A housewife chooses a second life as a call girl/prostitute
I knew the female's voice. I was absolutely certain.
But somehow I could not believe what my ears told me;
all she had said was 'Here is four hundred'. That was
enough to tell me who spoke the words. What was my wife
doing here? She was supposed to be at a hen party
tonight and this was not a hen party. This was the
Grand Hotel where most of the conventions took place.
The man's voice I was not familiar with, it was new to
me. I had never heard it before. He spoke to her in a
low, pleasant voice, telling her to go back to work and
turn another trick. Did this mean that he was her pimp?
The clicking of heels told me that she was leaving and
I ventured a peek through the bushes that circled the
porch. I could just get a glimpse of a shapely ass
wiggling in a blue mini skirt. She was returning to the
convention hall. The male voice I had heard belonged to
a tall, wide shouldered man who was slowly making his
way to the bar.
I was stunned. I just stood rooted to my spot for a few
minutes. But then I decided to try and find a place
from where I could observe the convention hall and not
be seen easily. The bar was definitely the best spot
for my purpose.
Luck was with me that night. There was a free stool
next to the stranger whose voice I had heard and it was
perfect. From my vantage point I was able to see most
of the convention hall. And as I scanned the bustling
hall I spied a couple standing at the elevators, a well
dressed gentleman and a petite, black haired girl in a
blue mini skirt. His left hand reached out to press an
elevator button while his right hand was busy caressing
the girl's bottom. I strained to see more but the
elevator door opened and the couple walked in.
***
As I eased myself onto the stool I accidentally brushed
against the stranger's arm, causing him to spill a few
drops of his drink. I apologized, but he waved me off
with a 'warm grin and a laughing 'don't mention, I
might spill a drop of yours'. And with this we were no
strangers any longer.
His name was George he told me, and I introduced myself
as Karl, which is my middle name. I certainly did not
want to give out my real name until I knew where all
this was leading to.
We exchanged the usual pleasantries to see if there was
interest enough to continue talking to each other. He
seemed to be intrigued by my accent and asked me where
I came from originally. Sweden, I told him.
He shifted the conversation and asked if I was looking
for some 'action'. If so there was just the right girl
here he knew and he would love to introduce me to her.
She is from Germany, he informed me.
"She is one hell of a girl. Almost petite, beautiful,
shiny black hair, and eyes that can burn a hole in you
if you let her. But not cheap," he laughed.
"That sounds great," I answered. "I have another
fifteen minutes left before I have to run to be in time
for an important meeting with a client."
The meeting was the truth, the time was not. I wanted
to be gone when my wife returned from her meeting. And
fifteen minutes sounded safe enough.
"That's too bad," he informed me as he handed me his
business card. "She is with a customer right now and
you will be gone before she comes back down."
He then told me a little nit about Jessica. That she
was the top girl working for him. That she was a real
lady. That she was endowed with a fantastic body and
face, but with a warm and pleasant personality. She had
some kind of aura that made you love her the moment you
meet her. There was more praise of Jessica but I had to
cut the description of her short if I wanted to be gone
by the time she returned.
I put my tip next to my empty glass and George and I
shook hands. His parting words "Hope to meet you
again," as he pressed his calling card into my hand.
The meeting with my client went well and it was late
when I arrived home. Sitting in my favorite arm chair
in our living room I thought about the evening's
discovery at the Grand Hotel. Was my wife blackmailed?
Was she on a whim just playing out a fantasy of hers?
Was she acting on an 'I dare you' challenge? Did she
lose a bet at one of her Saturday hen parties? I was
utterly perplexed.
How could what I had heard tonight be true? Liolani and
I were deeply in love with each other. Among our
friends we were called 'The Lovebirds', 'The
honeymooners', and similar names. I decided that the
best way to discover the truth was through George.
I was awake in bed when Liolani came home about 2 AM. I
expected to see some eye make-op, but there was no
trace of it, she must have cleaned her face somewhere.
