Wife's Ordeal at the Border


Christine and I were childhood sweethearts. We've been almost
inseparable since her family moved a few doors down from our house
when we were 5. Through the years, that friendship developed into a
romance as Christine was transformed from a Tom Boy who liked playing
kick ball with the guys to an alluring young beauty who made young
boys' heads turn and palms sweat. We shared our first kiss at age 10
and were going steady at 11. We experienced our first intimate moment
at age 12, playing a game of "You show me yours and I'll show you
mine."

She was easily one of the best-looking girls in school, long sandy
brown hair, pretty blue eyes, a gorgeous face and a nice trim body
with budding breasts. By the time we turned 13, we were feeling each
other up on a regular basis. It started with me running my hand
through her sparse pubic hair and rubbing her pussy lips while she
stroked my cock. Eventually, I started fingering her to orgasm and she
would give me a handjob, expertly catching my load with a Kleenex.

By the time we were 16, I was anxious to take the next step and lick
her luscious pussy while she sucked my dick, but she wouldn't go that
far. We both grew up in strict Catholic families and Christine didn't
feel comfortable with performing oral sex before marriage, which, of
course, meant premarital intercourse was out of the question.

We could hardly wait to get married. We tied the knot a couple of
months after graduating high school, when we were 18. That first night
was everything I dreamed it would be. My dick felt so good when she
wrapped her lovely lips around it. I took great delight in making her
come by tonguing her fresh pink pussy, which, by then, she had begun
to shave, leaving it totally bare, making my cock that much stiffer. I
was in heaven when I sank my seven-inch prick into her twat for the
first time. I had loosened it up with years of fingering, but it was
still pretty tight. I came three times on our wedding night and she
had numerous orgasms.

Since we didn't have much money, our budget honeymoon consisted of a
five-hour drive from our home in Corpus Christi, Texas, to Monterrey,
Mexico for five days of fucking, sucking and smoking pot. From the
time I was 14, I always got an erection and kept it up longer after
puffing a couple of joints. Christine also got more horny when she was
high. We rarely left our hotel room during the short honeymoon.

On the drive home, we smoked our last two joints and had a good buzz
going as we approached the border. We didn't realize that the car
reeked from the smell of marijuana as we pulled up to the customs
inspection gate in the small Mexican town of Reynosa. The agent
inquired about the purpose of our trip.

"Pleasure," I said, with a wide grin. "We were on our honeymoon."

He asked if we were bringing anything back and I said no. He visually
inspected the car and commented on the strange odor. That's when I
realized he must know we were smoking weed. He put a card on my wiper
blade and told me to pull over to the side and park next to the
office. I was nervous, but figured we had nothing to worry about since
we had no more pot in our possession. Another agent came out of the
office and asked us to step out of the car. We stood outside as he
conducted a thorough search of the car's interior. At one point, he
opened the hood and looked inside, going as far as to open the housing
for the air filter. Satisfied nothing was in the car but not so sure
we were clean, he took our luggage - we each had just one suitcase -
and said it needed to be searched inside. We were ushered into a room,
where the agent first opened my bag and searched through my
belongings, finding nothing incriminating. Then he searched my new
bride's bag. Christine and I blushed slightly as he discovered a
variety of sexy lingerie - teddies, lacy panties, garter belts,
stockings. He inspected each piece thoroughly and I wondered if he was
really looking for something or just getting his jollies. Then, much
to our horror, he discovered a half-smoked joint in her jeans pocket.

The agent seemed elated by his find, holding it up and telling us
possession of marijuana is a serious offense in Mexico.

"Shit," I thought, "now, what?"

He said this discovery provided grounds for a personal search.. We
were led to separate rooms. I entered a dark, dingy room that
contained only a small, old wooden table and the agent followed behind
me. He told me to remove my clothes. I stripped down to my underwear
and he rummaged through each piece of clothing. He told me to remove
my briefs. I was somewhat embarrassed as I pulled them down to my
ankles and stood there in front of him with a flaccid penis. I was
worried he might conduct a cavity search, but he didn't. Satisfied I
wasn't carrying anything, he told me to get dressed. I hurriedly
started putting my clothes back on when he dropped a bombshell on me.

"Now I must search your wife," he said with his thick Spanish accent.

I was stunned. All this time, I had assumed my Christine would be
searched by a female agent. Then it dawned on me that this rinky-dink
office in this sleepy Mexican border town didn't seem to have any
female agents. In fact, we had encountered only a couple of other
employees, both men.

"Y-y-y-your going to search her?" I asked, my voice cracking, my mouth
agape, with what must have been an absolute look of panic on my face.
"Sh-sh-shouldn't a female agent search her?" I asked, meekly.

