, tell me whore," I fell down on her, and moved my hands to her ass. I squeezed her cheeks painfully hard. My long fingers felt my cock pumping into her slick folds. I was about to come a river inside this woman.

"Jacq taunted the other guy." she continued "'Come with me,' he screamed. 'Come in this Caravan Whore. Let's put two more loads in this bitch.' And they let loose. The one behind me fell forward and I was trapped between them. 'Tight bitch, tight cunt,' one called through gritted teeth, and the other screamed, and I was flooded by them both.

"Damn you," I could not take anymore of this. I could feel the come climbing up my cock. "You cheap whore, coming in your used pussy," and I flooded her cunt. She moaned and met my motions, grinding her pelvis to capture all of my seed. When I was done, I fell to her side. She was an extraordinary woman. She was life itself.

2. I did not want to scare her, so for then next few times, I fucked her without referencing her caravan duties. But I thought of them. The two men pushing their cocks into her at the same time was an aphrodisiac. I had her get on top of me, and ride me, and I imagined a man behind her, wedging his cock in with mine, making her already tight hole, somehow, unbelievably tighter still. When I came, however, I decided to say anything I wished. I wanted her to get used to course language when I fucked her. I used these words:

"You Caravan whore," I hissed, "take my come. Take it deep!"

"You tight cunted bitch," I screamed. "Coming deep in your cunt!"

"Here it comes, slut," I hissed, smacking he swaying tits hard. "You'll take every drop of my semen!"

I kept coming strongly, deeply, and with great strength. My wife noticed the difference. She seemed scared and excited all at once.

One night she came into the bed in a nearly translucent sleeping robe. I could follow the outlines of her ripe, large nipples and see the inviting triangle of her mons. I was hard as a rock. She lay beside me. She quickly started stroking my cock.

"You want me to fuck another men?" she asked quietly. "And then come in me when he has used me up?" All I did was moan deeply, loudly. I felt like I would come in her hand if she said another word.

"Yes, damn it," I answered tightly, as if a ligature was around my neck. She stroked faster.

"If you want to try it," she said. "There is a young man, from the Caravans, he was a boy when we were scattered and he never participated in the Rite, but he knows I did, and he would like to try, well a little Rite. Do you want to come in me after he seeds me? Would that please you?"

I wanted to slap her hand away, mount her, and seed her filthy caravan pussy. But it was too late. I shot all over her little hand. It was everywhere. I screamed as if I was being tortured. When I was done, she laughed.

"You are just like a Caravan man," she whispered, kissing my lips softly. "When another man comes before you, you come more after him," she paused and smiled. "It will be good to get back into a bit of the caravan life."

3. That is why through the rather large gap in the hanging drape, my wife's bare bottom is hanging over the bed, her legs around Martin's shoulders, his cock wedged into her cunt, and he is pumping her without mercy. She was making noises akin to both pleasure and pain. My dick strained against my trousers. I would to fuck her once he had deposited his semen deep in her pussy.

Earlier, Martin arrived promptly and shook my hand. He kissed my wife politely on the cheek. He was a decade younger than us - and a strapping boy, like most caravan men, with a long powerful body. He was a little shy - but my wife brought him out. They talked about the Caravans, the life they led, and how things changed. They grew comfortable in their conversation. I felt I was on the outside. I began to grow jealous. Did she want Martin as a husband? Then the dynamic changed.

She stood up, and dropped her robe. She was gorgeous, ruddy, firm of tits, round or ass, with strong legs, and flossy black hair on her cunt. She looked at both of us without fear. My heart was beating like a hammer in my chest.

"In the old days, I would lay and take fifty men. Everyone of age, and men old enough to stay firm of cock. Those times are gone. Martin, you will never experience the magic of the Rite. I would lay in the Rite Lorry, on the rugs and pillows, and men would come in, remove their clothes, mount me, and come. The Rite was powerful because the men took me roughly, so I could absorb their manly energy, for they shared their manly energy when they came.

"Men would take me one at a time, and I would be alone with them. But not really! The Rite Lorry was covered by drapes, and men could easily look through the seams. And they certainly did! It made their lust stronger.

