The Red Contestant

She could have said we needed the money, but we didn't. My inheritance was sizeable, my wage was good and our house was one of the largest in our town. We lived comfortably, without any debts and well enough to allow my trophy wife to engage in all manner of leisurely pursuits.

She did tennis on Mondays, badminton on Tuesdays, gym on Wednesdays and Saturdays, yoga on Thursdays and a night out with the ladies on Fridays. Of course, I knew she was screwing her tennis partner, badminton coach, personal trainer, yoga teacher and half the barmen in her favoured exclusive tavern. Britney had always been what some would call wild; my family expressed disapproval of her as my girlfriend and then unrelenting hostility to her as my fiancée. They died before they could boycott my wedding.

They made no secret that they thought I was marrying beneath me; Britney was my first love at University. She was bright although you wouldn't know unless you listened to her speak. Her perfect wavy blonde hair, and deep blue eyes, combined with a lithe figure, honed in the gym and tight, skimpy clothes which exhibited her gorgeous body, made her look more like a cheerleader than a biology student.

I knew she part-funded her studies as a part-time escort, and worked for two years at a strip club. I knew her promiscuity was as much a part of her personality as her bubbly generosity and giggly laughter. It made Britney who she was. It was part of the girl I fell in love with, and I just accepted Britney could never be remotely monogamous.

AdultTV was a combined subscription-cable network and Internet website venture; "additional footage" for all their shows was available only on the 'net, where additional fees could be raised and the regulators could not object to the hardcore content. I didn't know Britney had applied to be on one of their game-shows, before she excitedly told me the day before filming and she was to fly to London. The top prize was only a few hundred pounds and I made that sort of money in a couple of hours.

My darling wife was up against three younger ladies; they started the show dressed in identical clothes, except the colour scheme - Britney was in red. Her sheer scarlet stockings was attached to a red garter belt, underneath a bright crimson sheer microskirt, only a few inches in length and edged with white lace. The bra was scandalous; again edged with white lace and skimpily cut, with bright red sheer fabric covering her bosom. Her outfit was topped with a red collar, and a scarlet and white headpiece.

The host was bubbly; he leered over the women and made suggestive comments. My heart skipped a beat as I watched my wife objectified on national television; my fingers trembled as I excitedly watched the host asked each of the girls a general knowledge quiz question in turn.

For each question they got right, they got a point, for each question they got wrong they had to walk from behind their podium and sexily remove an item of clothing. When they were naked, their points total was frozen and they got no more questions.

Britney was on three points when her knowledge of Fibonacci numbers let her down; her musical dance to remove her skirt, revealed her shaved genitals to the nation and elicited whoops of delight from the male-dominated crowd; her opponents had removed headpieces and bras, not the only item flimsily covering their cunts.

But Britney did show what every man wanted to see; she kicked her skirt high into the crowd and ground her naked ass into the body of the suited presenter during her thirty seconds of striptease. The presenter gulped; my dick was as erect as his.

She got her next question wrong too and she gleefully pointed at her headpiece, her stockings and then her garter belt with a querying shrug of the shoulders. She teased the crowd, and as the music played, reached onto the front of her bra to expose her bosom to the world before flinging her flimsy garment into the audience. They loved her; they loved all the sexy ladies.

My underwear was soaked. She danced back to her podium and wiggled her buttocks at the audience behind her. They adored her brazen sexiness, and as her competitors dropped out, she racked up a few points. Britney did appear to be doing her best to win and when there three naked girls at their podiums, my wife was still wearing her headpiece.

She did lean over her podium a lot, and a camera behind her was happily filming her cleft and buttocks through her parted legs. My cock ached with horniness. I had never seen my wife so exposed and so playful. She loved the attention and with as much faux innocence as she could muster, giggled and flirted with everyone. She had even got a member of the audience to "help" her remove her stockings - although most of the girls did that at some point.

She reached fourteen points - eight ahead of her nearest competitor - when the Battle of Bosworth tripped her up and my naked wife danced into the audience, sat on the lap of a horny twenty-something-year-old guy and placed her headpiece on his head before rubbing his face in her bouncing breasts.

The Final Dash was a 20m race; for each point the contestant had, they started a metre closer to the finish line. There would be one winner, and three losers. After which, coverage switched to the Internet-only channel.

The naked women had to kneel and scramble on "all fours"; the camera angles exposed their genitals, stripping them of dignity. They waited on the marked track as the host pulled raffle tickets from a giant goldfish bowl. Men howled in excitement as the bubbly host gestured for the ten men holding the winning tickets to come down from their seats.