"No female agents working this hour," he huffed. It was about 1 a.m.
"We have authorization to search any person, man or woman, we believe
may be carrying contraband," he proclaimed, almost with a sense of
pride.

As I finished dressing, he told me to follow him to another room down
the hall of this old, dilapidated building. We entered another small,
dark, dingy room similar to the one where my search was conducted. The
only difference was this one had a window to an adjacent room. He
turned on the light and I saw Christine in the other room. I tried to
make eye contact with her, then realized the window was a one-way
mirror. I could see her, but she couldn't see me.

"Wait here," said the gruff agent, who bore a striking resemblance to
porn star Ron Jeremy, with bushy hair under his hat, a mustache, five
o'clock shadow on his big, round face and a sizable gut that couldn't
be masked under his official navy blue blazer. Still buzzing from the
joints we had smoked, I had never been so nervous in my life. I was
afraid of what legal trouble we might encounter for possessing
marijuana in this foreign country. But I was more anxious wondering
exactly what he planned to do with my new wife. I hoped he would
simply ask her to empty her pockets, but deep down, I knew that was
wishful thinking. I looked at my wife through the mirror. Like me, she
was probably still a little high, and she also had a look of anxiety
on her face as she leaned back against a table with her arms folded
under her lovely breasts, staring at the ground.

That's when I first noticed the table. It wasn't anything like the old
wooden one in the room I had been searched in. It was long, narrow and
padded. There was a separation in the middle and what appeared to be
metallic footrests tucked underneath. I realized it was an examination
table from a doctor's office!

Suddenly, I was panicked. Up until that point I had resigned myself to
the fact that this fat, ugly man would soon be seeing my wife naked.
Since we had gone steady throughout our childhood, I was the only man
who had seen Christine nude. She even insisted on going to a female
gynecologist for her premarital exam. But now I was hoping and praying
that this fat pig would only tell her to remove her clothes like he
did me. Deep inside, once again I knew this was wishful thinking. I
feared that her search would be somewhat more thorough. I soon learned
how comprehensive it would be.

After what seemed like an eternity, the bastard burst into her room,
causing her to flinch with fear. He said something to her, but I could
near no sounds. She had a look of disbelief on her face and was
shaking her head as they exchanged words. I surmised she was objecting
to being searched by this fat fucker. I could see he was getting
angry. He raised his voice and I heard some sounds but still couldn't
make out what he was saying.

After a few minutes, he was done talking and a look of surrender
crossed my wife's face as she lifted her top, revealing a lacy black
bra that supported her 36C-sized breasts. Slowly, she unfastened her
jeans before stepping out of her sandals. A look of embarrassment
crossed her face as she slid her jeans over her shapely rear end and
down to her ankles, revealing her long, smooth, tanned legs. She
stepped out of her pants and gently placed them on the table on top of
her blouse. She stood there, in her bra and matching black panties,
hands by her sides, as if hoping this would be as far as she'd have to
go. She was so wrong.

The asshole looked her over head to toe, licked his lips and said
something to her, nodding his head. Nervously, she reached behind her
back and unfastened her bra. Slowly, she removed it, trying to cover
her breasts, if only for a moment. She lowered the bra and placed it
on top of her other clothes. Now my Christine's gorgeous olive-toned
breasts, with their large dark nipples, were staring this cock-sucker
in the face. He took in the sight for a few seconds while she
attempted to block her breasts with one arm. He then looked down at
her panties and she knew what was next. Christine tentatively grabbed
the waistband at each side and slowly lowered the French-cut briefs
over her thighs and stepped out of them, tossing them with her other
clothes. I died inside while the bastard's eyes were glued on my
wife's smooth-shaven cunt, with her pink pussy lips protruding
slightly. He looked like he was getting an erection while my wife
tried, in vain, to cover her tits with her right arm and block her
pussy with her left hand. She remained in that position for several
minutes while this low-life rummaged through her clothes. He seemed to
be getting frustrated that he couldn't find what he was looking for as
he angrily slammed down each item after inspecting it. When he was
done, he barked what appeared to be a command at my wife. She turned
and climbed on top of the table. I was in a full panic at this point,
helpless and fearing what would come next. The bastard cleared the
table of her clothes, knocking them on the dirty floor and then began
fiddling with the table, the foot of which was pointed right at my
window. He raised the back portion and extended the footrests from the
sides. Still completely naked from head to toe, my Christine leaned
back on the table and the prick grabbed her ankles and guided her feet
into the footrests, touching her for the first time. I felt sick to my
stomach as I saw my wife lying there, legs spread, seemingly resigned
to her fate. In this position, her pussy spread open a little further.