She also had changed from the blue mini skirt in which
I had seen her to the slinky black dress she had worn
when she had left for her 'hen party'. Coming out of
her shower she was surprised and delighted to find me
awake.
My wife and I had met in Hawaii where I had been sent
to supervise the installation of a new system. It was
love on first sight. I proposed and six months later we
were husband and wife. I took her back with to Germany
as soon as the papers had made it through the proper
channels. Her blood truly was a mixture, a mixture of
Chinese, some Hawaiian, some Portuguese, and some
Dutch. Her dark eyes had a slight almond shape, a hint
of the Oriental, in short, she was an exotic beauty
turning heads wherever we went.
She also was always ready for sex, but even more so
after her twice monthly 'hen parties'. Tonight she
walked to the foot of the bed and just stood there
smiling at me. Then she slowly raised her arms above
her head. It did wonders for her tits; they were a
perfect 34 without a bit of sag, slightly conical. Her
raised arms made them stand up pointing at me, calling
me. But I resisted for now.
I noticed with delight that her aureoles were much
darker than usual and that her nipples looked hard and
enlarged. There was no question, she was turned on. Her
eyes almost smoldered as she looked at the tent that
had formed just two feet in front of her. I expected
her any moment to pounce on it like a tigress.
Instead she licked her lips, slowly lowered her arms,
drew back the covers and drank in the sight of my
upright penis. I knew she was going to worship it in
her own unique way when she parted my legs and started
crawling up toward her prey.
Her teasing tongue started at the base and then slowly
wiggled up to the top. She knew the most sensitive spot
and played a fortissimo there before opening her lips
and swallowing my shaft as far as she could. I knew I
was going to be treated to her special.
Her special was a wondrous mixture of deep throat and
shallow nips at the top, constantly changing her tempo,
her suction, her angle of attack, and the pressure of
her lips. Combined with the antics of her tongue her
performance always became a truly triumphant symphony.
Sometimes they resembled a Wagnerian overture, at other
times a Light Cavalry overture, or even a Strauss
Waltz. But they were always a new surprise.
Tonight I was going to be treated to another of her
creative performances I sensed. She played her
instrument until she felt the crescendo of the finale
approaching. She withdrew her lips at the right moment
and grasping my penis with her right hand, directed my
jism onto her face. She then nonchalantly used her
fingers to smear it all over her face. It did not seem
to matter to her that some even had landed in her hair.
I was utterly amazed at her wantonness. She knew what
effect it was having on me, smiled innocently and
whispered: "I wanted to do that for some time and just
once behave like a whore and get a cream pie from you.
You didn't mind, I hope."
After she had cleaned herself and wiped me dry she
started on getting me hard again for her main course.
It was a memorable night. She wanted to be fucked
doggie style, and then she wanted to fuck herself on
top, facing me, so that I could play with her sensitive
tits. She was wild that night. She always was vocal but
tonight her volume almost doubled. It was a good thing
she had taken the edge off of me, I could not have
lasted through her performance. I counted at least
three heavy climaxes, plus a swarm of little ones.
I am a patient man and had no trouble biding my time. I
waited two weeks before I called George and invited him
for a drink at my favorite bar. The ladies present
ogled him, some furtively, some openly. Even I could
feel the magnetism he exuded. It was powerful, the
promise of sex a mixture of both tenderness and of
stern demands.
This time I could study him at leisure and I liked what
I saw. I knew instinctively that I had found a true
friend. And the future proved me right.
He told me about growing up in a black ghetto as a
mixed child that did not belong to either black or
white. An outcast among his black neighbors, an
unaccepted person among the whites at school. He
reminded me of Gen. Powell. His face was only slightly
tinged with some black features, and his skin color was
just a shade off a Caucasian. A white skin that was a
little darker than usual, maybe tanned by too much sun.
I had to assume that he would tell Jessica about the
fellow from Europe he had met. So I changed my date of
arrival in the US by several years. And I told him that
I sometimes missed my home town, Stokholm.
