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From: Ole.Joe@poboxes.com (Ole Joe)
Subject: {ASSM} Paying for It (Complete) by J Boswell
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PAYING FOR IT (c)
Another Hot Wife Tale
by J. BOSWELL
* * * * *
WARNING: This work of fiction is intended to be read by adults,
only. The author has uploaded it exclusively to known
"Adults, only" sites, and requests that you exercise the
same discretion. Also, this is fiction -- in real life,
please protect yourself and your lover by practicing safe
sex.
* * * * *
I guess I have to start by saying that money is not a problem
in our life. Both Tim, my husband, and I are professionals and
make a nice living. He's a lean, fit 34 year old corporate
accountant. I'm just coming up on my BIG 3-0. I have a good face
("incredibly beautiful" according to Tim), and (also according to
Tim) a great body (36C-22-32), 5'4", 112 pounds, auburn hair and
large gray eyes. We have a townhouse in the suburbs, a Saab, and
a Taurus wagon. Two Yuppies, right?
Well, our life WAS just about perfect, and then I (we?)
developed an obsession that made it even better for me (and I hope
better for Tim, too!). What's crazy is that the obsession really
began as a joke.
* * * * *
One Thursday night, Tim and I were home watching TV when one
of my girlfriends called. She had stopped for a drink after work
and ran into two of our old classmates from graduate school and she
was calling to invite me to join them for a drink and some gossip.
I was still dressed from work and hurriedly put my shoes back
on and checked my purse for cash. Of course, my liquid assets
totalled $2.14! I asked Tim for some cash rather than wasting time
stopping at an automatic teller.
Tim smiled and brought out his wallet.
"Wait a minute," he smiled, holding his wallet above his
head, away from my open hand, "How badly do you need this cash?"
"Come on, Tim, I'm in a hurry."
"I can see that, Jessica. Well, I'm in sort of a funny mood,
and I'm thinking maybe you could earn the cash."
I smiled, because he is always THAT horny and THAT obvious.
"Okay, Dear. How about you give me the cash and I owe you a blow
job?"
He leered at me, "How about cash on delivery?"
And that was the first time.
* * * * *
All dressed up in heels and a business suit, I dropped to my
knees, opened his zipper and took his already-hard cock into my
mouth. To my surprise, I began feeling warm and tingly, even
slutty. Tim opened the top few buttons on my silk blouse and
pushed the folded bills into my bra, and I became even more
aroused. I gobbled his hard flesh into my mouth, licking and
sucking loudly; feeling my own heat and moistness increasing
between my legs.
Timmy shot his cum into my mouth in a surprisingly short time
and leaned back into the sofa, "Ohhh, Jessie! That was great!"
I had thoroughly enjoyed the quickie, too, and got even hotter
as he handed me another ten dollar bill and said, "Here, you really
earned a tip."
I took the ten and folded it with the two twenties he had
pushed down my bra, and rebuttoned my blouse.
Tim was zipping up and looked at me, "I think you really
enjoyed being a little whore, didn't you?"
I smiled and brushed the accusation off. "I was just in a
tight spot for some cash, Dear. I was a poor, innocent, desperate
soul and you were the one that took advantage of my plight and
forced me to perform that disgusting and perverted act!"
We both laughed and I kissed Tim goodnight and left for the
bar to meet my friends; but with second thoughts about grabbing
Timmy and dragging him up to bed. For the rest of that night I
could feel a small smile float across my mouth as I recalled the
whole incident.
* * * * *
Neither one of us said anything about that incident, but about
two weeks later, I told Tim I needed some cash for groceries and he
asked if I would be willing to earn it.
I smiled and shrugged, "A girl has to eat."
He took me into the bedroom and we balled each other's brains
out for two hours. As I walked around the food store on wobbly
legs, with four crisp fifties in my pocket, I knew I was "hooked"
on our little game.
* * * * *
Within only a few months of that first night, Tim and I
developed the rules to our "game." I have to "earn" every cent I
spend, whether for myself or the house -- and I love it. The
opposite is also true -- when Tim wants me, he has to pay for it.
Nothing in life is free, and I get to set my own price -- a
blow-job is at least $40 and I won't fuck for less than a $100.
Like any good businessperson, I know I can charge extra for
the popular options. A little friendly bondage is $40, a strip is
priced like the "Strip-O-Grams" in the area -- $100 for the strip,
and VERY good tips for anything "extra," and if he is short on cash
-- a hand job is $20 ($25 with oil or cream or KY!).
Cash only!
No checks, credit cards or IOUs!
