Seduction 46

The tickets arrived the next morning about 11:00 o’clock.  There was a ticket for me, and a ticket for Andrea.  No ticket for Jon.  Which, when I thought about it, was good.  He had to work.  IF this all turned out to be a dream of some sort, we would need his income.

I could not stop thinking about the questions uppermost in my mind.  ‘Am I really a highly paid call girl now?  How did this happen?  Why am I doing this?  What is the difference between a call girl and a whore anyway?  And why does my tummy quiver every time I think about being a whore?  Why do I suddenly enjoy getting paid huge sums of money to have sex with strangers?  And for god’s sake, why does it turn me on to get paid to have unprotected sex with strangers?’

It had been years since I enjoyed sex with my husband.  I suspect he knew that. 

But then I have sex with fifty men in a bar, or what ever you call it, and they all leave their sex cream inside me, and I get so turned on that I can’t stop fantasizing about it happening again?

It’s like I am on hair trigger to have orgasms!  Plural.  I have never had more than one orgasm in a night, and that was on our honeymoon.  And now, I can suddenly cum for hours?  With a strangers?  Especially black men I don’t even know?

I’m a whore.  I am a high priced call girl whore!  And I love it!  What is going on with me?

Andrea and I spent over two thousand dollars on clothing for me.  She picked out each of the outfits.  VERY sexy outfits!  No underwear; just dresses and blouses and skirts and belts and shoes.  Oh my god the shoes!  And hose.  And sleepwear.  Sexy, slinky, revealing, seductive nightwear . . . for my Johns to enjoy me in.  Not for my husband.  Only men that paid to have sex with me.

In the dressing room, while I was trying on a shear white peignoir, Andrea slid two fingers into me and commanded me to do my vaginal exercises.  It only took me minutes and I went off again.  Andrea held her hand over my mouth to muffle my wails of lust. 

Everyone was staring at me when we walked out of the dressing room.  I actually felt kind of proud.  Some of the women looked embarrassed, some looked shocked, but most of them looked envious. 

I could feel my nipples, hard, proudly poking out as I walked through the store to the cashier, wobbly after my orgasm.  A couple of husband’s got their heads slapped as they stared.

We flew first class.  I wore a very sexy outfit.  Men kept walking by my seat, trying not to be obvious about sneaking a peak at my girls. 

Even that turned me on.

Andrea and I would giggle to each other when a guy did that.  Several women also flirted with me. 

As we were landing, Andrea leaned over and told me that she would be in a room next to mine.  She explained that there would be a door between the rooms.  I was to let no one into my room except through that party-wall doorway.  Andrea would test every man that would come through her room before they went through that doorway.  In other words, any person coming through that doorway between her room and mine was to be considered a client, and I should be the kind of woman they wanted me to be.  The kind of woman they had paid good money to enjoy.

When we stood up to exit the aircraft, I realized just how moist I was.

Andrea asked me if I am excited, or was I scared?

I thought for a few seconds.  “Both!” I admitted. 

“Spread your legs so I can check how wet you are, honey bunny.”

Blushing bright red, I did.  She inserted her finger without even trying to hide it from the men across the aisle.  She giggled.  “Yes, you certainly are!  You are drenched baby girl!”

Those men across the aisle were goggle-eyed, their mouths hanging open.

I smiled wickedly at them, then winked. 

Their erections were very obvious.  I reached down and patted the man’s crotch that was nearest the aisle.  “Don't you wish you were my date, baby?” I whispered in his ear.

I raked my fingernails lightly across the tip of his pee-pee.

He came hard, and, unfortunately, loud.  Everyone heard him.

As we walk off the plane, I can not stop thinking about the fact that I am actually going to be trying to get pregnant . . . to be inseminated . . . no . . . to be bred . . . for the whole time I am in Jamaica, by the man, the stud, that is paying to have sex with me; the black stud that is paying a tidy sum to fuck me as much as he wants to.  No holds barred.  Bareback.  I felt my bunny clench involuntarily, just like earlier when Andrea had blatantly fingered me. 

I almost squirted.

Seduction 45

The pictures on the Internet showed Jamaica as utterly beautiful.  Enchanting.  Sunny white beaches, beautiful people, blue ocean.  Everybody in the pictures wore huge brilliantly white smiles.  I wondered what I would really find when I got there.  I wondered if my John (that’s what they’re called, right?) would be a Jamaican fellow. 