As we talked, the subject eventually and predictably
moved to his 'girl' Jessica. She was married to a
wonderful husband whom she adored and who loved her
with all his heart. George obviously admired Jessica
and cared for her. And from several remarks he made it
became clear that she cared for him. No, he stated
firmly, it was not love but attraction of a different
and indefinable kind.
We both had enjoyed each others company and we decided
to get together every two to three weeks. What started
out as a fishing trip for information about my wife had
turned into a nice friendship with her pimp. I began to
wonder how he would react when he found out that
Jessica was actually my wife Liolani.
At our next meeting I asked him outright how he
recruited his girls. All three were married he had
already told me, - married girls don't tell, he had
added. As far as recruiting goes he was willing to
share with me how Jessica had joined his crew. His
announcement dumped several buckets of adrenaline into
my blood and I almost started shaking with
anticipation. This was what I wanted to know more than
anything, - how did all this start.
"I was driving home from a luncheon with friends,"
recounted George, "when I saw a young lady opening the
hood of her car, which was obviously disabled. I
stopped to see if I could help. But I am not a mechanic
and was as helpless as she. When I offered to give her
a ride home, she gratefully accepted. She asked me to
stop at a little park on Windsor Ave, one block from
her home. As she thanked me for the ride, I gave her my
business card and told her that I could probably help
her if she ever needed some money.
I did not expect to ever hear from her but a week later
she called me to arrange a meeting. Her car was
repaired and if I would give her my address she would
see me in one hour. She arrived on time, looking
absolutely stunning. Much later I found out that she
always looked the perfect lady, dressed elegantly,
whenever she left the house, even if she only went
shopping. Jessica is a proud lady, and rightfully so.
We made small talk for a while. I told her where I grew
up; she told me that she and her husband came to the US
in 1952. She said she was 36 and then proved it when I
absolutely refused to believe her. Honestly, she looked
like 26 and her vivaciousness also made her appear much
less than 36.
After two glasses of wine I showed her the backyard
with the pool I had just filled the week before. Then I
took her through the house. We stopped in my bedroom
and sat on the edge of my bed. I started to explain the
duties and the income if she wanted to join me, but I
never dreamed that she would eventually become one of
my girls.
The longer we talked the more fidgety she became,
crossing and uncrossing her legs over and over. I also
noticed that her breathing was getting a bit labored;
and when I put my arm around her she practically melted
into me. Just thinking about our next hour or two makes
my breathing quicken. It was not a plain fuck; this
lady turned fucking into an art form.
She explained how she and her husband viewed
prostitution. That a call girl was dispensing happiness
and should be compensated like everyone else, such as
masseuses, or bartenders, etc. That she and her husband
felt as Robert Heinlein, who wrote in one of his books
that 'there are more honest prostitutes than honest
lawyers'.
But she turned down my invitation. We had one more
glass of wine and she was gone, leaving behind the
memory of a goodbye kiss that could have melted
Gibraltar.
She phoned me again a week later to ask if she could
come and visit. We again made small talk, and then she
dropped a bomb shell. She was willing to join if I
would agree to a number of rules she had drawn up. How
could I refuse? I went over some of my rules and she
agreed to them. When I told her that a prostitute mist
always make herself available to her pimp she agreed by
saying 'absolutely'. That was about five months ago and
she has bloomed into the very top call girl, probably
of the entire State. Now you know how Jessica came to
work for me.
I promised George that I would call him when I could
get another afternoon off so we could meet again for a
drink.
A month later I finally could get together with George
again at my favorite little bar. We bitched a bit about
the problems we had, I talked of mine and he grumbled
about his. We told some jokes, discussed and cussed our
favorite football team, and generally had a good time.
"One more problem," he suddenly burst out. "And it's a
big one. You see, I have really taken to Jessica. Not
real love, like getting married or so, I can't really
explain it. Not long ago we met some friends at a
grocery store and I proudly introduced her as my girl
friend. Later I apologized to her and guess what, she
said. 'I loved it, I like being your girl friend,' she
had told me.