* * * * *
Tim is wonderful at thinking up variations on our lovemaking.
One evening, we got in the car after shopping in the mall and
he said, "$100 for a blow-job, right here, right now, in public."
I smiled and put my hand out for the money. In seconds, I had
Tim's seat back, his zipper down, and his cock out. I started
sucking him while bent over the console, but soon knelt on my seat,
knowing anyone who saw me would be certain of what I was doing. I
didn't care -- my panties were soaked through as Tim shot his cum
into my mouth.
Just the thought of me giving him a blow-job on a parking lot
made me feel more like a hooker than ever and I was about as hot as
I had ever been in my life. As soon as we walked into the house,
I dragged Timmy down on top of me and said, "Oh, Baby! That was so
good! I need a fuck, right now! A freebie!"
Always the gentleman, Tim tipped me $20 when we were through.
* * * * *
One warm Spring night, just as we were at the front door to
leave to get a quick supper at the local casual restaurant, Tim
offered me $50 if I didn't wear any underwear under my top and
short skirt. I was wearing a short denim skirt and a white, cotton
pullover, with a scooped-low neck. He handed me the fifty as I
handed him my bra and panties. I should have tried that before,
because before we arrived at the restaurant, Tim told me to finger
my clit and my fingers slipped around in my already dripping-wet
cunt.
Tim saw how hot I was and told me that if I really wanted to
earn my money, to order the salad bar. I did, and every time I
walked up to the bar and bent over to reach something to put on my
plate, I could feel my denim skirt ride up the back of my thighs
and felt my tits hang out away from my chest, filling out my top.
The kid keeping the salad bar stocked really got an eyeful and I
LOVED it! In the car I offered Tim a $25 refund if he'd fuck me
right there. He said he was tempted but that there were too many
people, including kids, so he fingered my cunt and pinched my
nipples until I had a tremendous orgasm.
* * * * *
Ever onward and upwards, we got deeper in our little "game."
Sitting home one night, complaining about the lack of anything
good on TV, Timmy suggested I dress up in something sexy and go to
a bar.
"What about you?" I asked.
"Oh, I'll be there. I'll be right behind you and I can `pick
you up' like a real hooker working the hotel crowd."
I'm sure the big grin on my face told him I loved the idea, as
I rushed upstairs to change.
Less than an hour later, I strutted into a hotel lounge in my
shortest, tightest red tube-dress and my highest highheels.
Getting up onto a barstool without flashing everything I had was a
feat in itself!
Like bees to honey, I was soon approached by a parade of
good-looking unattached (at least for the night!) men, buying me
drinks and dancing with me. A few of them invited me to their
place, or up to their room, some even hinting about my
"occupation," saying things like they realized "time was money in
today's world" and that was alright with them. The attention was
definitely warming me up for some action, and I was on the lookout
for Tim.
Tim eventually made his appearance, and when he did, it was
after he had had more than a few drinks. He stepped up to the bar
and placed his hand over my shoulder.
In a voice loud enough to be heard several stools on either
side of us, he asked, "Say, Sweet-Stuff, I've been noticing you,
and I was wondering what a little action with you would cost."
Aware of the audience, I whispered, "Two hundred, for the
night."
Louder than before, Tim gasped, "Two hunnert? Are you
kidding? Plus the room?"
I moved close to his ear and whispered, "Tim, if you don't get
me out of here, right now, I'll fuck you right here on this bar!"
Tim helped me off the stool, and took a parting shot at our
interested audience, "Lady, for this kind of money, you better be
as good as you look!"
I was pulling him through the lobby, toward the parking lot,
when he stopped me and pointed to the bank of elevators. Dangling
on his finger was a room key!
We hit the button and the doors opened. Tim pushed me into
the corner of the elevator and punched "7" for the floor. I pulled
him against me and kissed him, hard. I was hot, and wasn't sure I
could wait to get to the room!
In a flash, Tim had his tongue buried down my throat and his
hand up under my dress and down my panties, fingering my hard, wet
clit. A man caught the doors before they closed, but we didn't
stop. Instead, I pulled Tim closer and wrapped my leg around his.
The other passenger "Harumphed" but I didn't care -- it was all
part of the scene we were playing. When the doors opened at "7,"
Tim and I disentangled ourselves and got off the elevator. As the
doors closed, I turned, smiled and said to the other passenger,
"Have a nice night -- we're going to!"
Tim opened the door to the room, and we tumbled onto the bed.
Too hot to undress, Tim unzipped his fly, pulled my skirt up to my
hips, pulled the elastic in my panties aside and entered me in one
hard shove. I started cumming, immediately.
