View Full Version : Julie Becomes John's Pet

07-28-2009, 02:15 AM
Julie Becomes John's Pet Ch. 01
by Johns Pet JulieŠ

My name is Julie, and I'm writing this at the command of the man that I have completely and happily surrendered to. All of the names in this story are accurate, as John feels that makes sharing it all the more exciting.

A bit of background: I am thirty-eight years old and had been faithfully married for nineteen years. I've always been considered attractive, and I have a rather large chest. I live with my husband and two daughters in a big house. My husband's job requires him to be in New York several days a week, so very often I find myself sleeping alone. He does what he has to do, and I accept it.

Ever since we've owned the home, we've rented the upstairs as an apartment. This summer we rented the apartment to John, who is a strikingly handsome and fit thirty two year old. John was friendly and easy to talk to. My seventeen year old daughter Marcy would flush every time she saw him walk by from our window. John and I quickly became friends and I soon found myself sometimes "just hanging out" at his place after the kids went to bed on the nights my husband was away. I never had any intent to have a physical relationship with John, but I did enjoy being in the company of and getting attention from someone so attractive. I didn't get to visit as often as I'd like, as John had a "revolving door" of women visit him, sometimes staying all night.

I knew not to knock on the door upstairs when there was an unfamiliar car in the parking lot. I knew I should have pulled back when I realized that I was getting jealous...but I couldn't. One night I spotted an attractive blonde park her car and head up to his apartment. I actually snuck upstairs and listened through the door as he sat on his couch and seduced this woman. I was there for over two hours as I listened to them make small talk, with John continuously making her laugh. The two seemed like they were having so much fun. John eventually seduced her and I listened to them through the door as they made love on the living room sofa. Although I had no intention of ever having an affair with this man, I was becoming more jealous, and more attracted to him.

I hadn't seen John in close to a week, and I was beginning to miss him. I finally saw him pull up in his car, and noticed that he had gym clothes on. It took me about five minutes to get up the nerve, but I went upstairs and knocked on the door. He seemed happy to see me, and he asked if I wanted to watch TV while he took a post-workout shower. I readily agreed, and I playfully asked him if he was having any company tonight. When he looked at me and said "well...you're here" it felt odd, since he'd never been that openly flirty with me before.

John took his shower as I channel surfed. I heard the water stop, and less than two minutes later John emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel, which surprised me. I figured he'd go into the bedroom and get dressed, but instead he walked over to me and started making conversation. I had no idea what he was saying, as I nervously looked around the room while glancing at his muscular chest and arms. I didn't feel right about the situation and I was beginning to get nervous, and even a bit offended.

I finally got up the courage to gently tell John that I didn't feel comfortable talking to him when he was wearing only a towel. John said that he agreed that he shouldn't be doing that...but instead of getting dressed, he smiled at me and removed the towel! John was standing in front of me, completely naked. His penis was only about two feet away from my face. I had no idea what to say or do.

John began stroking his penis gently, making it get bigger and harder, as he moved toward me. By now his penis was at half-staff, and just inches away from my mouth. I sat in a stunned silence.

"Suck it" John said with a cocky grin.

I tried to say something, but John gently slapped me in the face with his cock.

"Suck it", he repeated.

I don't know why I felt as if I had no choice. He wasn't threatening in any way, and I didn't feel afraid to just say no. But it was clear that John was in charge, and that I was to do what he said. So I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and began sucking him for all I was worth. John alternated between using the back of my head and my shoulders to guide me, while I eventually ran my hands up and down his ass cheeks.

John's breathing got heavier and heavier, and I prepared to swallow his cum. But John had something else in mind- after pulling his cock out of my mouth and while holding my head and taking a few strokes, his cum started shooting out and hitting me in the face. I closed my eyes and felt shot after shot hit me on the forehead, on the cheek, on the chin...it seemed to have gone on forever. No one had ever done this to me before, and I felt completely grossed out and humiliated. I was ready to burst into tears, and I told John that he was an asshole.

John laughed it off and told me to "go home and get cleaned up". I burned with embarrassment as John opened the door for me and closed it behind me without a word.

I ran downstairs and went straight into the bathroom. My face and hair was covered in the gooey mess. I stared at my image in the mirror- the image of someone that had just been used and degraded beyond her wildest imagination- and something clicked inside of me. I thought back to sucking John off, and realized that I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

I noticed that there was a drop of cum running down my forehead that was about to run down into my eye. I scraped it up with my finger and looked at it. I don't know what possessed me to take a small taste, but I did. After the small taste, I quickly gobbled up the rest of the cum that was resting on my fingertip. The taste, the smell and the memory from where it came threw me into a frenzy. I quickly pulled off my shorts and started masturbating furiously through my underwear with one hand as I looked in the mirror and scooped the cum off of my face with two fingers and ate it up. I scraped up every drop and wanted more. Within a minute I had played myself into quite possibly the most intense orgasm I'd ever had.

John had provided me with a memorable experience, but at the same time I was furious with him. I was determined to go back up to his apartment the next night and put him squarely in his place.

At the same time, I knew that he could be the one putting me in my place. The anticipation and uncertainty of our next meeting made me horny as the devil and I masturbated several times before going to sleep. And I never even considered putting a washcloth to my face.

07-28-2009, 02:16 AM
"So, Julie...why did you do it?"

That was the question swimming through my head throughout the next day. The more specific questions were "why did I let John use me like a whore?", "why were you so turned on by this?", and most importantly "why have you *already* decided that you'd let John have his way with you again?".

Let's discuss my husband Nate for a moment. He's away working in New York three or four nights a week. When he's home, he's either too busy watching sports on TV, too busy getting drunk, or both. I've accepted that Nate is a functional alcoholic. I've tried to get him to rehab- we have the money and insurance to do so- but he has consistently refused. He has his good points, but his priorities are his job, his possessions, his kids, his sports, and of course, his booze. I've completely fallen off his radar, and I'd guess we've had sex an average of five or six years over the past ten years.

And I've tried so hard to change that! One year for Valentine's Day I bought Nate a pair of handcuffs, with a note saying that tonight, I'd do whatever he wanted. All his wild imagination could muster up was five minutes of missionary-position sex without any foreplay. Those handcuffs have been collecting dust at the bottom of a drawer for years, and serve as a bitter reminder of an awful night. I'm 38 years old- biologically, I am in my sexual prime- but I am stuck in a sexless relationship. As soon as John moved in, something had awakened inside of me.

Back to the present- the day had dragged on as I waited for John to come home. When he finally arrived I knew I would have to muster up all of my courage to go up the stairs and confront him. I had dressed carefully that morning- jeans, a low-cut top that was casual enough to make someone believe that I wasn't "dressing up", and my best matching bra and panties. Taking such time to put my wardrobe so carefully together was an admission onto itself- that despite my being angry with John on some level, I was open to the idea of something else happening that night.

John's car finally pulled up, and I ducked down while watching him through my bedroom window. Thankfully, he was alone. I looked at the clock on my stove, and set the timer for fifteen minutes. I'd planned to read a book until the alarm went off, then I'd go straight upstairs without having a chance to get nervous.

The moment finally arrived and I ran upstairs and knocked on John's door. As he gave me a knowing smile, he invited me in. I sat on the couch, looked directly into his eyes, and told him that I wanted to talk about last night.

He sat back and smiled. "You mean you want to talk about when I squirted my initials onto your face and sent you home?"

I was taken aback, and all of my gameplans and strategies were immediately rendered useless. I quietly asked him why it had to be that way...why he had to make me feel used and degraded.

John gave me a serious look, and thought before he spoke. "I had a date tonight, and cancelled it. I wanted to see if you'd come up. I knew that if you didn't, that you were truly angry. But you're here, and that tells me you want more".

I threw caution to the wind and told him that I indeed wanted more, but it would be nice if I could be treated like a lady and not feel used.

John gave me a stern look. "Julie, you were using me for weeks before last night. You used me for company, and to feel good about yourself".

For whatever reason I wanted to burst into tears and cry on his shoulder- but I knew I that wouldn't be the right move, so I did everything I could to maintain my composure.

John looked me up and down, getting an especially good look at my chest, before continuing. "Julie, you're attractive. But I have a lot of women interested in me, women that want to have sex with me. And they don't come with your baggage, being a married woman and all. Why should I choose you over any of them?"

I didn't know what to say. I burned with humiliation- I was ready to offer this man strings-free sex, and he was rejecting me. I finally asked him what I could do to set me apart, and what could I do to make him interested?

John thought for a minute and finally said "I'll give you a day to think about it- we'll call it an audition. Come back tomorrow night and we'll see how you perform".

John then rose and made a motion for me to follow him. Once again, he was dismissing me and ushering me out the door, the ultimate thing that made me feel like shit.

I told him to have a good night, and began heading down the stairs. I then heard John call my name behind me, and I spun around. Hope rose within me.

"Do me a favor", he casually said. "Just in case either of us change our minds before tomorrow night, I'd like to have a look at those tits right now".

I sighed inwardly and thought about it. The voice inside my head said "just do it". I looked at John and slowly pulled my v-neck up over my head, then hung it on the handrail. I paused for a moment, posing in only my black bra and jeans. Then I reached back, unhooked my bra, pulled the straps down, and stood three stairs down from John with my bare 34-Cs dangling in front of me.

John then asked me to put both my hands behind my head so that he'd have a better look, and I willingly complied. It was an odd feeling- it was as if my hands were being tied behind my head...by no one but me.

John looked at my breasts for a few moments. He then politely thanked me and shut the door. I felt like such an idiot standing there with my hands behind my head displaying my breasts as he turned and closed that door.

I felt more embarrassment and rejection as put my bra and shirt back on in the stairwell. I undressed for this man- I showed him my body, and dare I say it's a pretty good one- and he turned me away.

Then it dawned on me- last night, when John took off his towel and showed me his cock, I lost control, and he was in charge. When I disrobed in front of him, I wanted him to lose control. I wanted him to come down the stairs, wrap his arms around me, take me upstairs and make passionate love to me. He didn't- by inspecting me and then turning his back on me, he again demonstrated that *HE* truly was in charge. He and he alone would decide the nature of our relationship.

I walked back into my home with only one thing in mind- I was going to make John mine. I would do anything I could think of to turn him on. I'd do anything he thought of that turned him on. The other women that were interested in him were my opponents, and I would defeat them. I would give him anything that they would not. I would try harder, fuck better, be sexier, suck longer, whatever it took.

The man upstairs was going to be mine, and I was going to be his. Nothing and no one was going to stop me. I had a single target in life: I'd do anything to make it happen, and I'd do anything for John to allow it to happen. All I wanted was John, and he could dictate the terms. In a way, knowing that got me even more turned on.

I spent much of the next 24 hours scouring the internet for ideas on what I'd do for John during our next meeting. I also made a brief shopping trip. I'll share all of the fun details in the next installment.

07-28-2009, 02:17 AM
Thursday was going to be the day. I had it all planned out- I would send the kids off to school and shower. From there I would buy some lingerie, and rent a couple of pornographic videos in order to get some ideas on how to show John the time of his life, and to demonstrate that I would be a worthy sex partner. I'd get on the treadmill at around 8:00, which would give me an excuse to take another shower without the kids wondering why I was taking one so late. I'd call my husband Nate in New York to eliminate the possibility of him calling later.

I was literally counting the minutes...I'd soon put the kids to bed, let them fall asleep, and head up to John's. But he wasn't home yet, and I was becoming concerned. I thought to check my e-mail, and there was a message from him:


Sorry, but it turns out that tonight is no good. We'll do it tomorrow night instead. See you then.

My heart sunk as I read it. He has sent it less than a half an hour ago. Who knows what the reason was. Maybe he had to work late, maybe he got lucky with someone else, or maybe he'd changed his mind. Or he could have just been toying with me, or testing to see what my reaction was. I played it cool and wrote back:

Hi John:

Tomorrow night is fine, we'll do it whenever it works for you. Nate should be home by 11:00, so I really should be downstairs by then.



I wondered if the "xoxox" was a good idea, but I wanted to subtlety let John know that I had more in mind than talking or watching TV. I hoped John was serious about the next night- I could wait, and it would actually give me more time to prepare.

The next day I got another e-mail from John.


Tonight, drive your car down the street and walk back home. Tell your hubby that you were at a friend's house or something.

Hmmm...okay, that would work. Plus it reaffirmed that John was interested, and had me in his plans.

I got on the treadmill at 7:00, and took a shower afterward. I painstakingly shaved my legs and thoroughly cleaned every inch of my body while I was in there. At 9:00 I put the kids back to bed and snuck back into the bathroom. I quickly removed all of my clothes and put on the short, black satin robe that I'd purchased for the occasion the night before. I put a note on the dining room table saying that I was at a friend's house, just in case he got home before I did. I put a raincoat on over my robe, put on a pair of sexy heels, and walked to my car. I drove up the street, parked around the corner, and got to my own house as quickly as possible.

I took a deep breath and was about to knock on the door when suddenly I heard a key enter the door downstairs- Nate had arrived home early! The stairwell is situated so that he couldn't see me waiting at John's door, but I realized that I was just a few seconds away from him catching me walking into the house with no explanation as to the whereabouts of my car, or why I was dressed in such analluring manner. I stood breathless and motionless as Nate entered our side of the house. I was safe, but the incident really put light on the fact that I was taking a big chance. This was it. If I went forward, there would be no turning back. I hesitated for a moment.

I stopped to regain my composure. I began thinking about what I was about to do- cheat on my husband. I had already given John a blow job, but that happened so quickly, and I hadn't planned on doing it. What I was planning to do tonight was hardcore, pre-meditated cheating. Did I really want to go through with it?

Ultimately, the answer was yes. I knew what I was about to do was wrong, but I wanted to do it so badly that I was willing to put my moral compass aside. Every bone in my body yearned and ached to be with John, and I was going through with it.

I went over my gameplan again, and quietly removed my raincoat, leaving me only in my short, silk robe and heels. I lightly tapped on his door.

When John opened the door he was dressed only in a green terrycloth robe. I lightly laughed and commented that "great minds think alike" as I entered his apartment. I quickly took John by the hand and took him over to his couch. I sat him down, and stood before him, looking deeply into John's beautiful eyes. I slowly untied my robe, pulled it up over my shoulders, and let it fall to the floor. I stood before John completely naked,- it was my way of letting him know that I was all his. John looked at me up and down with a knowing smile.

I climbed on top of him and started giving him a lap dance while grinding my pussy against him. John grabbed my breasts and gently caressed and squeezed them. I was in heaven as I arched backward and let John have his way with my 36 DDs. I began to lose control when he began sucking my nipples, but I tried as hard as I could not to scream since my husband was downstairs.

I got off John's lap and dropped to my knees on the floor. I rubbed my face against his crotch and undid his robe, finding a pair of silk boxers underneath. I looked at him and smiled seductively as I rubbed my face against his penis through his underwear. He was getting bigger and harder, and I was loving it. I looked right into his eyes, pulled down the waistband of his underwear, and started licking and sucking his cock.

