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Suzy’s Emergence

4/19/2012

Jan stood in front of her mirror trying on different outfits,
wondering which Tom would like best—which would catch
his eye. As she modeled, she evaluated herself, trying
to be objective. Tom seemed to hardly take notice of her
lately; she wanted to figure out why.


She stepped back so she could see her full image. She wished
her breasts were larger, but they were adequate. Her waist
was small and her legs long. She’d always considered
her gams to be her best asset—at least until she found
those pictures of Tom’s old girlfriends. Two had been
Asian, and all were tiny, petite, little things. She was
5’9”. When she asked what he saw in her, he’d laughed,
telling her he loved Amazons too. He’d proposed shortly
after that conversation, lending credence to his boast.



Five years of marriage apparently dulled that ardor, however.
They hadn’t had sex in over two months, and late night
“business meetings” had become the norm, particularly
lately. So often, in fact, that she’d called his secretary
to see if these meetings were legit. “Yes, ” she’d
been told, “he’s trying to land the Truman Account.”



“What’s this Truman person look like?”


The question was greeted with a silent pause. “Truman’s
the firm name, Nguyen is the account rep.”


“OK, ” she responded, letting her irritation show.
“What’s this Nguyen person look like?”


An even longer pause. “She’s… I’m sorry, you need
to take up that sort of thing with Tom. I have to go now.”
With that, she hung up.


Nguyen was a she, just as Jan suspected.


Changing into another outfit—a mini-skirt, Jan stared
at her reflection, assessing her look. Perfect!
Tom was due home any time. Her plan was to seduce him—and
put and end to their long lovemaking drought. She slipped
on a lacy blouse, one so sheer it showed her sexy black bra.



Dressed to her liking, she went to the dining room and closed
the drapes, shutting out the Southern California sun.
She filled the two wine glasses she’d placed on the table
and lit candles. With her sensual ambush ready, she sat,
waiting for Tom’s arrival.


She waited… …and waited. The phone rang. Dread washed
over her. Taking a deep breath, she answered. “This is
Jan.”


“Hi, Honey. It’s me.” Damn! She knew it. “Sorry,
but the boss wants us to wine dine clients tonight.” She
didn’t respond. After an uncomfortable silence, sounding
nervous, Tom continued. “It looks to be a late one.”
This silence was even longer. “You there, Honey?”



“I guess I’ll see you when you get home then, ” she
said, gnashing her teeth.


“OK, don’t wait up. Love you. Bye.” He hung up.


She tossed her cell phone across the room. “Bastard!”



She snuffed the candles and chugged a glass of wine. She
carried the remaining one to the hallway mirror, assessing
herself once more. She liked what she saw, even if he didn’t.
So would other men! Grabbing keys and purse, she
headed out the door.


She drove to the Beach Hilton, thinking it the most likely
place to be busy on a week night. Sure enough, the restaurant
was nearly full—but food wasn’t her aim. She headed
for the bar.


Its occupants were an odd mixture of businessmen and tourists.
She spied a rather handsome looking guy sitting at the bar
by himself. His dress seemed too casual for business, yet
too nice to be a tourist. She made a bee-line his way, and
sitting a couple of stools away, ordered a wine.


As she sat sipping it, her short skirt kept riding up her
thigh. Judging from his fleeting glances, it was something
not missed by Mr. Stud sitting beside her.


She’d come her for male attention, but now that she was
getting it, it felt uncomfortable, prompting her to rethink
her decision to come her. She was a married, albeit unappreciated,
woman, not some bar fly. Sighing, she took another sip.
I’ll finish this and head home. She shifted her
weight, causing her skirt to ride up her leg. She tugged
it back in place. Her carefully chosen attire was quickly
becoming more embarrassing than sexy.


“Is that Merlot you’re drinking?” the guy beside
her asked.


She looked at him, seeing him up close for the first time.
With high cheekbones, strong jaw, blue eyes and black hair,
he was downright hunky. She smiled. “Yes. So… which
is it you possess, a good eye or good nose?”


