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Klassy Lady

By: catomanytales



Chloe and I, in our mid-thirties, have been married for eleven years, since we graduated college together. No kids yet, and may never have them. Right now, we're having fun, and we don't feel that our lifestyle is "settled" enough yet for children. This is the story of how that lifestyle started.

Chloe teaches high school English, mostly the advanced placement courses. She's good friends with a lot of the other young women who teach at her school. They like to go for drinks after the last bell.

One day, with two empty margarita pitchers sweating on the table, the subject of posing nude came up. "Would you or wouldn't you?" The question bounced around amongst them. Once they sorted themselves into who would and who wouldn't, someone pointed out that the local college art program recently had advertised for models.

The drunkest of them swore that she would go in for it.

Chloe, who usually holds her liquor well, swore that she would, too.

The other woman chickened out, protesting that she couldn't even remember what she said.

Chloe doesn't chicken out. And thus, one evening, she stepped into a college art class and dropped her robe. What did that class see? Her brown hair, of course, cut short and chic. Her pale, heart-shaped face. Blue-gray eyes. The dusting of freckles on her nose. And they saw every inch of her petite, willowy, milk-white body.

At that point, she glanced around, and only then noticed one of her former students: a dirty-blondish, Brad Pittish, motorcycle-riding artist that she once confessed to me she had a crush on.

I was reading in bed later when she climbed in and told me all about it.

"So I thought, okay, I can be self-conscious for the whole next hour, and worry about whether he can see between my legs or not, or I can get it out of the way and relax, and pose like I'm supposed to."

I kissed her cheek. "Mm. So?"

"So I wasn't lewd or obvious or anything, but, uh, he got a really good look at me. A really good look."

I nodded.

She went on: "In fact--"

I shot her a sideways glance.

"Well, we went for coffee afterward. He told me I have beautiful labia."

"Oh really?" Went for coffee afterward? I kind of felt that a line had been crossed. I also was suddenly, ragingly erect. I set the book I had been reading down over my lap. I hoped it would hide the tent I was making of the bedsheet.

"Yeah." She blushed. "He said that if I didn't mind posing for him privately, he'd like to do more detailed studies."

"Of your labia?"

Chloe snatched my book up. "Oho! What have we here?" She gave me a playful swat with it. "You're turned on!"

That's how it began--our first serious discussion about sex with other people. It lasted all through the night, and wasn't even over when we kissed goodbye to go our separate ways to work. We met for lunch and talked about it more. And more when I got home.

The more we hashed it over, the clearer it became that we both would like it better if I stayed monogamous and she had the freedom to be with other men.

No doubt, it's easier to understand that decision from her point of view than mine, so here are my thoughts on the matter: Chloe's sexuality is beautifully complex. Buoyant and rambunctious, unashamed and unafraid, curious and filled with wonder. No one man could possibly make all her facets shine, and I'm painfully aware of parts of her that don't find full expression in our relationship. The worst thing about that is, we found each other early in our lives, and she's never had a chance to explore some of those parts. She'd only been with two other guys before me. Both were steady boyfriends. She's been completely faithful so far, but I feel that, at least once, she needs to go crazy, have no limits, and follow her pleasures as far as they will take her.

We decided that letting her friend study her labia would be a perfect first step. Surely he just wanted to get her pants off. Chloe was looking forward to a good, rowdy lay. I was excited for her.

Only it didn't work out that way. The artist went through with his meticulous sketches of Chloe's labia. She brought one home, and I have to say, it's impressive. When he finished with those, he didn't seem to know what to do. Very uncharacteristically for Chloe, she didn't seize the moment either. I think they both got shy. One's nervous awkwardness probably fed off the other's, in a downward spiral. If I'd been there, I would have tried to help them along, but I wasn't.

Chloe was pretty depressed when she got home. She was also fifty dollars richer.

"He insisted I take it," she told me. "My modeling fee or something. Whatever. At least I got something for my trouble. Woo-hoo. Come on, I'll buy you dinner."

* * * * * * * * * *

After our initial disappointment, we had another long talk. We were both in firm agreement that we still wanted to go forward with Chloe's sexual adventuring. 

Chloe suggested that I script a fantasy for her to act out. That would give me a hands-on role. We didn't just want this to be her thing. We wanted to build it into our love, intimacy, and marriage as something shared between us.

"Here's a great resource for you." She showed me a website, literotica.com.

"Huh," I said. "That's where you published those stories you wrote a while back, right?"

She beamed at me. "Right! Now check this out." She indicated a category of stories called Loving Wives. "Thousands of stories, all about the kinds of things we've been discussing."

"Wow!" I stared at the screen, taken aback. "So this is like its own sub-genre of erotica. That's pretty specific."

"Most erotica is. And it breaks down even more specifically."

"How?" The idea of our fantasy was so new to me that I couldn't think beyond the fact that she'd be having sex with other men.

She moved out of the chair and let me sit. Leaning on the chair-back, she watched over my shoulder while I clicked around and browsed the titles.

"Well," she said, "there's the little white wifey and the hung black stud fantasy."

I laughed. "Okay, I can see that."

"There's poker night fantasy, where the wife starts out as hostess and ends up getting gangbanged."

Now I really laughed. "And there are whole bunches of stories that cluster around these scenarios?"

"Uh-huh! Oh, you bet."

"Go on."

"There's the cream pie fantasy--letting other guys come in your wife, then you eat her."

"Aaww! You're shitting me!" 

"I shit you not." Chloe scrunched her nose. 

"Definitely not for me!" I said.

"Anyway," Chloe went on, "just browse around. Take notes. If something turns you on, maybe you'll want to write it in my script. If something makes you feel jealous or uncomfortable or turned off, let's talk about it."

I rose out of the chair and swept her up in an embrace. I stared into her eyes and said, "Chloe, you are too cool."

She giggled.

We kissed.

She said, "I love you," and I whispered it back in her ear.

"Oh darling," she sighed. "All right." She pulled away. "Come on, now. Get to work. Write me something. I'm rarin' to go!"

I sat right down and started reading. A lot more quickly than I expected, I zeroed in on just the kind of fantasy that I knew would rock our world to the core.

* * * * * * * * * *

Chloe's face turned whiter than the papers in her hand. Her mouth hung open as she read. When she finally recovered her composure, she gave her short brown hair a little toss and said, "Leave it to you. The most extreme version!"

I grinned. "What were you hoping for? Picking up some guy in a disco?"

She looked again at the script in disbelief. "How about just something legal? That seems like a minimal, reasonable expectation. If I got arrested, even if I got off with a warning, I would lose my job for sure! And you might, too, for that matter. Or we'd have to move, or something."

"Yes," I agreed. "Those are real considerations."

"You really want me to do--" She waved the script. "--this?"

"Chloe, that's the script I wrote for you. If you don't want to do it, if you find it too intimidating--"

"Hey! Whoa!" she interrupted. "Whoa! Intimidating?"

I went on: "You don't have to do it. But that's my absolute, ultimate fantasy of you. Yes. I do want you to do it."

"Well!" She slapped the script down on the table. "Then I will!" She turned on her heel and stalked toward the door.

I gave her bottom a quick pat. She wiggled it, and winked at me over her shoulder as she left the room.

I picked up the script, and flipped through the pages, smiling. The details weren't important; the gist of it was for Chloe to work for a weekend in a brothel. 

How did I come up with that? I didn't realize it at first, but the fifty bucks from her artist friend had dropped into my subconscious and taken root, a turn-on waiting to explode. It's not hard to understand. She got naked and let him stare for hours at her pussy. Then he gave her money for it. I got a strange thrill, later that evening, when she paid for our dinner with the fruits of her labor. I think the fantasy had already grown into something full-blown in the back of my mind, when I found the literotica stories about whoring wives. I recognized "it" instantly. That was what I wanted for her. And I knew she'd be up for it. Chloe's brave. She loves rising to challenges.

Now, I had her word she would go through with it. And like I said, she doesn't chicken out.

In the days that followed, she shoved aside the worries she had expressed to me. Other concerns occupied her now.

"I'll need to get in shape for this."

Her idea of "getting in shape" was like a fantasy, all by itself!

We had lots of sex, in all kinds of ways. She spent a lot of time masturbating, playing with toys, etc. She did other things, too. Stretching exercises, yoga. She's actually run a marathon before, and she stepped up her running as though she were training for another--"Endurance," she explained. She mentioned that she was doing Kegels constantly, whenever she could. It was like she was in training for a sexual olympics.

As for birth control, Chloe has always preferred the diaphragm to pills or patches. Looking forward to her new adventure, she decided to update to a cervical cap, which is smaller and can be left in longer than a diaphragm. 

She even went out and bought some slutty things to wear.

"I'm ready," she said, one night in the dark, as we lay in bed together. "Are you?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Soooooo, any special place you have in mind?"

I said, "No. This guy at work, he's in sales. Travels all the time. Supposedly, anywhere he goes, he can always find the whorehouse."

"You haven't talked to him yet?"

"I guess it's time I did."

Chloe snuggled close to me. "I guess it's time you did."

* * * * * * * * * *

When I broached the subject, Steve, my coworker, turned out to be very casual and informative about it. There were times when I couldn't believe we were discussing whorehouses instead of business as usual. Of course, I didn't mention the part about my wife; I let him think it was for me.

"What're you looking for?" he asked. "Top of the line, or bottom of the barrel?"

"Closer to the bottom. You know, a little sleazy." Well, that was the kind of place I had envisioned. 

Steve nodded vigorously. "Goddamn, ain't that the only way to fly! I'm impressed you said that. Let me tell you: for a good ol' fashioned, trashy whorehouse, Klassy can't be beat. That's Klassy with a k. It damn sure ain't classy with a c!"

I smiled. "Tell me about it."

"Good mix of girls. As for customers, they get all types. Busy, busy place. The girls do what they can to keep on top of it, but sometimes there's a wait. R. J.--that's the owner--works 'em awful hard. Turnover's pretty high, for just that reason. I'd love to recommend someone, but all the girls I know are prob'ly gone!"

I thought about Chloe jogging for endurance. It sounded like endurance was exactly what she'd need. 

"One other thing I'll mention." Steve leaned closer, with a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. "And this is the best part!"

I couldn't wait to hear it.

"I don't know where R. J. got it, or how the hell he could afford it, but he's got this gizmo that is state-of-the-art in HIV testing. Accurate as hell, and just as fast. He can test you right there on the spot! I actually read about the thing in Popular Mechanics. Nanotechnology, they called it."

I raised my eyebrows. "Go on."

"You pass, you ride bareback. Safer than if you used a fuckin' rubber someplace else!"

My breathing suddenly grew ragged. The thought of all those guys "barebacking"--having unprotected sex--with Chloe blew my mind. She lubes up very, very nicely when she gets excited. As far as I'm concerned, she has the hottest, wettest, sweetest, most responsive little pussy in the world!  Just thinking about other guys enjoying that with her, skin-on-skin, without some condom in the way, almost made me excuse myself for a bathroom break. 

"Well, my friend, any other questions?"

Tuesday night, I drove out to the place, following his directions. It was some ninety miles away, in another town entirely. Chloe sat beside me, silent, as we cruised through the night. She'd put on a simple, short black party dress--no bra or panties underneath. One unzip, and she'd be naked. We expected that this R. J. character might want to "audition" her. In the back seat, an overnight bag was full of the slutty outfits she had purchased, in case she needed to audition those as well. 

Neither of us asked if the other one was scared. Of course we were. Both of us. Out of our minds.

I felt her fingers in my hair. I looked over, and she smiled at me. 

"I love you," she mouthed.

The neighborhood turned out to be some kind of industrial district. Klassy wasn't hard to find. It was kind of a dump, but then all the buildings looked a bit rundown. My memory of the details is hazy at this point, probably because my experience of them was hazy, too. I could hardly breathe or think or anything.

What I remember next is a small reception parlor. Chloe and I did our best to sit up straight on a sagging red sofa that had lost its legs. The overnight bag rested between us.

R. J. faced us in a wheeled desk chair he rolled out from his office. He was medium-dark black, medium height (about 5'10", about what I am), bald, and extremely muscular. Not bulky, more defined. The way Chloe put it to me on our drive back home was, "He's damn well-sculpted. He's fucking hot!" 