In the previous chapters, I did not emphasize what a great body John has, and especially what a great cock he has. He has an incredibly lean and muscular body, and a nice, long penis that's seven or eight inches long. I had literally been salivating over the concept of having his cock in my mouth for close to a week, and I finally had it. It was if I'd left my body and world and entered a new one. I no longer had to be the prim and proper trophy housewife...the "bad girl" in me had been unleashed. I was going to the craziest slut John had ever dreamed of.

His cock was nice and wet, so I moved up and put it between my breasts. I then pushed them together and slid John's cock between them, all while looking into his eyes and giving him the most seductive smile I could muster up. It felt good for me, and I could tell that John was loving it.

John then stood up, and took me by the hand. We were finally going into the bedroom. I couldn't get in there fast enough. I hopped on the bed and opened my legs, hornier than I'd ever been in my life. John told me to get on my elbows and knees near the edge of the bed. No problem...I love doggy-style.

He reached into his end drawer, and shuffled around. John finally put his hands on my shoulders, and said he had bad news and good news.

I was totally confused.

John said the bad news was that he was out of condoms. I was just about to tell him that I was on birth control when he said that the good news is that we could do something else. At that moment I felt John's penis pushing into my ass. He'd gone into his drawer to put lubrication on it.

I caught my breath- I'd never done anything like this before. My husband Nate sometimes asked about us doing anal sex and the answer was always an emphatic no. This was really pushing my boundaries, but I in no way wanted to displease John, so I clutched the sheets and allowed him to do as he wished.

John told me to relax, and that he knew what he was doing as he ever so slowly pushed his cock into my rear end. It must have taken him five minutes to get it all the way in, and as he slowly entered me I was making the strangest sounds imaginable. It was an odd mixture of pleasure, pain, and humiliation.

As John inched into my asshole, I thought of my husband- Nate had provided me with a big house, nice car, vacations, children, the works...and I'd never give this to him. John was strong and powerful enough to simply take whatever he wanted from me, and I was incredibly turned on by that.

I finally felt John's legs up against my ass, and he said that he was finally all the way in. He asked if I'd ever been fucked in the ass before, and I told him no. He then asked if I wanted him to keep going, and I said yes. John then asked what I wanted him to do, and I told him to keep going.

"No", he said. "Tell me what you want me to do".

I thought for a moment and replied "I want you to fuck me in the ass".

John wasn't finished. "Aren't you a dirty little slut...letting me fuck you in the ass for the first time?".

This time I wasn't taking any chances. "I'm YOUR dirty little slut, baby. I'll do anything you want me to do. Please fuck me, baby...please fuck me".

That must have been what he wanted to hear, because John then started fucking me in earnest. He started slowly, then he sped up. The pain was quickly subsiding, and it was nothing pleasure as John drilled my ass and I panted and moaned with ecstasy. At one point John used both his hands to grab my hair and rode me like he was riding a horse. Then he released my hair with his right hand and began roughly slapping my ass. It was all an incredible feeling, knowing I was being used but feeling more sexual and turned on than I ever had in my life.

John's breathing changed and his motion sped up- he was going to cum and I know it. "Please cum in my ass baby...oh, God, cum in my ass!".

And that's exactly what he did. He moaned and grunted with ecstasy, and then he stopped pumping. He pulled out of me and laid on his back, sweaty and exhausted. Then I came up with an idea. I asked him to lie there for a moment, and that I'd be right back.

I went into the bathroom and found what I was looking for- two washcloths. I put some soap on one of them, and simply wet the other. After using toilet paper to wipe some of the lube off my ass, I went back to the bedroom and saw John lying on his back. I took his now limp penis and started gently washing the lube, cum- and whatever else- off of him. When his cock was completely clean I used the other washcloth to rinse him off. It was perfectly clean, and to demonstrate that to him I put his cock back in my mouth and gently sucked it the way a baby would suck a pacifier. It was the ultimate act of servitude and submission, and I was enjoying every moment of it.

John was starting to get hard again, and I kept servicing him, hoping to get more some action. But he suddenly told me that he needed to make some phone calls, and that I needed to get going. That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but he's the boss.

As we entered the living room I put my robe back on, then quietly opened the door to retrieve my raincoat. John asked me if I had enjoyed myself, and I told him that I had and that I couldn't wait to see him again. He asked for my cell number, and told me that he wanted me to carry it with me at all times so that I'd always be accessible. I told him that as long as it didn't interfere with my kids that would be fine, and he understood.

I kissed John goodnight, snuck down the stairs and out the door back to my car, and drove home. I walked in and saw Nate sitting in a chair in the living room. He had a drink in his hand and was plastered, as usual. I gave him a quick kiss on the forehead hello and I moved quickly to the bedroom without removing my coat. Of course, this went completely over Nate's head. I removed my coat and robe, and got under the covers, completely naked. I could put on my pajamas later.

As I laid in bed and thought of the night's events, I thought it odd that I was so incredibly hot for John despite the fact that he'd never given me an orgasm. He didn't do the things that I normally liked- kissing, having my pussy eaten, having vaginal intercourse- but for whatever reason it didn't matter. In fact, I was probably drawn to him for that very reason- he was the most confident man I'd ever encountered. He knew that he didn't have to go out of his way to do things to please me, and I knew that if things weren't done his way that I could be easily replaced. I was hornier than I'd ever been in my life, and I was totally consumed by him.

The more I laid there and thought about things, the hornier I got. Using my fingers to masturbate wasn't going to do the trick- I desperately wanted to be eaten out and / or fucked. John had dismissed me, and Nate would never want something as disinteresting (to him) as sex to interfere with his binge drinking.

Then an incredible idea came into my head...those handcuffs I had bought for Nate years ago...were they still in the drawer?

I turned on the light and started rummaging through my dresser drawers, eventually finding the handcuffs that had an old t-shirt wrapped around them. I took a deep breath and smiled- I was going to go for it and take what I wanted, just as John had done with me.

I walked into the living room stark naked, with the handcuffs hidden in the palm of my hand. Nate was startled to see me in such a state, and reacted with a surprised laugh. I took him by the hand and tried to pull him out of his chair, but he resisted, saying he was "too tired". I told him to relax, that I just wanted to see something.

As soon as Nate stood up, I got behind him and quickly applied the handcuffs to each of his wrists. Thankfully he was in a drunken enough state so that he couldn't figure out what was going on or offer any real resistance.

Nate started stammering in protest, but I told him to shut his mouth and not wake the kids. I took him by the hair and slowly led him to the ground, laying on his back. From there, I put both of my knees on each side of his head and told him to lick me. I took Nate by the hair and bucked against his face as he licked and sucked my pussy. Two orgasms later, I was ready to get laid.

I pulled down Nate's pants, and his penis wasn't even hard. He began whining, slurring about "doing this some other time". The distain I felt for my drunken idiot husband was growing by the second, but I was determined to get what I wanted. I got into the sixty-nine position and was about to start sucking my husband to hardness when I felt an odd sensation...John's cum was starting to leak out of me. I came up with a wicked thought.

"Nate...stick your tongue up my ass".

He refused, and tried to get away. But his pants were around his ankles, his hands were cuffed, and he was drunk. So with my right hand I grabbed him by the testicles and told him to start licking. Nate quickly got the message, and started licking and tounging away. I smiled wickedly as I thought of what he was lapping up, then I reached over with my right hand and masturbated while Nate kept rimming me. I soon had my third and fourth orgasms, and decided to call it a night. I uncuffed Nate and told him to brush his teeth before coming to bed.

The next morning I got up early, showered, and made breakfast for the kids. They soon left to enjoy their weekend, and Nate finally got out of bed. He was a mess, and hung over as usual. He looked at me and asked what got into me the previous night.

In as dismissive a tone as I could muster up, I simply told Nate to shut up. He lowered his eyes and walked away like the sad little puppy dog of a man that he was. I then began thinking of an excuse to leave the house so that I could privately call John and tell him what I wonderful time I'd had the previous night, and to tell him that his personal slut couldn't wait to see and please him again.

07-28-2009, 02:19 AM
On Saturday I finally got out to do some grocery shopping and call John- but all I got was his voice mail. I wasn't certain if I should leave a titillating message (I would have talked really dirty to him had I gotten him in person), but I just asked him to call whenever he got a chance.

When I returned home I noticed something unusual in the doorway- roses. I couldn't believe it- was John crazy enough to leave something like that where my husband or children could see them? John didn't seem like the type that would buy me flowers anyway.

I picked up the roses and saw that a card was attached. I opened it- the flowers were from Nate. The card was handwritten, with Nate saying that he wanted to try harder to bring more romance into our marriage. He suggested that I drop the kids off at my mother's next Saturday, and that we have a nice, romantic evening all to ourselves. He suggested I go out and buy a sexy new outfit for the occasion. I thought it was an incredibly sweet gesture, and it made me feel better about things- maybe there was hope for my husband after all. At the same time, I couldn't wait for him to go to New York on Monday so I could spend a couple of nights up at John's apartment.

Something interesting happened later that day. My daughter Marcy and John pulled into the driveway at the same time, and I heard them making conversation on the way into the house. When Marcy walked inside, her face was literally flushed- she's a typical teenager. Later that night she asked me what I thought of John. I went into full "mother mode" by giving her a sly smile and telling her that I thought he was a nice guy, a good tenant...and a bit old for a girl of seventeen. It was a better idea than telling her that he had a great cock and that I enjoyed him using me as a sex object.

Nate left for his trip to New York on Monday as scheduled, and on that morning John called me on my cell phone (I had been instructed to have it with me at all times). He said he was coming home for lunch, and when he arrived he wanted me to already be on his bed, completely naked, with my legs spread wide open. As the landlord's wife I have the keys to his apartment, so that wasn't a problem. I showered, did my hair and makeup, and waited for the moment to arrive. He said he'd be home at noon, so headed upstairs at 11:50.

It was the first time I'd been in his apartment alone since we'd rented it to him. As I lay on the bed, it was fun to look around and see how he lived. It was a typical bachelor's bedroom- generally neat with some clothes tossed about. John's closet was open and I looked inside- there were a few suits, ties, polo shirts. For whatever reason, just looking at his wardrobe was getting me excited.

I looked at the clock on the nightstand- 12:04. I started breathing heavily, knowing that I was moments away from another sexual encounter with the most incredible man I'd ever met. The more I thought about it, the hotter I got. I began to touch myself slowly and lightly in anticipation of John's arrival, and had sped into a full-on masturbation session when I heard the door open- he was finally here!

I shifted by body so that the first thing he saw when he walked in the room was my vagina, as I spread my legs wide open and pointed it toward the door. I heard John place his keys on the dining room table, and heard his footsteps approaching the bedroom door.

John entered the bedroom and greeted me with a long, beautiful kiss. For the first time ever, he and I engaged in "conventional sex", and it was incredible. He did so many things to me that no one had ever done before- he stuck his finger in my ass and turned it around as he ate me out (he was INCREDIBLE at giving oral sex), he licked the back of my knees (which felt awesome), and we fucked each other in positions that I wasn't even aware of. He made me cum and howl in delight several times, as his long, beautiful penis satisfied me like no one else ever had. I think he had a good time as he stayed well over an hour- I made him late from returning to work!

As John was getting dressed, he and I made conversation. He asked me if I'd ever be available on weekends, or would we be doing this on an "only when your husband is away" basis. I told him I could do an occasional Saturday or Sunday, but I'd have to be careful. I also mentioned that Nate and I had a "special" date lined up for the weekend, and shared some of the details. John seemed OK with it...or did he?

I felt more sexy and vibrant than I ever had in my life. I promised myself that for my Saturday date with my husband I would purchase an outfit that would make every man's head turn, and hopefully make Nate appreciate what he had. On Tuesday morning I headed to a lingerie shop where I bought a matching black satin push-up bra and panty set. I'd never worn a push-up bra before, as I'd always been a bit self-conscious of my breasts and had never worn anything that would feature them. I wanted to be known as more than "the girl with big tits", but now I didn't care. I then picked out some black thigh-high stockings and garters. I wore my new undergarments out of the store, then headed to a fashionable women's shop. I picked out an ensemble that actually made the saleslady blush when she saw me in it. It consisted of a tight zipper-down red jacket that stopped at my waist, and a tight button-down blouse that showed plenty of my newly pushed-up cleavage when unbuttoned at the right spot. But the clincher was the skirt- it was loose-fitting and made out of a thin, silky black fabric. If one got a close enough view in the right light they could see my panties, garters, and the tops of my stockings right through it.

My final stop was to buy shoes. As I walked through the mall I couldn't help but notice that the way I was dressed was having an affect on people. I had always been considered "pretty", but now people were looking at me and talking to me in a way I'd never experienced before. I got scornful looks from the women, and some of the men that saw me had shocked expressions. I'd never seen so many eyes widen and mouths drop in my life.

When I walked into the small shoe store the salesman, a man that looked to be in his fifties, seemed nervous enough to pee in his pants as he tried not to make his staring too obvious. I was actually enjoying putting on a bit of a show for the guy as I took my time in making a selection. I finally picked out a pair of black stilettos that had silver studs and three-inch heels. I asked the man if he had my size, and I sat in a chair as he retrieved them. As I sat, I hiked up my skirt just enough to reveal the tops of my stockings.

When the man emerged from the back with a shoebox, I could tell he was taken aback by what he saw. He tried to act casual by placing the shoes next to me, saying that he had them in the next size up if they were too tight.

I asked him how long he'd been selling shoes, and he said all of his life. I asked him if he remembered the days when the shoe salesman would actually put the shoes on the customer's feet. He nervously said that they stopped doing that a long time ago.

"But the customer is always right" I explained to him. "And that's what I'd like you to do". I stuck my foot out as the man went to one knee, removed the shoes I was wearing, and replaced them with the new shoes. As he did this I riveted my eyes to him, and he was completely embarrassed when I caught him trying to peek up my skirt.

I walked around the store in the shoes. The heels were a bit higher than what I was used to, but they were fine. I told the man to package my old shoes in a bag and we both walked to the register. He told me the total charge was $59.99, and as he started pushing buttons on the register, I told him to stop. I couldn't believe what I was about to say, but I was having too much fun.

"How about...you let me have the shoes for free? If you do that, I'll show you my tits".

The man let out an audible gasp. We weakly said that he would, but the shoes weren't his to give. With that, I seductively unbuttoned my blouse even lower. "It would be an inventory mistake," I reasoned. "Come on, no one's going to think you took them!"

The man looked at my chest and was breathing heavily. He finally let out a simple "Okay".

I led him into the back room, where there was an office desk and chair. I told him to sit down, and when he did I removed my blazer. From there I smiled at him and unbuttoned my blouse, placing it on the desk. Next was the bra- I reached back, unhooked it, and took it off. The man started in amazement as I stood there, bra in hand, naked from the waist up. I took a step toward him and asked, "Do you like"?