He laughed. “Both. Wine is what I do for a living. My brother
and I are down from Nappa country pushing our products.”
He turned to the bartender. “Jimmy, please bring the
lady one of my Merlots.”


“No, ” she protested as the bartender gave the guy
the thumbs up, “this is my third one already. I really
should go.”


He feigned anguish. “What, and insult me by not even tasting
my vintage? I’m crushed.”


His melodrama made her laugh. “All right, just one more.”



He extended his hand. “Tom here.” She laughed aloud
at the irony. He looked puzzled. “You’re the first
person to find my name funny.”


His eyes seemed to dance when he smiled. She decided she
was going to enjoy this one last wine. “Hi, I’m Jan.”
They shook. “I laughed because Tom’s my husband’s
name too.” Her gut roiled, wondering if her Tom was sitting
with his petite little Miss Nguyen in some bar similar to
this one. Or was it Mrs. Nguyen? No matter—she doubted
her Tom cared which.


The bartender arrived with her wine. “Thanks, ” she
offered. She turned to Tom #2, “You, too, ” she said,
raising her glass. She studied his handsome face. “What’s
ironic is that the other Tom is why I’ve already had three
glasses of wine.”


He leaned his elbow on the bar. “Now that’s a story I
have to hear.”


How much to share? She started out with how often he worked
late. Tom #2 listened attentively as the dam burst, her
pent up angst rolling off her tongue. It felt cathartic
to share it with someone, so much so, that she even confessed
her lack of a sex life and her earlier abortive plan to seduce
her husband.


Tom gave her the once over, his eyes lingering on her exposed
thighs. “So, that’s when your alter ego emerged and
you chose your present outfit?”


How had he deduced that? “Alter ego?”


He grinned. “Every woman has one suppressed deep within
her psyche. Sigmund Freud referred to it as the id.
Think of it as your suppressed sexuality.”


Her jaw fell open. “Are you saying my outfit tells the
world I’m sexually suppressed?”


Shrugging, he grinned, his eyes flitting once again to
her exposed thighs. Her tummy fluttered. “When was the
last time you wore that skirt, ” he rubbed his chin, smiling,
“and why did you choose to wear it this particular night?”



Their conversation was getting a bit personal. She knew
she ought to leave, but the tingling in her tummy was too
seductive. For the first time in memory a man was making
her feel sexy—and sexy was what she longed for. “Actually,
I bought it months ago and have never worn it, and…”
she felt her face flush, “…I chose to wear it to look
sexy. For my husband, ” she added when he grinned. Her
smile faded. She sipped her wine. “Until the son-of-a-bitch
chose his client’s company over mine.”


His leer seemed to burn through her. “He’s a fool.”
The remark made those tummy tingles burst into full-blown
butterflies.


“I still find your excuse lacking however...” His
glance settled on her blouse, the one sheer enough to hint
of her bra. This time it was her nipples that tingled. Were
his eyes some kind of electric prod? “…since it fails
to explain why you wore that oh-so-sexy outfit out on the
town, to a bar—alone.”


That comment scared her. He was getting way too
fresh. “You misread me; I’m a happily married woman.”



He shrugged. “I have no doubt. But even married women
have dueling egos: the ‘dutiful wife’ who controls
her psyche 99% of the time, and the suppressed slut that
lurks beneath her consciousness, choosing when to emerge.
For argument’s sake, let’s call that one Suzy.”



Does he think I’m one of his 1%? “Are you telling
me I’m dressed like a slut?”


He raised his hand in surrender. “Whoa! No!” he said,
shaking his head. “Definitely not!” He looked her
over again, and raised his eyebrows. “Although admittedly
incredibly sexy, your outfit falls short of qualifying
as slutty.”