"If possible," Chloe said, in her best no-nonsense voice, "I'd like to arrange to work here for this coming weekend."

R. J. regarded us. "Keep talking."

"Is it possible?" Chloe asked.

"Ha! Anything's possible. I want to know where y'all are coming from."

"Well, this is a whorehouse isn't it?"

R. J.'s teeth showed in a grin. "That's right."

"Well, I want to be a whore."

Chloe had delivered her lines clearly, with the careful enunciation of an English teacher and a totally straight face. I felt like our chances were good of pulling this off.

R. J. looked at me. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm her husband."

"Yes, but what are you doing here? What do you want out of this?"

"I want to help her make it happen." Then I added, "And I'd like to watch."

"Ah." R. J. nodded. "Well, folks, believe it or not, I may be able to accommodate you both." He nodded at Chloe. "I'm short a girl, so I can use the help." He turned his eyes on me. "You, on the other hand, would be here as a customer. You wanna watch all weekend?"

I nodded.

"It'll cost." He turned to Chloe. "Normally, we split the cost of a date down the middle. And I keep fifteen percent out of your tips. What I'll do, I'll adjust our cuts to seventy-thirty, and keep an extra ten percent on tips."

Chloe nodded. I don't think either of us knew what kind of money we were talking about, but as long as she got paid something, for the purposes of the fantasy, we didn't really care how much. 

"Okay," she said. "So that's settled. What else?"

R. J. held up a hand. "Hold on. Nothing's settled. I said I may be able to accommodate you. We still got a ways to go before it's a done deal." He motioned for Chloe to stand.

She did.

"Strip."

She reached back and undid the zipper. She let the dress fall around her feet. In black high-heel pumps, she stepped out of it and kicked it aside. She stood before us with not a stitch of clothing on her, except those shoes. The parlor's chandelier cast a yellowy glow over her small, pale body. 

R. J. motioned her forward.

She stepped right up to him. 

He looked around her, at me. "You watching this? Because I need to judge if you can handle it this weekend."

My mouth was almost too dry to speak. "I'm watching. Go ahead."

Chloe's breasts are small and pointy. R. J. pulled her closer and covered one with his mouth. I heard her sharp intake of breath. He covered her other breast with his palm, and ran his hand over it until his fingers found the little nipple, which he proceeded to stimulate into quivering stiffness. 

She put her hands on his bald black head. She held and caressed it while he sucked.

He gently pushed her back. His mouth slurped off her nipple. "Mm. Tasty." 

He ran a finger over her close-trimmed strip of pubic hair. "Lose all of this." He felt down around her pussy lips. "Yeah. Full wax job. I want you bald and smooth. Like a nectarine. I bet you're just as juicy, too." Without any further warning, he slipped a finger up inside of her.

Chloe's whole body blushed beet red as he proceeded to probe her in the most intimate way. She panted and gasped as his finger squished around. 

He pulled it out. "Yep. Juicy!" He found her clit, and pinched and played with it a while. She shuddered. He was getting to her. How close was she to coming?  He turned her around. "Bend over, honey. No, you don't have to touch your toes or anything, just lean forward there a bit. Yeah, like that."

Chloe complied. 

"Here, help me out here." He placed her hands on her buttocks. "Hold that open for me, wouldya?" 

Chloe pulled herself open for him as best she could.

He inserted the slippery finger in the little starburst of her anus.

"Ah!" she exclaimed.

"That's it. We're doin' fine. Mm." He withdrew the finger. He stood out of the chair. "Follow me. I wanna get you tested."

Chloe followed, naked, on high heels. I walked behind. Of course, she tested negative for HIV.

R. J. went back out toward the parlor. "Let me tell Jana I'll be occupied." When he returned, he explained, "Jana's our receptionist. As you can see, we're kinda slow tonight. Okay, come along you two." He led the way up some creaky wooden stairs, down an equally creaky hallway. He opened a door, and ushered us both through.

A ceiling lamp shed meager light that didn't quite reach the edges of the room--amazingly, since the room itself was pretty meager. Three huge panels of mirror occupied most of one wall. The double bed clearly had seen much rough use. There were a beat-up dresser and matching nightstand. A red sofa matched the one in the parlor, except this one had legs. A scarred wooden chair. Two small, threadbare Persian rugs lay on the floor, and I couldn't help noticing that one had been positioned directly in front of the chair. Otherwise, the bare wood floor was mostly bare of varnish.

R. J. went to the mirror panels, and somehow pulled the middle one back, to reveal a closet-like space. He tapped the back of the mirror. "One-way. That's where you'll be," he told me. "Best seat in the house." He moved the wooden chair into the cubby. "Whyn't you give it a test run."

I stepped across the threshold. 

"Notice," he said, pointing past me, "that back panel opens onto a service stairway. Leads down to the parlor. That's the door you'll use this weekend to get in and out."


Klassy Lady: The Dandelion Field



Hello! I'm Chloe. 

This is Part II of my "adventures," but don't worry if you haven't read Part I. I'll give a quick rundown in case you missed it, but first--because I know how important it is to be able to visualize the action--I'll quote my husband's description of me: "Her brown hair . . . cut short and chic. Her pale, heart-shaped face. Blue-gray eyes. The dusting of freckles on her nose. . . . her petite, willowy, milk-white body." Pretty flattering, I must say! I'd add that I'm short, and kind of athletic (lots of jogging, lots of crunches). My best feature?--I'd have to say my belly button. Honestly, my breasts are quite small, but I haven't had any complaints so far. Beyond appearance, I'm actually kind of a nerd. I read all the time. I'm a total computer geek. I love my job of teaching Advanced Placement English in a very good high school. 

Okay, so, "Klassy Lady": On a dare from some of my girlfriends (fellow teachers I regularly get drunk with after the last bell), I did some nude modeling for the local college art department. That got my husband (known to all you readers by his literotica handle of catomanytales, but I'll call him Paul) thinking about other guys looking at me, then other guys hooking up with me . . . see where this is going? We had a lot of long talks. Ultimately, Paul didn't want a completely open marriage, but he did want us to explore me being sexual with other men. I love Paul and would never "cheat" on him, but this was something that he wanted very much. Well, how could I refuse? The more we talked about it, the more excited I became to try it out.

You would think we'd take baby steps into this lifestyle, right? Ha! Paul thought otherwise. When I suggested that he script a fantasy for me to go act out, he threw me into the deep end of the pool. I got my first taste of this new freedom by working for a weekend in a sleeeeeeaaaazy whorehouse. Paul got to watch behind a one-way mirror. In "Klassy Lady" (which is also the name of the brothel, by the way), he tells the story of my first night on the job. 

Some kind readers have inquired about Saturday and Sunday. Well, they were just like Friday, only more so: hot and heavy, wet and sticky, often heavenly, sometimes startling, sometimes challenging, a few times even painful--but always, always, always sexy as hell. As fondly as Paul and I look back on those memories, we realized that detailing the whole weekend would probably get repetitive for readers.

The million-dollar question seems to be, How many guys did I service, in the end? Let me tell you something about the female mind--we don't like exact numbers. Whether it's our weight or age or the number of drinks we've had, and especially the number of our sexual partners, we just aren't very comfortable giving a straight answer. That might seem inconsistent when I'm willing to go into so many other details, but there it is. Let's just say that all weekend long, I was very, very busy. If I'd been notching my bedpost, I'm afraid I would have whittled it down to a toothpick. I will say that the other girls didn't get nearly as much action as I did. What happened was, R. J., the guy who ran the place, put the word out about me, and everyone flocked to get a taste of the "fresh meat"! 

Ahhh, R. J. Some of you have asked how he's doing. I don't know, because I've had no further contact with him, but I can tell you that I think about him almost every second. You see, he left me with a souvenir: a golden barbell through my little clit hood. One ball is engraved with an R, the other with a J. The thing is huge. I'm constantly aware of it. If I'm naked, and my legs are even slightly parted, you will see it. The fact that I've kept myself absolutely bald down there makes it all the more conspicuous. It bothers Paul. Another man's initials on my body--and there of all places!--is a bit more than he bargained for. I could take it out, and I would, if Paul asked. But he knows how big a step I took for him, so he respects my choice to wear it. From his own point of view, he looks at it as a reminder that as long as we keep going down this path, which we choose to do together, there are risks and consequences we can't foresee. 

On to the new story! So school let out for summer, and I was frazzled from the rush I'd just been through to get all the final grades turned in on time. One of my girlfriends told me about a cottage she and her husband kept, way out in the country. Her description of it sounded like a dream come true. 

"We won't get out there till Friday afternoon," she told me. (This was on a Monday.) "You and Paul are welcome to it until then." 

"Oh," I said, "he has to work, you know." 

"Well, then you're welcome to it, if you want." 

"Hmmmm," I said. "Nah, I think I'll pass. Thanks anyway!" 

The next morning, after Paul had left for work, I lay in bed, naked, fingering the barbell, languidly playing with myself. My friend had mentioned the fields of wildflowers all around, and a nearby stream that widened to a pool where she liked to skinny-dip. I thought I must be crazy, turning down her offer. I called her and said, "Hey, if it's all right, I changed my mind about the cottage." I still had one finger on my clit. I teetered on the edge of coming while my friend told me I could stop by her house for directions and the key. As soon as she said it, I stopped. I like to be horny when I face new situations. I like the edge it puts on everything. Colors are much brighter, scents are much more fragrant, and the world is more alive when I'm hungry for erotic satisfaction. In keeping with that mood, and feeling naughty, I skipped the bra and panties, and slipped into my airiest, sexiest, printed-silk mini-dress, with nothing underneath.

The truth is, I hadn't been with any man but Paul since my weekend at the Klassy Lady, way back in the fall. I'd gotten my fill (so to speak!), and it just hadn't been a priority. Lately, though, Paul was starting to drop hints, reminding me about our arrangement. He told me I should feel free to act, any time I wanted, and even if he wasn't there to watch, that shouldn't stop me. I could tell he was getting restless for something else to happen. Of course, I didn't expect to meet anyone at a solitary cottage in the middle of nowhere, but it was in the back of my mind that I should be on the lookout for opportunities. 

I called Paul on the way to my friend's. He did some pouting over the idea of being left alone for several days, but agreed that the relaxation would do me good. I have one of those camera phones, and sent him a picture of me blowing him a kiss. 

Next stop--grocery store! My friend said there was a lot of stuff out at the cottage, in cans and such, but I wanted fresh meats and other things, as well. Not to mention alcohol! 

The cottage turned out to be as rustically picturesque as I imagined, and as secluded. I settled in, put away the groceries, unpacked my clothes, arranged my stuff in the bathroom--all the things a girl does to make herself at home. 

I hadn't eaten anything since the nutri-bar I gobbled on the run, for breakfast. A picnic in a field of wildflowers seemed like just the thing. I uncorked a bottle of wine, and started to swig from it as I made my preparations. I found the basket my friend encouraged me to use, and filled it with good things. My privacy seemed assured, this far out in the country, so I slipped out of the dress, and--voila!--I was nude down to the sandals on my feet. I threw a blanket over my shoulder, and started out with the basket in one hand and the bottle in the other. 

The sun was shining, a breeze was blowing, and I was buzzing. I spread out my blanket. I munched from the basket. I swigged more from the bottle. I kicked off the sandals. The wildflowers turned out to be a carpet of brilliant yellow dandelions, and I danced naked among them. A little skinny-dipping was in order, I thought. Somehow, in my half-drunken state, I recalled my friend's directions to the stream and the pool. I had to go a ways into some woods, and soon wished I hadn't left the sandals on the blanket. I went ahead anyway, picking my steps as carefully as I could in my inebriated condition. I came upon the pool rather suddenly, as my friend warned me that I would. 

What my friend didn't warn me about were the two men I suddenly found myself face-to-face with. They both wore bathing suits. I only wore my wedding band and the barbell. The whole situation sobered me up instantly, and made me do a full-body blush. Yes, even after Klassy Lady, I still have a shred or two of modesty. Every inch of me turned scarlet, as the guys could attest, since they got a good, long look at every blushing inch of me while we stared at each other in shocked silence. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw their canoe drawn up on the bank. My brain started to work again. I was even more embarrassed to realize that I stood fully exposed before a father and his son. It was so obvious. With their trim physiques and curly brown hair, they looked almost exactly like the father and oldest son from the Brady Bunch. My eyesight's pretty good, and I noticed that the father didn't wear a wedding ring. I also noticed that both guys were rock-hard, straight up, perfectly outlined, and straining to burst out of their bathing suits. The possibilities began to dawn on me. 