But that's not the problem, Karl. I have won an all-
expense paid tour for two to Germany for this fall,
about six weeks from now. I so much would love to take
Jessica with me, but how do you tell a devoted husband
like hers. Just not possible. She would love to go, but
she is a girl that absolutely cannot lie even if her
life depended on it. So a lie like going with a girl
friend is out.
Now she is considering asking him outright. That will
bring up questions like who is George etc. And since
she will not lie... well you figure yourself. You can
see the mess this could create. We just don't know. You
are the only person I told this to because I trust that
it will not go further."
I agreed with him and promised him to let him know if I
could think of a solution. We shook hands and I left
him sitting alone in his booth with his drink. Suddenly
I remembered a story about Alexander the Great cutting
the intricate knot of King Gordius with one sword
stroke. Aha, I said to myself, that is what we need, a
swift sword strike.
A week later I had to run home to get some papers I had
worked on the night before and then had forgotten to
take them with me this morning. Liolami was not home
but I did not write her a note, which I usually do. I
was in a hurry to get back to the office. I was just
getting ready to leave when the phone started ringing,
but I decided to let the call go to the recorder. I
recognized George's voice at once and stopped to
listen. He left a cryptic message. 'Tomorrow 2:30 Toro
twelve, mini." It took me two minutes to understand
that my wife had an assignment at 2:30 tomorrow at the
El Toro Motel, room 12, wearing a mini skirt.
That afternoon I bought a black mini skirt, which I
gave her after dinner. I had for some time asked her to
wear one at home, together with a pair of heels. That
would display her beautiful long legs I had reasoned.
Humor me for once and wear a miniskirt tomorrow night I
pleaded with her and she promised she would do that.
The next day was her assignment and I had to see this
event. At 2:10 I was in place in a car I had borrowed
from a co-worker. I had my surveillance spot chosen
with great care. Liolani-Jessica rolled in at 2:25,
parked her car, went to room 12 and just walked in. She
wore a blue mini skirt, a white tank top and heels. She
looked somewhat slutty, so completely out of character
for her. Her customer probably had made that request,
and the customer is always right. The door to room
twelve was unlocked when Jessica arrived and I found
out later that George had a long tem contract for that
room.
Her customer arrived not long after. Then, at 3 o'clock
George arrived but stayed in his car.
I had seen enough and went back to work undetected. It
was time to cut the Gordian knot, and tonight would be
the time I decided. And I was not getting her off the
hook without some teasing.
When I came home Liolani greeted me with her usual
enthusiasm and a kiss hotter than a green Habanera
chili. She was indeed wearing the black mini I had
given her. She looked so sexy that I had a tough time
hiding the boner that started developing in my pants.
I thanked her for wearing the mini, telling her how
sexy she looked. "No wonder you are so much in demand,"
I teased her. She gave me a quizzical look and said:
"what do you mean by that?"
"Well, you are in demand, aren't you," I answered.
"Wherever you go and whatever you are told to do, you
do it with perfection. Your cookies are the best and
you are famous for your egg rolls. Whatever you do, you
do it to please, isn't that right, sweetheart?"
This brought me another quizzical sidewise glance.
I continued with "hope you had a wonderful fulfilling
day, honey. Come to think of it, I like that word; it
implies being filled full with pleasure. Housewives at
least have the opportunity to follow their whim while
we poor guys have to work to bring home the bacon. But
I for my part I don't mind."
I noticed some discomfort in her voice when she uttered
a short "I have to wash my hands. Be right back."
When she came back I took her in my arms and hugged
her. I stepped back and admired her again and asked her
to turn around slowly. She had regained her composure
but she deserved one more discomfort or worse.
So I dropped the bomb. "Love, I will long remember
tonight, you are just so appetizing. I can hardly wait
to eat you. But you really did not have to change, you
could have kept your blue skirt on, it looks even
better on you than the black I bought you."