The beast reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of white latex
gloves and my wife and I both knew what was next. It suddenly occurred
to me that this putz knew I was watching. He led me into that room for
that specific purpose. He apparently wanted to humiliate me. I
wondered if he told my wife I was watching. The fucker moved between
Christine's legs but stood to the side a little so I could still see
her totally exposed vagina. In fact, he even looked back at the mirror
as if to make sure he wasn't blocking my view. I wanted to kill the
bastard!

But strangely, I also wanted to watch his every move. My feelings of
jealousy, rage and fear hadn't subsided, but suddenly, a new emotion
was seeping in, and it bothered me. Still feeling a buzz, I was
starting to feel my dick get hard seeing my wife in that position. I
hated myself for feeling that way but I couldn't help it. What the
hell was wrong with me, I wondered.

The fucker turned on the lamp that he had brought over and pointed it
at her genitalia. Then came the moment I dreaded. With the thumb and
forefinger of his left hand, he parted her pussy lips. My heart sank
as I came to the realization that I was no longer the only man to be
so intimate with Christine. I was eating my heart out as he plunged
first one, then two fingers of his right hand into her cunt and began
to probe her. He was very rough, causing Christine to squirm several
times and lift her ass off the table in apparent pain. I was wishing I
had a gun.

Apparently satisfied she was concealing nothing in her vagina, he
withdrew his fingers, but it wasn't over. He began to examine the
folds of her vagina and appeared to be poking around her clit. What
the hell could he possibly be looking for there, I asked myself. This
went on for a couple of minutes - it seemed like hours. Christine
still had a look of fear on her face and seemed to be near tears. I
wished I could crash through the wall, stab the horny fucker with a
sword and wrap my loving arms around my sweetheart. But the worst part
was yet to come.

Done probing her pussy, he turned his attention to her other love hole
- her rectum. In all the time we dated and in our brief marriage, I
had never so much as touched her asshole. Knowing her inexperience, as
well as my own, I didn't want to rush things and figured any form of
sexual contact with her rectum would come in time, when we were both
ready. Now this asshole was going to have first crack at my lovely
young wife's asshole! He didn't even bother to lubricate his gloved
middle finger as he jammed it roughly into Christine's butt, causing
her to grimace in pain. He twisted his finger around and around in her
asshole, causing her to swing her head back, a look of agony on her
face. I hated myself for not being able to do anything about this
painful intrusion.

Finally, it was over as he withdrew his finger and removed his gloves.
He stood there for a minute, rubbing his face as if to ponder his next
move. My wife simply laid back on the table, legs still spread, feet
still in the footrests, catching her breath and earning a
well-deserved break from this twisted examination or search or
whatever the hell it was. I still couldn't believe a half-smoked joint
in a suitcase could lead to this. I was at least thankful that he
didn't rape her, which he could have done and probably gotten away
with.

He opened the door and I heard him call out for someone. The next
thing I knew, an even fatter, uglier, greasy little bastard standing
about 5-foot-4 in a customs uniform entered the room. He looked at my
wife, naked and spread-eagled, but didn't have a reaction, as if he
was accustomed to this sight. The first officer seemed to be giving
him some instructions and the second guy nodded his head. The man who
had just probed Christine left the room, leaving the other guy alone
with my wife. He entered my room, where I had been sitting in a chair
with a dazed look on my face, still not believing how such a wonderful
honeymoon could end in this fashion.

"You apparently have no other drugs, but the marijuana possession is a
punishable offense," he told me.

I had so much on my mind, I absorbed little of what he was saying. He
mentioned something about having to track down his superior for
further instructions and told me to remain where I was. Just after he
left the room, I glanced through the mirror to see my wife come out of
her senses and realize a different man was in the room. She started to
get down off the table, when this slimy little prick, who had been
standing guard just inside the door, rushed over to her waving his
hands and shaking his head in disapproval. She didn't appear to fully
understand what he was saying and I gathered he was speaking in
Spanish or badly broken English.

She got the message, however, and reassumed her position on the table,
legs spread, feet in the footrests. Why the fuck couldn't she get
dressed, I wondered, snapping out of my daze. She had already been
searched. Christine laid back on the table, seemingly more embarrassed
than before, trying to cover her breasts and conceal her vagina from
this sleazy pig. He just stood there watching her vain attempts at
modesty and a cracked a grin. At this point, it appeared my wife was
getting angry as she stared at this little putz with a look of
indignation on her face. He apparently noticed this, too, and started
talking to Christine. I suddenly wondered if this guy knew I was on
the other side of that mirror, and whether he cared.

Their words seemed to lead to a heated argument. "What the hell could
they be talking about?" I wondered, and why did she need a guard
standing by her when I didn't? After a few minutes, they stopped
arguing and my wife, who to this point was still trying to shield her
nudity, suddenly withdrew her hands from her most precious bodily
parts, moving them to her sides. "What the fuck was happening?" I
asked myself. Much to my dismay, my question was quickly answered as
this grinning bastard pulled a chair between my wife's spread legs and
took a seat.