All of us, standing there, wanted the same thing, but under the unusual circumstances, none of us were sure how to get things going. I decided to take the initiative. I was so nervous that my voice trembled, but I made the invitation: "I have a blanket over this way, if the two of you would like to share it with me." 

They laughed, and smiled, and nodded. Good. That broke the ice. "I'm Chloe," I said. Instead of shaking their hands, I hugged them. I let my breasts press the bare, lean-muscled flesh of their torsos and chests, and I went up on tiptoe to plant flirty kisses on their cheeks. They told me their names. I'll call the father "Mike" and the son "Greg" (like the Brady Bunch--get it?). 

Walking between them, holding their hands, I led them to the blanket. My heart beat wildly, and butterflies were churning in my tummy. Yes, I've literally been a whore, but it still blew my mind, what I was about to do. My stint at Klassy Lady was Paul's idea. In a sense, this was my first "free" use of my freedom. It also felt different because Paul wouldn't be watching. Also, I was genuinely attracted to these guys, especially the dad. I looked over at him and he smiled at me, and that was it--I knew I was starting to crush on him. That's in total contrast to the men I serviced at Klassy Lady. Most of those guys weren't what I'd call repulsive (though a few certainly were), but let's just say that, given the choice, there weren't many of them I would have fucked under any other circumstances. 

I lay down with my hands behind my head and my legs comfortably open. My new friends stared at the barbell, of course, which made me blush again. How long would it take them to find R. J.'s initials? How would I explain that? I decided what I would tell them when we reached that point: he was a former lover, whom I remembered very fondly, which was kind of true. Back to the present, I said, "Why don't you boys get comfortable?" 

A few thumping heartbeats later, they lay down, one on either side of me, as naked as I was. Their cocks were big and stiff and quivering, ready and eager for me. Just to establish some physical contact, I ran my fingers over Mike's (the father's) washboard stomach, and put a hand on Greg's chest. 

I said, "Ummm, I hope this isn't awkward for you, sharing a woman like this." 

Mike brushed a finger across my cheek, and said, "Oh, I'm sure we'll deal with it." 

Greg was still staring at the barbell. I took his hand, and guided his middle finger right to it. He gave the barbell a gentle flick, then started to rub. He found my clit. He stimulated it with the barbell, and directly with his finger. It felt good, and I let him know by sighing and giving a little squirm of pleasure. 

Mike ran his fingers through my hair. He got a firm grip at the back of my head, and pulled me to him. It made me turn from Greg, but I winked at him and patted his hand before I rolled away. I ended up lying halfway on Mike's chest, with my leg flopped over his. The full length of our bodies came suddenly in contact. I tried to stabilize myself with a hand on his stomach. We kissed. God, we kissed! He slipped me just the right amount of tongue. I enthusiastically reciprocated. His thigh was pressed against my labia, and I started to rub myself on him. I was so wet, I was streaking juices. We both looked down at the same time, and laughed together at the shiny, sticky smear I was tracing on his thigh.

He rolled me onto my back. Dizzy with desire, I thought, "This is it!" I raised my legs and spread them. 

He ducked his head down to my pussy. Before I could react, I felt the barbell move. I felt his tongue where the gold met my pink skin. It caught me off guard, since I expected him to enter me. A different kind of sexual jolt zinged through me, and made me moan out loud. His lips closed over my nether lips. He sucked me like a nectarine. My knees went weak. I could barely hold my legs up. Then he started to work his tongue.

While Mike was thus occupied, it seemed like a good time to bring Greg back in on the fun. On my back, I looked upside-down at him. I reached out with both arms, and said, "Come here, sweetie." 

Greg cradled my head and shoulders in his lap. We proceeded to make out with a lot of drool and slobber. Normally, I don't like that kind of sloppy kissing, but Mike's cunnilingus was making me so hot that I couldn't help directing some of the heat at Greg, and we got so intense and passionate together that I found all the spit we were swapping quite a turn-on. 

You would think that after working in a whorehouse, I would have experienced everything, but even at Klassy Lady, I'd never before been kissed on both sets of lips at once. It was quite a sensation! It wasn't long before I started coming, and once I started, it seemed like I would never stop. The orgasms were very light. They didn't rock my body to the core like a true good fucking would. They were like a stone skipping across the surface, instead of plunging to my depths. Like I said, though, they just kept on and on. I tried not to interrupt my extremely pleasant makeout session with Greg, but it wasn't long before I had to break it off, because I was whimpering and yelping through the peaks and valleys of my multiple orgasms. He was sweet about it. He just sat back (still supporting my head and shoulders, though, like a perfect gentleman) and let me have the moment. I laced my fingers through his, and he let me squeeze his hands while I came and came and came. It got to the point where I felt like I might faint, and--I kid you not--I laid my arm over my forehead in the classic swooning gesture. 

All good things must come to an end. I stopped coming eventually, and then we sat around with shit-eating grins, thanking each other, and talking about how great it had been. We passed around the bottle. We snacked out of the basket. 

None of us wanted to get too personal, so there wasn't much to talk about besides the sex. I must say, we were very frank and detailed about what made it good. The guys remarked on everything from the way my toes quivered and curled, to the way my stomach rippled and flexed, to the way I cried and moaned, to the way I always adjusted to accommodate whatever they were doing. When I come, I've learned to let myself lose control and go with it. I have to admit that it made me self-conscious to think that they were watching me so closely while my body was so caught up in the pleasure. They reassured me, though, that they had never seen anything as sexy or beautiful as me while I was in the throes of passion. For my part, I wasn't shy about telling them exactly what they did that I particularly liked. I tried to describe how exciting it felt to have two mouths and four hands all over my body. Mike asked about R. J. My explanation seemed to satisfy him. 

The dirty talk was making us horny for more. Neither of the guys had come yet, and they both were still extremely erect. I was eager for round two. When the wine ran out, I said, "What're we waiting for? Let's go again." 

Mike held the empty wine bottle up suggestively. I don't know why guys get such a kick out of shoving huge foreign objects into women, but I wanted my guys to feel free to experiment with me. If fucking me with a wine bottle gave them the confidence to move on to more truly erotic things, a little discomfort for the moment wouldn't kill me. I spread my legs, making the invitation as obvious as possible. Meanwhile, I leaned back against Greg, who was still behind me. I turned my face up to his, and we picked right back up where we left off. Mike placed the mouth of the bottle to my nether lips. Just so there was no confusion about my willingness, I opened my legs wider and raised them so my heels hovered slightly off the blanket in that field of dandelions. Greg sucked my tongue. It was all so sexy, I began to feel lightheaded. Mike pushed, slowly but firmly. I took in the neck of the bottle, until the cool, smooth bulge of the glass pressed against my labia. It didn't feel great, but I didn't mind. 

At first I was nervous that Mike would want to ram and jam the bottle roughly. Men have been known to get carried away with things like that. My fears were unfounded. He tried to be sensual about it. Greg opened his eyes, then stopped kissing me altogether, to watch. I glanced down, to see what they were staring at so intently. I have to admit, it did look sexy, the neck of a wine bottle slipping in and out between my labia, glistening with my juices. I could understand why the guys were fascinated. It looked a lot nicer than it felt. When I had enough, I grabbed Mike and said, "You! I want you." 

He laid me flat on my back, with my legs hooked over his shoulders. Each time he thrust, our bodies slapped loudly, and my feet shook in the air. He was actually moving me across the blanket! When we reached the blanket's edge, he pushed my legs back--slowly, since he wasn't sure how limber I would be--until my toes touched the grass behind my head. My ass was sticking way up, and sunlight glinted on the barbell. My labia were wet from all my lubrication, and I could feel a cool breeze blowing over them. Mike repositioned himself for a more vertical motion.

I gasped as his cock slurped back into my pussy. In one slick motion, he sank it to the hilt. He proceeded to pound me like a hammer on an anvil. That might sound rough, but he was nailing me exactly where I wanted to be nailed. Most of the time, at Klassy Lady, I had to be very active with my partners, and do a lot of moving to help them get me off. Even with my husband, Paul, I have to work at it a bit. With Mike, it was glorious to have a lover who knew exactly what I wanted. 

I mentioned earlier that I've had to learn to abandon myself completely to my orgasms, to enjoy them fully, and to be vulnerable enough with my partners to let them see (and hear) me lose control to the pleasure they give me. One of the hardest things for me to get over was the noise my pussy makes during contractions, when my orgasm is the deep kind that really shakes the earth for me. The first time I heard it, I thought the startling, wet squish sounded embarrassingly close to a fart. It's like the noise you can make by getting your hands wet and then squeezing the palms together. On top of that, I usually can't help moaning or crying out when I feel it. On the outstroke, a partner has to pull against the grip, and it makes a juicy sucking noise that's just as loud. Paul has helped me get comfortable with this aspect of my sexuality, but my time at Klassy Lady made me start to feel self-conscious again. The men always reacted. Some stopped and looked surprised. A few even laughed. 




Klassy Lady: The Dandelion Field



Now, I watched for Mike's reaction. He did look surprised for just a second. Then he met my gaze affectionately, and said, "Oh, Chloe! Oh God . . ." He must have remembered from our conversation that I liked holding hands with Greg through the multiple orgasms, because he reached down and held my hand the rest of the way through this one. 

One more thing that took some getting used to is the fact that I "ejaculate," sometimes heavily. Forget about a wet spot--I can soak the sheets down to a sopping mess. Of course, different guys react differently. Paul loves it. Most of my partners at Klassy Lady liked it well enough. But there were a few who acted totally disgusted, and one guy accused me of pissing on him (these were the same people who laughed at my noises--far and away, the ickiest sexual encounters of my life). 

With Mike, I was practically upside-down, so the gushing effect wasn't as pronounced, but he obviously noticed, and gave my hand an encouraging squeeze. 

When it was clear that I had finished, Mike pulled out. I expected him to squirt on me, but he didn't. I mean, he didn't squirt at all. He still looked pretty hard, about three-quarters erect. 

"Did you come?" I asked. 

"Oh yeah. While ago." 

"Oh." That meant he came inside me. We had no birth control whatsoever. He didn't wear a condom, and my cervical cap was sitting in a bathroom drawer at home. I blush to admit it, but at that moment, the thought of getting knocked up by him crossed my mind, and suddenly I yearned for it with an intensity that shocked me. 

"Problem?" he said. 

"No." I smiled. "No." I made a mental promise to take a morning-after pill tomorrow. 

With the hands we were still holding, he helped me to my feet. As soon as I got my balance, he let go and stepped away from me. 

I realized my eyes were tearing up. 

Mike looked at me. "You okay?" 

"Yeah. Can I just, you know, get a hug for a second?" 

He smiled. "Of course." He put his arms around me. 

I buried my burning face against his chest. Tears streamed faster down my cheeks, onto his skin. I felt ridiculous, but I couldn't make them stop. 

"Come on, now," he whispered. "Stop that." 

Fortunately, I managed to, after he said it. I dried my eyes and said, "Whew! Sorry. I don't know what got into me." 

"Well, I did, for starters." 

We laughed. He tousled my hair. We hugged each other closer. 

"I understand," he told me. "The better it is, the more confusing it can be sometimes. Even I got a little emotional after that one." 

"Oh? I didn't notice." 

"That was deliberate. Best if we keep this as unconfusing as possible--don't you agree?" 

I nodded. "Absolutely." 

We put our lips together for a quick smooch. 

I looked over at Greg. "You're next! What do you say we splash around a little in that beautiful stream?" 

He grinned. "Sounds great!" 

I put on my sandals. "Why don't I go on ahead, and take a minute or two to freshen up. I'll see you boys down there!" Alone, I started off into the woods. 

At the pool, I washed all the stickiness off my tummy and labia and thighs. I splashed cool water under my armpits, which were starting to smell a bit, I noticed. I dunked my face under the surface, then thought what the hell, and went ahead and got my hair wet. 