Her pupils dilated and I grabbed her and almost dragged
her to the couch. There was no resistance. I put her in
my lap, hugged her and told her that everything was OK.
Then I kissed her and slowly she started to respond.
Soon she was composed again and in control of herself.
"How long have you known, how much do you know, how did
you find out?" she wanted to know.
I kissed her again and told her about the night at the
Grand Hotel. That brought a muffled, "oh my god, then
you know George."
I nodded and comforted her by stroking her hair and
hugging her more strongly. "No problem here," I assured
her. "George and I have become very good friends. But
he doesn't know yet that I am your husband and that
fact should be good for a little fun with him.
In the meantime there should not be any change in our
life. Let everything be as it was before today. Don't
make any changes. I will tell you shortly why I say
this.
I am sure you know the definition of prostitution:
trading sexual favors for something of value, be it
money, or fame, or advancement etc. It should be
recognized as legal barter. Many wives use sex for
concessions from their husbands.
The problem of today's society is that sex and love are
considered the same; there is lots of love without sex
and lots of sex without love. Furthermore, I believe
that a woman should not be considered property of the
male. She should have a life of her own and pursue any
avenue of her liking without the husband getting in the
way. Apply all this to your own situation and you can
see my attitude regarding you working as a prostitute.
I admire you for taking a step towards liberation
regardless of Mrs. Grundy's opinion.
Now to your problem of a three week vacation with
George. You and I will be together for a lifetime, you
will have George for a limited time only. I want to see
you happy because that makes me happy and since I know
that you would love to go to Germany with your boy
friend I suggest you do so. Enjoy Germany and enjoy
each other."
Liolani did not utter a sound; she just looked at me
with so much love in her eyes that it almost brought
tears to mine. I moved her off my lap so I could
straighten and then picked her up. I carried her in my
arms, her arms tight around my neck, to the bedroom,
where we reaffirmed our love with an abandon we never
had experienced before.
We must have fallen asleep exhausted because the bed
covers were still in a heap on the floor beside the
bed. I tiptoed into the kitchen to start our morning
coffee and set the table for breakfast when a lithe
warm body molded itself to mine and a rain of hot wet
kisses showered my back, then my front.
Liolani's lips quickly found the object of her worship
and wrapped themselves around the part of me she loved
so much. She held it captive between her lips to savor
the feeling of power she had over me. She now had taken
complete control over a part of me, and it felt good.
After she had finished her personal low calorie
breakfast she let me go so we could take a shower
together.
I decided to take the day off and phoned the office to
tell them I wouldn't come in today. Then Liolani called
George and after some small talk told him that it was
time he took his girl friend out again for a nice
intimate dinner. He obviously was in a good mood
because he playfully apologized for having been so
inattentive that his girl friend had to remind him of
his duty.
He called Jessica back after a while and told her that
he made reservations for Friday evening at seven at the
exclusive Robin's Nest. I immediately also called the
Robin's Nest and made a reservation for one for Friday
at 6:30. The trap had been set.
Friday evening I was seated at a table in clear view of
the door waiting for Jessica and George. My double
vodka martini on the rocks, complete with three olives,
kept me entertained while I waited. Liolani is a
stickler about being punctual and I hoped Jessica was
too. I was not disappointed, they arrived on time.
I had seated myself facing away from the door. I heard
the maitre d' tell them that a beautiful couple like
they deserved a special table while he steered them to
the spot I had asked him to place that couple. My ten
dollars paid off. They seated themselves and less than
30 seconds later George saw me.
He came over to my table immediately to inform me, not
ask me, he stressed, that I was to join him for dinner.
At his table he introduced me to his girl friend
Jessica, telling her that he had tried for four months
to have his dear friend Karl meet Jessica. I made some
sincere compliment to Jessica; - she looked absolutely
stunning in her new evening gown. There was a palpable
aura of happiness abut her. I was so proud of my wife.