We fucked and sucked almost all night. It was wonderful.
And, I never felt more like a whore than the next morning, as I
walked through the sun-lit lobby in my tart dress, heels, and
"just-fucked" look. Even a nun would have had no doubts about what
I had been doing all night!
* * * * *
I had been accumulating a tidy sum in my "Honey" jar, and one
day I decided to splurge on myself, the way any self-respecting
hooker would -- on clothes, jewelry, and make-up. I spent the day
buying the most outrageous items I could find -- micro skirts,
seamed stockings, crotchless panties, slut-red lipstick, cut-out
bras, and on and on. I had a ball!
After dinner that night, I decided to give a fashion show to
Timmy, and surprise him with my wildest "streetwalker" outfit. I
put on heavy make-up, red crotchless panties, a black corset top,
stockings, garterbelt, red heels and a red vinyl skirt not quite
long enough to reach my stocking-tops. For the crowning touch, I
put on a wild, cheap blonde wig and spiked the tresses.
Tim went absolutely crazy! Only, instead of throwing me down
on the floor, or chasing me up to the bedroom, he suggested we go
for a ride!
The ride wasn't very far -- only downtown, stopping around the
corner from Chestnut Street, a street notorious for cheap
streetwalkers. By the time Tim had pulled to the curb, I knew what
he wanted me to do -- and I was game!
I got out of the car and Tim pulled around the corner. Then,
after making sure my seams were straight, I strutted around the
corner and into the glow of the street lamps. Tim was parked
across the street, and I saw two other women (dressed pretty much
like I was!) standing about a half a block up the street. There
were no pedestrians, and the traffic was light, but steady. I was
breathing rapidly -- partly from excitement, and not a little from
apprehension. I felt very alone standing there.
I soon noticed the same red Firebird pass me, twice, and then
for the third time. On the fourth time, he stopped and leaned over
the passenger seat, "Hey, sexy lady! Looking for a ride
somewhere?"
I stepped over to the car and bent over at the waist, giving
the driver a full view of my almost-naked tits, "Maybe. Where you
headed?"
He had to pull his tongue back in, before he could answer. We
chatted a little, and I promised him I'd be around later, but was
waiting for a particular somebody at the moment. He waved and
drove off, promising to cruise by later.
After going through the same routine with two more drivers,
Tim coasted to a stop beside me.
"Want to party?"
I was glad it was him. My fear had gone away and the
excitement had taken over as the night went on. I gave him the
same tit-shot I had given the rest of the guys. "Maybe. Are you
a party-er?"
He smiled at me, "I'm a very generous party-er."
"How generous?" I asked.
"Well, if you'll speak a little French -- fifty."
I opened the car door and got in, "French is my favorite
language."
Tim drove to a nearby city park and stopped the car on one of
the lanes. He pushed his seat back and opened his zipper.
I held my hand out -- palm up, and he handed me a fifty. I
folded it and opened my purse. I dropped the money in and took out
a condom I had bought that day. Tim raised an eyebrow.
"A girl can't take chances out here," I said, matter of
factly. He nodded and I wrapped his hard, little rascal in the
rubber. He watched as I popped the wad of chewing gum out of my
mouth, and stored it in my cleavage. I lowered my mouth down on
his sheathed erection and had barely gotten the rubber wet before
Tim tensed in his seat and began filling the condom with his cum.
I could tell he had really gotten off on the whole scene.
Still in character, I carefully removed the condom and tied it
in a neat knot and tossed it out the window. I smiled a
lipstick-smeared smile at him. "You were really hot. I enjoyed
that. Now, could you take me back to my corner?"
Just then, a police car's blue flashing lights lit up the back
window.
Caught!
I could tell from Tim's posture, that he was as nervous as I
was. Two officers got out and one stepped up to the driver's
window and shined his flashlight in at us. Fortunately, Timmy had
already zipped up.
"What's wrong, Officer?"
"Don't play dumb. I hate it when people play dumb. What were
you doing here, discussing the savings and loan crisis?"
"Officer, my wife and I were..."
The cop roared out a huge laugh and looked in the window,
again. His light was shining on my bare thighs, above my
stockings. I was afraid my crotchless panties were showing him
everything!
"Your WIFE??!! Yo, JD, he says this `lady' is his wife!!!"
At their request, we got out of the car and produced enough ID
to prove that we were married and the cop did a cursory check in
the car. The other cop approached and walked around my side of the
car. The freshly-filled condom was revealed to his light and he
nudged it with his shoe.