I wasn't completely over my emotional episode yet. I couldn't believe that I was dealing with these feelings! It worried me. No feelings like this ever came up at Klassy Lady. Maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe all that casual fucking left me overconfident that I could fuck anyone and be perfectly casual about it. Mike just proved me wrong on that point. I've never wanted children, not in general, not with Paul, not with anyone--so why did I find the idea so appealing of getting pregnant with Mike's baby? Here's the best explanation I came up with: I didn't really want to have his children, but he fucked me so well that he touched me on that raw, biological level, and briefly triggered some instinctual urge to procreate. It was as simple as when the doctor hits you on the knee, except instead of a physical reflex, it was an emotional one. 

I'd almost convinced myself of that, just about the time my two new friends joined me in the water. 

We played around like three kids--who'd just discovered the joys of playing doctor. I had a lot of silly, fun, amorous contact with both of them, but it was Greg's turn, and I made a point to give him most of my attention. Finally, he caught me around the waist, and I knew that it was time. I wriggled back against him, while he cupped my breasts, played with my nipples, nibbled at my neck and ear, traced a finger through my belly button a few times, and started playing wth my barbell. I sighed at every contact. His cock, pressed against my ass, felt like a rod of iron. The pool was quite chilly, but still he was hard as only a teenager can be. The water made it easy for him to lift me by the hips. It took him a moment to line my pussy up just right over his cock, but he did it without needing any help from me. I said "Oh Greg!" as he lowered me and entered me from behind. 

I wanted to bend over, to make myself as open to him as I possibly could, but I also wanted to keep my face above the surface. I waved Mike over, and said, "Here, come help me balance, please." Mike stood in front of me and held me stable. By leaning into him, I was even able to lift my feet off the bottom and spread my legs in the water. Greg gave me a wonderful, almost doggie-style fucking. Needless to say, I came again--not as hard as I did with Mike, maybe, but Greg still made his father proud. We were three happy, lazy campers when we walked back to the blanket and collapsed side-by-side on it. 

We pretty well cleaned out the picnic basket. Then we lay on our backs and looked up at the fluffy white clouds overhead. I was holding both their hands. 

Mike was on my left. He ran his thumb over my wedding ring and said, "Married?" 

"Mm-hmm. You?" 

"Divorced. Twice. So where is he now?"

"Home. 

Mike hesitated for a second, then said, "Love him?" 

"With all my heart." 

Speak of the devil! At just that moment, my cell-phone rang. I checked the caller ID. I smiled at Mike and said, "It's him." I answered it. "Hi, honey." 

"Hey, baby," Paul said. "So, you all settled in out there?" 

"Oh, yeah!" I said. "I even made some friends." I winked at Greg, who looked a little uncomfortable with the situation. 

Paul said, "Oh. I thought you said the place was isolated." He didn't say it like an accusation or anything. It was just a normal statement. 

"Yeah, I thought it would be. Then I went skinny-dipping and ran into these canoers." 

"Oh my," Paul said. 

"Mm-hmmmmmm," I purred. "Here. I'll send you pictures." With my camera phone, I snapped a shot of Mike. I centered the picture on his cock, which was erect again. Also in the frame were his thighs, his gorgeous washboard stomach, and part of his chest. Best to leave the faces out of it, I thought. Then I turned to Greg and took essentially the same shot. 

"Whoa!" Paul said when he saw the pics. "You really are having a good time, aren't you?" 

"Aaahhh, heavenly!"

"Will they be with you all week?" 

I looked at Mike, and then at Greg. I won't even lie--I wanted to take them back to the cottage. I could tell, though, that I was losing the struggle to manage my feelings. Mike was right about keeping it unconfusing. If I shared my bed and body with those two, slept with them, ate with them, spent another day or two like this with them, it would confuse me beyond anything I could deal with, for sure. 

So I said, "Nah. We're just enjoying a sunny afternoon. It's lovely out here. Look at all these dandelions." I aimed the camera past my toes, at the field bursting with yellow. 

"Well, honey," Paul said, "I wish I could be with you, but I'm glad you made some friends." 

"Me too." 

"Every detail, I want to hear." 

"I'll call you tonight. 

"Very interesting," Mike said when I put away the phone. "Does he get to make friends, too?" 

"Nope. Just me." 

"How does that work?" Greg asked. 

"Hey," I said, "it was his idea. Why not? Haven't you enjoyed watching me today? When it wasn't your turn, I mean." 

They exchanged glances. Mike said, "Since you put it that way, yes." Greg nodded. 

"There you go. Paul likes to watch me, too. When he isn't there to watch, he still likes the idea that I'm fucking other men. What can I say? It's what he wants. I'm just trying to be the best little wifey I can be." I gave them a big, lewd wink, and we laughed together.

That was enough talking for a while, I thought. I started to rub their hands over my body. They took the hint. Greg and I were soon making out again, so hot and heavy that I swear we could have fogged up every window on a bus. Mike kissed my feet all over--then he sucked my toes! In its own way, amazingly, it felt almost as good as the cunnilingus. I'm sure there must be a word for erotic toe-sucking. If I can find out what it is, I'll buy the book and make Paul master it. 

And now, dear readers, the moment you've been waiting for. You knew it had to happen, Lord knows I wanted it to happen, and it was beautiful, the way it just happened on its own. No words were needed, and none were exchanged. It was like, all at once, we decided together, silently, by touch, to go ahead with the ultimate fulfillment of the M-F-M fantasy that we'd been acting out all afternoon. 

First, the anal penetration. Greg helped me lower myself onto him, reverse-cowgirl. "My Gggooood," I moaned. "Oooooh Greg." When I made it all the way down to his lap, he held his hand up for me. I laced my fingers through his, and we squeezed excitedly. With his other hand, he rubbed my stomach, until he found my belly button with his middle finger. He traced the tip of his finger down to the barbell. "Greg!" I cried, when his finger touched my clit. He planted kisses all over my upper-back and shoulders. Together, we lay back, facing up, with me on top. I moved my thighs further apart for the second penetration. 

Mike knelt in front of me. He helped me raise my legs. I couldn't quite get my heels up over his shoulders, with Greg's cock so firmly, deeply in my ass, but I held my legs as high and wide open as I could. Mike supported them on his arms, while he reached underneath and grabbed me by the hips. He could have slammed in on one stroke if he wanted to, I guess. I did this sort of thing a fair number of times at Klassy Lady, so I knew what I could handle, even if I also knew that some things wouldn't feel so great. I think Mike must have been experienced as well, and he clearly wanted to make it good for me. With a long, slooooow, inch-by-inch push, he entered me halfway. He was determined, but patient, and wonderfully attentive. I'm a small woman, and there's not a lot of room "down there." With my ass already stuffed to maximum capacity by Greg's healthy endowment, every inch of Mike's that I took in was a very big deal to me, requiring me to catch my breath and get used to the feeling. Mike's sweet, considerate pace gave me that luxury. Slooooowly, he withdrew, then halfway in again. Out, then in a little further. 

Greg held my hands, of course. Every time Mike pushed, Greg took it like a man when I dug my nails into his palms. 

At last, Mike and Greg were balls-to-balls right up against me, as deep inside me as they both could go. I was sweating and trembling, but I couldn't have been happier. In a way, I'd come to love them, and I desperately wanted to make love with them like this. 

Mike looked down between my legs. "Oh Chloe," he said. "If only you could see this." 

It was very difficult for me to concentrate on anything besides the feeling of overwhelming fullness--stuffed is the only word for it--but I had an idea. I looked around for the picnic basket. Greg, stretching an arm back over his head, was just able to reach it and tip it over in our direction.

It took Mike a few trial-and-error shots to get it right, but it wasn't long before he handed my phone to me, with an amazing close-up of the double penetration. I let Greg see it, too, over my shoulder. I've seen pictures like it on the internet. They've always looked the same to me, and I've always considered them just about the raunchiest images around. I stared at this picture, though, in wonder. My lovers and I couldn't possibly have been bound together in that moment by a more intense physical intimacy, and the picture captured our sexual union in a manner that was breathtakingly direct and literal. The image of my little holes straining around their swollen cocks looked exactly the way it felt to me. I loved it, that I was giving myself to Mike and Greg--and Paul--so completely! 

"Will you show that to your husband?" Mike asked. 

"You're kidding, right? Of course I will! He'll probably jerk off to it nonstop until I'm home." I sent Paul the picture, then set the phone aside--still in reach, though, in case we wanted it again. 

Mike placed his hands back on my hips, and started moving again. His thrusts were full and deep now. He stepped the pace up more than I expected. 

"God, Mike, yes!" I shouted. I love to vocalize my enjoyment during sex, but I'm often self-conscious about being overheard. We were alone for miles, and nobody would hear me except the men who mattered. All afternoon, I'd been growing more relaxed and uninhibited with them. Now I decided to really let go, and be as loud and expressive as my pleasure inspired me to be. I moaned louder and more often, and--what is truly rare for me--I allowed myself to scream. I'm sure I must have sounded like the sluttiest come-track on any porno flick. I didn't care. In fact, I loved it! To this day, I look back on it with pride, that I was able to be so honest and unguarded in my sexual responses. 

Mike worked up to a rhythm that drove me wild, out of my mind. He was smacking me so hard now that each thrust moved me up Greg's cock. With his hands on my hips, then, he'd yank me back down toward him. The motion in both holes sent me into ecstasies. Double penetration, I've found in my experience, tends to give me altered consciousness. What I mean is that the feelings are so insistent--they so completely occupy so much of my attention--that everything else seems to disappear. Whether it feels good or hurts or does both to me at once, there almost always comes a point when I experience myself as nothing but the double penetration, nothing but two holes getting fucked, just like the picture. 

In such a zen-like state, my orgasm rocked my world and my whole being. It shook me through-and-through. Dear readers, words simply fail at this point. I wish I could give some inkling of what that experience was like for me. I'm sorry, but I can't. Perhaps it's for the best, though. If any moment ever deserved to be passed over in silence, out of reverence and respect for the privacy of such an excruciatingly intimate connection between lovers, that moment is the one. 

When it was over for all of us, when I came back into my mind, just before we began moving to disentangle ourselves from each other, I almost said something stupid like, "I love you!" I almost asked them back to the cottage. The crazy doubt swirled through my head that maybe I belonged with Mike instead of Paul. Fortunately, I was gasping too hard to say anything regrettable, and I recovered my wits before my breath. 

Now, when I have anal sex, things have to relax and open up back there. Afterward, they tend to stay relaxed and open for a while, instead of immediately contracting to normal. What I'm trying to say, as delicately as possible, is that anal sex leaves my little asshole gaping wide open and red around the edges. It closes up in time, back to normal, a pink rosebud, as good as new, but until then, it's a startling, dramatic sight, and it looks like some gigantic cock has permanently reamed me open. The first time I saw it, I freaked out, but I've gotten used to it, and now I even look at it as a part of the experience to be enjoyed. I showed Greg, and let him admire his handiwork. At first, he was concerned that he had hurt me, but I reassured him that I was perfectly okay. I embraced him, and whispered in his ear what a stud he'd been to me. Mike suggested that perhaps my hubby might like a picture of my bottom in that state, and I thought that was a great idea. He snapped one, and I sent it on to Paul.

Our time was almost up, I knew. I started to get weepy. I never, ever cried at Klassy Lady after sex. I still don't understand why sex with Mike, both times, got to me so much, but there's no use pretending. It definitely did. He didn't tell me to stop this time, either. He and Greg both put their arms around me in a warm group hug. They comforted me tenderly. I felt myself bonding with them to a dangerously confusing degree. I tried to make them leave, but they wouldn't until I stopped crying, and until they felt sure that I would be all right. 

I exchanged pecks with both of them on the cheeks. Mike asked if I wanted them to walk me to wherever I was going. I thanked him, but declined. Nor did I offer to walk them back to their canoes. They put on their bathing suits, and went their way to the stream. I put on my sandals, tossed the blanket in the basket, and returned to the cottage. 

Wednesday and Thursday went by in a blur. I made damn sure to take care of the morning-after birth control. Other than that, I spent my days all alone in the dandelion field. I lay naked on the blanket, fingering my barbell, drinking wine straight from the bottles, gazing at the clouds, reliving every moment, laughing and crying as I processed what had happened.

Friday morning, I did my best to set everything in order, and leave the cottage as I found it. I straightened. I swept. I washed dishes. I put out trash. I ran out for some groceries, to restock what I'd eaten. I splurged on the most gorgeous, rustic-cottage-style floral arrangement I could find, which I left on the table with a note to my friend:

Thank you for lending me the use of your cottage. My time here has been wonderful! I just can't tell you how good it's been for me.