After the waiter had brought our first round of drinks
Jessica turned to George and announced that it was time
to celebrate. George looked at her, his face a huge
question mark.
She did not elaborate; she instead tuned to me and
asked me how much George had opened up to me about what
was going on in his personal life. Did he tell me that
she was a married woman?
Jessica was enjoying herself, dragging out the
suspense. But at last she couldn't hold back the news
any longer and blurted out: "We are going to Europe, I
talked to my husband and he said it was a wonderful
idea, and that I should enjoy the trip and we should
enjoy each other."
George was stunned. Then he reached out to take her
hand and hold it for a long time. No one spoke, it was
a silence of happiness and I participated. He finally
spoke, but it was more to himself than to her. He
wondered if he ever would have a chance to meet her
husband. Then he said NO, I don't think I could meet
him, I would be too self conscious.
"But tell me," he asked Jessica "Did he really say
'enjoy each other'? That is the most altruistic gesture
I can think of. I wonder what moved him to say that."
"Just ask him, he will tell you. Just open your mouth
and say "what moved you to say 'enjoy each other'?"
"Oh no, my dear girl, I couldn't do that."
"Sure you can. Just turn your head and ask him "What
led you to say 'enjoy each other'?"
He turned to me, then back to my wife, then back to me
again. Finally stammered: "Karl, are you rascal really
Jessica's husband?"
I nodded "Let's celebrate."
After a short moment George came back to reality and
started laughing with a roar. "Let's continue this
charade as a private celebration at my place where all
this started." He gave me a crushing bear hug and
topped it off with a peck on my cheek.
After dinner we drove to George's home. George and
Jessica at once went after the wine and some glasses.
Then George, with Jessica trailing behind, showed me
his home, winding up in the spacious master bed room.
"Our adventure started here," he announced, "so we
might as well celebrate here."
We sat on the edge of the bed and I proposed a toast to
friendship, Jessica proposed a toast to women's
liberation, and George proposed a toast to tolerance.
My wife and I hugged and kissed each other, her kisses
as always full of promise. I was prepared to be passive
and just watch someone else pleasuring my wife.
I did not have to wait long. George made Jessica get
off the bed and stand in front of him. He told her that
he was going to take her panties off her,
"Take the hem of your gown," he commanded, 'look at me
and smile at me while you lift your gown slowly until I
say STOP. I want you to enjoy your embarrassment." He
finally made her stop and ogled her, especially
inspecting her lacy panties. When he was satisfied he
hooked his fingers into the panties' waistband and
started rolling her panties down very, very slowly,
savoring every second. He told her to now look at her
husband but did not allow her to lower her gown;
instead she had to turn around slowly.
Next she was told to remove her gown and stand for
inspection. She was still looking at me and I wondered
if she was slightly embarrassed being commanded to obey
his wishes in front of me. She was finally told to lie
down on the bed.
While she stood for inspection George had quickly
undressed. He looked at me questioningly but I remained
were I was, enjoying the show.
George told Jessica to lie still. He looked at her for
what seemed ten minutes but was probably more like ten
seconds. He lightly touched her forehead and let his
finger trace small circles. I watched his finger
creeping lower to caress her eyebrows, then her closed
eyelids. From there his finger mover to her temple
where it danced for a while.
Her cheeks were next to receive attention and then his
finger became a feather, tracing first her upper and
then her lower lip, making three trips round. It was a
very erotic performance, and I was wondering what the
finger would do for an encore. It was replaced by a
waggely tongue that wiggled its way up the edge of
Jessica's ear lobe. This brought forth some suppressed
giggles and a slight shake of her shoulders and head.
She was again remanded to lie still. After a while the
tongue moved on to caress her neck, starting downward
from her ear to her shoulder, moving in tiny circles. I
could see that Jessica strained to keep still. Her
breathing definitely was heavier now but she kept
herself in check.