Surprisingly, his assessment disappointed her. When
she’d set out to arouse her husband’s rutting instincts,
slutty had been her goal. “So, had this alleged alter
ego of mine taken over, how would she have dressed me differently?”



Rubbing his chin, he assessed her outfit, contemplating.
“Do you like shoes?”


What has that to do with anything? “Of course,
what woman doesn’t?”


“My wine business is fairly lucrative. The hotel boutique
is still open, why don’t you let me share my prosperity
and buy you a new pair?”


“And…” she furrowed her eyebrows, wondering where
this was going, “…this has to do with my alter ego how?”



He laughed. “Finish your wine and I’ll show you.”



She gulped it down and they headed for the boutique. “What’s
your shoe size?”


“Seven and a half.”


They stopped outside the shop. “Wait here, please.”



He was gone for no longer than five minutes before returning,
sack in hand. “Come, ” he said, coaxing her with a finger.
He led her to the Ladies Room. “Now, go try on what’s
in here, ” he ordered, handing her the sack. Taking the
bag, she tried to peek inside. He stopped her. “Nope!
Go inside and put them on, then come show me.”


Intrigued, she went inside. The bag held a pair of stilettos.
She’d never as much as tried on a pair, much less owned
one. She put them on and stood before the mirror. The mirror
was too short to see the shoes, but she could see their effect.
They flattered her butt and made her legs look longer—and
sexier—and yes, sluttier.


Tom called her. “Hurry, put your old shoes in the bag.
There’s a woman here in desperate need of the toilet.”



She did as told, but when she left the restroom, Tom was alone.
“Where’d she go?”


“It was a fib—so I could see you with the shoes on before
you chickened out and took them off.” He looked her over,
head to toe. “Now that looks slutty.”


She didn’t know if it was the brash remarks, his leer,
or simply his good looks, but their collective effect was
making her horny. He turned, once again motioning for her
to follow. “This way.”


“No way!” she protested. “I can’t walk around
a hotel looking like this.”


He laughed. “Apparently you agree with my slutty assessment.”
He looked her up and down, “I suspect that’s true about
more than how one dresses.” Winking, he walked away,
leaving her no choice but to hurry and catch up.


“What’s that supposed to mean?”


“Never mind. What’s important is what’s about to
happen.” They’d entered the crowded main lobby, walking
toward the back of the hotel. “Pay careful attention
to how these people respond to this ‘new’ you, and how
you react to them.”


He was right, people were reacting differently. Virtually
everyone looked at her, irrespective of their gender;
the women with looks of disdain, the men with universal
interest. Except for the maître d', who scowled.
Did he think her some hooker invading his hallowed workplace?
She pursed her lips, choking back a grin. The idea she’d
been mistaken for a prostitute made her feel sexy—or
in Tom’s terms: slutty. Her crotch came alive, each stride
caressing her moistening groin, and in a most delightful
way.


Tom took her out the back entrance, to the pool area. She
looked out at the ocean. The sun was setting, but it was still
warm enough to keep the pool crowded. Tom pointed toward
a stairway and a second floor balcony. “I want you to join
me up there, but only after you walk to the far end of the pool—very
slowly—and buy us each a drink.” He handed her a twenty.
“What you buy is irrelevant. The purpose of the walk is
to let you experience more of what just happened in the lobby.”



Chairs and lounges surrounded the pool—most occupied
by men.


“While you walk, think about how slutty you look. Free
your other self; let your Suzy emerge, and pay close attention
not only to the effect you have on the men, but their effect
on you as well.” He bent over and kissed her forehead.
“See you after your stroll.”


Apparently it never crossed his mind that she’d refuse
to do it. She looked out at the pool, her curiosity aroused—among
other things. Did this man know her better than she knew
herself? Putting a little extra sway in her stride, she
headed for the far end of the pool.


Even the little boys stared at her as she passed them by.
How early did men’s sexual desire blossom? Apparently
it happened earlier with them than girls.