Forever grateful,

Chloe



Klassy Lady: Working Holiday Ch. 01



Hello! 

I'm Paul, Chloe's husband, and this is the third account we've written about her adventures as a "Loving Wife." If you haven't read the first two installments, I'll quickly go over what you need to know.

Chloe has straight brown hair that she used to wear short. She's let it grow, and now it's just above her shoulders. It's a different look, but still a very cute and chic one for her. She also wears glasses now sometimes. She has blue-gray eyes, fair skin, and freckles. She's short, and very trim from regular workouts (she ran a marathon once, and still runs the occasional 5 or 10K). She's in her mid-thirties, but still gets carded regularly.

If you're not familiar with the "Loving Wife" lifestyle, it's where the wife, but not the husband, has sex with other people. It's not swinging because the husband stays "faithful," but it isn't cheating either, because the husband approves of and enjoys the wife's activity. It isn't like she goes outside the marriage for sex; the arrangement makes it all part of her sex life with her husband. We're relatively new to it--obviously, since this is only our third story to tell--but it's definitely deepened our intimacy and made our marriage even stronger than it was (I wouldn't recommend it if your marriage isn't rock-solid to begin with).

KLASSY LADY tells how we got started. I dared Chloe to work for a weekend in a brothel, and she did. Klassy Lady was the brothel's name. A few months later, two canoers--a father and his college-age son--caught her skinny dipping in a river. She made love with them all afternoon in a dandelion field (hence the title of the second story).

Nothing happened after that for quite a while. Summer ran its course. School started again. Chloe teaches high school English, and this term kept her busier than usual. A series of crises where I work monopolized most of my time, too. We had no time or energy to even think about pursuing lifestyle fantasies.

One evening in mid-December, we were having dinner at home--nothing special, just some sushi I picked up after work. Chloe seemed to have a lot on her mind, but that was nothing new. The end of the term was coming up, and that was always a hectic time for her.

Without any warning, she slapped her chopsticks down. "I have an idea for your Christmas present. But I thought I'd better discuss it with you first."

I said, "Okay."

"School lets out the 17th."

"Okay."

"I'll have a little more than two weeks off."

"Okay," I said again, starting to wish she'd get to the point.

"What would you think about me spending them at Klassy Lady?"

When I finally recovered my wits enough to talk again, I said, "You mean your whole break?"

"Mm-hmm." Her tone was completely serious, almost matter-of-fact.

"Christmas day?"

"Probably. Do brothels close for Christmas?"

I scratched my head. "You're up for that? I mean, two weeks!"

"Look, if you don't want me to do it--"

"No, no!" I said. "I do! I love the idea. I love you for having it! It's just, that one weekend was so exhausting. One guy after another after another."

Chloe flashed a naughty grin, and blushed. "Sometimes two."

Those words instantly filled my mind with images of her sandwiched between customers, double-penetrated, both guys pumping her for all they were worth. "Well, yeah. My point exactly. Could you have kept going?"

"It would be a challenge." She was trembling, I noticed, and her voice shook slightly. "I want to do it." She clasped my hand. "For you."

I squeezed her hand and smiled. "Well then, I accept this beautiful, gracious present that you offer me. I can't wait!" Suddenly, I had a thought.

Chloe must have sensed it, because she said, "What?"

"I'll be working for most of that time. I can ask for some off, but ..." I shrugged.

"I thought of that." She got up and left the table. When she came back, she was holding a small wrapped present. "Here."

I unwrapped it. Inside was a pager.

"Every time I finish with a customer, I'll page you." Chloe snuggled in my lap, put her arms around me, and whispered in my ear, "Every time you hear it, or every time you feel it, you'll know I just gave some man the fucking of his life. You'll know I'm lying there, most likely in a wet spot, flushed and panting and sweaty from the sex, because I gave it my all to satisfy the customer. His cum's inside me, but maybe a little of it's leaking out between the bald lips of my little pussy. And I'm grinning and quivering, because you know how good I got at coming with the customers."

Yes, I remembered! If a guy could just stay hard, no matter how inept he was, Chloe almost always found a way to get herself off, too. The other working girls looked down on her for it. When one of them asked her (in a very snotty tone) why she did it, she explained, "Why not? It's fucking. I'm getting rubbed where it's supposed to feel good. If I have to fuck a guy, like it or not, why shouldn't I take as much pleasure as I can? Why shouldn't I go for it, if I'm doing something anyway that could lead to an orgasm?"

"Do you promise to imagine that, every time I page you?" Chloe asked me.

I kissed her long and passionately, then said, "That's a promise. "

**********

Chloe called R. J. (the guy who ran the brothel) to set everything up. She didn't make a big deal about it, or even tell me she was doing it, just made the call and scratched it off her to-do list. I happened to overhear her end of it, and it was so businesslike that at first I didn't realize what she was discussing. She uses the same tone of voice when she calls our insurance company, for example. That made it all the more exciting when it dawned on me that she was making arrangements to spend two whole weeks letting strangers pay to fuck her.

She cut me off from sex after that, because she wanted to go in as hungry for it as she could be. We did that the first time, too, and I have to say it worked.

The days flew by. Before we knew it, Friday the 17th was upon us, and we were driving the interstate on our way the ninety-odd miles to the next city over, where Klassy Lady awaited our arrival. Although Chloe would be staying there for two weeks, she only packed a bag of toiletries and makeup. In fact, she was nude under her coat. The other girls wore lingerie to greet the customers, but R. J. had made Chloe go completely bare all weekend long. He only let her wear a pair of ridiculous cheap mules that were way too big for her. When she spoke with him on the phone, she asked if he still had them, and it turned out that he did. For the next two weeks, those clear plastic mules with the tacky gold stars would be her entire wardrobe. I sure hoped the building's heating system worked!

When we stepped inside, Chloe handed me her coat, and was instantly naked. She didn't even wait for the door to close! She had tiny, firm, upturned breasts. Her nipples were gloriously pointy and erect. She'd gotten the most extreme waxing possible, so she was smooth as a nectarine. Her delicate pink labia were plainly visible. The golden barbell through her clitoral hood was glaringly conspicuous, as always. Its size and placement make it impossible to miss. If she's naked, you will see it. It's her souvenir from last time. One ball is engraved with an R, and the other with--guess what?--a J. She's never taken it out, that I'm aware of.

Speaking of R. J., he greeted her, smiling, with the mules. She changed into them on the spot. Her other shoes were added to the coat in my care.

"All right," she said, rubbing her hands excitedly. "Let's rock!"

"Let's get this party started!" R. J. responded, laughing. 

They hugged. They kissed, with tongue.

The three of us walked into the waiting parlor. I hung back a little, and it was a good thing, too. One guy jumped up as soon as he saw Chloe and said, "Whoa! Can I have her?"

R. J. handed her off to the guy. "All yours. Enjoy!" To Chloe, he said, "You know the room?"

Without turning back, she raised her arm with a thumbs-up, and started up the stairs, with her other arm hooked through the customer's.

I hurried up the back stairway. Chloe's room hadn't changed at all, that I could tell, since the events of KLASSY LADY. Here's how I described it then: A ceiling lamp shed meager light that didn't quite reach the edges of the room--amazingly, since the room itself was pretty meager. Three huge panels of mirror occupied most of one wall. The double bed clearly had seen much rough use. There were a beat-up dresser and matching nightstand. A red sofa. A scarred wooden chair. Two small, threadbare Persian rugs lay on the floor, and I couldn't help noticing that one had been positioned directly in front of the chair. Otherwise, the bare wood floor was mostly bare of varnish.

What made this room special was the secret closet where someone could watch behind a one-way mirror. I was just seated there when the door opened.

Chloe, wobbling a bit on the high-heel mules, stepped in with her partner for the hour. It was the first good look I got at the guy--"John," she called him. He was almost a foot taller than Chloe, and fat. I mean, he wasn't obese, but he was quite thick around the middle. I wish I could describe him further, but that's the only detail that stands out in my memory. I guess he wasn't too bad-looking, apart from the extra pounds.

Chloe didn't seem to mind. She was already naked, of course, and wasted no time helping John out of his clothes. The bedsprings creaked when they lay down together.

"You kiss?" John said.

Chloe smiled. "I do, and thanks for asking."

They made out for a while. While they kissed and necked, he ran his hands all over Chloe, cupping her breasts, rubbing her nipples, playing with the barbell in her clit, sliding fingers up inside her. From the way she was squirming, I could tell she was getting hot and excited. She let him suck her tongue, and meanwhile she stroked his cock, "fluffing" him up, getting him hard.

All at once, their arousal reached the boiling point. Together, they maneuvered their bodies into position for sex. He got on top, missionary-style, but careful not to rest too much of his weight on Chloe. She slid under him, facing up, and wiggled a bit to settle in. A lot of times, she likes to wrap her legs around her partner, sometimes hooking her ankles together over his back. Or at least she'll raise her legs so that her feet are in the air. John was too big around for any of that, so Chloe's legs splayed out to the sides. 

Now that they were comfortably in place with each other, John lined his cock up with the slit of Chloe's labia. In another heartbeat, he would enter her.

I knew this was a special moment for Chloe. She says it's the most exciting part of sex, that first penetration--even more than when she comes (and considering how hard she comes, that's really saying something!). "I love the way it feels," she told me. "There's just something so deliciously abrupt about it. No matter how slow he goes, there's always that instant when he breaks the surface, so to speak. It's like a first kiss. It's crossing the line. I'm like, 'Oh my God, this is real!' We're doing it. He's in me. It changes everything. One second we're not fucking, the next second we are, and there's no going back on it. Forever after, like it or not, he and I have fucked."

So that's what she would have felt if she could have frozen time the instant the tip of his cock pushed that first centimeter between her nether lips. Actually—talk about abrupt—he slammed in to the hilt.

Chloe went crazy. She gasped.She arched her back forcefully enough to lift him, to push hisbulky body up an inch or two. Her legs stiffened in pleasure. "Aaah!" she cried.

And they were fucking.

Whether she's on top or bottom, Chloe always tries to take control of the rhythm, the depth and direction of the strokes, etc. She does it very subtly, using only her own motion and her body's reactions to guide her partner. Most guys go along. Most probably can't even tell that she's leading the dance. I'm not always sure how aware even she is that she's doing it--it became so natural for her the last time we were here--but it's how she can have orgasms with almost anybody.

Whether John knew it or not, he quickly fell into following Chloe's lead. He wasn't passive by any means, though. His crotch-flesh smacked loudly on hers in a strong, steady beat. His fat belly pressed against her tight little stomach, and his flabby sides jiggled with the shock of every impact. Even Chloe's firm, tiny breasts vibrated with every body-slap.

Chloe sighed on every stroke. "Ah! Ah! Ah! . . ." She couldn't help it. Her pussy contracted in loud slurps and squelches. She began to tense and stiffen. She flexed her legs, her feet, her toes.

I can always tell when Chloe ejaculates, from the guy's reaction. Even if he's experienced it before, it can be startling, how much fluid she releases when she comes. We call them gushers. It's never business as usual for anyone. John stopped thrusting altogether. He gawked down between their bodies to where their crotches joined. To keep her climax going, Chloe had to arch her hips up and grind herself against him quite aggressively. He got the hint, and they quickly fell back into their rhythm. If anything, they fucked more passionately, like their lives depended on it.

John groaned. He had to be pumping rivers of white cum deep inside her. Her orgasm trailed off, but she accepted his with tender enthusiasm. She rubbed her hands up and down his sides. She didn't seem the least turned off by all the fat under the flesh. In fact, she grabbed his love handles to urge him back and forth. Well, I guess that's how they got the name. "Give it all to me," she said. Her voice had a post-coital huskiness that only occurs after her most intense orgasms.

John did give it all to her. He looked like he was trying to ram his whole lower body up into her pussy. She made cooing lovey-dovey noises and kept caressing his fleshy folds while he pounded her. Through all the lard, I could see the muscles of his ass cheeks flexing as he tried to squeeze out every last sperm into my wife.