"We will do that today. I hung a drape over the bed - but my husband can easily see us. You must mount me, and copulate with me with your utmost strength. When you have come inside my cunt, my husband will take his turn. He will shoot his seed in my cunt, and it will join yours. It will be a bit like the Rite, when the seed of fifty-men flowed into me. You are young, Martin, if you want to go again, you certainly may. I have a feeling that will happen."

Then she walked into the bedroom. We both sat spellbound, fixated by her ample but shapely ass as she swayed through the curtain, and lay on the bed. Her ass was hanging over the edge of the bed. We followed her. Martin stripped. He was lean, long, and strong, and his cock was heavy and erect. The tip was angry and red. He had round, large balls brimming with seed. He looked back at me, nodded, then opened the curtain.

"May you seed me deeply," she told Martin.

"May you overflow with seed," he countered, and then mounted my wife. He tried to enter her, but he was having difficulties; my wife's hand reached between her legs and guided him into her pussy. He pushed until his pendulous balls rested against her puckered asshole.

They both moaned deeply. He began to move in and out of her. He was so large, her pussy lips gripped his pole, straining against his girth.

"Fuck me, hard," she said into his ear, but loud enough for me to hear. "Get that big cock deep into me. Give me your seed."

Those words made Martin go mad, and he began to pump into her as if he wished to split her in two. His muscular ass rose and fell between her legs, and her gorgeous, long hands gripped them, pulling him into her. Her wedding ring dug into the pale skin of his muscular check, and Martin was groaning hard.

"Shoot it in me," my wife ordered. "Get that come in my cunt." Martin screamed.

"Sweet pussy, take the come," and he began his organism, which lasted for a long time. He pounded my wife, he ground his cock into her; she opened her legs wide, and pulled his ass tight, groaning. She couldn't pull him in close enough, and he couldn't get far enough into her cunt. When he was finished, he stayed inside her. She kissed the side of his face. He covered her body completely.

"Martin dear," she spoke into his ear. "Let's give my husband his turn." That roused Martin. He stood up groggily and took a few steps back from her still open legs. As I moved forward, I glanced down at his glistening cock; it was still hard. My wife raised herself on her elbows and looked at me. Her face was a mask of lust.

"May you seed me deeply," she said, fixing her eyes on me.

"May you overflow with seed," I answered, and lept on my wife, she pulled her legs around me, and I stuffed my cock in her cunt. She was soaked. I moved in and out perhaps ten times, and then I came hard.

"You sweet, hot-fucking pussy," I screamed, and I pissed my come deep into her. I kept pumping, and with each pump more semen sprayed inside her. I felt like she was gutting my insides.

I pulled back when finished, and gazed at her battered, soaking pussy, dripping with the come of two men. It was spellbinding. I felt a hand on my shoulder. Martin gestured that I should move aside. He wanted another turn. I heard my wife in the bed behind me.

"May you seed me deeply," she said. Martin moved forward.

"May you overflow with seed," and he roughly pushed my wife higher on the bed, and fell on top of her. He began to squeeze and suck her tits. He pushed her tits together and jabbed at her robust nibbles with the stabbing motions of his long tongue. My wife was howling.

"Fuck, damn it, Martin," she screamed. "Suck my titties. Stick three fingers in my cunt and I'll come." He did, cramming his fingers far up her creamy hole, and she came. She had choice words to say: "Damn it, you bastard, suck my tits, finger my cunt!

She came down from the organism. She reached up and kissed Martin deeply. It was their first kiss.

"Flip me over and fuck me from behind," my wife ordered. "Slap my ass. Get rough!" He did so, raising her up on all fours, but he put his weight on her as he entered her, and she fell. She opened her legs wide while flush on the bed, and he pumped her pussy. He fucked my wife athletically, pressed against her upturned ass. I watched him work her cunt. It was hypnotic.

"I told you to smack my ass," she screamed. "Turn it red!" He pulled out of her and began to beat her ass with his open hand, turning it quickly red, and my wife screamed.

"Big assed whore," Martin sneered, slapping and smacking. "You bitch!" He climbed back on her. He pressed firmly against her open ass and pumped. He came in a moment. "Fuck... slut..." he muttered, and fell on my wife's back. My dick was hard as steel.

"Martin, get off," I spat. He moved to the side. He lay down with his arm across his eyes. He was finally soft.

"May you seed me deeply," my wife said, barely able to pronounce the words.