I wondered what my Jon would think.

Just then Andrea walked into my study.  “Baby girl, we need to teach you how to use that little whore’s cunt of yours in the most effective way.  Come into the kitchen so I can teach you how to use your vaginal muscles.”

I have muscles there?  That had never occurred to me. 

Andrea looked at me.  “Baby girl, you are about to learn my most treasured and valuable secret.  This bit of knowledge earned me more money than anyone else in the trade back when I was on the street.  I got rich off of it.”

She pointed at the kitchen table.  “Lie down and spread your gams.”

Eyes wide, I did as directed. 

She pushed my knees farther apart, then opened my lips, peering inside me with that look of utter concentration that I remembered from when we lived together in the dorm, and she would study for a college exam.

“Stick two fingers inside yourself as deep as they will go.”

I did as I was told. 

I was slick inside. 

“Feel that little firm area right under your clittie, baby?”

I nodded.

“That’s the inside part of your clitoris.  It’s called the G-Spot.  It is the secret to cumming hard.  If you clench your cunt, the man’s penis will be pulled tight against your G-Spot as he thrusts in and out of you.  It will pull his member against you and give you great pleasure at the same time it heightens his pleasure.  Clench so that you can feel it inside you.”

I did, and it was true, my vaginal walls did press my fingers against that firm spot inside me, my G-Spot. 

“Now clench and release, clench and release.”

I did.  My sheathe felt alive!

“Now clench your anal muscles, like you are trying to push something out.”

I did.  It felt different than before. 

“Now clench like you’re trying to pee.”

I did, and that felt different too.

“Now rotate which muscles you clench.  First one set of muscles, then the next, then the third set, then back again.”

I did. 

Oh my god, it felt like a hand was caressing my fingers inside of me!

Andrea stuck her fingers in with mine.  “Do it again.” 

I did, and my darling Andrea began to massage my G-Spot as I practiced my clenchings. 

Within seconds I could feel my pleasure building. 

Andrea moved to kiss me with her deep, active tongue, just like I like her to. 

A minute later I exploded. 

My wetness sprayed the dining room wall.  I could hear it splattering.

I could not stop cumming.  She kept massaging me inside. 

After an eternity of body racking bliss, everything faded to black.

Keep Your Wife Happy 2

Keep Your Wife Happy 2

Copyright Hugh Doute 2013

Edited by James Friedman

Her little vagina had been pulsing inside, squeezing and massaging my prick.  Even though she had fallen away from me, my orgasm would not abate.  It had started, I was already close, and it came now, with a roar and a great deal of air fucking. 

I don’t remember ever coming that hard.

With eyelids almost closed, I watched my cum rocket upward, outward, and then descend, landing in a long steam of white that striped my wife’s body from head to navel.

Then another eruption ejected, arcing onto her nakedness. 

And a third.

I collapsed.

The unfinished plywood floor was full of slivers.  I had nothing left in me; I simply could not get back up.  As I faded, I remember thinking that I had never cum that hard in my whole life.

I remember grinning.

Then something was nudging me.  “Is that you honey?” my wife’s voice asked.

“Huh?” I said, still in the grips of my sleepy stupor.

“Honey, I’m tied up and can’t get up.  Can you help me please?” she asked.

Slowly I remembered what had happened.  I looked at my watch.  As best I could figure it out, I had been out for about an hour.

The foot nudged me again, harder.  “HONEY!”

“Yeah babe, I was asleep.  Give me sec.”  I managed to get to my feet. 

Looking down, there was that incredible pair of tits.  I reminded myself they were my wife’s tits.  My god what a perfect pair of cha-chas!

“Want me to pick you up or untie you or what?” I asked her.

“Just put me back where I was, just in case they come back and want some more of my wet nooky,” my wife answered.

Obediently I picked her up and sat her back on the bench.  “You OK?” I asked as I removed her blindfold.

Something happened.  My wife’s face changed.  She suddenly looked about, seeming uncertain. 

She looked down, saw her nakedness, and began to scream at me, “What have you done!  What have you done to me?  Where are my clothes, why am I tied up like this!  You pervert!  Why did you do this?”  Then she started to cry.

Utterly confused, I stared at her for a few seconds, then looked around for her clothes. 