The gawks she received were less than subtle. One guy went
as far as to whistle as she passed him. She turned his way,
giving him a ‘don’t you wish you could have me’ look.
It was a total turn-on. Her groin was no longer damp, it was
soaked. She’d never felt this sexy before. She smiled
inwardly. Oh my darling hubby, what you’re missing
out on.
As she continued her stroll, it was the new Tom dominating
her thoughts. What was it about him that she found so captivating?
She felt like a child in his presence—one being schooled
in ways she didn’t understand.


Reaching the stand, she bought two cups of wine and headed
back. Licking her lips, she winked as he passed a teenage
boy. His hands flew to his groin, covering it. She laughed—she’d
given the poor kid a boner.


She looked up when she reached the stairway. Tom was waiting
on the balcony. Has my outfit given him a boner too?
Exaggerating her sway, she headed up to join him. Thoughts
of provoking men’s erections, coupled with the leers
she’d just evoked, had her crotch sopped, and the long
strides required to clear the stairs made her labia rub
against each other. Would her arousal reek? How embarrassing
would that be? She decided she’d best remove her thong
and stow it in her purse.


Tom gave her an appreciative smile as she handed him his
drink. “So, did my little slut enjoy showing herself
off?”


Your slut? She knew she should be insulted. Instead,
the idea of him thinking of her in those terms evoked butterflies.
“You’re a bit cock sure of yourself aren’t you? I
assure you, the 99% is still in control.” She looked back
at the pool. Several of the men were still watching her.
“That said, you were right, ” she faced him, “the
walk around the pool was a turn on.” I can’t believe
I said that!



He chuckled. “Ask me if I’m surprised.” They were
standing just outside a luxurious room, likely one booked
for business presentations. He opened the door, “Come
inside.”


Mesmerized by his bravado, she did as he bade, without challenge.
Why, she had no clue. “What is this place?”


“My brother’s and my suite.” He smiled at her. “We’re
close. The two of us share everything.”


The place was huge and luxurious. The guy had to be loaded.
“All this just for the two of you?”


“Well, now that you’re here, yes, two of us. I have no
clue where Jerry is.” He gestured toward a nearby couch.
“Have a seat.”


She thought about her dampened panties. “I need to go
to the lady’s room first.”


He pointed. “First door on the left.”


She went into the bathroom and stood before the mirror.
Gads! What was she doing in a strange man’s apartment
taking off her undies? The thought had her breathing heavily.
Watching her breasts rise and fall, she hoisted her skirt
up to her waist and looked. It was most definitely wet down
there. Tugging, she let them slide to the floor of, watching
her reflection as they fell. Her lower lips were puffy.
I shouldn’t be here, nor should I be this aroused.
She thought of Ms. Nguyen. Not my fault. He should
have come home.
She dropped her skirt, and stuffing
her pants in her purse, rejoined Tom.


He was sitting on a couch at the far side of the room. He was
on the center cushion, leaving her no choice but to sit close
to him. Placing her wine glass on the coffee table, she sat,
albeit carefully. The last thing she needed right now was
to flash her wet, swollen snatch.


“Ah, here’s my slut.”


Her eyes widened. “Your slut? Aren’t you being
rather presumptuous?” There was no anger behind her
accusation, however. He couldn’t possibly know she’d
bared her crotch. “I curious, what did I do to prompt such
a remark?”


He laughed. “Sorry, just trying to establish a mood.”
He looked her in the eye. “Were you truly a slut, things
would already have gone far differently.”


Her eyebrows rose. “Really? How is it you know so much
about women—and sluts in particular?” She gave him
a devilish look. “Since I gather you speak from experience,
enlighten me—how differently would you treat me were
I a slut?” Again, she could hardly believe she’d asked
such a thing. She’d drunk far too much wine.


He flashed a grin. “Be truthful, what you’re really
asking is how would I go about seducing you, right?” She
smirked. “OK, a fair question.”


He slid closer, draping his arm over her shoulder. “Just
for argument’s sake, let’s assume for a moment that
you’re this slut.”