While seated in the chair, he slowly inched his head toward my right breast. He got closer and closer, but when he was just a couple of inches away I stepped back and said "uh...uh...uh". No touching! From there I started getting dressed. You could literally see the pain and embarrassment on the man's face as I did that and left.

As I left the store I thought to myself "World, meet the new Julie". All of my life I'd been a good girl, but that had changed. The bad girl in me had come out, and I wasn't just going to go along with it- I was going to cultivate it. The quiet, inhibited trophy-wife was being replaced by a vixen. Or at least, a vixen in training.

Things continued to get better when John called me on Wednesday and asked me to come upstairs after the kids went to sleep. For the rest of the day I anticipated having wonderful sex with him, and I couldn't wait for the kids to get to bed and fall asleep. When that moment arrived, I quietly opened the door and went upstairs to John's apartment.

When I got there, John didn't seem himself, and said that he just wanted to talk. We sat on opposite ends of the couch, both wearing only t-shirts and shorts on that balmy night. John asked if I had picked out an outfit for my "big date" on Saturday night, and I excitedly told him that I had.

That was a big mistake.

John expressed his concerns about sleeping with another man's wife- particularly his landlord's wife. He said he figured my sex life was dormant, and knowing that I had a romantic evening planned out with my husband shattered the fantasy that I was all his.

The old Julie would have started crying, or said something stupid. The new Julie immediately hopped off the couch and got on her knees in front of John. While on my knees, I grabbed John's foot and started kissing the bottom of it.

While licking and kissing John's feet, I looked him right in the eye and said in the most sexually seductive voice I could muster up, "Baby...baby, I am ALL yours. Anything you want, you get". I continued to lick his feet and suck his toes between pauses to emphasize my point. "John, anything you want, you get. If you want me to cancel the date on Saturday, I will. I'm all yours. I'll do anything for you".

With that I pulled off my shirt, stood straight up on my knees, and started rubbing John's foot into my big breasts. I groaned with a mix of pleasure and worry and repeated that I was all his, and that I'd do anything for him. I looked at John's crotch and saw that he was getting really aroused.

John smiled at me and calmly told me to put my shirt back on and to get back on the couch. Now I was scared, and my stomach was actually turning. I sensed that John was going to break things off with me.

He put his arm around me and said, "I need to know that you belong to me. I don't mind that you have a date with your husband- that comes with the territory. But I need to know that you'll do anything for me".

I told John that I would. Whatever he wanted, he'd get, no questions asked. But I have to admit that I was shocked at what he asked for.

He said he wanted me to come up tomorrow night and model my new outfit for him. From there, I was to star in a homemade porn film. John said that not only would he enjoy making and watching the film, but he'd enjoy knowing that if I ever said no to him he could ruin me by both putting it on the internet and providing copies of it to my family, my friends, my husband...and maybe even my children. If I agreed to do this, he'd own me completely. John told me to think about it- if I was ready to do anything and everything in front of that camera, show up tomorrow night. If not...well, it had been fun.

As I sat in a stunned silence, John asked me if I knew why he was asking me to do it tomorrow night, instead of right now. I looked down and shook my head "no". John told me that was how he wanted it- that I'd never be able to claim that I did it on a whim. I would do it knowing full well what I was getting myself into, and that I'd have a full day to weigh the benefits against the possible repercussions. John made clear that if I wanted to keep seeing him, it would be on his terms- I'd perform on video, and I would forever lose the right to say no to him.

I asked what he had in mind to do after getting the tape, and he kind of laughed and replied, "Whatever I want". John repeated that I should think long and hard between now and tomorrow night, and escorted me out the door.

I could barely sleep that night. Performing sexual acts on camera would be perverted enough, but completely losing my freedom was a scary proposition. What kind of a life would John force me into? He seemed like a nice guy...but he was full of surprises. I feared losing him, but I was scared to death over his proposal.

07-28-2009, 02:20 AM
Thursday night was the big night- the night that I was supposed to do whatever John said, only this time on videotape. John had made it clear that if I didn't do exactly what he said after that, he'd have the option of ruining my life by mailing copies of it to my friends and family.

I was trying to figure out some sort of compromise to offer John, perhaps giving him a list of things that we'd agree I wouldn't have to do. I just didn't want to do anything over the top, like being forced into prostitution or participating in gang bangs. I later decided against it, figuring that John knowing that I didn't want to do something would ultimately result in him demanding that I do it. I decided to take a leap of faith- I'd known John pretty well, and he didn't seem to be a mean person. I'd perform on video just as he asked, and I'd hope that he would treat me with a reasonable degree of decency. I didn't really have cause to think he wouldn't.

When the kids finally fell asleep, I went into my bedroom and stripped off the casual clothes and underwear I'd had on all day. I put my stockings on first, and stopped to look in the mirror. I must immodestly say that I looked and felt incredibly sexy looking at my reflection, completely naked except for the stockings. There were times when I felt pangs of guilt over cheating on my husband, but at the same time I was in the middle of the most exciting time of my life. There was guilt, but no regret.

When I finally got the entire outfit on, I couldn't take my eyes off myself. All of the sexual inhibitions I'd carried my entire life were fading. I looked like a vixen, and the message I was sending was far from subtle- it was saying "fuck me if you can." For the first time in my life, I felt as if I absolutely radiated raw sexuality.

A few dabs of perfume and makeup fixes later, I was on my way up to John's apartment, ready to do whatever he said on videotape.

I walked up the stairs and knocked on John's door. When he opened it, his eyes lit up and he smiled brightly as he looked me over. There was no feeling in the world like knowing that this incredible man was that impressed by my appearance- my head was spinning.

I walked in the door and the two of us engaged in a long, wet kiss. When John broke it, he asked if I was ready to star in my first porn. I said that I was, and he handed me a printout of things he suggested I say and do, and how I was supposed to act on camera. John said he didn't want to give instructions on tape- he wanted everything to look spontaneous. That statement stuck in my head as he led me into his bedroom. When I noticed John had extra lights set up in it, presumably for the show- I got terribly nervous. The reality of what I was about to do hit me, and I felt a lump in my throat.

John sensed my nervousness, and offered me a drink to calm my nerves. I accepted and sat on the bed. John came back with a tall glass that had an orange liquid in it. He said that it was a mixture of orange juice, pineapple juice, and rum that he'd brought home from a trip from Aruba. John said the rum was "strong but smooth," and he was right. Just a few minutes later the drink "took the edge off," and I felt a lot more relaxed.

John said that before we started, there were a couple of things he wanted to talk about. He said that he'd really thought about things, and that he really had no problem occasionally sharing me with my husband. He knew we had kids and that I was doing the best thing by occasionally pacifying Nate. I appreciated that for more than one reason- John was showing me that he was decent and human, and it made me feel better about the tape we were about to make. He said he loved my outfit and asked if I could wear something else for my "big date" with Nate on Saturday, since this would make this outfit "ours." I was overjoyed by his romanticism, and readily agreed.

John asked me to stand, and he started filming. He started filming my face, then slowly went down to my feet and back up to my face. He asked me to describe the first time he and I were together.

I looked at the camera and told the story- that John had come out of the shower dressed only in a towel, took out his penis, and told me to suck it. I described how I gave him a blowjob, and how he eventually came all over my face.

John asked me to describe the next time while motioning for me to sit on the bed. As I sat, I made it a point to sit in a manner that my skirt was raised enough so that the tops of my stockings and thighs were exposed. As I took another sip of my drink I have to admit- I was getting hot. I started rubbing my legs and thighs in anticipation.

He then asked me to describe the second time we were together. I mentioned that in between those times, I had exposed my breasts to him. John stopped me and asked me to remove my top so that we could re-live that moment. I took off my jacket and tossed it on the bureau, and from there I slowly unbuttoned my blouse while occasionally giving the camera a nervous peek. I tossed that aside, reached back to unhook my bra, and let my 36DD's fall for John- and anyone he chose to share the video with- to see.

I rubbed my hands across my chest as I described our first "real" night together, and talked about how I came up in a skimpy robe with nothing underneath, removed it, and gave John a lap dance. As the memories filled my mind, I became as horny as can be. When I got to the part where I was sucking John's cock for the second time, John told me to remove my skirt and my panties. When I was done taking them off I was wearing nothing but my garter belt and stockings.

John asked me if I was getting excited and I truthfully told him that I was. John gave me permission to masturbate while I told the rest of the story, and I couldn't wait to start touching myself, whether or not it was being taped for prosperity.

I continued telling the story while I played with vagina as John used different camera angles so that he could view different parts of my body. I began describing to the camera how I got on my elbows and knees on the bed as John lubed himself up and fucked me in the ass. I mentioned how that was something I'd never let anyone do before, despite occasionally being asked by my husband. I said that John was an incredible lover, and how he had the proper technique for making anal sex feel great. I lustfully mentioned that I couldn't wait to get ass-fucked again.

After I took another swig of my drink, John asked me to describe our next encounter. As I started describing the first encounter that I considered real "lovemaking," I climaxed and started cumming. I wasn't faking or playing for the camera as I screamed and enjoyed a long, earth shaking orgasm. When I later viewed the tape, I was surprised how much my skin color reddened while this happened.

He then asked what I wanted to do tonight, and I told him I'd do anything he wanted. John then asked me if I'd ever been tit-fucked before. I laughed, giggled, and said that I didn't even know what that was. I should mention that I'd had about half a glass of the drink John prepared, and I was already tipsy. I'm certain he didn't spike it with anything- it was just a strong drink. John told me to stay still as he got the camera in the correct position, then he began to undress. After I reviewed the tape, I noticed that as I watched him take his clothes off, I was off in a lustful trance, sucking two of my fingers as I watched him undress and waited for the real thing.

I lay on my back as John put a knee on each side of my head, finally offering me his long, beautiful cock. I then began alternately sucking and stroking it while occasionally looking into the camera and putting on a show. At this point I was SO into what I was doing. I couldn't wait to see the tape myself. I was going down a road into a world that I couldn't even imagine existed just a few weeks before. I was 38 years old, sucking my husband's tenant's cock on video. While I was overjoyed by my newfound feelings of lust and ecstasy, there was a pang of regret over all of the wasted years. I truly wished I could have rid myself of the chains of inhibition long ago.

I sucked and fondled John's cock for about five minutes, and then he pulled away and placed it between my breasts. He then pushed my breasts together and started pumping furiously. I felt so naīve- I had no idea that a man and a woman could enjoy each other in such a manner. And the view was magnificent- John's penis was moving back and forth toward and away from my face. I got off just by watching that.

John's breathing grew heavier, and I knew the moment of truth was arriving. John stopped pumping and aimed at my face. The first time he'd cum in my face, I was appalled. This time, I reveled in every single squirt as I felt his hot spunk landing on my cheeks, forehead, and lips.

John quickly climbed off of me and told me not to touch my face. He then repositioned the camera, and asked me to sit up on the bed and look straight into the lens. This immediately sent the cum running down my face. I was quite the sight, with a face covered in cum, and naked except for my black stockings.

He asked me to take a minute to think before answering this question: if John were to show a copy of this tape to my husband Nate right now, what would I say to Nate? John told me that I could say whatever I wanted with no repercussions- he just wanted the truth.

I thought long and hard about it, and before I spoke I asked John if I could wipe the cum off my eyebrow before it fell into my eye. He said I could, and I scooped it up and licked my finger clean while looking into the camera.. I then took a deep breath and began to speak.

"Nate...if you see this and your feelings are hurt, I'm sorry for that. I really do care about your feelings. You have problems, but you're basically a nice guy."

"But doing this- having an affair with John- is something that's been too good to pass up. I'm a sexual being, he's a sexual being...and you're just not interested. All my life I've wanted to feel this way- this HORNY- and I've finally found someone that could do it."

Something about hearing myself recite that last sentence brought out a degree of bitterness and anger in me, and I continued. I should note that, after viewing this, it was kind of funny watching me say this as John's cum separated and ran down my face into my chest.

"Nate, a few years ago one of your friends complimented you by saying that you married "out of your league." Well, he was right- you were the average guy that got the pretty, popular girl. You got a great job straight out of college and you impressed me- the girl that just graduated high school- with your cars and your money. I was young, and you offered me a comfortable life staying home and raising the kids. I accepted because you seemed like a great guy and frankly, it beat having to go out and work. I used to care about that."

From there I motioned John to come over and stand next to me. It was odd giving HIM instruction, but he complied and stood next to me as I sat up on the bed.

I put his cock in my mouth and sucked it gently as I looked into the camera. "THIS"- I paused to take another slurp- "is what I care about now."

My final words were expressed in an angry tone. With John's cock still in my hand, I looked in the camera and defiantly said "And THAT is what I have to say to my husband should he ever see this tape."

As the camera continued to film, I began sucking John's cock, determined to get it to full hardness in hope that he would fuck me in the ass on tape.

07-28-2009, 02:21 AM
Nate returned home from New York on Friday afternoon, bringing a pastrami sandwich and a bouquet of flowers as a gift for me. I know it sounds dumb, but I like pastrami and you can't get a decent sandwich outside metro-New York, so I thought it was an incredibly sweet gesture. What was more important was that Nate was TRYING. He did something very thoughtful by going out of his way for me. That night, instead of getting sloshed while watching a baseball game, we had a family night. Nate, our kids, and I got pizza and watched a movie together. After the kids went to bed, Nate and I snuggled on the couch while relaxing and watching TV. We hadn't done that in a long time, and it really felt nice. We went to bed at the same time, and when I thought he was trying to put the moves on me, I told him we should wait until tomorrow night in order to make it that much more special.

On Saturday, Nate and I spent the early part of the day doing a few household projects. I felt so much better about things- Nate and I were once again doing things as a team. He was showing interest in the house, interest in the family- and interest in me. The new, uninhibited Julie was ready to give her husband the night of his life both in and out of the bedroom. I couldn't wait.

After I showered, the time finally came for me to bring the kids to my Mother's house for an overnight stay. She lives about a half an hour away, and she loves having them. I told Nate that I'd stop and shop for "something special" for our date, but I'd be home by six. Nate said he'd try to look his best for the night as well. We had reservations at one of the area's best seafood restaurants, and there was a busy nightclub down the street from it. A little dinner, a little dancing, and a lustful night in bed was exactly what this stagnant marriage needed.

After dropping the kids off, I stopped at an upscale boutique and purchased a lacy push-up bra and matching underwear, and a short, tight, silver sequined sleeveless dress that zipped up at the front, leaving at my discretion the ability to show as much cleavage as I'd like. My plan was to show more and more as the night went on. From there I threw caution to the wind and bought a pair of black vinyl thigh-high boots that ended a few inches below the dress' hemline- that should illustrate how much leg that dress was showing, and I loved it. I made a detour to the Ladies' Room and applied liberal amounts of mascara, lipstick, and eyeliner. I hardly looked like a virgin, nor did I want to- I wanted my appearance to reflect the sexual, uninhibited being that I had become. For years, people insinuated- and sometimes flat-out stated- that I was Nate's "trophy wife". Tonight, he'd finally put that trophy on display in a proper manner.