"May you overflow with seed!" I shouted, and jumped on my wife's red, wet ass, and began fucking her like mad. I only lasted a few seconds. My wife was screaming. I was screaming.

"More come in your cunt, whore," and I squirted into her. It was not much - I was nearly dry, but my body wanted to squeeze out more seed. I fell off my wife. We all fell asleep.

I slept for two hours. When I woke up, my wife was riding Martin's cock with great vigor. I smiled, reached out, and squeezed her gorgeous ass.

3. We would do a dry run, but it would be anything but dry. Our time with Martin had degenerated into a threesome - not really the Caravan Rite. But as a degenerate act goes - it was addictive. I fucked my wife a dozen times before the dry run. We said filthy things to each other.

"You like coming in other men's seed - you have a sick cock," she spat.

"Whore," I hissed, " only a whore's cunt is loaded with so much cum."

Martin arrived a week later with two other young men named Ayron and Biken. They resembled him, hearty, tall, and broad shouldered. They were young men now, but when the caravans were dismantled, they were boys.

There would be four men to seed my wife. I wanted to make sure we would keep the discipline of the Rite. We draped the entire bed, with significant gaps.

When they arrived, my wife was already naked on the bed. We replaced our sheets and blankets with animal hides. There was significant drinking during the Rite, but I wanted to keep control of these young men. We all had a shot of barley liquor, the Caravan drink of choice. We raised our classes for the traditional toast.

"May your seed be abundant!" I shouted, and they returned the toast. Martin would be first, followed by Ayron and Biken. Of course, I would be the last. There would be no seconds or thirds. This was the Rite - just on a smaller scale.

Martin entered the bed. It was quiet for a few moments. The three of us took up positions alongside the bed, looking through the curtain gaps. I could see the other men. Martin was already naked. His cock was tremendous. He stood before my wife. She lay on the bed, her legs opening.

"May you seed me deeply," my wife said solemnly.

"May you overflow with seed," Martin answered, bowing his head, taking a beat, and then he fell on her. He entered her cunt immediately, and her legs shot up in the air. He was pummeling her pussy, and grunting like a maniac. She grasped her legs beneath the knees, to open herself more to Martin's cock. There was no attempt at personal connection. He was a Caravan man, and she was a Woman of the Rite. Martin began to tense. His thrusts lacked coordination. He was about to come.

"Seed in me. Shoot in my cunt!" my wife coaxed Martin. That was all he needed.

"Fucking you, whore" he hissed. "Seeding your cunt," and he slammed into her. He pushed, and she pulled him close, taking all of his semen. It was amazing to watch. My wife groaned with approval. When Martin finished, he raised himself off her. Her cunt was soaking wet. Seed dripped down to her little asshole. Martin emerged from the curtains, and Ayron entered. He was naked in seconds.

"May you seed me deeply," she told him.

"May you overflow with seed," Ayron whispered. He was nervous and horny. Somehow, his Caravan cock was even longer and thicker than Martin's. But he had a boy's demeanor.

My wife was up on her elbows. Her legs were wide open, her slit wet, her expression was deranged. He would not last long. He took a few steps toward her and stopped from fear, but my wife grasped him by the tip of his cock and pulled him toward her. He followed, fell on top of her, and she guided him into her slick cunt. She sighed on accepting him.

"Your cock is hefty," she moaned. "Pump it to me." He did just that, and lasted less than a minute. He reared up, and began to scream. He managed to say some words as he came.

"I'm gonna come in your pussy," and he tensed. His orgasm was hard and short. He was flooding her cunt. He fell off my wife panting. She opened her legs wide so we could all see: come was dripping out of her used up slit.

Biken stepped forward confidently. He was slightly shorter than Martin and Ayron, but was more muscular. His face had no fear. He had a low brow and stupid visage. He looked like a brute. He strode into my wife's chamber like a bullet shot from a gun. He shed his clothes. His cock was thicker than long. It was the widest cock I had yet seen.

"May you seed me deeply," she told him. There was hesitation in her voice. Was she wary of the posture of his body, or the dumb violence written on his face.

"May you overflow with seed," he sneered, squaring up and he quickly lept upon her, pressing her to the bed. Was he even inside of her? It was difficult to tell. He was clawing at her tits, rocking her body back and forth, and biting her neck and tits. She was screaming. Was it pleasure or pain or both? Then they shifted toward me. I saw him squaring his cock to her pussy.