This time, he was going to search her! And she had no say in the
matter. He didn't bother with the lamp or any gloves as he reached out
and began rubbing my lovely wife's pussy. Unlike the last bastard that
probed her, this one didn't seem to be searching for anything and was
clearly having a good, old time. He played with her pussy lips, rubbed
her clit in a circular motion and was sticking a variety of fingers in
her cunt, first one, then two. Because she's so tight, she had a
difficult time accommodating his third finger as he stretched her out.
At one point, he tried to jam four fingers in her hole but they
wouldn't fit. He used both hands as he methodically, and happily, gave
each of his fingers on both hands the thrill of penetrating my wife's
privates. He'd occasionally dip a thumb in her twat and burst out with
a grin. He was like an overweight kid in a candy store.. He did the
same with her asshole. This went on for about 15 to 20 minutes while I
wondered where the hell the first guy went and whether he knew what
was happening here.

The squatty fucker wasn't satisfied just playing with my wife's
pussy.. At one point, he leaned his head down between Christine's legs
and went to town. He vigorously licked her box as if he were just
rescued from a desert island after going a week without a meal.
Without even looking up, he moved one hand up and began fondling her
firm, young tits, occasionally tweaking her nipples. She had a look of
"Yeah, whatever," on her face as she laid back and allowed this weasel
to feast on her goodies. By this time, I was resigned to the fact that
these horny bastards could do as they pleased with my wife and I just
wanted the ordeal to end.

He finally stopped, stood up and pulled out his dick, which was erect
and couldn't have been more then 3 1/2 inches. I feared the worst. He
was going to have his way with my wife while I watched. But suddenly,
his body tensed up. He reached for his little member and before he
knew it, spurted his cum on the floor between my wife's outstretched
legs. After a look of satisfaction, he appeared upset at himself for
this premature ejaculation.. My wife, whose emotions throughout the
whole event went from fear and embarrassment to indifference,
displayed a new emotion. She appeared to let out a chuckle, amused by
this little man's predicament - a small gun and a quick draw.

He became angry and started screaming at her. She stopped laughing. He
pointed to his spent dick, drips of cum still hitting the floor and
barked a command. Christine hesitantly rose from the table, putting
her bare feet right in the load this guy had deposited on the floor
and kneeled down before his tiny cock. I closed my eyes for a moment,
realizing what was about to happen.

The little slimeball had ordered my wife to clean his cock with her
mouth.. She reached her tongue out and licked the tip of his dick,
which was smeared with cum. She cleaned the mushroom-shaped head of
his spooge, running her tongue along the piss slit and licking him
dry. As he barked commands, she then licked his limp shaft and took
his entire pud into her mouth, giving him one hell of a tongue bath.
After a few minutes of this, I couldn't take it anyone. I pulled out
my pecker and began to stroke it vigorously as I watched this fat pig
fuck my wife's mouth. It didn't long for me to deposit a huge load on
the cold, hard floor. He apparently did the same down Christine's
throat as he tensed up and stopped grinding his pelvis into her face.
She again wiped him clean with her tongue. This time he apparently
didn't spew as big a load, but, to my amazement, she swallowed every
drop. The bastard zipped up his pants and shouted a few commands at
Christine as he left the room. She got dressed, fixing her face and
hair in the mirror.. That's when I realized she had no idea I was on
the other side. I put my limp prick back into my pants, thoroughly
humiliated and sick to stomach by what had transpired on this day.

The first customs officer returned and told me we were free to go, but
that if we were ever caught with marijuana or any other illegal
substance in Mexico, we would face jail time. I met my wife in the
outer office and we embraced. We both looked tired and defeated. Both
customs officers who had probed Christine showed us to the door and
couldn't stop grinning. We didn't talk much on the drive home. I
finally told her the officer did a quick search on me and it was no
big deal. I anxiously awaited her response and how much she would tell
me. She said she was told to strip to her bra and panties by a female
officer and that nothing more had occurred.

Thirteen years later, we have three beautiful children, a happy home
and a wonderful marriage that's as strong as ever. I never let
Christine know I had witnessed her degradation, but I frequently play
it over and over again in my mind when we're having sex. There was a
time when I shuddered at the thought of another man seeing her naked;
that is no longer the case. Since then, a few male doctors have
examined her pussy and for some unexplained reason, I get extremely
aroused by the thought of what happens during these exams, wondering
what my lovely Christine looks like lying naked on a table with her
legs spread in front of a strange man, who has complete and
unquestioned access to her most intimate parts.