He stopped when his limp cock plopped out. For a second I thought he might collapse on her, but he let her wriggle out from under him first. The bedsprings creaked ominously when he hit the mattress. He rolled over on his side. He grinned at Chloe. "That was fucking awesome!"

She smiled at him and winked. She fanned herself with her hands. I realized how much she was sweating, how hard she was breathing. She sat up. She left her legs wide-open. I could plainly see John's cum all over her pussy. There was a great, pearly glob of it peeking out between her labia. I couldn't see the wet spot from her own ejaculation, but I knew it had to be a big one.

Some people say there's no such thing as a stupid question. There is. John asked it: "Um, so how was it for you?"

Chloe pointed at herself. "This is what a woman should look like after sex. Disheveled and sticky and lazy and flushed. That means you did it right, sport."

He got dressed, then, grinning like a fool the whole time. She slipped her mules back on. She kissed him on the cheek, and out he went.

She ran over to the mirror and flung it open. "Woo-hoo! Was that sexy or what?"

I'd made a bit of a mess, myself. I let her see the tissues. "You're so hot, Chloe!"

She leaned in, and we kissed. We giggled like teenagers. This was like a second honeymoon, living our fantasy all over again.

"Can you really take two weeks of that?" I said.

"The point is not to 'take' it," she corrected me. "The point is to enjoy it. I will. You'll see."



Klassy Lady: Working Holiday Ch. 02



Chloe's next two sessions were so passionate and steamy, they fogged the one-way mirror! Clearly, she had no intention of pacing herself. How long could she keep it up? This was the very first night in a full-on two-week stint. And it was a Friday. Even if she didn't work so hard, even if she lay there like a log with all her partners, she still had a long, busy, and demanding night ahead of her. Nor would she be able to catch her breath tomorrow. The last time we were here, the house got slammed even harder on Saturday, and crunch-time lasted all day long, from noon till Sunday morning.

Anyway, I tapped on the glass when the third customer left. Chloe looked over and realized what happened. She wiped the mirror down for me. I'm glad she did, because I would have hated to miss a single detail of what happened next. 

Her fourth customer was tall, blond, fit, handsome. Not movie star handsome, but he could have been the good-looking guy in a tv ad. He was Chloe's most attractive customer so far that night, and I could tell she thought so too.

Once she got him naked, she sat him in the chair. She lay the second Persian rug over the first for extra cushioning, and went down on her knees. As her head bobbed in the guy's lap, he stretched his legs out on either side of her and said, "Oooh yeah." He leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. Blowjobs aren't my favorite scenes to watch in porno. Maybe they would be if they all looked as sexy as the one Chloe was giving. The guy even dropped his cool act and began to stroke her hair. He made appreciative noises, and murmured to her how good it felt.

After a while, he said, "Okay, baby, that's enough." He stood halfway out of the chair. "Teabag?"

Chloe let him dip his ballsack in her mouth. She gave it a good sucking. When he pulled it out, she held on with her lips to the last bit of loose skin.

They got in bed together.

"Umm, this is my first anal tonight," Chloe said. "So I may need a minute or two to loosen up and get comfortable."

"I'll go slow until you're ready," her partner said. 

She presented herself to him on her hands and knees.

He knelt behind her. He reached under, between her legs. He massaged her pussy with his fingers. Although she was already open and waiting, she let her knees slide further apart. He stimulated her until I could hear the juices slurping around his fingers.

"Oh God, that's heavenly," she moaned.

He inserted some fingers then, drenching them with lubrication, which he then rubbed on her little asshole.

Chloe shivered.

He dipped his fingers again, and smeared an even thicker coat this time. Holding her by the hips, he sank his cock into her pussy.

Chloe gasped and wiggled back against him.

He gave her a few good strokes, then withdrew. He positioned his tip at her asshole and started to push. There were a few moments of resistance, then she relaxed, and he eased in all the way, slowly, both of them savoring every inch of his progress.

He didn't start thrusting right away. Instead, he pulled Chloe up so she was kneeling in front of him, his cock still firmly and completely in her ass. He ran his hands all up and down her front, her breasts, her stomach. She let her head fall back on his shoulder. They kissed. At that angle, it was hard to keep their mouths together, so I caught frequent glimpses of their tongues sliding over and around each other. With one hand cupping her breast, holding her back against him, the guy lowered his other hand until his middle finger found her clit under the golden barbell.

She opened her eyes, and their gazes locked in mutual desire as his fingertip flickered and vibrated. They stared into each other's eyes the whole time, and their lips often brushed in stolen kisses, until his rapid finger brought her to a light, clitoral orgasm.

I know that sex in brothels is supposed to be impersonal, anonymous, with no complications. But sometimes even then, a spark of personal connection can take it to another level of intensity. When Chloe dropped forward on her hands, it was obvious to me that she and her partner had sparked on that almost-personal level, probably from all that amorous eye-contact and kissing. Their anal lovemaking was intensely intimate. There was a tenderness to it, even at the wild end, when he was practically slam-fucking her and she was rocking back to meet his hardest thrusts. Her longer hair hung down and swished spectacularly as he hammered her in the doggy-style position.

When they finished, he spun Chloe around and caught her in his embrace. They kissed, and she melted in his arms. It looked to me like she almost swooned. There was definitely a moment when she went limp, then raised her trembling arms to run her fingers through his hair.

She dampened a washcloth with warm water. She stroked and squeezed his cock with it.

"You're still hard," she observed. 

"I'm enhanced," he admitted.

She smiled. "Well, let's not waste it." She tossed the washcloth away.

They tumbled into each other's arms. Chloe wrapped her legs around him. I saw her little feet hook together over his back, and her thighs give him a loving squeeze around the middle. They were joined at the crotch for the rest of the hour. 

For a while, they weren't even exactly fucking--just sort of shifting around and undulating together. It wasn't anything I'd ever done with Chloe, or seen her do the last time we were here. They appeared to be in utter bliss, like they were communing on some private wavelength. It looked like the sort of thing I'd imagine tantric sex is supposed to help lovers achieve. Somehow, I guess, together they stumbled onto the secret. They both came more than once, I'm pretty sure, but they never separated until after R. J. knocked on the door and shouted, "Time!" 

By then, their fucking had grown much more physical and raw, their bodies thudding hard against each other. Chloe was long past any inhibitions with this man, and her moans of ecstasy were throaty, natural, almost conversational in tone.

For all that, there were no "complications" or "entanglements." He got dressed like all the other guys. Chloe stepped into her mules. She gave his cheek a goodbye peck, and sent him off.

Amazingly, in the short time since then, we bumped into him again. We were going into a TGIFriday's for dinner one evening. He was coming out—-with his wife, two kids, and a baby in one arm. He was holding the door open for his family, and held it open for Chloe and me. She had her glasses on (not to mention her clothes), so he didn't quite recognize her at first. He studied her face a second longer, then looked like he'd seen a ghost. Thank God he didn't drop the baby!

I caught the split-second when Chloe looked justas shocked as he did. She recovered almost instantly. She flashed him a natural smile, said "Thank you," and walked on by.

After we were seated, I said, "Hey, isn't that the guy who--"

Chloe grabbed my hand and dug in with her nails. "Don't say it out loud!"

I half-laughed, half-yelped. "I wasn't going to."

She sat back in the booth. A blush spread over her face. She just kept getting redder and redder. She stared at the table, and wouldn't look up at me.

"You okay?" I said.

That seemed to break the spell. She gave her head a little shake, then met my eye and smiled. "Yeah. It's just, that was a little weird. I've never run into anyone like that before. All of a sudden, in my mind, I was reliving everything. I'm in wifey-teacher mode now. I wasn't ready for those memories."

"Just curious," I said. "Did he ever come back? I never saw him there again."

"No, he never did."

"Would you like to see him again? I mean, like that?"

She thought about it. "Nah. Best leave well enough alone."

****************

I almost fell out of my chair when Chloe came back from her next lineup with two men, instead of one. She had to be the hardest-working girl in the house!

Even while she helped her partners undress, she stood between them, necking with them and letting them feel her up. That meant four hands groping her, rubbing her nipples, spreading her labia, playing with her barbell, slipping fingers up inside her, caressing her all over. It meant two mouths and tongues kissing, frenching, sucking, licking, nibbling. Soon, it meant two naked bodies in full contact with hers. It looked like a lot of stimulation for her to deal with all at once! She writhed between them in erotic sensory overload.

Chloe got enough control over herself and the situation to lead her two new lovers over to the couch. She wasn't too steady on her feet, though, as if all that making out had left her dizzy or lightheaded. It also didn't help that she forgot to slip her mules off in all the excitement. The high-heel shoes were a size or two too big for her, so she wobbled when she walked in them under the best of circumstances.

I knew from the last time we were here that there were a number of positions that allowed for sandwich-style double-penetration. Each position allowed for different kinds of motion among the three partners. Chloe went for one that seemed to be a favorite of hers. She seated one guy on the couch, then slooooowly lowered herself onto him, so that she ended up sitting on his lap with his cock in her ass. She drew her legs up and rested her mules on his knees, which left her extremely open for the other man to vaginally penetrate her from the front.

As I watched the second man stand before my wife and push his cock deep inside her, inch by crowded inch, I remembered her account of how intensely this kind of experience affected her, from DANDELION FIELD. It didn't look or sound easy, from Chloe's almost constant moaning, and from the way she had to work her thighs and hips to help take the cock the whole way into herself--but I could also tell that it was a wonderful and world-rocking challenge for her, and she tackled it with passion and enthusiasm. She raised her legs higher and circled the man around the waist. With her clear-plastic high heels, she pulled him closer, until his ballsack pressed tightly against the little space of flesh between her pussy and her cock-stuffed anus.

The guy in back took full advantage of her breasts being within easy grasp. He reached around to cup, rub, and fondle them the whole time, with a lot of attention to her nipples. He covered her shoulders, neck, and upper-back with kisses. Every time she leaned her head back to moan or cry out in pleasure, he smooched her ear or cheek. Sometimes, then, she'd turn to him and they'd share a quick open-mouth kiss, but the fucking she was getting absorbed most of her attention.

In fact, it soon looked to me like she reached that point of altered consciousness she mentioned, where she feels herself become nothing but two holes, where her whole being reduces to the sense of fullness and being fucked. She seemed utterly lost in those physical sensations. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and her body relaxed into a life of its own, moving with her partners for a maximum of pleasure.

When it was over, they all looked like they'd been through a life-changing experience together. Chloe had tears in her eyes. While the guys dressed, they couldn't stop hugging her. She let them, and returned the hugs with her own trembling embraces. She let her goodbye pecks linger much longer than usual, but eventually got the two guys out the door.

I caught a few glimpses of her from the back, during all of that. Her asshole, usually a little pink starburst, gaped like a mouth, and white cum drizzled out. Even though the guy behind her almost didn't move at all, he was inside her the whole while, so her sphincter had time to relax around him until it was as open as could be. The pressure of the other guy's cock through Chloe's membrane must have stroked him to a climax.

When she was alone, Chloe came over and opened the mirror.

I hugged her fiercely, and our lips mashed together in a greedy, hungry kiss.

"My God, you're so on fire!" I whispered.

She drew back. "Um, I'd better warn you."

I arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"Well, you should see the waiting room!"

"Busy, huh?" I said. "No surprise."

"No, but this might be." She blushed. "I felt bad for taking so long with that one guy, holding up the line, so I volunteered to double up."

"Double up?"

"Yeah. R. J.'s offering a special rate for customers who don't mind sharing time with me. He's telling them how great I am at sandwiches, and encouraging them to pair up. For the rest of the night, I'll be taking on two guys at once."

I blinked.

"I know it looks like a lot, when I'm doing that," she said. "And it is. But in a good way. It's--I can't describe it! But just think, while I'm here, there are no limits on how sexual I get to be. I want to make the most of it. Isn't that our fantasy?"

I smiled. I took her in my arms. "Exactly right. As long as you feel good about it."

"But you feel good about it? You don't think it's going too far?"

"Too far? No way! Like you said, you're going with the fantasy." I kissed her forehead. "Just don't hurt yourself, okay? I love you and support you, no matter what. And--I really can't wait to watch you do this!"

"Then I'd better get going," she said. She beamed up at me. "God, how I love you, Paul!" She closed the mirror, and off she went, to meet the next two men who would share her body for the hottest sex of any of their lives



Klassy Lady: Working Holiday Ch. 03



Chloe asked me not to put an exact number on the sandwiches she did that Friday night, but she was at it full-throttle until after three in the morning, so you can imagine.