She raised a hand. “Not! All assumptions are to keep me
in the dutiful housewife category.”


“Then my story shall be strictly hypothetical, all about
Suzy Slut, a member of the more adventuresome 1%.” He
leaned closer, his eyes boring into hers. “But you have
to promise to visualize my tale, and pretend she’s you,
or you’re her, whichever. OK?”


She laughed. “If that’s the price I have to pay to learn
at the knee of The Great Swami, I shall consider it a cheap
toll.”


“It might be best to contrast the 99% with the 1%. Were
I seducing a dutiful housewife, I’d start slowly by putting
my hand on your thigh like this.” He reached out, placing
his hand just above her knee.


Her heart palpitated, his simple action making it hard
to breathe. She knew she should object, or at the very least,
push his hand away, but being touched by a man—this man—felt
far too good. Truth be known, this was precisely the feeling
she’d sought when she’d dressed this way.


He brought his mouth to her ear, whispering, his warm breath
making her tingle all over. “Whereas, were you Suzy Slut,
my hand would already be all the way up your skirt.”


His hand stroked her leg, and moving in circles, edged ever
so slightly upwards. It had been so long since a man had touched
her this intimately, it was all she could do to hold still.



“It’s important that you picture this in your mind, ”
he said, caressing her flesh. “To fully understand what
I’m about to tell you, it’s paramount that you visualize
it.”


Her mouth grew dry. She licked her lips. “All right, ”
she managed with a croak.


He resumed his tale, his lip brushing her earlobe. “The
‘tell’ that would give Suzy Slut away is that she’d
have no panties on—no encumbrances to bar my way.”



Panic consumed her. Did he know? Was he sentient? Something
as simple as drawing a breath had suddenly become difficult.
She slipped her hands under her butt so he wouldn’t see
them shaking.


“Instead of rubbing your thigh like this, ” he gave
her leg a long tender stroke, his hand now at the base of her
mini-skirt, precariously close to her crotch, “were
you Suzy Slut, you’d be gasping by now, thrashing about
on the couch as my fingers stroked your most private parts.”
His words were breathy, their heat permeating her ear.
“Being the complete slut that you are, ” he said, sliding
his hand higher, inching toward her cunt, “you’d be
so wet and willing you’d gasp and cry out as my finger slid
inside you.”


No man had even spoken so crassly, so erotically. It thrilled
her no end that he’d dared do it. His hand was equally thrilling
as it continued its circuitous journey toward her love
canal. An inch or two more and he’d discover she was pantiless.
She slid forward, anticipating his touch.


“Being the slut you are, the moment my thumb found your
clit you’d gush love juices all over it.”


A probing finger brushed her clit. Gasping, she grabbed
at his arm. Before she could push it away however, he leaned
into her, kissing her; probing her mouth with his tongue.
She tried to push him away with her other hand, but he was
too heavy. His finger stroked her, making her even wetter.
He pressed his lips into hers. She pushed with both hands,
but something had stolen her strength. Her struggles ceased
and her hands slumped to her sides. Realizing that resistance
was pointless, she gave herself over to his kiss.


Breaking their embrace, he resumed his story. “Driven
by your lust, by now you’d have let me bare you from the
waist up.” His finger probed her opening. “You’d
beg me to suck those swollen nipples.”


His fingers parted her labia, but resistance remained
beyond her. He was giving her precisely what she hungered
for. Flesh gave way and his finger penetrated her cunt.
Her entire being trembled. She spread her thighs, forcing
her skirt up and over her hips.


His hand left her shoulder, drifting to the top button of
her blouse. Again, she made no effort to stop him. She felt
that first button release; then another, and another;
as the fingers of his other hand continued to probe her center.
She closed her eyes, surrendering to his onslaught.


By now she’d scooted so low her shoulders were touching
the seat cushion. She arched her pussy, rotating it in circles,
as his fingers explored her inner depths—delighting
her beyond belief.