As I drove toward my house, I imagined how I'd see my husband as I walked through the door. Nate was six years older than I, but he was still handsome and charming. I was wondering if he'd be wearing one of his business suits, perhaps with a fashionable button-down or mock collar to add a fresh air to his look? Or would he be wearing something new that he'd purchased in New York? How would he react upon seeing me in my new, sexy outfit?

I pulled into the driveway with my head spinning in anticipation. I wanted Nate to appreciate the new, sexy Julie the way John had 48 hours earlier. I slinked out of the car, still adjusting to walking in my new thigh-high boots, and headed toward the house.

I wanted Nate's jaw to hit the floor when I walked in. Instead it was my jaw that dropped.

I don't think I'll ever recover from the shock I felt after seeing what I saw. There were two men sitting on my living room couch, casually chatting and watching TV.

One of the men was Nate. He sat there in a drunken stupor, an unshaven, unshowered, boozed-out mess. He was in the same clothes he wore when we were doing house projects together.

The man on the other end of the couch was his tenant and my lover- John. As I walked into the room, John greeted me with a smirking smile, while Nate greeted me with an expression that could best be described as a "drunken daze". I noticed that they both had glasses of the punch made with the rum John bought in Aruba. A half a glass of that stuff had made me woozy- Nate's glass was nearly empty, and who knows how many he'd had before it?

While Nate sported a quizzical look, John smiled and was in full "treat her like the landlord's wife" mode when he said that I looked great, and asked if I would like to join he and Nate for a drink. He mentioned that he and Nate had been hanging out for a while and that it was nice getting to know his neighbors better. Nate then blurted out that I "looked like a goddamned hooker" in a disdainful tone.

I swear…if I had a gun I would have shot the miserable son of a bitch. I was angry, hurt, and betrayed beyond words. I went all out to have a wonderful night with my husband, and he thanks me by getting drunk and saying such a thing.

Was I angry with John? No, I wasn't. I'm sure John got Nate drunk on purpose- but Nate could have said no, or exhibited some self control. John once again had outsmarted everyone and was running the show. Whatever it is he wanted that night, I was sure he'd get it.

While Nate slurred out some incoherent nonsense, John politely asked me to help him carry the next round of drinks. I could barely face him, since I was so humiliated by my husband's callous remark. While in the kitchen John grabbed me and quickly gave me long, hot kiss. We ran our tongues in and out of each other's mouths - with my husband in the next room- when John pulled away and whispered "don't listen to him- I think you look incredible".

There's a "classic rock" song by a band named Heart titled "Magic Man". That was John- he performed his magic, and his actions and words completely changed my mood. What Nate had said suddenly meant nothing. John liked the way I looked, and that's all that was truly important.

John prepared three more drinks, despite the fact that his own glass was still half full. As we arrived back in the living room, Nate took his glass and guzzled half of it down. These were STRONG drinks, and he was already blitzed out of his mind. I sat between the two on the couch while John and I made the kind of pleasant conversation usually reserved for people who are barely acquainted. Nate quietly sat back and finished the rest of his drink in less than five minutes. As soon as Nate finished the last sip, John quickly offered him the full drink on the table. Nate slurred "no, that's yours", but John said he could make another. What a surprise…Nate accepted the offer.

As John and I continued to talk, it was obvious that we were like two magnets being drawn toward each other. We gazed into each other's eyes, talked and laughed. The only thing that broke that up was when John motioned for me to keep sipping my drink. Meanwhile, Nate was so drunk that I don't think he could stand up- he was probably more inebriated than I'd ever seen, and that is most certainly saying something. John whispered to me to finish half of my drink, and I did as quickly as I could. We all had a half-full glass remaining.

John then got Nate's attention and said "I want to make a toast- to the nicest landlords a guy could ask for". We all touched glasses and John exclaimed "Down the hatch!".

We all tilted our glasses back and drank, but I couldn't handle more than one gulp. Actually, neither could Nate, but John challenged him to finish it, and Nate forced the rest of his drink down. That was great, Nate- you really proved something there.

At this point John and I were making physical contact as we talked- I had my hands on his knee, and he would occasionally run his hand up and down my arm- all with my husband inches away. It didn't matter- Nate was completely oblivious to the rest of the world. At one point I noticed that Nate's breathing had changed. I looked back and saw that he was completely passed out. John and I looked at each other, and it was if it were the moment we'd been waiting for. We once again embraced and locked in a long, passionate kiss.

John then told me to stand up, and when I did he gave me a one-word command: strip.

I was startled by the request- my husband was within arm's length, and he could wake up at any time. Then I thought about the callousness Nate had shown earlier. Screw him, I thought…if he wakes up, fine. I looked at John, and I noticed that he was reaching underneath the cushion of the couch for something. Apparently, he'd planted a digital camera there at some point. He told me to go ahead as he pointed the camera at me.

I smiled, and slowly unzipped the front of the dress I'd purchased earlier that day as John clicked away. I removed it, and then I took off my bra and panties and was standing naked before him except for my thigh-high boots.

"I'll bet you want me to leave these on" I said to him. John nodded his head and asked me to put my arms behind my head and to do a dance for him. I readily complied by pushing out my chest and shaking my hips while he continued to take photos. John then asked me to turn around and bend over, and I heard the camera clicking as he took pictures of my bare behind. From this position I looked back and saw Nate with his head tilted and his mouth wide open, sound asleep.

John then told me to lie on the carpet and spread my legs. He took a few pictures, and asked me to use my hands to spread my pussy lips apart. I thought "wow, that's really x-rated", but I complied. It was easy since I had trimmed my vaginal hair earlier that morning, which is something I usually don't do.

John then had me sit up on my knees, crawl over to him, undo his belt and his pants, and start sucking his cock- again, with my passed-out husband sitting next to him on the other end of the couch. I had really come to enjoy having John's cock in my mouth. Until recently I had never really enjoyed doing that- I used to joke that there was a reason it was called a "job"- but with John I really got into it. I flicked the head of it around in my mouth, I licked up and down it's shaft, I sucked his balls, and looked right into his eyes as I did it to gauge his reaction. It gave me great pleasure to show him pleasure. While doing this, I would occasionally peek over at Nate, giggling to myself over the irony of the situation. I was giving John my best, as slurping noises echoed throughout the room.

I again peeked over at Nate- and his eyes were open! He looked confused as a squinted and tried to focus in on what was going on. Not only did I not care, I looked right at him and smirked while I sucked John's cock even more intensely. I finally looked up at John and said "do you wanna fuck me, babe?" John answered yes, and told me to get on top and ride him.

I got on top of John and let out a grunt of delight as I began impaling myself on John's beautiful cock. I started bouncing up and down, and I put my hands behind my head so John could suck my tits as he screwed me. I looked over at Nate and smiled- he looked so bloody sad. He wasn't even watching- he just looked downward with an expression of defeat on his face. I looked back into John's eyes as he bounced me up and down on his penis. I couldn't help but loudly moan and groan in ecstasy.

For a moment I glanced over at Nate to see if he was enjoying the show- but he was passed out again! You would think me screwing another guy's brains out would be enough to keep his attention, but I guess not. Seriously, I drank one glass of that stuff and I was really buzzed- Nate drank three times that after I'd arrived, and who can even guess how much he had beforehand.

I was just about to climax when John's breathing changed- he was about to cum as well. This got me even more turned on as we came together. I must have orgasmed for close to sixty seconds. I gasped for breath and came harder, longer, and probably louder than I ever had in my life.

As John got softer and softer I tried to keep him inside of me for as long as I could. When he finally popped out, I held him as close to me. I couldn't believe what I'd just done, and I wondered what the ramifications would be the next day when Nate came to. I actually shared that thought with John, and he predicted that Nate was so far gone that he wouldn't remember anything he'd seen, if he even comprehended anything he'd seen at all.

I went to excuse myself and John asked where I was going. I explained that I needed to use the bathroom, and John asked if I had to pee. I said yes, and John blew my mind with his latest request.

He wanted me to pee on Nate.

I must have turned beet red as I told him that he couldn't be serious. John told me to take aim and piss right in his lap. John guaranteed that Nate wouldn't wake up. In fact, John said that Nate would blame himself for the mess in the morning.

I was incredibly nervous as I straddled Nate, facing him while aiming my crotch above his lap. The whole time, Nate barely moved. He was in a deep sleep, like a bear in hibernation. I was praying that most of it would get on my husband and not the couch…then again, this might be a great excuse to get a new couch, which I wouldn't have minded.

The nervousness made it difficult for me to pee, but I was able to concentrate, clear my mind, and get a jet stream going. John started laughing out loud as the sound of my wetness started to fill the room. I squeezed out every last drop I could, then gingerly hopped off and inspected my work.

It was amazing- Nate had a giant wet spot in his lap and on the tops of his legs. It truly looked like the only explanation for it was that he wet his pants. John and I laughed hysterically over it.

Never to be outdone, John stood up and aimed his penis at Nate's lap. He shot out the yellowy liquid all over my husband, but didn't aim for one spot like I did. John got it all over his legs, his hands, and his lap- Nate was completely soaked from the waist down. It's a good thing we have hardwood floors in the living room.

As John finished, he did an impersonation of Nate, blurting out "you look like a hooker" while mocking my husband's nasally, drunken tone. I passionately kissed John and held him close to me, thanking him for making my night far better than I ever could have expected it to be. I then asked for a favor- could we go upstairs and watch the porn we did together? John agreed, and after I got incredibly turned on witnessing myself acting as John's dirty little slut on camera, we once again engaged in incredible sex. It had been a fantastic night despite the unexpected turns.

I got back downstairs, and I finally took my boots off on the living room chair as I watched Nate sleep. The man was a disgrace- he had a chance to enjoy a fantastic evening with his wife, and look how his night ended up…passed out drunk and covered in piss. My feelings of scorn for him had reached new levels.

I changed into pajamas and went to bed, falling asleep quickly. Before I knew it, it was 6:00 AM. I rolled out of bed, put on my robe, and passed by Nate as I went to get the Sunday newspaper. Nate was now lying down on the couch, sleeping on his side, still drenched in urine.

I got the paper, took about half of it out, and rolled the rest up. I walked toward Nate and with the rolled up newspaper I hit him squarely in the face with the most powerful blow could muster up. I knocked my stunned husband right out of dreamland and continued to pummel his face with the newspaper until he fell off the couch and onto the floor.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" I screamed at him. "Look what you've done- you pissed all over the place!" As he grunted and whined I continued to batter him about the head with the newspaper, vocally comparing my treatment of him to the way a master treats his dog when the dog pisses on the rug.

That actually gave me an idea. Nate was hopelessly hung over, so as he tried to crawl away I took his arms out from under him and rubbed his face in the pile of urine on the hardwood floor, saying that's what you do to a dog that doesn't know where to pee.

When I got off him Nate clumsily rolled over on his back to get his face out of the mess, and I further berated him for rolling around in piss. I laughed and told him that he had no idea how pathetic he looked- and how pathetic he was.

Suddenly my cell phone went off in the other room- it was John, and he was calling to see if I was OK. Geez, I'd yelled so loudly at Nate that I'd awakened him. I quietly said everything was fine…but would it be OK if I came up there and got some more sleep? John agreed and told me to be careful.

I went through the motions of getting dressed, storming out of the house, parking my car around the corner, walking back, and sneaking up to John's apartment. Before doing so I told Nate that I was going out, and that he was to have everything cleaned up by the time I got home. Nate sat up on the floor, said he was sorry, and tried to cry- anything to get me to feel sorry for him.

When I got up to John's apartment I stripped off all of my clothes and fell back asleep in his arms. It was a wonderful feeling.

Later that day I picked up my kids and headed home. Nate was ashamed of himself, and extremely apologetic- but I didn't want to hear it. John was right- I could tell with 100% certainty that Nate didn't remember a thing about the events he witnessed the night before. I was so disgusted with Nate that I called my friend Caroline- who was divorced and lived alone- and asked if I could hang out there for a few hours that night. She accepted, and I appreciated it- at that point, anything was better than having to spend a night listening to Nate's phony apologies. He'd be off to New York on Monday morning, and he'd be out of my hair.

07-28-2009, 02:24 AM
The man on the TV screen wore a dress shirt, black suit pants, one shoe and on sock. One of his feet was bare, and a naked woman was on her knees, licking his feet and sucking his toes while begging him to fuck her. She was pleading, telling the man that he could have his way with her- she was desperately horny and "needed it".

It was a rainy, late summer morning. The kids were away, my husband was at work, and I was wearing nothing underneath my robe as I casually sipped a glass of wine and watched porn, slowly getting aroused. Of course, I was the woman in the film, and John was the man.

By this time, John and I had about six hours of pornographic footage filmed, and I was performing some of the most degrading acts imaginable. I was embarrassed enough having to masturbate on film by myself, but John always seemed to be able to take things one step further. One time he had me naked, crawling around on all fours and barking like a dog. Another time I had to lick his ass for close to a half an hour while he pleasured himself, and eventually spun around in time to cum in my face.

To add to the excitement, John started filming us having sex in my home. There was something unnerving about making a porn on the bed that my husband and I had slept in for over fifteen years, or on the couch that my family gathered upon.

The thing that made me most uneasy was when John filmed me naked, with my legs spread wide open, talking about our affair in every explicit detail. As I sat there in the most revealing pose imaginable, talking about the perverted things I had done and referring to myself as "John's Little Slut". The worst part was, I couldn't help but get incredibly horny while I was putting on this show for the camera, and by the end I'd be earnestly begging John to fuck me. My actions and words proved that I was, indeed, his slut.

One of the rules I had to follow was that if John called my cell phone, I was expected to pick up, no matter what. He understood that I couldn't always have a "real" conversation, but I was always to have it with me. One day I went out shopping and forgot to take it. John called to schedule an afternoon romp, but instead got my voicemail.

That night I had to go up to John's apartment. He had the camera pointing toward the couch, and he instructed me to walk over, take down my pants and underwear, and lay face down on his lap. I could barely hold back the tears of embarrassment as I did so, I crawled onto his lap and he slapped my ass with the palm of his hand- and it hurt. To make it worse, every time he spanked me, I had to say "Julie be a good girl and not forget her cell phone"- in baby talk. It was beyond humiliating, and I was sobbing as he did it. Yet I couldn't help but be turned on by the memory of it.

In addition to the films, John would take x-rated photographs of me. He and I actually went shopping together, and he had me buy an expensive digital video camera that we would not only make videos with, but John would be able to isolate frames for photos. He also had me buy a professional picture printer. The irony of my husband paying for these expensive items via our credit card was not lost on me.