I saw no clothing.  I trotted from room to room, looking. 

My wife started screaming again, swearing at me, “Untie me, you son of a bitch!  How dare you?  You are such a pervert!  Untie me!”

I rushed back into the room and worked feverishly to untie her.  She swore at me the whole time, screaming at me, calling me every four-letter-word in the book. 

I worked as fast as I could, but finally realized there was no way I was going to be able to untie her.  I need a knife to cut her bonds.

My wife kept getting madder and madder. 

Finally I stood up and went around to her front.  I stared at her as she screamed at me. 

Suddenly I had had enough.  “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I screamed at her.

She looked shocked. 

I never yell, especially at her. 

She did calm down.

“Look honey, I did not do this to you.  I don’t know where your clothes are.  I can’t untie the cords.  I need a knife.  I was looking for one.  Just sit tight and I’ll be back when I find a knife.  Do you understand?”

She nodded blankly.

I searched through every carpenter’s bag and toolbox I could find.  There was not one knife to be found, nor nippers, nor pliers, nor anything that could help me to free her.

Totally exasperated, I went back to her.  “Nothing!  Can’t find a thing that I can cut you loose with.  And I can’t find your clothes.  So you have to decide; I can either leave you here and go get tools, or I can carry you out to the car and take you home and use my tools.  Which do you prefer?”

She started to bawl.  Huge racking sobs.  “NEITHER!” she sobbed.

OH GOD!  I could just see our new neighbors gossiping about the naked woman that I carried over my shoulder to my car! 

Oh GOD!

Seduction 44

Jon was asleep, breathing deeply, within just a few seconds.

Andrea was grinning as she watched him.  “When he wakes up, his asshole is going to be burning from the ginger I shoved up him!”  She laughed wickedly.  “He will love it!  Watch!”

Andrea was right.  I WAS learning a lot about my husband . . . and about myself, things that I had no clue about before My Andrea had come back into my life.  I was actually enjoying doing this stuff to my husband.  HE was enjoying having them done to him!  I wondered about myself.  Was I really this ghoulish? 

Andrea must have read my thoughts.  “You’re enjoying it because your husband is enjoying it, sweetmeat.”  Her expression changed.  “Our turn sweetheart.  Our turn.”

Andrea stepped to me, put her hand behind my head, then gently, sweetly kissed me.  Our sweet kiss continued as I felt my body melt to hers.  Her hands began to caress me.  I returned her favors.  Through the narrow slit of my mostly closed eyelids I watched her face, knowing that she would let me know if this was her turn, or if she wanted to send me over the moon again.

Andrea released me then stepped to the side of the bed.  She sat, then laid back, spreading her wonderfully chocolaty thighs, beckoning me toward her glistening, pulsing furrow.

I rushed in, savoring her need, enjoying her moist response. 

“Finger me baby.  Make me squirt . . . .”

I inserted three fingers, one at a time, caressing, pressing on, even punishing her firmness within.  My darling Andrea began to moan, then to hump my hand.  I leaned in and bit her clittie.  I was rewarded by her scream of orgasm, and the gushing geyser of her explosion.  It washed my face, splashing onto my breasts and hair.  I had to hold my breath as her orgasm totally consumed her. 

I already knew what she wanted now.  I reached up and slapped her chocolaty peaked breasts back and forth, over and over, then when her cascade of elixir slowed, I moved to her nipples and chewed them with my molars.  She exploded again. This time saturating my bunny and thighs, and our bed.

Then Andreas collapsed.  Out like a light.  Dead to the world.  Le petite morte. 

Her cell phone rang.  It was her partner, Shon, the man that had recently taken my anal virginity while my husband watched in the rearview mirror. 

I made an executive decision.  “This is Your Whore Slut.  Mistress is resting from her orgasms.  May I be of service to You?”

Shon laughed.  “You are the most delightful of my little whores!”  When he had finished laughing he said, “You have an out of town client that wants you to meet him Jamaica on Friday evening.  Your tickets will be hand delivered tomorrow morning.  You are to pay the deliveryman with what ever he wants from you sexually.  Complete instructions will be included in the delivery.  Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir,” I replied, wondering what my next sex partner would be like.

Chuckling in delight, Shon hung up. 

Then I wondered what my next trick would be like.  Jamaica!  I went to research the island on the Internet.