She never let her partners see how tired she was, and she never gave them less than everything she had, but when they left, I saw how much the one-after-another of double-penetrations began to wear on her. When I tapped on the glass and suggested she ask R. J. for a break, she just smiled sweetly and said, "I'm fine! Don't worry." When I became insistent, she said, "Paul, darling, I want to do this. It's our fantasy, right? Let's enjoy it while we're here."

Somehow, my wife--my little sexual dynamo--got through it.

After she dismissed her last pair of lovers, she came over to the mirror and collapsed into my arms, exhausted but very pleased with herself.

We smooched. I stroked her hair.

She looked up into my eyes and said, "Thank you for letting me have that experience."

"Thank you for letting me watch it," I said.

R. J. came in and asked how she was feeling.

She flashed him a dreamy look and simply said, "Fucked."

*************

By noon on Saturday, to my astonishment, Chloe seemed rested and refreshed, as good as new. She went back to serving one customer at a time, though, which was plenty, considering how long a day she had ahead of her.

Chloe got very good at finding out from customers what they really wanted. Within a few minutes of hand-holding, naked embraces, making out, and intimate whispering, she almost always learned exactly what a customer desired from that sexual encounter, without inhibitions, and she always gave it to them. A lot of times, they just needed to hear certain words from her in the act of making love, or they needed to feel a woman's accepting touch on a body part they were ashamed of. When one customer found out, during pillow talk, that she wore glasses sometimes, it turned him on so much he admitted it was a fetish. Chloe went downstairs to get her glasses, and she wore them while they fucked.

Chloe gave generously of herself to everyone. If a customer came prematurely, she sat him in the chair, sucked him hard again, and made sure he got his money's worth. She came almost every time, and usually released some fluid during orgasm.

Some customers were very good looking. Most were average or mildly unattractive. Some were absolutely repulsive, and it boggled my mind to watch Chloe have good sex with them.

"How do you do that?" I asked her after one such guy staggered from her room with a shit-eating grin all over his face. "I know you're not faking it."

"No, you're right. I'm not." 

"How?"

"I know what you're asking. If I ran into that guy outside, I wouldn't let him touch me with a ten foot pole. My skin would crawl if he just looked at me."

"So—-?"

"So how do I lie down naked with him, french kiss, fuck him, let him cum inside me, and have my own orgasm?"

I blinked. "Yeah."

Chloe shrugged. "If he pays to fuck me, I've agreed to do it. Customers pick us, not the other way around. With someone like that, I just concentrate on the mechanics of the sex."

I made a face.

She laughed. "Oh Paul, admit it—-that's part of the fantasy. A big part of it, right? We both knew when we came here that I'd have to fuck my share of men like that. It's the job, pure and simple."

She had a point. I couldn't deny it.

"And really," she went on, "it's not so bad. I mean, my God, I made a wet spot. Does that sound like I'm suffering through hell or getting tortured?"

The next time she brought a butt-ugly guy up to the room, she flashed me a lewd wink. Yes, we were living out our fantasy. He got one of the best fuckings of any customer that day. Not coincidentally, he left one of the best tips.

**********************

Sunday was very quiet. Chloe only had one customer. It gave us a lot of time to sit with the mirror open and discuss everything that happened. We both were very honest with our feelings, and it was a great time for us to reconnect after such an intense weekend.

I had to drive home that night, because I had to be at work on Monday morning. I was sorry to leave Chloe, obviously, but she seemed refreshed by her almost-day-off, and I felt a lot more confident that she'd be fine working there the whole two weeks.

She reminded me, before I left, to wear the pager. As if she needed to remind me! As I drove home, I felt more and more intrigued and excited by the idea of her having sex while I wasn't there. If she paged me, that would mean she'd just finished with a customer. That would leave me to imagine what she'd been up to, for how long, and with whom.

I got my first page on my lunch break, at half-past-noon. I smiled when I felt the vibration. I got another page at a little before one o'clock, and another at one-thirty. It made sense—people rushing into Klassy Lady for quickies on their lunch hours. 

There weren't any more pages while I was at work. As soon as I got off (from work, I mean!), I drove straight back to Klassy Lady. On the interstate, I got another page.

When I crept through the back way into my spot behind the mirror, I found Chloe in the middle of some sweaty, passionate missionary sex, back arched, feet in the air, toes curled and quivering, nipples erect, head thrown back, eyes glassy, and little love cries sounding from her open mouth. Her lover pounded her, and she moved with him, lifting her pelvis for every stroke. I don't know what was louder, the slapping of their bodies or the squelching of her pussy. Both noises told me how close they were to climax. They came together. He spurted semen into my wife's womb, and she gushed ejaculate all over his cock and balls.

Even after she let him out, I was so mesmerized by the spectacle that I sat there while she paged me, and only the vibration snapped me out of it. I knocked on the glass. She almost dropped her phone, I startled her so much. She ran over and opened the mirror.

"How long have you been there?" she demanded.

"Just got here. I only caught the very end of that," I said.

"Did you get my pages earlier?"

"I did. Lunch hour, eh?"

"You wouldn't believe it! These guys pour in all at once for 'nooner' quickies. It's a shame, because most of them don't get one. If they don't get a certain place in line, they're out of luck. Shit out of luck!"

"Hmm," I said. "There's no way to expedite the line? Make the quickies quicker?"

"Well, I don't know," she said.

The chimes sounded, calling Chloe for a lineup. We shared a brief kiss. She clomped out on her mules.

Not surprisingly, she got the customer.

He was a kid, literally a teenager. When they walked into the room, Chloe was saying, "You really are eighteen?"

"Yes!" he insisted. "My God, I just went through all that downstairs. Your pimp believes me."

"Okay, okay," Chloe said. "I'm sorry. You just--well, maybe I'm just getting older." She held her hand out. "Truce?"

He smiled and shook it.

Chloe started to help him out of his clothes. "So, what can I do for you this evening? Anything special you'd like to try?"

"Well, I paid for an hour."

"All right."

"That means I get an hour, right?"

"Sure."

"Um, listen," he blurted, blushing and looking down at his feet, "I . . ."

Chloe waited.

"I guess I'm not very good at it. I've done it a few times, but the girls never--" He blushed even deeper, and shook his head. Very quietly, he said, "I don't think the girls were very, um, satisfied." He looked up at Chloe, desperation in his eyes. "Could you maybe, umm, help me learn how to do it better?"

Chloe grinned. "Oh boy, did you come to the right person! Relax. You're in good hands. Let's enjoy the hour, and by the end of it, I promise, you'll have a much better sense of what you're doing." She moved to the bed, tugging him along. "Come on. We have a lot to cover!"

And so the lesson started. It was funny to see Chloe in both teacher mode and brothel mode at once. She began with kissing and foreplay, naturally.

"And keep in mind," she told the boy after a while, "you can do a lot of this while you're fucking, too. A lot of positions leave your hands free. Don't forget to use them, and don't be shy about it either. Women differ, of course, but I like to kiss and neck while making love. It's one reason I like missionary sex. Speaking of which, it's time for us to really get up close and personal." She started to pull him into the missionary position.

"But shouldn't I, uh, kiss you here first?" he asked, flicking her barbell.

"Oh!" Chloe said. "Good point. Normally, yes. But you don't want to put your mouth there now." She wrinkled her nose. "Trust me."

When he was inside her, I could hear a lot more arousal in her voice. "Okay, comfortable? Good. Me too. Now show me how you moved with those other girls. Fuck me just like you did them, and we'll take it from there."

Chloe let him thrust away in her for a couple of minutes, then patted his back and said, "All right, now slow down, sweetie. Keep going, just not so fast. I'm going to start to move with you. Pay attention to the way we rub together. Really feel it, because that's how you want to rub me even when I'm still."

It took her a while to coordinate their motion, but finally she led him into a good rhythm that I knew she'd like. Her breathing got deeper and deeper, and her body seemed more and more caught up in the sex. She closed her eyes. "See there," she said. "Feel that? That's how it should feel."

"But you changed the angle a lot," he said. "What if she's not in that angle?"

Chloe licked her lips. With her eyes still shut, she said, "Well then, take hold of her body and move it to that angle! I mean, be a gentleman about it. Don't yank her around. But don't be shy to handle her. It's good. It shows you're confident, that you know what you're doing." She opened her eyes and stopped moving. "Here. Let's try it. Let's go back to where we started. I want you to reposition me to where we ended up."

Immediately, when she lay there, he started to shift her.

"No, do it while we're moving," Chloe said. "We'll practice it a few times, because it's best when you're completely smooth and natural about it. Okay, ready?" She smiled and rubbed her toes affectionately along his leg. "And . . . we're fucking."

Their bodies began to move together. After a few seconds, the boy slid his hand under Chloe's bottom and raised her toward him. His next thrust made her squish.

"Ah!" she cried.

He looked surprised.

"Keep going," she said. "That's my body's way of telling you it likes what you just did. Very good! Oh my God! Okay, whoa. Let's do that again."

Again, they stopped moving and got back into their starting position.

Chloe wiggled her hips. "Feel how wet I am?" 

The boy grinned. "Uh huh."

"Uh huh!" Chloe wiggled again, to emphasize it. "Always a good sign." She had to pause to catch her breath. "Whew! Excuse me. That was a very nice way to move me. But you don't want to do it the same way every time. There are lots of ways to guide your lover's body. Let's try another. If it doesn't work, don't worry. We're practicing. It's okay to try new things and get them wrong. You're learning. Ready? And, let's go!"

The boy got very good very quickly at getting Chloe right where he wanted her, which was right where she wanted to be. I could tell she was close to an orgasm.

Finally she said, "Don't stop! Just keep on going!" He did stop for a second, but it didn't matter. She already crossed that line. She was writhing and whimpering and clinging to him like her life depended on it. This wasn't a gusher. Instead, it was a long, continuous orgasm that just rippled and rippled through her body as slowly as the tide. For I don't know how long, she moaned and twitched and ground her crotch against him. At the end of it, she shuddered as though she were about to die, then totally relaxed.

"Oooh, that's nice," she sighed.

"Did you just come?" he said. He sounded like he didn't believe it was possible, like he thought women always had to fake it because they were incapable of coming.

She grinned and mussed his hair. "Silly! What do you think we've been doing all this time? My God, I can only take so much. And you--I'm surprised you haven't yet."

"I've been holding it," he said.

Chloe's eyes widened. "Really? How long?"

"When you rubbed your foot on my leg, that's when I started to feel like I wanted to."

"Oh my!" she said. "Good control, there. I'm impressed. I'll tell you what, though. Why don't you go ahead. I'd say you're due for a release. And you'll be able to concentrate better."

"You want me to come?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Inside you?"

"Mm-hmm. Right inside me. Go for it."

His cock was still in Chloe that whole time, and she was careful not to break the connection while she leaned back, raised and spread her legs, and pulled him back on top of her.

Two sharp thrusts was all it took, then his whole body shuddered.

"That's it," Chloe whispered, running her hands caressingly along his back. He began to thrust again, squeezing his buttocks. She turned her lips to his ear and sighed, "Oh sweetie . . ."

When he pulled out, they both looked down, curious to see how much he pumped into her. A milky white froth bubbled on the outside of her labia. Gently, she spread them open with two fingers. She looked like a cream-filled donut. She looked like she'd been injected to capacity.

"You stud!" she said. "I hope you didn't overload my birth control."

He flashed a worried expression. "Could that happen?"

"We'll know in a few weeks." She winked. "Kidding! Don't you worry. No babies for me. Not with you, anyway." She snuggled up to him. "Really, don't worry. Let's cuddle for a while. You don't mind? I'll make it nice for you."

And she did. They held each other tight, and had a very romantic makeout session. After a while, she let one hand wander down around his cock, and she began to stroke him hard again.

"Mmmmmm," she said at last, their lips still together. "I guess we should continue with our lesson. No, don't stop kissing! Remember when I told you the foreplay stuff we practiced could be combined with fucking? Let's combine it."

She showed him a few basic positions, and all the things he could do to her while they were having sex. She gave him lots of time to practice. I watched her build toward another orgasm.

"This time," she moaned, "when I come, believe me--you won't have to ask!"