He stooped down to my eyelevel, and looked right into my eyes,
"Do you prefer the dry, ribbed or lubed, Honey?"
I looked right back at him and smiled, "Well, the lubed make
a long night a little easier, once you get used to the taste."
I was standing with my back to Tim and the other policeman,
and the one standing in front of me, casually reached into my
cleavage and retrieved my big wad of chewing gum.
I smiled and lowered my mouth over his fingers, flicking the
gum into my mouth with my tongue. "Thanks, Officer, I thought I
lost it."
He licked his fingers slowly, and stared at my cleavage. "You
know, Miss, these streets can be dangerous. You never know who
you're gonna meet. You should stick to indoors. If you're new to
town, there's places like `The Moonlight Lounge' in the
Congressional Hotel. You're a little, uh, flashy for the nice
bars, but `The Moonlight's' seen your type there."
"Gee, thanks for the career advice, Officer!" I smiled my
widest smile up at him. His nameplate read: J.D. MURPHY.
"Don't be so smart-mouth, girlie. You never know when you'll
need a good cop."
They finally decided to let us go, after everything checked
out. Officer J.D. Murphy smiled and said, "I'll be looking for
you, Miss Lube-Tube. You can bet I'll be keeping an eye out for
you and your pimp-husband, here."
Being accosted by the policemen had rattled Timmy, but the
action had only taken me to another level in excitement. As Tim
sped us home, I inserted three fingers through the opening in my
panties and deep into my sopping wet pussy. I began a moaning,
total orgasm after only a few flicks of my thumb across my erect
clit.
At home, Tim tried valiantly, but the policemen had taken the
wind out of his sails, and the starch out of his cock. He could
only watch as I pleasured myself with my vibrator, pushing it
through my panties and up inside of me. I fell asleep exhausted
and with the vibrator still in my hand.
* * * * *
Over the next few days, Tim regained his old enthusiasm, and
at my urging, we discussed other scenarios. My passion obviously
increased as the situation became more and more realistic; and,
there definitely was a little kink running around inside my brain
that took me into uninhibited, orgasmic pleasure -- the more I
behaved like a hooker and was believed to be a whore, the more
intense the pleasure.
Talking about the various types of hookers, from the
high-priced callgirl to the cheapest streetwalker, we began to
investigate alternatives to what we had already tried.
The weekly, local free paper was a good source of information,
judging by their "Personals" in the back of the paper. They
advertised everything from "escorts" to "strip-o-grams" to "trained
masseuse" to, simply, "young WF, seeking GENEROUS man for afternoon
fun w/o commitment." Another avenue of investigation were the
"date-line, `976-'" numbers.
Tim asked me which one I wanted to try, and I smiled and told
him "all of them!"
* * * * *
Unfortunately, before we had a chance to live out any more of
my fantasies, Tim was selected to go on a Pacific Rim tour with one
of the company Directors. They would visit plants and workshops in
Taiwan, India, Malaysia, the Philippines, and Hawaii, before
stopping in offices in Alaska, California and Washington state.
The trip would be part fact-finding and part pep rally, and Tim and
I were both excited about what his being chosen would mean for his
career. On the downside, was the fact that Timmy would be away for
just over six weeks.
When I dropped him at the airport on Sunday, we knew we
wouldn't see each other, again, until the seventh Tuesday -- by
far, the longest we had been separated since we had met.
* * * * *
By the second week of the trip, I was really missing the fun
Timmy and I had been having over the last several months. A few
quick phonecalls during the day sure wasn't the same as having Tim
there. Several nights, I even dressed in parts of my costumes and
played with my vibrator, but I missed my "John" too much for it to
be fun.
Finally, on the second Wednesday night, I put on my make-up a
little heavy, dressed in a tight denim skirt, red blouse and high
heels, and sheer stockings and went for a ride. I drove to a mall,
but didn't have the nerve to get out of the car in such a suburban
setting. So, I put the car in gear and headed downtown. It was a
warm night and I drove around the harbor, looking at all the
tourists. Feeling bored and lonely, I decided to call it a night.
On the way home, I was stopped at a red light and realized I
was looking right at the Congressional Hotel!
This was the place Officer J.D. Murphy told me the hookers
worked! On impulse, I pulled over to the curb and sat across the
street from the entrance. All types of people were going in and
coming out, dressed from jeans and t-shirts to three-piece suits
and cocktail dresses.
Not quite sure about what I wanted to do, I drove around the
block and found a parking place. I checked my make-up in the
mirror and got out of the car.
The entrance to the "Moonlight Lounge" was off the lobby and
I could hear the music and talking and glasses clinking before I
pulled the door open.