I gulped as my gorgeous wife was the focus of the camera; I sat on the edge of my seat, watching and waiting. The whistle blew and the girls scrambled towards the finish line. Hollering and cheering, from me as well, as my wife's lead looked unassailable.

And then her right knee slipped from underneath her and she went spread-eagled on the floor. The camera man zoomed on her naked body as the blue-collared girl was inches behind my wife. Britney righted herself and scurried towards the finish line - only a few metres away - but the brunette in the royal blue collar had momentum. Now inches in front, as their two butts wiggled under the studio lights.

I called for her, shouting my encouragement from a hundred miles away. Desperate for my wife to win. But she didn't.

She warmly embraced the young student, who gleefully took the cheque for £620 - twenty pounds for every point a contestant had earned - and thanked the host, before waving at the audience and disappearing behind the purple curtain.

For the three remaining ladies, there were ten raffle winners who had an "hour of fun" with them, live only on adulttv.net. My cock strained at the wet patch in my boxer shorts; my fingers trembled as I loaded up the website and paid my two pounds entrance fee for the event. I'd never seen my wife with another man before; I'd never seen another cock part her cunt and impale her. I'd never seen her lips wrapped around another dick, or her arse greedily gobble another prick. In public, I'd only ever seen the flirt, and the tease, not the strumpet or the slut.

I wasn't sure if I was ready for what I was about to see, but I couldn't not watch the show. I had to witness my wife taken by others. Curiosity got the better of me. The ladies were told that the Internet audience would be given a vote and whomever got the highest score after the hour would also win £620; the two remaining losers would leave with nothing - and the one at the bottom of the public vote had to travel home on public transport in just their maid's outfit from the show.

If the sadism of the show was shocking, then the masochism of the ladies - who accepted this knowledge with wide, beaming laughs - was equally so. I watched spellbound as the podiums were replaced by mattresses, and the men excitedly disrobed - mostly sporting prominent erections. I saw the twinkle in my wife's eyes, a deep desire that she used to have with me when we first started dating.

The first lick from her cherry red lips on the dick of another sent a shiver down my spine; I selected the "Red Cam", ignoring the green and yellow contestants - they were hot, but I needed to watch Britney. I wanted to watch an overweight, balding man, push his cock into the waiting mouth of my slutty wife. I wanted to watch her smile as she sucked the prick of another man and gratefully enjoy every dick given to her.

My cock was itching to be stroked; my wife was being feverishly touched by strangers. Each girl had at least three guys around them, and my wife was lost in a sea of hands, mouths and genitals. A well-groomed young man, with a boy-band hair cut and a body-builder physique, pulled her legs wider apart, scissoring his sheathed cock into her sopping cunt.

I recognised her groans; her muffled squeals snorted into the prick of another man enjoying my lady's attention, as her left hand wrapped around the dick of a third guy playing and sucking on her tits. My wife was the first to come. Her screams of climatic delight reverberated from the speaker and filled our lounge as her young, muscular partner filled his condom with his cum, only to be replaced by another. And then another.

Once the ten men had spent their load, the host drew more and more raffle tickets. And then I lost count. My wife swallowed load after load, licking her lips as her semen-smeared face framed by cum-drenched hair smiled into the camera. She offered her butthole to the host, who had sampled the other two ladies; the clock ticked past an hour and a half, before the bubbly ex-porn star remembered to blow his whistle.

My wife had been pebble-dashed by bodily fluids; cum dripped down her slutty body, her hair was a mess and her face splashed by the remnants of multiple partners. The crowd, many of them sated by the losing women, cheered as the women got to their feet. My wife spoke to the host and took the microphone from him. "These two girls are students, they need the money, please vote for them."

"You do know what happens if you lose the public vote," the host said and my wife nodded.

"Sure, they need the money. I don't" My screen had a window which appeared and I clicked on the "red" option; I knew what my wife was doing, but I couldn't not vote for her.

Thousands of men, though, did as my wife requested and Britney was given a towel, her skimpy maid's costume back and a train ticket. "Good luck," the host said with a grin.

"Oh, I don't need that," she said confidently and gestured to the audience. "Any fit, virile young men want to accompany me on the train home? I need ... protection. And company."

She looked at the camera, dishevelled from the gangbang. I groaned, my fingers touched my dick and I squeezed my pelvic muscles, flooding my boxers with the strongest orgasm in my life. My wife would get the last train home and I knew she would be wanting to fuck.

She always did when she played away, she was relentless.