From: an333212@anon.penet.fi
Reply-To: an333212@anon.penet.fi
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: My wife the call girl (voy)
Date: Fri, 20 Oct 1995 03:49:13 UTC
Organization: Anonymous forwarding service
Message-ID: <035317Z20101995@anon.penet.fi>





Last March I changed my normal pattern.  Instead of going into my

office, as I usually do, I decided to stay home and work in my

home office on my computer.  There's no problem with that where I

work, as long as you get your work done.  I'm 26 and have been

with my company for two years, not that it matters for this

account.



My wife, Celeste, is 24 and terrific looking.  She is 5'4" with

long, jet black, straight hair.  When we moved to this city two

years ago she didn't have a job -- or really much experience.

But she soon caught on with a real estate company and was

bringing in a fairly good income.  The hours were, well, odd.

Sometimes she would have to leave early in the morning -- more

often she would be working late.  I really couldn't complain

since she was making very good bucks -- in fact, quite a bit more

than me.



I was working in my office at about 10 AM when I heard her come

in.  She obviously didn't know I was home or she would have said

something to me.  I was putting the finishing touches on a

report, so I didn't say anything.  I heard her go into the

bedroom and start rummaging around her closet.  I was about to

say something to let her know I was home -- but I heard the phone

ring.  "Yeah Stan" she said, picking it on the first ring.  "Ten

minutes!... OK, how much did he say?... All right, I'm putting on

my work clothes right now.  I'll be ready."



I was more than a bit confused.  I figured that Stan was her boss

who had taught her the business.  I had met him before -- an

early thirtyish good looking blond guy who drove a very

customized Porsche.  What got me confused was her reference to

work clothes.  She didn't have to wear that goofy gold jacket

that other real estate agents wore.  She said that was one of the

attractions of the job.  She had left for work that morning

wearing her standard business suit.  I couldn't figure out this

meant.



What I should have done is called out and asked her what was up.

What I did do is to creep outside the bedroom door and peek

inside.  There was Celeste, standing in front of our full-length

mirror, brushing her hair.  She was wearing a light purple

negligee that showed off her nicely rounded breasts.  I had never

seen her in a negligee before.  Normally she didn't seem to get

off on anything that kinky.  Or so I thought.  I could barely see

her nipples in the mirror, even through the room was quite well-

lit as the sun shown through the window.  She put down her brush

and began to apply a very dark purple lipgloss which made her

look rather mysterious.  I just stared at her.  I noticed that my

cock was swelling up very rapidly and decided that I would see

what happened.



I heard our doorbell ring.  I quickly moved into the kitchen,

which is situated so that I could see into the living room, and

if the door was left open, into the bedroom.  Celeste trotted

over to answer it.  I saw Celeste and a middle-aged man, about in

his late forties standing by the door.  He seemed to be about

5'10" with a noticeable bald spot.  He looked nervously around as

he handed Celeste an envelope.  "There's six hundred there" he

said as he took off his coat.  He may have been nervous, but I

could see from the way he was staring at Celeste he was not

displeased.  "Stan said that it was five hundred, but I figured

that if I added a little extra, you'd add a little extra, too."

"That's sweet," Celeste said, and kissed him on the cheek.  "I'm

sure we can work out something."  She took his coat, folded it,

and lay it on a chair.  Then she put the envelope on the table,

without checking its contents.



Celeste always has had the ability to make people feel at ease.

She has a sweet, almost girlish smile and a soft laugh.  She has

always been able to get people to do what she wants without

seeming to put pressure on them.  They ask her if they can do

whatever she has been wanting them to do.  It always worked with

me -- but I never minded.  She's not an overtly controlling

person -- but I know she likes to be in control of most

situations.



The two of them sat down on the sofa in the living room.  I

learned that "Jeffrey" was from Columbus, Ohio.  His wife was at

their motel and he "really appreciated" it that he could see

Celeste here.  Celeste (whom he called "Tracy") offered him a

glass of wine which he took and seemed to drink fairly rapidly.

The wine had the effect of relaxing him.  I heard him say how he

had never done anything like this before and Celeste told him not

to worry, everything was going to be just fine.