Some of the poses were nothing short of shocking: in one of them, I was laying on my back while sucking his cock, and as I did so I was spreading the lips of my vagina apart. In another, I was on my elbows and knees spreading my asshole open, all while looking back and staring suggestively into the lens. Then there was me with my legs spread wide open, with cum leaking out of my freshly fucked pussy. Another had me squatting down naked while licking John's cock. There were humiliating close-ups of my anus and vagina, and countless photos of my breasts. If my husband of nineteen years had ever even suggested taking a sexual photo of me, I would have slapped him for it. But for John...well, some men have the magic, and some do not.

In addition to becoming John's sex toy, I had also become his maid. Five days a week, I had to go upstairs and clean, making sure that his apartment was immaculate in case he had another woman coming over. Despite having me under his thumb, ready and willing to do whatever he pleased, he was still dating and having sex with a steady stream of other women. I felt a pangs of jealousy, but it didn't matter in the end. I was happy with what I had.

On a Wednesday morning, John called and told me to come to his apartment that night to make another film. When I arrived, I was to seduce him on tape, eventually revealing writing on my behind that said "John, please fuck me in the ass". That presented a problem- I couldn't reach back and write it myself, and John made it clear that the words were to be written on my behind in black marker when I arrived.

So who could I have do it?

Laureen and Jenn were my two best friends. Like me, they were mid-30's suburban housewives. About once a month we'd all get dolled up and head out for a fancy lunch and an afternoon of shopping. Our husbands all knew each other as we'd all gone out multiple times, and we'd discussed all going on a cruise together. Although I trusted both of them, they were both fairly conservative. I thought better of letting either of them know I was having an affair, let alone being dominated to the point where I was being made to have someone write "John, please fuck me in the ass" on my derriere.

Then I thought of Caroline, who dated around and had a bit of a wild side. I thought it might even be a good idea to be able to talk to someone about what was going on in my life. At the same time, having to explain to a friend why I had to have "John, please fuck me in the ass" written on my ass seemed a bit too embarrassing.

Then it dawned on me- the shoe salesman (See Chapter Four)! He was harmless, yet I was sure I could get him to do it without asking questions. Problem solved! I picked up a thick laundry marker and headed to the mall.

As I drove out to the mall, I thought of how I would ask him. I figured I'd approach the store, wait until it was empty, ask if he remembered me (I'm certain he did), and just blurt out the request. It would make his day, to say the least.

I approached the store and looked in- but my hopes were quickly deflated. There was a young woman there instead. I thought of just asking her, but figured that another woman would be grossed out and just say no.

My next move was to look in the smaller stores for a young male employee that was working by himself...someone that was, frankly, geeky and seemingly harmless. I needed someone that could quickly be seduced into doing what I asked, with me vacating the store quickly afterward.

It didn't take long to find a small sunglass store with a lone male attendant. He was tall and skinny, and looked to be 18 or 19 years old. I tugged down the front of my tank to show some extra cleavage, took a deep breath, and headed in.

I immediately started talking and flirting with him, acting as if I'd only wandered into the store only to seek his company. He said his name was Brian, and he seemed very nervous with my outward approach. He actually turned beet red when I asked if he had a girlfriend, with me acting surprised when he said he didn't.

I finally leaned in, smiled seductively, and asked if he could do me a favor. After he stuttered "yes", I asked if we could go in the back office for just a moment. Without stopping for pause, I headed toward the back of the store and beckoned him to follow me. As he walked, he was having difficult thanks to the erection that was evident with even the slightest glance at his crotch.

We got to the back room, I looked at him, smiled, and handed him the marker. I told him to listen carefully...

I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, pulling them down to my ankles. I then slid down my panties ever-so-slowly while looking back at Brian...who looked as if he were about to have a heart attack.

After pausing for a moment to let him take in the view, I softly told him that I needed him to write something on my bottom.

He was obviously shocked, but he nervously walked over, took the cap off the pen, and readied himself to write. I told him to write, in clear, dark, and thick lettering "John, please fuck me in the ass". As I started to instruct him to write "John, please" near my tailbone, right above my asscrack, he interrupted.

"Ma'am, I can't do that".

I was flabbergasted. Here I was with my pants down to my ankles, getting turned down by a teenaged geek. I got frustrated and told him to just do it. Just write "John...please...".

His second response echoed his first: "Ma'am, I can't do that". I asked him why not, and he said it was "too dirty a thing to write on a woman".

I was reduced to pleading. I tried to seduce him, telling him that I would make it worth his while. This time he backed away, shaking his head before delivering this humiliating bomb.

"Ma'am, I think you need some serious help".

I couldn't hold back the tears of anger and frustration as I awkwardly pulled my panties up- of course, they somehow got rolled up, and it took forever to get them back up- pulled my pants up, and stormed out of there. I was beyond humiliated, and I wasn't about to take a chance with another stranger.

I did get someone to write what John requested before the end of the day, and I'll detail that in the next chapter.

07-28-2009, 02:25 AM
I called Caroline at her workplace and asked if I could stop by her apartment when she got home from work. She knew that Nate and I were having problems and was very concerned, asking if everything was OK. I assured her that they were, but that I needed a favor that I couldn't talk about over the phone. She readily agreed, and I arrived at her apartment shortly after she got home from work.

Caroline and I are very different, but we got along magnificently. I met her at the gym about a year ago, and since then I've marveled at her confidence and social skills. She was lean, attractive, and very tall for a woman at five feet, ten inches. She was a basketball star in her college days- she had videotapes of games she played in that were broadcast nationally on cable TV. She had an offer from a professional league, but instead went to grad school for her MBA.

She married someone she'd known for three months, and divorced him quickly- that was Caroline in a nutshell. Caroline definitely had a wild side. We went out to lunch one afternoon, and she saw an attractive man in the restaurant. She walked right up to him, and they talked for a while. They exchanged phone numbers, went out on a date, and she slept with him on their very first night out. Caroline always had stories that would make my jaw drop. I was certain that on this afternoon, I'd turn the tables.

We shared some wine and talked informally for a few minutes. Caroline told me that she had been dating a guy for a few months, but she didn't think it was going anywhere and was preparing to break things off. Caroline had a revolving door of boyfriends after her divorce. She was very bold- whenever she's single and bored, she has no problem going to bars alone and meeting men.

John told me that he didn't let anyone else know what was going on between us, and I believed him. I certainly hadn't told anyone, so this was a moment of truth.

I told Caroline I was having an affair.

She was absolutely taken aback, to the point where she wasn't sure if she believed me. When I told her it was John, who she had met briefly before I started seeing him, she was in awe. She said she had considered going after him herself. She asked how it was going, and I told her it was great. I no longer felt like just a mother and a housewife- I was experiencing a sexual awakening, and I loved it.

Then came the time to tell Caroline about needed a favor. I pulled a black marker out of my purse and asked her if she would write the words "John, please fuck me in the ass" on my rear end.

I was right- Caroline's jaw literally dropped and her eyes widened. She shook her head and said that I must have been playing a practical joke on her, and I assured her that I wasn't. She asked why I wanted to do this- couldn't I just ask him, or was it a kinky surprise?

No, I said. I allowed John to dominate me, and he asked me to have someone write those words on my ass as part of us making a porn together. As I said that, I looked downward. There was no way I could make eye contact with her.

I handed her the pen and asked her not to make this any worse that it already was. I then gritted my teeth and stood up, unbuckling my belt as I rose. I silently turned my back to Caroline, unbuttoned by jeans, unzipped them, and pulled them down. Next came my underwear. There I was, bearing my rear end to one of my best friends with the intent of having her write something incredibly vulgar on it. Problem was, Caroline remained seated, and didn't make a sound.

Once again, I felt like an idiot and was reduced to begging. I asked Caroline to please start writing so that I could just get this over with.

Caroline let out a sigh, and told me to step out of my pants and underwear so that I didn't fall. This seemed like a good idea, but I thought it was odd when Caroline stood up and told me to raise my arms up. I did, and she pulled off my top. "It was in the way" she explained. Great- now I was completely naked in her living room.

I felt the marker against my rear end, and we both remained oddly silent. Caroline was writing with her right hand, and was hanging on to me with her left. At one point she was holding the inside of my thigh, then she moved it over to my ass cheek. I didn't think she was doing it on purpose, but her breath was hitting my vagina. It felt good, in an odd, relaxing way.

Then I noticed that while Caroline was writing with one hand, she was caressing me with the other.

It all came to me at once. Caroline had aggressively pursued me. It was as if she was going out of her way to meet me at the gym, exchange phone numbers, etc. Every time we met she would give me a big hug and kissed me on the cheek. No other woman in my entire life had come on so strong and had been so physical with me. Looking back, it was easy to see that Caroline had always been interested in being more than friends. I had been too naīve to see it.

As this was going through my head, Caroline rose and put her hands on my shoulders. She ran her hands down my arms and whispered in my ear "you're done".

I couldn't believe what happened next. Caroline put her arms around me and started nuzzling my neck. She then moved her hands forward, away from my arms, and grabbed each of my breasts. Without thinking about it, I moved my ass backwards and started grinding against her crotch.

Just as quickly as I went into that trance, I snapped out of it. With a gasp that sounded like I was awakening from a bad dream, I jumped away from Caroline and turned facing her, using my arms to cover up my breasts.

Caroline looked right into my eyes, smiled confidently, and walked toward me. She held my hands and took them down to my sides, then started touching my breasts. She held one in each hand, as if she was trying to figure out which one was heavier. Caroline whispered "I've been waiting a long time for this" as she closed her eyes and started to kiss me.

I was frozen. She ran her tongue around my lips. I kept my mouth closed tight as she tried to stick her tongue in it.

She felt my coldness and stopped, asking what was wrong. I had no idea what to say, so I just told her that I just wasn't into women. Caroline put on a "yeah, right" smirk, picked up my clothes, and handed them to me. She told me that unlike my boyfriend, she wasn't going to tell me what to do. But she made me promise that if I ever changed my mind- if I ever wanted to experiment, even with just some kissing or touching- that I wouldn't be shy about it.

It felt downright weird getting dressed as Caroline ogled me. I quietly thanked her for being such a good friend, and that I hoped this afternoon didn't change anything between us. She said it didn't and went to give me our customary hug goodbye. We held each other tightly for a few seconds, then she kissed me right on the lips.

This time, without even thinking about it, I ever-so-lightly kissed her back.

* * * * *

John and I finally had our date when we recorded a video where I exposed my behind that read "John, please fuck me in the ass", The idea was that I was supposed to act like a horny, desperate slut while he appeared disinterested until he saw those magic words on my behind. The evening was fine and so was the sex, but nothing too special.

After we finished, John asked me what I thought of the script and concept for tonight's recording. Without thinking about it, I said that I thought that it was kind of lame, and jokingly said that he must be running out of ideas.

I regretted those words before they even finished leaving my mouth.

John smirked and remained quiet. I knew how he was going to take that as a combination of an insult and a challenge.

As I laid down to sleep that night, I wondered if I subconsciously wanted to prod John into becoming more bold, and taking the next step in our relationship. One thing I knew for sure- he was going to have a strong response to what I said.

07-28-2009, 02:26 AM
I'd been having a personal trainer over the house three times a week for close to two months. Of course, Nate complained about the expense- but who cares. I was looking good, and I needed to, as I was wearing skimpier outfits and consistently exhibiting my body to John and his digital camcorder.

I had considered offering John an apology for the remark I'd made in the closing part of Chapter Eight, but I decided not to. I really did want to see if he had something up his sleeve that was more creative than making DVDs of the two of us fucking.

It was Thursday, and the mailman arrived, carrying a package that needed to be signed for. When I opened it, I was astounded. Inside was a bright red bra and panty set, a pair of black stiletto heels, a white button down blouse...and a skirt that had to be seen to be believed. It was dark red, with a back and yellow checker pattern, and was incredibly short. I measured it with a ruler- it was exactly eight inches long. There was a note in the envelope which read:

Hi Julie:

You and I have a big date on Saturday. Call me as soon as you get this package.

I frantically called John at work (who else could the package have been from?). I explained that if I wore a skirt like that in public, I'd likely get arrested. John told me not to worry, and instructed me to wait at the corner of an intersection in a Portland, a small city close to where we lived. He strongly told me to wear everything in the package, and nothing else.

Since the episode I had with Nate in Chapter Six, we'd been more distant than ever. I'd avoid many of his calls when he was away in New York, and I'd come up with excuses for us not to do things together, even with the kids. I felt bad about that for my kids and, but I was that angry with him. Nate would walk through the door on either Thursday or Friday evening, and the kids would be thrilled to see him. Me...I just wished he'd stay in New York. Awful but true.

This time, Nate came home on Friday evening and had a big surprise -- we were all going to Boston to see the Red Sox on Saturday night- the night I had my date with John. When I told my family that I couldn't go, I had to deal with three sad, disillusioned faces staring back at me.

Of course, Nate had to be confrontational while asking where I was going. I had to make up a lie, and fast. I told everyone that I had made a commitment to my friend Caroline attend a scrapbooking party with her.

My son asked why I couldn't "blow that off", and I told him that wouldn't be fair to Caroline...I had promised I'd go. I made a commitment.

Nate asked why I'd put Caroline in front of my family, and I exploded. I started screaming at him- and I mean SCREAMING.

"Nate, what the fuck am I supposed to do -- never make plans with anyone ever again because you may miraculously want us all to spend time together? Every Saturday night since -- I can't remember when -- you've sat on that fucking chair and gotten sloshed while watching sports on TV. You should have called me and told me you had tickets!"

Of course, Nate couldn't see what he had done wrong. He played "Mr. Good Dad" and re-iterated that he wanted it to be a surprise.

I couldn't control my rage. Through clenched teeth I told him "The only surprise is that you're showing interest in doing something with the three of us. It is beyond ridiculous that you expect us to have our schedules cleared for tomorrow night. You could have easily called and told us there was a surprise for Saturday night without telling us what it is. But no, you walk in here like King Shit and expect us to drop everything! You know what, Nate? FUCK YOU!!"

And to think, he hadn't even been home for five minutes.

I grabbed my keys and stormed out the door. I heard my daughter Marcy trying to catch up to me, crying and telling me not to go. I drove off anyway. I'm not proud of it, but that's what happened.

(Note: two days later we all had a big "family meeting" and I apologized to everyone for the way I behaved. I was TOTALLY WRONG for berating Nate in front of the kids, and I truly regret having done so).


The next day, Nate found a buddy to take the extra ticket. I condescendingly told my husband that I thought it would be a good idea if his friend drove. The shot went way over his head, as without thinking he said "oh yeah, he is". They all left early on Saturday afternoon, leaving me plenty of time to prepare for my date with John.

I put on the outfit, and while I adored John, I questioned his fashion sense. The red bra was a push up and did a great job making my breasts look good, but the color showed right through the white blouse. The blouse was short and tight, but not overly so. But that skirt...wherever we were going, it was going to be an invitation to trouble. It barely concealed by rear end and private area. I looked in the mirror and noticed that no matter how I stood, sat, or walked, the red underwear was apparent. The red underwear clashed with the darker red skirt. When I walked, I noticed that the shoes were very loud, emitting a loud "CLOP!" sound with every step not taken on a carpet.