With her blouse opened, he unclasped her bra and tossed
it aside, her tits delighting at their release. “By now, ”
he whispered, “all you’d be thinking about is my cock.”



His hand found hers, pulling it to his crotch, forming her
fingers around his erection. Pinching her lips together,
she squeezed, wondering at the touch and feel of a cock other
than her husband’s.


“In your frenzy, you’d make quick work of my clothing,
desperate to touch me—to caress and excite my maleness.”



Even with eyes closed, she recognized the sound of a belt
buckle being released, and then a zipper. His hips rose,
followed shortly by the sound of discarded clothing. The
next moment she was holding his bared cock—a very swollen,
fully aroused cock, spurred into fullness by thoughts
of her.


She opened her eyes and looked at it. He was thicker than
her husband’s. She stared, licking her lips, her body
swaying, rising and falling in rhythm with the push of the
fingers pummeling her splayed pussy. Her hand stroked
him.


“Have you sucked a cock other than your husband’s?”



She glanced up at him. “Back in high school.”


“Ah, such a long time.” His hand deserted her pussy.
He held her face between his palms. “It’s time we rectified
that.” Grabbing tufts of hair, he pulled her head to his
crotch. “Suck this for awhile—it will remind you what
you’ve missed out on." Judging by the way he gripped
her hair, it was more of an order than a request.


She slid to the floor, between his legs, her eyes riveted
on his stiffened cock. Her mind flashed back to the first
time she’d done this, with Jimmy Smith, parked in the
alley behind her parents’ house. Their petting session
had been unusually heavy. She’d let him remove her blouse
and bra, something she rarely allowed. More importantly,
she’d let him finger fuck her. It was the first time a boy
had gotten her off. In the process he’d removed his pants,
letting her see firsthand the effects of their petting.



After she came he’d demanded that she reciprocate by
giving him a blow job. After several refusals, he’d grabbed
her by the hair and dragged her face to his cock. Holding
her in place, he’d fucked her mouth, triggering a range
of emotions from unadulterated lust to revulsion—the
latter when he came in her mouth, making her swallow.


From that point forward, blow jobs were the norm in all future
petting sessions. Despite the fact she was now a very willing
participant, none of those experiences measured up to
the excitement of that first, forced episode.


Grasping Tom’s penis with both hands, she stroked it.
Holding an aroused cock other than her husband’s had
her trembling. Shaking, she leaned forward and kissed
it. She snaked her tongue up and down its length, her hormones
percolating. This was exactly the kind of raw sex she hungered
for. She was exciting a man’s cock, making him want her
for his pleasure, to use her. She knew she could never screw
another man, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make
one cum. With that in mind, she opened her mouth and consumed
him, fully prepared to whatever was necessary to take him
over the brink.


He gasped. “While you do that, think back to those high
school days and what a slut you were then; how you loved sucking
the boy’s cocks.” Was he reading her mind again?


She did as he asked, doing her best to remember and envision
each and every dick she’d ever sucked. What they’d
looked like, how it felt when she made them cum. She was surprised
to recall so many. And now she was adding another to that
count, one belonging to a handsome man she’d only just
met at a bar. How cheap of her. How slutty. How absolutely
perfect. Moaning, she sucked harder, pumping him with
her hand. The tingling between her thighs intensifying
as mouth and hand gained a rhythm. With luck, she’d cum
with him, like she’d done so many times in the back seats
of cars.


He started bucking his hips, fucking her mouth as if she
were a two-bit whore, re-triggering flashbacks of Jimmy
Smith and his hot rod. That same excitement level had returned.
She threw herself into that role, doing her best to surpass
whatever Tom’s previous sluts had done to make him explode
in their mouths.


It seemed they’d no sooner synchronized than he pulled
his cock from her mouth. When she leaned forward to recapture
it, he pushed her away. Grabbing her under her by her armpits,
he lifted her to the couch and tossed her to her back. Positioning
himself between her thighs, he moved closer, his cock aimed
at her pussy.