"Get me in that gash, whore," he snarled. "You know you want it!" My wife reached down, and guided him through her cunt lips. He pushed in hard. He moaned. "Even with two loads, this cunt is tight, bitch. Your husband is going to get a gaping cunt when I'm done with you!" He reared up and fucked her hard. Her head bounced on the bed from his efforts. He slowed down. He began to smack her breasts, hard. My wife screamed.

"Don't pretend a man never smacked your tits, bitch," he snarled. "Take it like the whore you are." He smacked each tit hard at least a dozen times. My wife seemed to have entered another state. Her head rolled. Then he smacked her face. Her head snapped to the side. I was about to throw him off her, but she pushed him away.

"You fuck like a Caravan man," she hissed, sitting up. "Take me from behind. Stick your fingers in my ass and your cock in my cunt!" He said nothing, but helped haul her up on her hands and knees. A great gush of come spilled from her. He smacked her ass, hard, many times.

"Look at all that come, whore," he hissed. "Only whores take a gallon of seed." He smacked her ass again, and forced his way into her. She screamed.

"Fuck it," she whimpered. "Fuck the cunt." And he obliged her. He grasped her waist and pulled her into him, again and again. His body slapped against her ass cheeks. She started to grunt like an animal. She seemed beyond pleasure and pain in some alternate realm. Biken's eyes were glazed. He was sweating profusely. Finally, my wife spoke.

"Stick two fingers in my ass!" Biken stopped, and then laughed.

"I've got a better idea, cunt," he said, pulling out of her. "I have something bigger for that little hole." I stuck two fingers in her pussy, and took his fingers, glistening with come, and inserted them in her ass. She moaned deeply. He gathered more come from her ass crack. He applied it to his cock. He lined up with her asshole.

"Ready for this dick in your shitter, bitch?" He smacked her ass, and pushed forward.

"Ahhh," my wife screamed. "Cock in my ass!" If it hurt her, Biken didn't care. He began to fuck her wildly. He ground deeply into her hole. She was panting. He kept her on all fours, grasping her shoulders to keep her steady and in his command.

"Here it comes, Caravan whore," he hissed. "Reach back and squeeze my balls. And do it hard. Squeeze the come out of my stones." Her hand went back, and squeezed his low hanging testicles. And that was it: he screamed so loud it echoed down the hall. My wife whimpered in return. She managed to say one thing.

"He's coming in my ass, in my ass," and when he was done, he released her, and she fell forward. He bent down and kissed her ass. Then he smacked the ass hard. He swaggered way

4. I entered the room. My wife was sprawled across the bed, which was tangled and thrown. Her body was red, her pussy swollen and brimming with semen. Come was pooling around her. Her body was slick with sweat. Her hair was in disarray. She was breathing heavily. Should I fuck her? I had lost all my nerve, but I was as hard as I had ever been in my life, and without thinking of it, I had taken off my clothes. I had a lorry ready, and a list of forty-nine men to enact the Rite in the forests near the Black Mountains. I would be the fiftieth man. If this was the result after three men, how would she be after forty-nine men, when I reclaim her? Then she opened her eyes and looked at me dreamily.

"May you seed me deeply," she said in a soft voice. She opened her legs. I had never seen a more beautiful sight in my life.

"May you overflow with seed," I answered. I fell on her. She pulled me into her. She gripped my ass with her long slender hands, her cunt was slick and sloppy, but she clenched her pussy, and I moaned.

"I feel like a woman during the Rite," she moaned, taking my pounding. I wouldn't last long. "I feel alive again. Thank you! Now fuck me, shoot your come in me!" And I did, and it was long, and so much come shot out of me, and she gripped me hard and long, and took every drop.

I stepped outside the ersatz lorry. The boys were standing there, joking and laughing. None of the levity was about my wife - the Rite was sacred. But they felt alive, connected to the Caravans, and were joyful. They passed me a shot of Barley liquor. Martin raised to make a toast.

"To the Caravan Woman, I mean Wife!" and we all cheered. I cheered too. But to me she was something else: she was the Caravan Whore. In my head the details of her encounter with forty-nine men passed before me, and my cock rose stiffly.