She asked him to tell her something about himself, and while he

was talking about his furniture business, she began running her

foot on his lap.  I could see that she was also wearing dark

purple polish on her toes.  "Am I distracting you?" she smiled

sweetly.  The crotch on his pants was starting to bulge up and he

was shifting around.  "You're sweating -- let me make you a

little more comfortable" she said as she starting unbuttoning his

shirt.  He was obviously pretty excited because he took her arm

and pulled her close to himself.  They started kissing

passionately as they sat on the couch.  I stared at the two of

them going at it, and as quietly as possible, dropped my pants to

the floor.  Celeste had always been a responsive lover.  But I

had never seen her so aggressive.  I started stroking myself and

could tell that I was getting harder and harder more rapidly than

ever.



After a few minutes she broke away from him and whispered
something in his ear.  I couldn't hear what it was, but Jeffrey
sighed and lay back.  Her small hand made a quick bee-line for
his zipper and began to pull it down.  I noticed that her finger
nails were also coated with purple polish as they struggled to
pull down his fly.  "Just help me a bit with this, please" she
told him.  He raised himself up and she started pulling off his
pants.  She moved in front of him for a moment so I couldn't see
what was going on.  But she pulled off his pants and boxers and
folded them neatly and put them of a chair.  I could see his cock
bob in the air for a moment before Celeste turned back to him with 
a wide smile.  Both her darkly tipped hands encircled his swollen 
member and her puple lips sank to encase the reddish head.

Jeffry moaned and thrust deeper into her oral cavity.  I heard my 
wife moan and watched her twist her head, bobbing her slick lips 
up and down his staff.  I knew first hand what that felt like.  My 
prick leapt at the memory of her skill.  Now I was beginning to see 
how she got so damned good.

Her customer's hand was under her lavender lingerie, obviously 
exploring her wet pussy.  Celeste's hips were rising and falling, the 
cock still being slurped noisily by eager tongue and lips.  He didn't 
last long under her voracious attack.  She accelerated her pace, 
squaling around his meat, as her cheeks puffed, filled with cum.  
Swallowing, she gasped a breath, showering her cheeks anf nose 
with the next eruption.  Gamefully, she dove back down and 
captured the rest between loving lips.

Jeffry was making strangling noises which softened in tone and 
harshness as he finished.  My wife kissed his cock farewell and 
sighed, relaxing beside him.

"That was . . . amazing," he choked out.

"Um, you were fantastic, too, Jeffry.  Would you care for another 
glass of wine while I freshen up?"

Instantly the gracious hostess, Celeste served him then coyly took 
her leave.  It wasn't until then that I realized I was leaning weakly 
against the wall.  I'd cum all over myself and the carpet.  As if my 
brain had been temporarily shut down, a backlog of thoughts 
washed through me.  My shy, delicious wife a high class call girl?  
I'd just witnessed the proof.  Her "boss" Stan her pimp?  Obviously.  
How long had she been fucking men for money in our own home?  
A year and a half.  How many had there been?  Hundreds.

She returned a few minutes later, her lips freshly purple and raven 
locks brushed.  She sat beside him, chatted easily with him, 
causing me to marvel at her relaxation and the way he responded.  
Her nails tickled his scalp and her breast brushed lightly on his arm 
from time to time.  It dawned on me that she was actively seducing 
her trick, reawakening his depleted middle-aged libido.  He lit a 
cigarette, offered her one.  Another stunner - she accepted, 
smoking it like a seasoned pro, teasing Jeffry, using it as another 
tool of her trade.  That, more than anything else, made me realize 
just how little I knew about my wife.

It took her another fifteen minutes to get him hard.  She delicately 
rolled a condom over his dick, sat astride him and took him into her 
visibly lubricated cunt.  She wriggled, rose and fell for nearly ten 
more before Jeffry filled the rubber.  Five more, and she escorted 
him to the door, amidst promises to get together the next time he 
was in town.

My wife flopped into a chair with a loud sigh and drew deeply on 
the second cigarette he'd given her.

"Well," she said, apparently to the air, "I'm glad you finally know, 
darling.  Have a good time?"

I shambled out, feeling more embarrassed that anything else.  
"Celeste?  How could you?"

She tapped the unopened envelope with a purple nail and blew 
smoke at the ceiling.  "Besides, I like it.  I'm good at it."

"So I see," I said, trying to find my anger.  All I found is my hard-on.

"I saw you jacking off," she said nonchalantly, spreading her legs.  
Why don't you fuck me this time?"