=====================
TO BE CONTINUED...(1991)
============================================================
By popular demand: Part 2 (1997)
* * * * *
I awoke the next morning with a terrible hangover. At first,
I wasn't even sure where I was, but it soon became clear that I was
home, on the familyroom sofa. I sat up and felt my bladder scream
for immediate attention. I was still dressed like a slut, only
more frazzled and wrinkled. I wanted to call in sick and take the
day off; but I was so angry with myself, I decided I would go to
the office as punishment for what I had done the night before.
It was a long, exhausting day; and, when I got home, I
stripped off my clothes and went straight to bed.
I woke up at nine-thirty, thirsty, hungry, and feeling a
hundred percent better. Dinner was a quick salad and a diet soda.
Then into the shower to get ready for bed.
As I was toweling myself dry, I saw my reflection in the
mirror. I stepped over to the sink and stared at my face.
`You big weenie!' I thought. `Wimp! Chicken! Fraidie-cat!
Coward!'
As I brushed my hair, I thought about my big adventure of the
night before...
I pulled open the door to the "Moonlight Lounge" and took a
step inside and to the right, out of the doorway. The pub was
smokey, dark, large and crowded. Robert Cray was on the stereo.
People -- white, black, young and old -- were talking and laughing,
drinking and dancing. There were women sitting at the bar and
standing along one wall, watching the dancers. I knew what Officer
J.D. Murphy said about the place, and I was dressed for it. I only
had to step up to the bar, order a drink and wait to see what
happens. Instead, I turned and nearly ran out of the bar and back
to my car. When I got home, I cracked open the vodka and orange
juice and drank myself to sleep.
I looked at my reflection. I wasn't tired, and it wasn't even
eleven o'clock, yet!
* * * * *
It was just midnight when I walked through the door of the
"Moonlight Lounge." I was wearing a nice, black, cocktail dress
and heels. My make-up wasn't too heavy.
`How could it hurt to just sit and have one drink, listen to
some music and head home?' I asked myself.
The bartender smiled when I sat down on a stool and I told him
I wanted a Stoli, neat. The stereo was still playing the blues and
I felt the rhythm bounce around my ribcage. The people smoking
looked like they were enjoying it so much, I wanted to light one up
and drag the smoke in until it hit my toes.
After a few minutes, I turned from watching the dancers back
to my drink, There was a second full glass next to mine. I looked
at the bartender and he arched an eyebrow across the bar. Through
the dim smoke I saw a hand wave and I saluted the hand with my
fresh drink as I brought it to my lips.
I guess that was the acknowledgement the owner of the hand was
looking for. I soon saw a shape heading my way. Gray suit, gray
shirt, gray tie. Tall, muscular, Mediterranean. He reminded me a
little of Jimmy Smits on "LA Law' -- and that ain't bad.
He squeezed in between my barstool and the one next to me.
The bartender placed a glass of something amber in front of him.
He sipped the liquor and slowly turned to look at me. He was
trying so very hard to be so very cool.
"How's your drink?"
I smiled and sipped, "Good. Thank you for the round."
"No problem. My name's Tony."
His dark eyes roamed over every square inch of my body. His
look was so intense, I could almost feel his eyeballs touch me.
"I'm Jess."
"Nice to meet you, Jess. You from around here?"
"Nope. This is my first time in this place."
"Yeah, I thought so. 'Cause, me, I hang here sometimes and
most faces are familiar. Yours, I haven't seen before. It's a
great face and I woulda remembered it."
"Well, thank you, Tony. I was just driving by and thought I'd
stop in for a nightcap."
"It's too early for a nightcap, Jess. The night's just
starting."
Tony was a smooth talker and an even smoother dancer. I had
another drink -- or maybe two. I kept telling myself I was going
to leave, but I didn't. I was having fun, and I couldn't ignore
the tingle between my legs from the knowledge that Tony probably
thought I was a hooker.
Tony drained his drink and threw a fifty on the bar. "Shall
we go, Jess?"
"Go? Where?"
"C'mon, Jess. You're a working girl, ain't you? I been
buying drinks and you been entertaining the hell out of me. I
appreciate that you ain't been rushing it."
"You think I'm a whore?"
"Did I say whore? No. I didn't insult you. I just thought
we could conclude our business that we been working up to, and
maybe you'd have cabfare home. Know what I mean?"
Why was I in the place? I wasn't dressed like a schoolmarm.