The tongue continued its way south until it reached the
edge of Jessica's oriole, which by now had turned a
deep red-brown, broadcasting her mounting excitement. I
watched in awe as the tongue, circling around the
territory caused Jessica's nipple to rise and become
hard. I had always been like an actor on stage but now
I was a spectator in the bleachers and the view was
quite different.
I knew that my wife ached to have her nipple caught
between a pair of soft lips while a tongue washed the
tip of her nubbin. She squirmed in disappointment when
the tongue moved on further south to explore her cute
belly button. As the tongue tickled her belly button
she could not help moving her body, which brought
another reminder to quit moving around and lie still.
The tongue went back into its house and a pair of lips
resumed the journey south, making small smacking and
sucking sounds as they traveled over Jessica's tummy. I
could see some belly skin ripple under the onslaught of
suggestive sensations, suggestive of what might be
next.
Her belly quivered slightly in anticipation as the lips
stopped just inches away from her clean shaved pussy.
Did she experience enjoyment or torment I wondered,
maybe a mixture I finally concluded
George's large hand suddenly appeared and moved her
right leg to the side. A moment later her other leg was
moved to the side and George positioned himself between
them. I am sure I know what Jessica expected to happen,
but it was not to be.
The lips started kissing their way down the inside of
her thigh, down her leg till they arrived at Jessica's
toes. The little one was visited first, then the
remainder, each receiving a warm, wet kiss, except for
the big toe that was greedily sucked inside George's
mouth. Jessica started to quiver, small moans escaping
her mouth and then, without warning, her pent-up
arousal took over, pushing her over the edge. She lost
control as her body took over. Her back arched while
the first of three successive climaxes shook her,
hammered her, made her cry out.
Her "AAAAHH!" reverberated in the room and I am sure it
could have been heard across the street... George had
held on tight while Jessica struggled and kicked, until
the last spasm of her third climax died away. He then
wiggled himself up her body, took her face between his
hands and tenderly kissed her mouth, her nose, her
cheeks, her eyes.
After a short while Jessica rolled him off herself on
his back. Now it was her turn to torment him but
instead she pleasured him by sucking on his right
nipple, then running circles around it with the tip of
her tongue, interrupting her play occasionally to give
his nipple a complete immersion bath.
After she finished her treatment of both nipples she
moved down between his legs to worship what she called
'my precious toy'. It disappeared at once in her mouth
where it was caressed by her tongue. Next she started
to move her lips up and down the shaft, making it
disappear completely from time to time when she
swallowed it down her throat. I noticed that she was
careful not to stimulate him too much, she wanted him
inside her.
As she positioned herself at the end of the bed and
wiggled her ass as an invitation, he got up and then
stepped behind her, his hard-on pointing straight
ahead. She reached behind her and guided his dick where
she wanted it. She must have been hot because after
just a few strokes she hollered FUCK ME, FUCK ME HARD.
I was shocked. The f.... word had never rolled off her
tongue in my presence.
They fucked for maybe two minutes when she had another
crashing orgasm. She flailed her arms from side to
side, digging her fingers into the bed covers, she
shrieked and hollered, and then collapsed under him.
After she finally calmed down she turned to George
telling him that she wanted to take care of 'my
precious toy'. Always the gentleman, he agreed with her
and she kneeled down in front of him and started to
give him the blow job he had earned. And being a
gentleman he offered her a choice: cream pie, on the
tits, or in your mouth. She had moved her head from
side to side twice, but nodded 'yes' to the last
choice.
Later, when we said our goodbyes, he reminded me again.
"I have tried to have you sample my girl friend Jessica
and tonight you had a chance but you blew that one. How
can I make a living with a customer like you?" he
laughed.
I promised to sample Jessica sometime when I happen to
run across her near El Toro, room twelve.
To be continued?
Archivist's note: Because the author submitted this
work anonymously, we will be unable to honor any
request for parts not already posted. If the author
submits more parts, we will post them, if not, the
story ends here.
Keys: M+/F wife prost intr
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