“No, ” she begged, pushing on his chest. “We can’t,
I’m married.”


He shook his head. “Sluts don’t care about such things.”
Then, acting as if she made no protest, he rubbed his cock
up and down her slit.


“Please don’t, ” she whimpered, her voice barely
audible.


“That’s what boring housewives say, ” he smiled
down at her, “not sluts.”


“I’m not a slut, ” she groaned. Given her behavior,
the words sounded hollow, even to her.


“Is that right?” He lifted his head. “Let’s see,
within ten minutes of meeting me, you confessed your desire
to get laid tonight. When your husband preferred the company
of another woman, you came to a bar, alone, dressed like
a hooker looking for action.”


He rubbed his cock in circles before lodging its tip in her
opening. “After allowing a total stranger to pick you
up at the bar, you let him buy you a pair of Fuck Me shoes and
proceeded to stroll around the swimming pool, showing
them off, doing your all to turn on your gawkers. For your
coup de’ grace, you came to this complete stranger’s
room, and after letting him finger fuck you, gave him one
of the finest blow jobs in recent memory.”


He pushed. The tip of his cock forced her open. “To my way
of thinking, that makes you one hot slut in need of good fucking.
Like this.” Lifting her knees, he thrust into her.


“Oh gawd!” she screamed, tossing her head to one side.
A penis other than her husband’s had just filled her pussy.
She’d forgotten how glorious it felt to experience a
new cock. Pulling back, he thrust again. “Ahhh!” she
screamed, lifting off the couch to meet him.


“I need convincing; tell me again you’re not a slut.”
Rocking back and forth, he began fucking her in earnest.
He was taking her, giving her no say in the matter, much like
Jimmy Smith had a month after her forced blow job. He’d
taken her virginity in similar fashion.


She let out a moan. “We can’t do this, I’m married.”



“Married and getting fucked by a guy you just met at the
bar, ” he uttered a cruel laugh, “how silly of me to
have mistaken you for a slut.” He ceased all movement.
“Was I wrong? Should I stop?”


Gawd, he was forcing her to choose between frustration
and being a willing participant. She looked down at their
conjoined loins, his stiff cock, shiny with her lubricants,
only half visible. Unlike her husband’s, it was swollen
with desire, desperate to fuck. To fuck me, not some
small-titted Asian client rep working for the Truman Account.
“Do it, ” she whispered.


Cocking his head to one side, he cupped a hand behind his
ear. “Sorry, I didn’t hear that.”


She inhaled. “Do it!” she cried with force.


“First you have to admit you’re a slut—that you want
to be my sex slave for the night.”


“You bastard!” she growled, glaring at him. “Just
fuck me.”


He leaned closer, still cupping his ear. “Fuck who?”



His foul-mouthed diatribe was exciting beyond comprehension.
No one had ever talked to her like this, nor had she spoken
that way. She also knew no one had ever aroused her this much.
Did other women feel this wanton? “Fuck your little Suzy
Slut!” she squeaked, “the little tramp who sucked
your cock hoping you’d fuck her.”


He laughed. “I love it when a woman talks dirty.”


Exited by her words, he pushed his cock back in and started
pounding—hard, taking her in much the same fashion Jimmy
Smith had in the back seat of his Chevy, when he made her cum
over and over and over, laughing each time she did.


Would more dirty talk ratchet Tom’s excitement? “You
were the only one to see past my façade to the bitch-in-heat
I truly am, to know how ready I was for the plucking. Only
you had the foresight to drag this closet whore to your room
and give her what you knew she needed.”


He laughed. “Why, I believe we’re in accord.” His
tone changed. “Now, ditch the chatter and fuck.” So
much for the excitement of talking dirty.