I had told myself that I wanted to see what it was like, pick up
some vibes, see the real hookers at work -- have one drink and
leave. Now, I had a man ready to go to bed with me! And pay me
"cabfare" for the pleasure. I thought of Tim. I had never cheated
on him, never intended to. But, here I was. Then I thought about
the game and the excitement it had brought into my life. It WAS a
game, and who could be hurt playing a little game? I had let Tony
buy me drinks. I had let him cup my buns when we danced. Now, was
I going to let him pay me to fuck me?
"Maybe you got the wrong idea about me, Tony." One last try
at doing the right thing.
"Hey, what's this shit? What? You think I can't afford you?"
He reached in his pocket and then held his hand just above the
opening. Bills were folded in a thick wad. "I got the money and
the time. What's your going rate?"
I wished I had better control of my emotions. Here I was,
sitting in a known hooker bar, with a man asking me how much a
piece of my ass cost. I was hot and ready to fuck.
I stood up and put my arm through his. "You got a room,
Tony?"
He didn't have a room, but he got one; and that whole process
was excruciatingly exciting. Tony stepped up to the desk as I
stood a few feet away. He told the clerk he and his "lady" need a
room for a few hours. The clerk looked at me, letting his eyes
roam from my toes to my hair, lingering at my legs and breasts.
Tony got the key and we entered an elevator.
The door had barely closed when Tony grabbed me into his arms
and kissed me. He was overpowering in his passion and I was a
little scared, but also very turned on because I had aroused him to
this degree. His hand grasped my breast and squeezed. My legs
felt weak and I was having trouble breathing.
The elevator stopped and we walked down the hall. The hotel
was shabbier looking up here than it was on the lobby level. The
room was small and worn looking, but the sheets looked clean.
Tony kicked off his shoes and hung his jacket in the tiny
closet. "Ain't you getting undressed, Jess?"
"Sure, Tony. But you know the number one rule, don't you?"
He chuckled. "Sure, I know the rule." He reached into his
pocket and peeled four fifties off his roll. He reached up under
my dress and pushed the bills under the elastic of my panties, on
top of my pussy. "Here, let me know when I use this up. I got
more."
I waited until he was naked and lying on his back on the bed,
his erection sticking straight up. His chest was hairless and his
abs were rippled and firm. He was watching me, and I made a little
production of disrobing for him. My dress dropped to the floor.
I unsnapped my bra and held it at arm's length and dropped it.
"Hey, Jess, you got an incredible rack on you."
I smiled. This whole scene was so crass and cheap. My pussy
was hot and wet.
After I rolled my stockings off, I hooked my thumbs in my
panties and slid them over my hips and down my legs. I picked up
the money and put it under Tony's nose. He inhaled deeply.
"You smell good, bitch. You're driving me crazy!"
I climbed on the bed and bent over his erection. Slowly, I
lowered my mouth over his flesh, not quite touching him. Finally,
when I felt him deep in my mouth, I closed tightly around him and
began sucking him off.
Tony was an enthusiastic partner, urging me on, telling me
what he liked, complementing my talents. This kept up for a while,
until he grabbed my hair and pulled my face away from his cock.
"Ride me," he said.
I mounted him. Slowly, I pressed back down, against him,
until I felt the knob of his dick pop into me. I groaned with the
pleasure and excitement I felt. I sat back and took all of him
inside of me and began to pump up and down as I squeezed my vaginal
muscles on his prick. He filled his hands with my bouncing tits.
This was a two hundred dollar fuck. I was fucking a man for
money! I was a whore!
Tony was in good shape and exerted good control. I came twice
while we fucked. Then he was ready and for a brief instant I
realized that a stranger was going to cum inside me -- I had
completely forgotten about a condom! But it was too late to do
anything about it as Tony clamped his strong hands on my shoulders
and pumped his pelvis violently against mine, filling me with his
warm cum. To my surprise, I came again.
I collapsed onto Tony's hard chest, breathing hard. We were
still connected at the groin.
"Hey, Jess, that was some fuck. You looked like you were
enjoying yourself."
I knew whores talked up their Johns, but I meant what I said.
"You are terrific, Tony. You made me very, very happy."
I kissed his lips, his neck, his ear. I was feeling very
mellow in the afterglow.
"Cool your jets, a minute, babe. I need a smoke after that."
We peeled ourselves apart and he sat up in bed. I dampened a
cloth in warm water at the tiny, chipped sink and washed his balls
and dick, then cleaned myself.
When I sat down on the bed, Tony was lighting a cigarette and
holding the pack out to me. I hadn't smoked in nine years -- not
since college. There was no way I wanted to start again, but I
reached for a cigarette and let Tony light it. I coughed after the
first drag, and again after the second, but I was shocked at how
quickly my body accepted the smoke. I was soon enjoying it like I
had never quit.