As I put the outfit on, did my makeup and looked in the mirror, I had a revelation. There were times in my life where I would have loved to have done something as daring and adventurous as going out dressed like...well, dressed like a slut, or a prostitute. But I'd been too shy, too nervous. I would never do it for Nate, because there was always a chance he'd act as if I were doing something indecent, or worse yet, laugh at me. Even if he asked me to, I couldn't, as I'd be betraying the "model home maker" role I'd been cast into. It was as if my face had changed to fit that mask.

With John, I didn't have to worry about "being a lady" or anything like that. I didn't have to decide whether or not to do what he asked, I just did it. It made things a lot easier, and a lot more exciting.

I drove out to Portland, parked my car, and walked toward the intersection where John had told me to meet him at 6:00. I was fifteen minutes early.

As soon as the first car of teenagers passed by that honked their horn and hooted at me, I realized that John intentionally had me waiting on a street corner dressed like a cheap hooker.

A car pulled up with two men in it, one asking me "how much, how much for two blow jobs?" I stared straight ahead and told him I was waiting for my boyfriend.

Several cars honked their horns with their passengers screaming things at me, asking if I needed a date, etc, but I looked off in the distance and waited patiently for John. I was scared and humiliated -- what if someone I knew drove by? Time passed....6:15...no John. 6:30...no John.

Things bottomed out when a police cruiser showed up. Two cops got out of the car, and asked me why I had been standing there. I told them that I had been waiting for my date, and this is where he wanted to meet me. The officers shook their heads in disbelief over my story.

One officer asked if he could look through my purse. I knew I could refuse, but I figured if he saw that I didn't have any drugs, condoms, or whatever in it, he'd get off my back. So I agreed.

The two cops looked through my purse, looked at my license and saw where I lived (a well-to-do suburb), then gave each other a look that said "I don't get it either". There was nothing in my purse that even hinted that I might be a prostitute or a criminal.

One cop noticed my wedding ring -- which John insists that I wear -- and asked why I said I was waiting for my boyfriend there. I took a deep breath, and told him that this is where he asked that I meet him. They both kind of laughed under their breath.

Finally, the older cop told me that he didn't think I was looking for trouble...but if I stood out on this street corner long enough -- dressed like that -- I'd find it. I assured him that if my "boyfriend" didn't show up soon I'd go home. They accepted that and left.

Of course, I would have stayed out there all night, until the next morning, waiting for John. He said to wait, and wait I would.

After another half hours of honking horns, whistles, and indecent proposals, John finally arrived just after seven. He pulled up, lowered the passenger side window, and asked how I was doing. All I wanted to do was get in that car, but John kept making small talk.

It occurred to me that he wanted to make it look like I was negotiating with a potential customer.

He finally let me in the car, laughing as he did so. John looked fantastic wearing a black, single breasted suit and a silk khaki shirt. I wanted to jump him right in the car, and I was already excited wondering what he had planned for the evening. It was as if he'd created a whole new world for me, and I was anxious to explore it.

John had arranged reservations for one of Portland's best steakhouses. We walked in and were seated immediately. As we walked through the room, I looked around -- we were a couple that caught the eye of many males and females in the restaurant. Of course the loud "clop, clop, clop" sound I made with every step attracted attention. It was truly amazing, I was not used to other women checking out my date, and I'm certain I was getting a lot more attention than usual with my revealing outfit. When I went to sit, I had to do so very carefully, holding my skirt down as I awkwardly lowered myself into the chair.

The waitress was a pretty young blonde, seemingly in her late 20's. I thought for a moment of how this could have been my life -- waiting tables on a Saturday night and relying on tips -- had I not met Nate.

John asked the waitress to recommend a wine that went well with beef. I have no idea what she recommended, but John told her to bring a bottle over. Since she didn't say how much it cost, I immediately figured out that I'd be paying for our dinner, or more accurately that Nate would be.

I guess now would be a good time to mention that I wasn't only providing John with sex, but with gifts, and sometimes expensive ones. I think it was part of the fun for him, and perhaps for me too. One time we were hanging around at his apartment after sex, and he showed me an ad in a magazine. It was a watch that he said he really liked. Of course, that meant "Julie, go out, buy me this watch, and act as if it was your idea to surprise me with a gift". All part of the power game, I suppose.

Anyway, for a moment I felt terrible about what I was doing, and promised myself that I'd be nicer to Nate effective immediately, and that I'd let go of the incident that happened over a month ago.

John smiled at me and asked if I needed to use the Ladies' Room, and I actually did. He looked at me and told me to walk across the restaurant toward the bathrooms, frequently looking back to smile at him. From there, I was to "accidentally" stumble into the Men's Room. John told me to look back and smile as seductively as possible while opening the door, and to drag the incident out, staying in there as long as I reasonably could.

It sounded like fun. I got up, but before leaving I gave John a kiss on the forehead. I thought that would add a nice touch, and John later agreed. I walked toward the bathrooms (with my shoes broadcasting my every step), looking backward and appearing that I was too busy flirting with John to pay attention to where I was going. I stopped at the Men's Room door, looked back lovingly at John, and opened the door. As I did so I heard someone say "Uh....MISS!" in the background, but I ignored it and headed in.

I walked through that door like a bull in a china shop, with my heels loudly announcing my arrival as I stepped into the middle of the room. One man was washing his hands, I saw the feet of a man standing in a stall, and a third man was using a urinal. I'd seen them on TV, but I'd never actually seen one in person. I stopped to take a look, much to the chagrin of the man caught in mid-stream.

I did my best to act confused as I stood in the middle of the bathroom, idiotically exclaiming "I'm sorry...this isn't the Ladies' Room?" No one answered, but I looked to toward the urinal. Above it, where the men stood, there was a thin glass case at eye level with a newspaper thumbtacked to corkboard. One side displayed the front page of the newspaper, the other showed the front page of the sports section. I couldn't take my eyes off it, and I must have been standing there for a long time.

"You guys read that while you pee?" I stupidly asked to no one in particular. The poor guy using the urinal had a panicked look on his face. I casually apologized and left. As I exited the Men's Room into the Ladies' Room, just about everyone within eyeshot was looking at me. I raised my eyebrows and but on a tight "oh gosh, I'm so embarrassed" gesture with my mouth. I did what I needed to do and quickly returned to my table.

John had a look of amazement on his face and said he was afraid I'd fallen in. When I told him what I'd done, he had to cup his hands over his mouth to contain his laughter. He told me I'd earned bonus points for that performance, and I was proud of myself.

When the waitress arrived to take our order, John ordered a porterhouse steak and baked potato for himself...and then he ordered a filet mignon and vegetables for me.

By making my menu choice for me, for the first time I felt as if John had displayed his total control of me in front of someone else. I wondered how that waitress saw me- dressed like a slut and having someone deciding what I ate and drank.

No matter, I was having a wonderful time. I saw the man that was using the urinal get up to leave with his date, and I made a big deal about standing up and waving to him. He was ready to die of embarrassment!

The dinner was great and the company was better. Despite (or perhaps, because of) all of the power games John was playing, I hadn't had a night out like this in a long time. We talked and laughed as if we belonged together. When the bill arrived, John thanked the waitress and pointed toward me. I happily pulled out my credit card and handed it to the waitress.

John then leaned toward me and whispered, "go back into the Ladies' Room. Take off your bra and panties. Then when you walk back to the table swing them around in your hands until I tell you to stop".

At that moment I hated the heels on my feet. They loudly attracted attention, and everyone was going to see what I was doing. Still, I had no choice. I went to the back into the Ladies' Room, entered a stall, and removed my underwear. I took a deep breath before leaving, then exited while walking back to the table with my head down, twirling my bra in one hand and panties in the other for all to see, until John told me to put them down on the table. They brightly stood out against the white tablecloth.

The waitress had already returned the bill, and John instructed me to leave a nice tip. I did- $40 on a $120 tab- and I stood to leave. John told me there was one last thing he needed to take care of- his shoe was untied.

I let out an involuntary gasp and asked him what he wanted me to do. He calmly told me to get on my elbows and knees, and to tie his shoe. I could feel myself starting to shake- this was the craziest thing I'd ever been asked to do, but I had no choice.

I did as he asked. I placed my knees on the ground, then my elbows in front of them. As I did my skirt came up, and I felt a bit of a draft in an unusual place.

There's no question in my mind that I was mooning everyone behind me as I performed the degrading task of getting on the floor and tying John's shoe. I tried to tie it as quickly as possible, which of course meant that I kept screwing up and had to repeat the process several times. It seemed t take forever.

When I finally finished, John and I quickly rushed out of there, as we were certainly going to be asked to leave. I got over my embarrassment quickly, as he and I were cracking up by the time we got to his car. We'd certainly given a few dozen people a night to remember, and something to talk about.

We got back into his car and onto our next destination. We weren't in the best neighborhood (for Portland, at least) when John pulled into a strip club.

I couldn't have looked very comfortable, since John assured me that it was OK -- he knew people here, and they had a private party room.

To get into this place, one had to climb a big flight of stairs in a dark hallway. On the door at the top, there was an ominous sign:





I'll tell you what happened when we got inside in Chapter Ten.

07-28-2009, 02:28 AM
As we walked up the stairs I saw a sign on the door:





I casually joked to John that I guess I wouldn't be making any calls on my cell phone. John laughed and said the club had to have that policy, since many phones now have cameras in them. He said that this made the place like Las Vegas- whatever happens here, stays here.

John waved at a man, who quickly walked over and greeted us enthusiastically. He introduced me to him as he led us across the room. As we whisked across the room I looked around. The music was really loud, and there was a girl onstage dancing suggestively while wearing only black underwear. She wasn't even pretty- she had a really bad dye-job, tattoos, and fake breasts that looked like someone had slipped two cereal bowls beneath her skin. Her skin was pale and she was really skinny- frankly, she looked like she had a drug problem. The patrons of the club were about as "low rent" as can be. It was kind of sad- these men had nothing else to do on a Saturday night but hang out in a place as seedy as this. Of course, this made me wonder what John and I were doing there.

We were escorted into a room small enough to be a walk-in closet. There was a chair, a stool, and a well-lit mirror. The man who brought us there told John "Vince will be right with you".

John looked at me, smiled, and asked if I still thought he was running out of ideas. Before I could formulate a response, the door opened. In walked a big (he had to be six and a half feet tall), muscular man with long dark hair and a goatee. He greeted John as if they were old friends, and then introduced himself to me as Vince. Despite his rugged appearance, he seemed nice enough.

Vince and John made small talk for a minute or so, and then Vince turned to me. He said that I looked fantastic, and since it was my first time, it was OK to be nervous. He said that if I needed a drink or two before going on, it would be on the house. He complimented me on my outfit, saying it was "perfect".

It slowly dawned on me why John had brought us to that club.

I was completely unnerved. I swallowed hard, my stomach quickly turned into a knot, but I tried not to seem nervous.

Vince told me I'd be dancing through three songs. During the first song, I was to strip down to my underwear, then go backstage and rest for a minute before the next song started. At the beginning of the second song I was to take off my bra and dance with my breasts exposed. After that song I'd go backstage, come out for the third song, and take off my panties, dancing completely in the nude throughout.

John let out a dismayed groan, and told Vince that I'd taken off my underwear at a restaurant, and had left them on the table. After giving us a surprised look, Vince quickly reformulated a plan- he said not to take anything off during the first dance, but to raise my skirt and show my ass. Take off my blouse during the second dance, and my skirt for the third.

I actually stopped and marveled at the idea of someone making decisions like that for a living. Vince asked what name I wanted to use, and John interjected, saying that we'd decided I'd use my real name.

Vince said I'd be on in ten minutes. All I could think of were the lowlifes that inhabited the club, and the drug-addled skank that was dancing for them. The reality sunk in that in ten minutes, I'd be taking her place. I was on the verge of tears, and my mind was scrambling, trying to think of anything other than the situation I was in. Not thinking about things was always a good coping measure for me.

I asked Vince if I could have a kamikaze...make it strong. In fact, make it a double. This wasn't going to be easy.

The drink arrived and I sucked it down as quickly as my stomach would allow. I sat back and took inventory of the situation- my family had spent the day having a fun outing in Boston, going sightseeing and enjoying a baseball game. I, on the other hand, had so far stood on a street corner as if I were a prostitute, had not-so-accidentally stumbled into a men's room, and had tied a man's shoe in public while revealing my derriere before a restaurant full of people.

Now, at thirty-eight years old, I'd be making my debut as an adult entertainer. Actually, the term "adult entertainer" was far too kind. I was going to be a cheap stripper in a sleazy bar, performing before an assembly of losers.

Vince escorted John and I through the backstage area. I saw two other strippers there, chatting and smoking cigarettes. The strange looks they gave me were almost reassuring- it was as if they were saying "you don't belong here". Well, I didn't want to. The music had stopped, and the tension inside me was really starting to build. I knew I was only moments from doing, by leaps and bounds, the most degrading thing I'd ever done in my life. The DJ then announced in a deep voice "Let's hear a warm welcome for...Julie!" and it was showtime.

I wondered if I'd be the first stripper in history to vomit onstage. I had just sucked down a strong drink, and the atmosphere was awful. The lights were overwhelmingly bright and hot, the place stunk of cigarette smoke and cheap beer, the shoes I had on were awkward and not made for dancing, and the awful heavy metal music they played was nothing short of deafening. I went out there and started dancing like a whirlwind, having no idea what I was doing. It was all like a blur. I didn't close my eyes, but I didn't focus on anyone. I would fixate on posters on the wall, empty chairs...anything but one of the faces that were watching me as I danced. I slowed down enough to turn facing the curtain and slowly shake my behind. As I started lifting my skirt, I heard hollers and applause. I actually figured that if I did this slowly enough, it would work as a stall tactic that, in a way, would get this over with more quickly. Thankfully it worked, because I was actually running out of ideas for things to do. The song ended and I abruptly ran backstage. I was already sweaty and exhausted, and there were two songs to go.

Vince and John were waiting for me backstage, and I was deeply embarrassed when I saw that they were both trying to stifle their laughter. The fact that the two of them were practically LAUGHING AT ME while I was attempting to titillate a roomful of strangers made my blood run cold.

Vince told me to take a deep breath and relax. He said I was dancing about five times as fast as I should have- so slow down! John then said I needed to look in the audience, as men were trying to give me dollar bills. I pointedly told John that I didn't want their money (I later apologized for my tone, blaming the stiff drink and my state of frantic nervousness and exhaustion), but Vince said that taking dollars was part of the show. The DJ announced my name, and off I went for round two.

An odd thought went through my head as I walked on the stage- I couldn't wait to get my blouse off. It was coming off anyway, and I felt as if I were in an oven.

As the music began to roar I looked around the audience for the first time- had John been lying to me? No one was offering dollar bills. But I did notice something- there were probably close to 100 men there, and all eyes were on me. I also noticed the looks of excitement and anticipation on their faces. It occurred to me that they knew what was coming- that on the second dance the stripper would show her breasts. They couldn't wait to see my mine, and somehow in my half-drunken state of confusion that brought a smile to my face. I had spent too many years married to a man that would rather look at a glass of vodka and orange juice than to look at me. Now, I had a room full of men that couldn't wait to look.