Every plunged seemed to stretch her pussy in places no cock
had done before. Having a strange, new cock fucking her
felt fantastic. Surprisingly, she felt no guilt, no remorse.
Her alter ego had found an alter Tom. On this night her husband
could have his Ms. Nguyen. She had a more than worthwhile
substitute.


She wrapped her legs around Tom’s waist, kicking her
heels against his ass, trying to force his cock deeper.
His cock rubbed her clit with every stroke, triggering
a steady stream of orgasms the entire time they fucked.



She was surprised that he’d yet to cum, so was shocked
when he abruptly pulled his cock out. “Time to take my
sex slave dog style.” He grinned at her questioning look.
“Think of it as hubby’s payback.”


He pulled her to her feet and tugged to the end of the couch.
He stripped off what remained of her clothing, bent her
over the arm rest, and started fingering her pussy. It prompted
another orgasm.


Before it even ebbed, he’d replaced those fingers with
his cock. Naked, save for her stilettos, he had her bent
over a piece of furniture, taking her from behind. A man
other than her husband was fucking her in this most lurid
of ways, delighting at her subservience. She felt like
such a whore. If only Jimmy Smith had thought to take her
this way.


His cock seemed to slide deeper than before, feeling bigger
in this position, not to mention the couch’s rough fabric
rubbing both clit and nipples. “Gawd, fuck me Tom. Make
me cum all over that big nasty cock of yours.”


“I’m the one who’s going to cum, ” he groaned.
Pounding faster, harder and deeper, he released, exploding
into her womb. Her whole body vibrated as she came with him,
harder than any orgasm she could remember.


They remained locked at the loins until he finished. Sated,
he pulled out of her. “Now that’s what I call a fuck, ”
he said, panting.


She was laying draped over the arm rest, ass in the air, trying
to catch her breath, when she heard a strange voice. "Sorry
bro, but I’m from Missouri, I need to see for myself. Out
of the way.”


She twisted around to find a second man standing beside
Tom. He was Tom’s spitting image. Stark naked, his erect
cock jutted in front of him. Moving behind her, he bent it
toward her exposed backside.


“Oh gawd!” she cried. “Who are you? What are you doing?"



She tried to stand, but Tom pushed her back down. “Stay
where you are. Let me introduce my brother Jerry, the one
I told you I share everything with, sex slaves in particular.”
He chuckled. “Now hush, after all, isn’t this is what
you came here for?”


She stood, crouched over the arm rest with her legs splayed,
wearing nothing but her newly gifted Fuck Me shoes, waiting
to be taken again. She gasped as Jerry thrust and began ‘sharing’
her. Thankfully, it didn’t take long before she gave
herself over to the feel of another new cock, delighting
at having found the upside to being a slut. That was important.
After all, with Tom working late so often, she might have
to do this again. At least she now owned the proper shoes.



Hope you enjoy my erotic fantasies. I welcome all comments, good or bad, and why.

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Member Responses Post Your Comment

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Nothing at all wrong with being two women in one body ! AWESOME
READ !

4/19/2012

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Great story lloking forward to the next intallment!



rarewine

4/20/2012

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wow what a great writer great story can't wait to read
more of your tales

4/20/2012

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If you would like to read more of my tail tales, just click
on the number beside me name and it will show you my prio submissions.

4/21/2012

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WOW, is all I can say. Before this story, I'd read a few
that made me horny enough to jerk off, but never twice. I
came once by the time she reached the room... then put the
story away. Later in the day, I came a second time while she
gave him a blow job... and again put it away... This morning, I finished the story and came for the third
time... incredibly well written, struck a chord for me.
Thanks.

4/22/2012

Trapper69 61 G
Score 4.3
Quote

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Awesome!!!!! I hope to read Part 2 real soon!

4/26/2012

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great story very well written

5/3/2012

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This is the best story I habe seen on AdultFriendFinder...great plot and
writing. Thanks for sharing your obvious talents with
us!

5/4/2012

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Wow loved this story I hope there is more to come in this series

5/6/2012