Tony was playing with my tits before we finished our second
cigarette. With a little help from my mouth, his gorgeous prick
was soon rock hard, again. I let him roll me over onto my elbows
and knees as he knelt behind me. He had technique. He pushed his
cock into me a little way and then pumped back and forth for that
length. Then he gave me a little more and pumped again. I was
soon screaming for all of him.
"Oh, fuck me, Tony! Give me all of it! You're driving me
crazy!
"Whataya want, eh? Tell me what you want."
"Oh, god, Tony! I want your cock! Fuck me and fuck me hard!"
And he did. He was slamming his hips into me, burying his
cock to the hilt, his balls slapping against me, and I was cumming
like a virgin in a vibrator store.
Later, after we were both fucked out, we sat and smoked,
again. Tony had produced a flask and we passed it back and forth.
Tony was on the bed and I was sitting, naked, in a chair, with one
foot on the bed. From where Tony was sitting, I had no secrets
left.
"Are you new in town, or just new to the `Moonlight?'" he
asked.
"Fairly new in town." What was I going to tell him, that I
was married and lived in the suburbs?
"You do this fulltime or do you have a job in the real world?"
"I have a day job. Why do you ask, Tony?"
"I was just curious. You handle yourself like a pro, but you
don't seemed burned out or anything. You're, ah... enthusiastic...
and you seemed to enjoy it a little more than your run-of-the-mill
working girl. You weren't bored."
I smiled at him and rolled my eyes, "I certainly wasn't bored,
Tony. You saw to that."
"Yeah, thanks. That's what I mean -- I believe you."
"You should."
"Yeah, well, my point being... You ain't no teeny-bopper
strung out on dope, and you ain't one step away from a streetwalker
with a nasty pimp. You're gorgeous and have a drop-dead body.
You're also very classy at the same time as being sexy as hell. If
you're just a nine-to-fiver looking to supplement your income,
maybe you should be looking for another kind of bar to hang out in.
Maybe the `Moonlight' is a little ah... raw for your talents. Know
what I mean?"
"Yes, I do, Tony. And I want to thank you for saying all
those nice things."
"Well, I ain't just sayin'em to say'em. Maybe you could make
us both some money."
The conversation was surreal, but I was hanging on every word.
"How, Tony?"
"I meet a lot of people in my business, Jess. I could make
the right introductions and you could make a lot of money. A lot
more than selling your twat in the `Moonlight Lounge.'"
"And you'd be my pimp?"
"No, no, nothing like that. I don't have the time or the
personality to run a string of girls. Too much trouble. What I
have is a lot of acquaintances -- rich acquaintances and expense
account acquaintances. They're in town for a few days, or their
wives are out of town for a few days... Then I got acquaintances
who are very pretty, classy women -- like you, Jess -- who like to
show a nice man a good time. I'm a match-maker. And if you're
happy with the match, you give me a... referral fee. Know what I
mean, now?"
"I think I see. How's it work, by phone, or what?"
"Sure. Sure. By phone." He grinned at me as he handed me
another cigarette. "Your hubby'll never know."
I couldn't hold my jaw from hitting my chest. "My husband?
How did..?"
Tony reached over and lifted my left hand up to my eyes.
"Usually, a married working girl slips her wedding band into her
purse for a night out, if she hasn't hocked it. I'm thinking
you're pretty new to the business, Jess."
I shook my head in embarrassment, "You're my first client,
Tony."
"Well, then, you're a natural. You must have practiced a
lot."
I could feel myself blush from my tits up to my hairline.
Tony wasn't done with his sales pitch, "Then let me emphasize
how lucky you were that it was me who bought you your first drink.
There's some scumbags that hang downstairs."
"What were you doing there, Tony?"
"Eh, a lot of reasons. I started hanging there when I was a
kid, so I still know a lot of people there, including my bookie.
I also get around to a lot of places, looking for talent."
"Hookers?"
"Any kind of talent, Jess. I make my money putting the right
people together. That's what I mean about being lucky you met me,
tonight. You could fuck and suck a lot of losers and never hear a
deal like I'm offering."
"But what about my age? I thought all these rich guys wanted
college cheerleaders. I'm going to be... ah, 28 soon. Over the
hill."
"Hey! Some of the most successful ladies I know are eight,
ten, even twelve years older than you. They have class, they're
sexy, they keep their looks up, they're smart and can talk. They
also have pussies tighter than a ten year old and they can suck a
basketball through a straw -- just like you!"