Holy shit...I was actually starting to enjoy this.

I started shaking my hips, s-l-o-w-l-y, just as Vince had instructed. I shot a confident smile to my onlookers, and s-l-o-w-l-y started to unbutton my blouse. I undid the bottom button, then the top, then from the bottom, until there was only one button left to be undone, which was almost perfectly aligned with the center of my breasts. I pushed my chest out and stretched that final button to the max as I continued to s-l-o-w-l-y shake my hips. There was a smattering of cheers and applause, which provided me a great deal of encouragement and boldness. I finally undid the last button, but I let my blouse hang down.

With both hands I teased opening my blouse, while raising one eyebrow to the spectators. Their whoops and cheers grew louder, and I actually used one of my hands to cup my ear, encouraging more applause. It worked, as the cheers grew louder. I finally pushed my shoulders forward, pulled my blouse behind them, and let it fall to the floor as I exposed my breasts to a room full of strangers.

May I immodestly say that the place went wild? Well, maybe not WILD, but there were lots of cheers and applause.

I then put my hands behind my head- just as I had done for John the first time I disrobed for him- and swayed my hips while sticking my chest out. I looked out toward the audience, and there must have been thirty men holding out dollar bills!

If taking the bills was part of the show, then I had to do it, right? I continued to sway my hips as I took the money out of the men's hands while looking at them, smiling, and saying "thank you". The song ended and it was time to go, but I kept snatching dollar bills out of people's hands. A couple of them asked if "they" were real, and I patiently replied that "they sure are".

When I finally got backstage, Vince told me not to worry- grabbing every available dollar was par the course in the industry.

Sorry to say, but the third dance was fairly anti-climactic. I got a nice ovation when I came out, but the removal of my skirt didn't get nearly the reaction as me taking off my top. I guess most women have the same thing between their legs, but my chest was the major attraction. Oh well.

After the dance I went backstage, and Vince quickly escorted John and I back to the dressing room. Despite being on display just a few moments earlier, I felt really awkward while walking around backstage naked with them. As soon as we got to the dressing room I quickly put my clothes back on, feeling really weird about getting dressed in front of Vince, who I barely knew. I know that makes no sense, especially since Vince is probably around naked women all of the time. My top was soaked in sweat, and one could easily see my nipples through the white fabric.

On his way out Vince said that if I ever needed extra money to give him a call. He said he was always looking for "fresh faces", that his "top girls" made up to $1,200 a week, and that cash tips often had a way of going unreported.

Vince's statement struck a chord with me- working as a stripper was another way I might possibly be making a living if I weren't married to Nate. In my mind, I once again resolved to be nicer to him.

John and I left the club, and we were both unusually quiet as he drove me back to my car. We arrived and he parked next to my car and John turned off the engine and got out with me. For whatever reason it was an awkward moment, as I didn't know what to say. I used the remote to pop the locks on the car and looked at John. He responded by taking me by the arm, and opening the door to the back seat. Without a word he gently pushed me into the back seat, got on top of me, and shut the door. I let out an involuntary sigh of pleasure as I felt his hands lifting up my short skirt up to the top of my waist. From there John unbuckled and dropped his pants, from there pushing his already hard cock inside me.

One of my faults is that I think too much. I was in the backseat of my family's car, letting the man I'd enslaved myself to screw my brains out with zero foreplay. The car was eight years old and my children had taken many a trip in the back seat John and I were occupying. I'm sure when they get older they'll remember being back there.

And here was their Mother, after leaving her underwear behind in a restaurant and dancing naked before a club full of strangers- and getting sweaty and gross while doing so- was having her brains screwed out by the man that dominated her, right where they sat so many times when we went on family outings. We were fucking more like animals than humans.

My parents had raised me to be a good girl, and for almost of my life I had been a daughter any parent could be proud of, a loyal wife, and a dedicated mother.

Part of me felt bad what I was doing, but it just felt too good- by the time John shot his orgasm inside me I had already cum three times.

07-28-2009, 02:32 AM
While driving home from my wildest night-on-the-town ever, I wanted one of two things- either my family to have not yet have returned from their day in Boston, or for everyone to already be in bed. It was just after 11:00 PM...chances are, they'd all be just getting home.

Sure enough, when I arrived almost every light in the house was on. I zoomed right past it, noticing John's car already in the driveway as I sped by. So I parked on a nearby street, listened to the radio, and waited.

I began considering my options. My body was matted in sweat and cum, my hair was a fright, I stunk like a strip joint, I was dressed like a slut, and I wasn't wearing any underwear. This made my options extremely limited.

I opened my purse and started digging for my cell phone when I saw the scattering of dollar bills in there- the ones that I had taken from the patrons while stripping at the club. I turned on the car's dome light and starting counting- there was $44 dollars total, including two five dollar bills. I neatly organized and folded the wad of bills, and vowed to put them somewhere where they'd never be found- or spent. I'd keep them as a souvenir of this night.

As I reached for my cell phone I had a thought- maybe I could kill some time by visiting Caroline- if she was home. She knew what was going on between John and I, and my appearance wouldn't be of concern to her.

Or would it? Caroline and I had been the best of friends before we had a sexually charged encounter as described in Chapter 8. Things had changed between us after that. After that encounter, I had told her that I'd decided not to go forward with a physical relationship with her- nothing personal, just that women weren't my thing. After that every time I saw Caroline she'd be overly flirtatious and would sometimes make a move, at which point I'd have to gently fend her off. I decided that I just wasn't in the mood for that, and hoped that someday we'd get our "old" relationship back. I really missed the way things used to be between us, as she was someone that I could talk about anything with, including my relationship with John. Plus, like me, all of my other friends were married and had children. I sometimes liked getting away from that environment, and I enjoyed the peace, quiet, and adult conversation Caroline's bachelorette pad offered.

I came up with another idea- I don't think I've mentioned this in any of the other chapters, but soon after my affair with John started I turned into a bit of a masturbation fiend. There were many days where I'd spend around an hour just lying in bed touching myself.

Memorial Day weekend was a few weeks ago, and it did nothing but rain. Everyone was stuck in the house, there wasn't a time where I could safely be by myself, and for whatever reason I was hornier than hell- yet I couldn't get any relief. Finally on Monday morning I made the announcement that Mom was taking a long, relaxing bath. As I headed into the bathroom with a CD player in my hand (gotta drown out the noise- even when I'm trying to be quiet, my orgasms can be fairly loud) my teenaged daughter gave me what might have been a knowing look. I was a little concerned, but that didn't stop me from enjoying a nice, long masturbation session on our bathroom floor.

It was late, I was parked on a quiet street in a safe neighborhood, I was horny (again), and I had nothing better to do...why not put my hands to good use?

Unlike a lot of women, I'm not crazy about vibrators and I don't like fingering myself- for me it actually feels best when I rub myself through my underwear. I wasn't wearing any underwear at this point, but I figured I'd make the best of the situation. So I turned up the car's air conditioner, climbed in the back seat, laid on my back, and went to work. I opened my legs and first started rubbing myself ever so slowly, and then I picked up speed as I went along.

It felt good, but I wanted something different. I turned over and rested on my left elbow and my knees. From there I reached around and with skirt raised I hooked my right hand behind my back and started rubbing myself. I started to really get into it, as I thought about everything that happened that night. I couldn't help but be turned on my exposing myself in the restaurant, getting naked at the strip club, and having John fuck my brains out afterward. I felt a big orgasm coming on, and I rubbed my hand as fast as I could. I could feel myself cumming- my grunts and groans turned into a high-pitched shriek as I enjoyed an intense orgasm.

I took a deep breath, opened my eyes and thought about going for "Round Two" when I noticed the shine of a bright flashlight approaching my car. For a brief moment I feared the worst, but I realized I was in a safe neighborhood and the car doors were locked. But I did feel exasperated as I realized that for the second time that night, I'd be having an encounter with the police.

The officer shone the light in the now-foggy backseat window, and I lowered it. There were two police officers there, and one asked what I was doing. As I tried to pull my revealing skirt down as to not show the tops of my stockings, I lamely said that I'd lost an earring and was trying to find it. I was asked to show my ID and when I did, the officers asked why I pulled over to look for an earring two streets away from where I lived. I just lowered my head and said that if I did that my husband would drive me crazy asking about it, and I didn't need that aggravation.

For the second time that night, I looked at two police officers smirking as I tried to pass off a ridiculous story. The first officer told me that someone had noticed a car running on their street for a long time, and that when the officers approached the car they heard a sound come out of the car that indicated a possible disturbance. The whole time he was giving me an "I know what you were doing" look.

I exhaled and looked down, and as I did I noticed that my shirt was unbuttoned to the middle of my chest, and realized that my breasts were, for the most part, exposed. I felt pangs of shame as I explained that I wasn't breaking any laws, and promised to go straight home. After a few more embarrassing questions, they let me go.

I once caught my son masturbating. I didn't want to embarrass him, so I didn't make a big deal about it- he's human, after all. Now I knew exactly how humiliated he must have felt after I'd been caught in the act myself.

It was close to midnight I finally went home. The only light that was on was in the living room, and I was hoping that Nate would be drunk and passed out, or at least close to it. When my relationship with John had first started, I was always VERY careful about arousing my husband's suspicion- I would have never risked Nate seeing me arriving home dressed the way I was. Now, I was sick of sitting around listening to the radio in my car and I was willing to take my chances.

I walked in the door and saw Nate, who naturally had a drink sitting on the table beside him. I said hello and practically ran for the bathroom to take a quick shower and hide the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra or underwear. Nate was telling me to hold on, saying he wanted to talk to me. As I told him that I'd be right out, I noticed that he seemed unusually sober and alert.

After locking the door behind me I stripped down and scurried through the bathroom hamper for a bra and underwear ...just in case. As I started the water for a shower I remembered once reading that the number one clue that someone was having an extra-marital affair was coming home and running into the shower. After realizing that getting caught drenched in sweat and cum would be an even greater clue- and that the tight blouse and micro-miniskirt I was wearing when I walked in wouldn't help the situation- I figured a shower and a change of clothes were in order and I jumped in.

One quick shower later, I quickly dried my hair, wrapped a towel around myself, and picked up what I'd been wearing that evening, along with the underwear I'd retrieved from the hamper. I walked past Nate into the kitchen, cheerily asking how the day had gone as I grabbed a plastic bag and put my clothes in them. Nate said that it was a fun day, and asked how my scrapbooking party went- while putting a slightly sarcastic edge on the word "scrapbooking".

Before I had a chance to answer, Nate asked what I was doing. I told him that Caroline and I went out for a drink after scrapbooking, and we would up at a bar where a lot of people smoked. I wanted to put my clothes in a bag so that they wouldn't stink up the house, and the disgusting smell was all over me- which was why I took a shower.

Nate had his arms folded around his chest, and was giving me a very suspicious look. He said that Caroline had called looking for me- so how could I have been out for a drink with her?

Two words went through my mind--don't...panic.

I thought quickly and asked Nate when Caroline called, and he said there was a message on the machine when everyone got home. Well, that was an easy one- I said that she called me on my cell phone after she left the message here and asked me out for a drink after scrapbooking. As Nate considered the plausibility of my story, I became determined not to let his train of thought get back on it's tracks.

I put my hands on Nate's shoulders and softly told him that I really would have liked to have gone into Boston with him and the kids if he had only told me in advance. I began to caress his shoulders while expounding on the virtues of family teamwork and fairness within our partnership. I whispered about how much I missed him when he was in New York, but I dealt with it out of respect for his career and our family.

During the course of this conversation, I started softly kissing and licking Nate's neck, and "somehow" allowed the towel to slip from my body and drop to the ground. As I rubbed my husband's hardening crotch I realized that he was becoming less interested in my whereabouts that night, and more interested in other things. I pulled my husband closer and told him how much I missed the way things were when we were younger, and all of the opportunities we'd missed while he was away. It was the ultimate act of manipulation, and by the end of it I had Nate blaming himself for not telling me about his plans, and apologizing for his work schedule.

Ha Ha...score one for Julie's team.

As I grabbed both sides of Nate's head and guided it down to kiss and suck my left breast, I looked at a mirror on our living room wall. The face in that mirror looked back at me with a most triumphant snicker. For all of my life (until recently) I'd used sex was something that was a byproduct of love and commitment. Now I was using my womanly charms as a means to get my own way- in this case, getting away with something. I found that to be incredible turn on.

Of course, I needed something to happen physically in order to maximize my turn on. So I pushed Nate down away from my breast and toward my vagina. He sunk to his knees, and I grabbed him gently by his hair and rotated my vagina toward his mouth. He immediately began kissing, licking, and sucking me...and I started really getting into it.

Nate ate away while my hands held his head in place. As I pumped toward his mouth, I took another look at the woman in that mirror. I loved how we smiled at one another. At one point in my life I would have despised that woman...so wicked, so manipulative...so bad. Such a slut, such a whore, etc.

But now that woman was me. As I looked at her as she ground her finely trimmed pussy- the one her younger lover shot his sperm into less than two hours earlier- into her husband's face as she was about to have an orgasm...I loved her. I was in awe of her.

The woman looking back at me...was me.

The next day Caroline called and invited me out to lunch. We had a great time, and wound up going back to her apartment for some wine. When we arrived I told her some of the things that had gone on the night before (Chapters 9 -- 11), like me walking into the men's room, tying John's shoe while mooning the restaurant, and screwing in the backseat. I did not tell her that danced at the strip club.

It was a great afternoon and Caroline didn't make a move on me. We had a wonderful talk, and were able to get caught up on what was going on in each other's lives. Things felt like the way they used to be, and was great to have Caroline back as my closest friend and greatest confidante.

We're fast-forwarding a bit from the last chapter. Summer was gone and it was now September. A few weeks ago I'd put on a brave face and cheerily waved goodbye to my daughter who was being driven by Nate to her freshman year of college in Massachusetts. I held back tears as they pulled out of the driveway, then ran inside and sobbed hysterically in my bed for hours. That's life- they eventually leave the nest. Doesn't mean I have to like it.

One day I realized that from a sexual and relationship standpoint, Nate was trying...at least a little. We were having sex once a week, which was more than we had been doing it in a long time. But that was it- once a week. If we did it on Friday night, I could count on him not being interested on Saturday, and if we didn't do it on Friday, I could guarantee he'd approach me for sex on Saturday.

Unfortunately, the "Friday or Saturday?" coinflip was the only thing unpredictable about my sexual relationship with Nate. But that was better than nothing, and we hadn't fought in a long time.