We both laughed. Tony reached over to squeeze a nipple and
pulled me over to the bed. My hand cupped his balls and stroked
his hardening cock.
"It's the class, and the attitude as well as the looks, Jess.
These guys can fuck the cheerleaders, but then they have to listen
about the latest grunge band and who's who on the afternoon soaps.
It's a rare coed who can walk into the right restaurant on the arm
of one of these guys and look like she belongs there. You'd look
like you belong there, Jess."
I didn't say anything -- my mouth was full of cock.
In a little while, Tony put me on my back and mounted me. It
was slow and passionate fucking. I had no trouble cumming as Tony
stroked in and out of me. It was a combination of his talent and
the thoughts flying through my brain. Me, having a career as a
call-girl! Was it possible? What were the odds that my first
"John" would be someone like Tony instead of just another lonely
man? Was what Tony was offering something I'd actually do? Could
I do it?
An hour later, we were dressed and ready to leave the room.
It was five o'clock in the morning. Tony looked as cool and as
crisp as he had at midnight. I felt a little worse for the wear.
Tony handed me another two fifties. "Here, you earned this."
"Thanks, Tony. You gave me a lot to think about."
"Hey, we won't have a contract, or nothing. You try it one
time and see how it works. If it don't work out, we call it
quits."
"And if it does work out?"
"Oh, I think it'll work out, babe. Then we set you up with
some voice mail, get you out and about with some acquaintances, and
then you and I get together every so often to... ah... discuss
business. But in a much nicer hotel."
I smiled. "What kind of money are we talking about, Tony."
"Be a minimum of a thou. Eight for you and two for me. Even
if he calls you direct the next time, I still get my two. It's the
honor system."
I was shocked at the amount of money we were discussing. "Men
will pay one thousand dollars for a night with me?"
"Hey, you'll be making more than that if I'm right about your
potential. And I don't do tax forms, so what you make, you make."
We kissed in the pale dawn, outside the hotel. He gave me his
card and told me to call. I walked to my car and drove home.
* * * * *
When I pulled up in front of the house, one of our neighbors
was jogging by. He stopped, jogging in place, as I got out of the
car. The look on his face was priceless when he saw me in my
tight, short knit dress, no stockings, highheels, and "just fucked"
hair. It was five-thirty in the morning and he knew Tim was on the
road.
"Hi, Jessie."
"Hi, Malcolm. How's the jogging?"
"Good. Good. How's Tim?"
"He's in Japan for a day or two. Loves the sushi. Well,
gotta go get some beauty sleep. Say hello to Maggie for me." I
knew the word would be out all over the neighborhood. My
reputation was shot.
I didn't get to work that day. And I didn't say anything
about my adventure to Tim on the phone.
The following Tuesday, I called Tony.
* * * * *
That was nearly six years ago.
I made over four thousand dollars before Tim returned from his
trip. I told him everything on the way home from the airport. At
first, he thought I was kidding. I fanned all the hundred dollar
bills for him and he knew I wasn't. He was shocked and more than
a little angry. But, when we got home, he ripped my clothes off
just inside the front door and took me on the livingroom floor. We
fucked for two days straight. It wasn't the reaction I expected,
but it was one I could live with.
In the end, he was angrier about my new smoking habit than he
was about his wife selling her ass.
I still have my part-time job and love it. Lately, I don't
work as often as I used to -- about one night a week, maybe two if
there's a convention in town. The biggest problem is hiding the
money from the IRS. We have CDs, a new house, two new cars, and
Tim has his entertainment wall and a big Harley.
Tim enjoys hearing all the lurid details when I get home from
a "date." Some of these men, these pillars of society, icons of
business, are much kinkier than I ever expected, but it has taught
me to roll with the punches (not literally -- I don't do any rough
stuff). And it does make my adventures more interesting for Timmy.
Of course, I still see Tony about twice a month. He always
wants to take me out for a gourmet dinner and then get a suite at
the nicest hotel in town, but I insist we meet at the "Moonlight
Lounge" for a drink, and then get a room upstairs. He thinks I'm
a little crazy. Maybe I am.
THE END
..............................
(c) Copyright September 1991 and July 1997 by J BOSWELL.
All rights, except those explicitly detailed below, ARE
RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR. Electronic distribution (as a text
file on an "adults only" newsgroup or FREE site) is permitted
without alteration, but inclusion in any type of "publication"
offered for sale (eg., book, magazine, CD-ROM, subscription-
only web site, etc.) requires the author's explicit
permission.
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