When Nate and I first got married we bought what we could afford- a large but old and odd house that desperately needed both interior and exterior repair and remodeling in a small town outside of Portland, Maine. The house has common entranceway where it then separates from the door to the "main" house, and a flight of stairs that leads to a one bedroom apartment. When we first bought the place we absolutely needed to have tenants to make the mortgage, and we sometimes had to deal with headaches. As time went on and Nate's career advanced we were able to become more and more selective about who we rented to, and sometimes the apartment would sit vacant for months. We'd had the same mortgage for 20 years, so we were paying a 1980's Maine mortgage rate on Nate's current Manhattan salary. We no longer needed to rent the apartment, so Nate was extremely particular about the person he would rent the place to. He handpicked our tenants, and would only rent to those he had absolute confidence thatwould be trouble free.

As I headed up those stairs for another late-night sexual romp with John, I chuckled over the irony of Nate handpicking our tenant. I really should thank my husband for that someday.

Sometimes when John did me from behind- whether I was getting it vaginally or anally- he would slap my ass, and that slight pain added to my pleasure. As time went on John was slapping me harder and harder as he fucked me. On this night he started laying in spanks until I cried out and literally started sobbing.

John stopped both fucking and spanking me, and asked me if I wanted to stop. I tried to regain my composure and simply said no. John then asked if I wanted him to keep fucking me, and I blurted out the words "yes, please". He then asked I wanted him to keep spanking me.

I was breathing hard and literally quivering as thoughts and hot flashes went through my mind. My ass was radiating with pain. As I struggled to remain on my hands and knees I finally surrendered to the truth and hissed out the word "yes" through clenched teeth.

Of course, John asked me to tell him in a complete sentence, and I did. I told him that I wanted to be spanked, and spanked hard. He demanded that I tell the truth, that he didn't want me saying whatever I thought he wanted to hear. I told him the truth- that I was enjoying the stiff slaps he was applying and that I wanted more. I wanted to show him that I could take it, and that I was willing to absorb whatever punishment he wished to apply in order to please him and show him my loyalty.

John went right back to work, penetrating my vagina with his huge cock while slapping my ass in a non-rhythmic manner. I had no idea when the next slap was coming, and when it did I would yelp out in surprise, pain, and pleasure. I was bucking back and forth wildly while John was doing this, and my sexual temperature was as hot as it had ever been in my lifetime. John then told me that he had no idea that I was such a "pain slut".

He then asked me if I was a pain slut.

The term blew my mind, as I found it to be incredibly degrading...but in an erotic sort of way. As he slapped and fucked away while pulling my hair, I kept telling John "yes, I'm a pain slut...yes, I'm a pain slut" (further demonstrating that I was also a humiliation slut as well) until I screamed and had an orgasm that literally sucked the wind out of me and left me trembling and gasping for air.

John laughed and joked that my orgasm could have shot him across the room. He also said that a scream like that wasn't just likely to awaken my son, but the entire neighborhood. I was unconcerned, and at that point, I asked him to please fuck me in the ass.

I used to generally dislike anal sex, but like so many other things that had changed. John and I had done it so many times had stretched me to the point where it no longer hurt. Plus I'd learned to rub the outside of my vagina as he pumped in and out of my ass, causing an intense feeling of pleasure, and having John pulling my hair with his left hand while administering blows to my ass with his right added to the sensation. I had two more huge orgasms before John finally came inside my ass.

Usually after sex- with either John or my husband- I needed a cooling off period. Even after my most humiliating and submissive sessions with John, I wanted to he held, and in most cases he did that for me. But this time I got dressed as quickly as I could, excused myself, and headed downstairs.

For whatever reason my euphoric sexual high was quickly replaced by an emotional low. Upon returning home I disrobed and looked at my bottom in the living room mirror. The left side was a bright pink, while the right side was beet red, and purplish blood blisters had already begun to appear. On top of it, I had begun to sweat profusely and dark circles were forming under my eyes.

I began shaking and crying. It really hurt to sit, but I couldn't stand. My heart was racing, and I felt both nauseated and light-headed. For a moment I was afraid that something was seriously wrong with me. I literally thought it was possible I was having a stroke, and considered calling 911. I'd have a lot of explaining to do, but it would be better than dying.

As I sat sobbing and blubbering on the couch I came to realize that I was having a panic attack. Not the dramatic one on TV where someone passes out and profanely tells Dr. Melfi about it the next day, but one where a person is so afraid or distraught that they encounter physical ailments.

Of course, there was a missing piece to the puzzle. I had no idea what was upsetting me, and why I was reacting this way. But I was scared to death, and felt like a small, helpless child.

Wisely, I called Caroline, and explained what was going on. She was the voice of reason, and said that openly sobbing in the living room of a house that occupied my son was bad enough, but doing it while being completely naked crossed the boundaries. That brought me back to reality- I slipped on a thin, satin robe while wondering when I'd be able to wear pants or shorts again. My ass really, really hurt, and I was sure that it would for at least a couple of days.

I continued to speak with Caroline, which really helped settle me down. I theorized that what upset me was that part of me felt I was becoming a pervert. Not a good, kinky semi-pervert but someone that was sick, dark, deranged...someone that was completely fucked up. A pain slut? Is that what I wanted to be? I mean, I had allowed- no, encouraged- John to beat my ass practically into raw hamburger. These weren't cutesy, esoteric slaps- John had struck me with powerful open-handed blows, and not only did I enjoy it, but at the time I was left wanting more.

Caroline said that she didn't think I was a pervert, and that I should relax. She theorized that the dull sex life I'd had with my husband was the abnormal thing, and that as long as I didn't get carried away with things I'd be fine. "I don't give a shit what anyone says" Caroline flatly stated, "a little S & M is healthy and normal".

Inwardly I questioned whether what I was doing was "a little S & M", but Caroline's words made me feel better.

Yes, my bottom hurt. But that's not where the sobbing was coming from. It was as if the lashes from John's hand opened up a wound that was from the deepest part of my soul, leading to some hidden pain that I didn't even know existed pouring out, and I couldn't stop it.

I raided Nate's liquor stash. It was all I had to sooth the pain. I had ice for my behind, but alcohol was what I needed to

When my son woke me in the morning I told her I wasn't feeling well and stayed in bed until he went off to school. I finally got up and got out of my robe. As I was afraid it would be, the back side of it was stained with blood. Not a lot...but plenty considering the nature of my injury. Blood isn't supposed to ooze out of your skin from open handed slaps.

I felt faint as I started at it. I'm someone that can't stand the sight or smell of blood.

Ever since my daughter left and my school started again for my son, I'd sneak up to John's place late at night for sex once or twice a week, usually around 11:00 PM or midnight. It was fine- I could get up early, make things appear normal for my child, and slip right back into bed if I were tired. John didn't have to be at work until 9:00 AM, so this was working out for both of us.

John and I had made love probably a hundred times before this night. Sometimes he'd disrobe me in a traditional fashion, other times he'd order me to strip. This time was different- he suddenly pinned me down and began tearing off my shirt. Instinctively I tried to stop him, but he was too strong for me. He literally tore off my clothes. It was so odd- I was resisting, but I wanted it to happen. After literally ripping my panties off, he pinned me down and fucked me. I tried to cross my legs and stop him, but he pulled them apart and had his way with me.

It wasn't real. We were just playing. But I got into the role of being a rape victim, which is really twisted. To this day, just the thought of the sound and feel of my panties being torn off gets me hot. I can't help it.

John kept upping the ante. The next time I saw him he not only beat my ass red, but he beat my breasts as well. He scissored one of my arms with his legs, and had the other one pinned underneath him. He held my head back by pulling my hair, and started hitting my breasts hard with open handed slaps. I had two orgasms while he did this.

Later that night, I examined the damage in the mirror. My left breast was beaten badly, and a dark red bruise was forming on it. In an odd way I was proud of it, and I was also turned on by it. And suddenly I felt that feeling of absolute panic.

As I trembled and hyperventilated the light went on in my head. The feelings of panic subsided and were replaced by a sense of stark, cold awareness.

I was going to get caught. Nate was going to catch me.

It was inevitable.

Nate had worked for the same place for over twelve years, and at first they told him that he would have to "occasionally" travel to corporate headquarters in New York. What started as him being away two or three days a month went from two or three days a week, and as time went on and his responsibilities grew he began working in New York full time. He was told it was a temporary thing, but he'd been doing it for almost four years. Nate came home on a Friday and announced the company was taking him out of his hotel, furnishing him with an apartment in Manhattan, and giving him a promotion and a raise.

My husband was thrilled, as he said he was tired of "hotel living", but I wasn't as happy. I told Nate that this signified that the "temporary" assignment had obviously become a permanent one. When Nate semi-snidely told me that he had accepted that some time ago, it dawned on me how we never talked about those things...we never talked about a lot of things.

Maybe that was why we no longer fought.

Nate then went into his "OK, let's get serious" mode. He said that his career future was in New York...would I be interested in moving there in two years, after our son graduated high school?

My immediate, reactive thought was NO FUCKING WAY- give up John to move to New York?

It was as if John and I had two different relationships. I've put a lot of emphasis here on the sexual side of our bond, but there is a lot more. John and I have so many romantic moments- we talk, we share, we laugh.

I was in love with John. But did I love him?

There were more questions. One night John surprised me by first tying me up (something he had never done before) and then inserting a ball gag into my mouth. From there he whipped my behind with the kind of crop a jockey uses on a racehorse. The feelings of pain, helplessness, and desperation actually turned me on. If it hurt too much, I wouldn't be able to communicate that...and that was part of the turn on, as were the thin, red blister stripes that adorned my rear end the next day.

What the hell was the matter with me?

I found myself thinking back...the younger readers may not understand this, but when I was growing up it was common for parents to apply corporal punishment to their children. I got spanked, my brother got spanked, and our friends got spanked by their parents. It was just the way things were.

One night when I was twelve years old I was angry with my parents over something, and I retaliated by sneaking out of my bed in the middle of the night and watching TV in the living room. It was in the 70's, before we had cable, so I was flipping through the most boring shows imaginable until I heard my father storm down the stairs. There definitely was a moment of anticipation- was he going to spank me? At this hour? He did, and I woke up everyone in the house as I cried out when he struck his open hand into my pajama bottoms and spanked my behind.

My recollection of this event was always that it was an act of defiance, and that I'd won the battle- I got back at my parents by deliberately misbehaving, and when my father tried to retaliate he created a house-wide disruption. He gave me a spanking, but I knew I could take it. In my mind I'd come out on top, and I felt that everyone else knew it as well.

But looking back- was my intent sexual? Did I goad my own father into performing an act that I drew sexual gratification from- being dominated, spanked, and humiliated- even at that young age? Did I like and want the pain? I honestly can't remember.

At the time I had already developed into a sexual being, hitting puberty and fantasizing about being the girlfriend of either Greg Brady or Keith Partridge (the TV sitcom heart throbs when I was young), depending on the night. Here's the thing- in these fantasies, I would always try to be a good and proper girl, like I'd always been instructed to be by my parents. "Greg" or "Keith" would take me to a party, dinner, hamburger stand, whatever- and on the way home they'd pull their car over to a romantic spot to "get to know each other better", without asking me beforehand. They'd try to kiss me, and I'd say no- but they'd overcome my objections- by force if need be- and soon I'd give up my futile resistance and we'd be passionately massaging each other's tongues. From there they'd start grabbing my tits through my shirt, and if I tried to stop them they'd simply overpower me. By the end of the fantasy I'd be stripped naked in the backseat of their car, exhibiting my body for their pleasure, with them still fully clothed. Getting fucked or giving head was never part of the fantasy, and I'm certain the lack of "fairness" of me having to have my clothes taken off without my partner having to do the same was also part of it. I touched myself in that exact manner they did in my mind as I ran this scenario through my head almost every night.

It bears repeating- as early as sixth grade I went to bed every night fantasizing about putting up a pristine front but ultimately submitting to a stronger man's wishes. Every night, in the end I'd be slutting out for them. I'd pushed this out of my mind for a long time, but now that long-forgotten taste was right back in my mouth. I came to realize that the first time John pulled out his cock and ordered me to suck while we were "just friends" may have been the start of the fulfillment of my ultimate, long buried desires.

Anyway, not long after the late-night spanking incident my parents announced that times had changed, and there would be no more corporal punishment in the house. I remember feeling weird about it at first, not knowing what to think. The first time I did something wrong, my parents told me I couldn't use the phone for a week. I was PISSED- why couldn't they just give me a spanking so I could get my punishment over with?

I wish I knew what was really going on in my mind at that time.

Back to the present- as far as my sexual relation with John goes, he had a new obsession with my asshole. (no, not Nate- the one on my body- yes, that was supposed to be funny). John told me that he was going to keep my pussy nice and tight for him, but that he was going to stretch my ass out to the point where his big cock would be loose inside me. John humiliated me by making me dress provocatively, taking me to an adult toy store, and making a big deal about picking out a toy that was the right size for my ass. He eventually selected something that was over a foot long and funnel-shaped. It was started about four inches around, but got bigger and wider until it had the girth bigger than a soda can. It was like an exaggerated alien penis. The loser "this is why I work here" cashier giggled and I shook nervously as I paid for the item and John openly laughed and said we'd be back for something bigger soon. I felt that familiar feeling of combined shame and exhilaration.

John couldn't wait to use it on me- he was like a kid with new toy, pardon the pun. When we finally got some time together he immediately had me strip and get on my hands and knees on his bed. With zero foreplay John lubed up his penis and started fucking me in the ass. John is so big that when he fucks me in the ass I can really feel it in my vagina, and I have orgasms.

After John blew his load in my ass, he lubed up our new toy and went to work with it. He stuck it in my behind, and started pulling in and out. When he got it in past a certain point it was even thicker than his dick The device was going deeper into me than John ever had, and it was really stretching me out. John was thrusting in and out of me, going faster and deeper while it felt tighter and tighter around my asshole.

It was like John was playing a stereo, and he kept turning the volume higher and higher. At first the music was low and pleasant, and then it got louder until it maxed to a pleasure point. Then it got louder, and like good classic rock music that hurt your ears a bit, but you liked it....in this case enough to have an orgasm, and a big one.

John kept hammering my ass with this thing- like loud music, there's a point where it's good...then loud...then WAY too loud. This thing was stretching my butt-ring and it HURT. This was no longer "good" pain...it was agony.

I desperately clung to his sheets and tried to find the strength and courage to absorb what John was giving me. I wanted to show John that I could take it, that I would be loyal to him and do whatever he pleased. But as he pushed this thing that stretched me further and further, it's width was stretching me too much- it burned and felt as if I were being ripped apart, and I genuinely feared a trip to the emergency room.

It was too much pain- I sobbed and cried out for John to stop. I sobbed and begged- PLEASE- it was way too much. I was crying like a baby, both from the pain and feeling of defeat.

John immediately but slowly and carefully pulled it out of my ass. I sat there sobbing as he told me that everything was OK, and that he didn't mean to really hurt me. We put our arms around each other, and I buried my head in his chest and softly cried.

I was very much in love with that man.

Brigit Astar
07-28-2009, 02:45 PM
thanks for the additions