A gusher rocked her body.

When it was over, and she lay there limp and panting, the cum-drenched boy looked like he was almost in shock.

"That's the Holy Grail," Chloe told him between deep, gasping breaths. "You can't pleasure a woman any more than that." She found the strength to prop herself up on one elbow. "What about you? You must be close again."

He nodded, but with a strange look on his face.

"What?" Chloe said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. It's just--can I do it in your mouth this time?"

"Well--" Chloe only took a second to consider it. "Why not?"

"Will you swallow it?"

"Will you still kiss me if I do?"

I guess he hadn't thought of that, because he looked startled and uncertain. After a moment's hesitation, he noticed Chloe's toothbrush in a glass, on the little sink where she freshened up sometimes. "Will you brush your teeth?"

Chloe smirked. She rolled him over on his back. She deep-throated him, going down until her lips met his body and his balls.

He groaned. He arched his back. His hand found its way to Chloe's hair.

She instantly slurped off his cock. "Don't push!" she warned him. "You can touch my hair, but do not push. And no more bucking. Just lay still, or you might hurt me."

The boy stared, fascinated, as Chloe's lips moved up and down the full length of his cock. She was going for a deep-throat every time, accepting him as fully into her mouth as she accepted him into her pussy. When she sensed that he was building to a climax, she sucked the head, using her hand to stroke and squeeze his shaft.

At last he groaned, and couldn't suppress an involuntary thrust.

Chloe pursed her lips around him tight. I could see her cheeks working as she sucked. She was at it a good long while. The kid must have spurted as much as he did the last time. Chloe didn't lose a drop. She only slurped off of him again when she thought he was completely spent. Even so, she gave him one more squeeze to be sure. A single pearly drop rose from his tip. She took it with a last, loving swipe of her tongue.

"You really swallowed?" he said, as if he couldn't believe she'd do it for him.

Chloe opened her mouth and let him look inside. 

"Wow," he sighed. "Thank you."

She winked. She went over to the sink and gave her whole mouth a good scrubbing with the toothbrush. She gargled mouthwash, too. She came back and lay down on him. "Now kiss me."

He held her like that, and they kissed with tongues deep in each other's mouths. Finally, they came up for air.

Chloe wiped the slobber from her smiling mouth and said, "That's enough for one lesson, I think. Any questions?"

He shook his head. "That was exactly what I needed. Exactly! Thank you."

"The pleasure was all mine. Now be sure to practice! Meet yourself some hot babes and blow their minds."

"Yeah!" He grinned. "I will!" He stood up and walked over to his clothes.

Chloe sat up. "Whoa, sport, where ya going?" 

"I thought you said the lesson's done."

"Well, yeah, the lesson's done, but you've got ten minutes still. I thought you wanted your whole hour."

He stood there, clothes in hand, unsure what to do.

"Now that you know how to have great sex," Chloe suggested, "why don't you come back to bed with me and have some?"

He dropped the clothes. The bedsprings softly creaked as he rejoined my wife in a sensual embrace.

"There," she said. "We're not teacher or student any more. Just man and woman. Don't try to prove anything. This is not a test. Just make love to me until our time is up."

***********************

The next time Chloe came back from a lineup, I heard her talking with another woman as she approached along the hall. I assumed it was one of the other girls. I figured that, for once, she didn't get selected by a customer. It turns out that she did. The woman was the customer!

My jaw dropped when I saw the long red hair. A slim black suit emphasized the woman's height and stick-like figure. She was taller than Chloe, and thinner if that were possible. Her features were beautiful but sharp. I'd guess she was a little younger than Chloe. I had the definite impression that she was a lawyer or some kind of executive—-smart, accomplished, rich, and powerful.

"Monday's a good night for me to do this," she was saying. "It's usually dead, so I don't scare off the men."

Chloe giggled. "You scare off the men?"

"Oh, they're very uncomfortable to see a woman here who isn't working. Like I'm spying for their wives. I've actually run into men who know my husband. Fortunately, we arrived at understandings."

"So your husband doesn't know?"

"Of course he does. It's one of the conditions of our marriage, that I get to do this every now and then. Gossip could hurt him, though. So I really made a point to nip it in the bud. Speaking of husbands--" She raised Chloe's left hand to her lips. She kissed it, then glanced meaningfully at the rings.

"Yeah, he knows," Chloe said. "Believe it or not, this is kind of a fantasy for us."

There was a moment of silence as they looked each other up and down.

"So, your first," the woman said. She pulled two mini-bottles of vodka from her jacket pocket. She tossed one to Chloe. "This should help."

"Oh," Chloe said, catching it, "I can't when I'm working."

"R. J. knows," the woman said. "I do this every time. He doesn't care."




Klassy Lady: Working Holiday Ch. 03



Chloe shrugged. She unscrewed the cap.

"Cheers!" The woman tapped her bottle to Chloe's. They drank.

The woman undressed. She was very no-nonsense about it, not trying to be seductive, just getting out of her clothes and setting them aside in a neatly-folded pile. She had an outie belly-button, a sexy little bump on her perfectly flat stomach. A thin strip of bright red pubic stubble proved that the "carpet matched the drapes."

"I came straight from the office," the woman said as she gathered her hair on top of her head and secured it with a "scrunchy" (or whatever women call them) and some hairpins. "I think I'll grab a shower first. Join me?"

The rooms did not have their own showers. There was one nice shower room for customers. And then there was the communal bathroom.

"Can we do that?" Chloe said.

"Just us girls?" the woman said. "Why not? No one's stopped me before." She took Chloe's hand. "Come on. You'll like it."

The two naked women padded out into the hall.

I smiled. I couldn't follow them into the bathroom, but I knew I'd get an interesting show when they got back. It was delicious irony—-after Chloe got to play teacher with that boy, I knew this woman would teach her a thing or two.

They came back squeaky-clean, arm in arm, with big grins on their faces. They kissed--not the fakey way women kiss each other in a lot of porn, but with mouths sealed together and a lot of feeling.

Chloe helped the woman let her fiery red hair down. It was damp around the ends.

"So far, so good?" the woman said. 

Chloe nodded enthusiastically.

"The best is yet to come." The woman smiled. "Pun intended." She led Chloe to the bed. Immediately, she positioned them for mutual cunnilingus.

"Wow, we're moving right along, here," Chloe said.

The woman laughed. "if you think this is moving right along, I can't wait to see your face when we get to where we're going."

Chloe looked surprised—-as surprised as her student looked several times during the previous hour.

The woman took a long, slow swipe of her tongue over Chloe' s outer labia. She ended by flicking the barbell with a darting lick. She looked at the barbell, and took it in her fingers. "I bet guys love this."

Chloe blushed. "Yeah."

The woman looked at one ball more closely. "R." She twisted the barbell a little more to read the engraving on the other ball. "J! Oh my. You let him mark your body?"

"Why not? He's my pimp." 

"What's your husband think?"

"I wear his wedding ring. Everyone can see that. The only guys who see the barbell are my customers here."

"And your husband."

"Hey," Chloe said, "if he didn't want to share me with a pimp, he never should have dared me to work at Klassy Lady."

They laughed. They started in on each other. Just as I expected, the woman had a few pointers for Chloe, as they licked.

I couldn't wait to see the "main event," and it really was spectacular. They sat facing each other, or rather at an angle, scissored their legs, and touched pussies so their clits could rub together. Imagine that one picture you always see from LAST TANGO IN PARIS, except with two beautiful women in a much more frankly sexual position.

"Now," the redhead told my wife, "just follow my lead."

Their sex was as lusty as any I've seen Chloe have with any man. They ground and mashed their crotches together in a frenzy, until they both reached wet, trembling, breathless orgasm. If there was a difference, it was the beauty of even their raunchiest movements. They got very down-and-dirty with each other, but somehow still managed to look graceful. I must confess, though, my eyes were glued much of the time to the redhead's outie belly-button, which turned me on far more than I would have thought.

"Mmmmmmm," Chloe said. "I could see myself doing that again." 

"Liked that, did ya?" 

"Yeah. It was nice."

"Nice?" The woman smirked. "I like cock. I do. But you're a real meat and potatoes girl, I can tell."

"I guess you could say that," Chloe admitted. "Cock--I just love the way it fills me."

"Well, I don't have one, obviously," the woman said. "But as for filling you, I have just the thing. Much bigger than a cock."

"Oh," Chloe said. "Much bigger?" She looked at the woman's pile of clothes. I think that, like me, she was expecting a dildo or vibrator.

"Much bigger," the woman repeated. "Ever been fisted?" 

"F-fisted?"

"Fist fucked. Has anyone ever put their hand completely in your pussy?"

Chloe shook her head. "No." 

"Lie back. I'm about to."

Chloe darted a glance in my direction. I couldn't tell if she looked excited or nervous--probably both. Still, she did lie back and open her legs.

"Good, yes." The redhead started in with two fingers. "Just relax. If I can take my husband's fist, surely you can handle mine. There. That's it. Relax. Relax. Okay, let's add another finger."

Chloe reacted with a smile and a moan when the redhead slipped out, then back in with three fingers. The woman held them in, though from the muscles on her forearm, I could tell she was moving them. I think she was massaging Chloe's G-spot. Chloe's pussy soon was making wet, squishy noises.

"Ready for four?" the woman said. It wasn't really a question. She drew her fingers out for a moment, Chloe opened her legs wider in anticipation, then four fingers plunged back in.

"Aah, yes!" Chloe said. She began to squirm in pleasure.

"Here comes the thumb." On her next out-stroke, the woman tucked her thumb tight against her palm and other fingers.

Chloe definitely felt the difference as she took all five digits in.

The stroking now gave way to steady pressure as the redhead twisted her hand this way and that, working it in up to the knuckles.

"This is where it gets to be a challenge," the woman told Chloe in a soothing voice. "But we can do it. It has to be both of us together. I can't just push it in. You have to help me. Will you help me, lover?"

Chloe did. I was reminded of her very first customer at Klassy Lady, a guy with a cock like a fucking baseball bat. Chloe gave it her best shot, but couldn't take him all the way inside her. Apparently, she'd gotten better, and probably a little looser, because after about a minute of both women working at it, the knuckles popped in--all at once. In fact, the whole hand disappeared up to the wrist!

Chloe gasped. The shock of taking so much in sent a violent shudder through her body. Her hands clawed the bedsheets. Her feet twitched with lives of their own. This had to be among her most intense sexual experiences. She trembled. Her breathing was irregular, as though the hand pushed all the way up against her lungs.

"Easy, easy," the woman murmured to her. "We did it! I'm so proud of you. Let's just relax now and enjoy this for a while. You need a rest, I know. Don't worry. In a minute, you'll get used to it. You'll really start to savor the feeling of fullness."

It was the most astonishing sight--the redhead's arm sticking out of Chloe's pussy! Although I'd enjoyed every second of their time together, this completely blew my mind. It blew Chloe's, too, I'm sure.

For the longest time, it seemed, the redhead just sat there, patient and still, letting Chloe take all the time she needed to get comfortable with the feeling of an entire human hand inside her. I doubt any man would have waited so long, or been so encouraging and reassuring in the things he said.

Finally, Chloe settled down enough to say, "My God, that's a lot!"

"Isn't it? How ya feeling?" 

Chloe smiled. "Exquisite."

"Wonderful! Now comes the good part, the actual fist-fuck. Ready?"

Chloe looked nervous, but she nodded.

The woman began to move her arm. Obviously, the strokes couldn't go very far either way, but I think she was doing more with her hand than simply thrusting. The muscles along her forearm flexed and relaxed at regular intervals.

Chloe's reaction was intense. If you've been following our story, you know how she responds to a good fucking. She came violently. The redhead winced and actually cried out as the orgasmic contractions powerfully squeezed her hand.

When it was over, Chloe lay as limp as a ragdoll.

"I need your help one more time," the woman said. "I still need to get my hand out."

The woman cared for Chloe very tenderly afterward. She brought another vodka mini-bottle over, and tipped it to my wife's pale lips. She held Chloe maternally and stroked her sweaty hair and whispered kind sweet nothings in her ear.

By the end of their hour, Chloe seemed to be functioning again. They embraced and kissed their goodbyes. The woman went home to her husband. Chloe staggered over to the mirror.

"Well?" she said. "That was pretty fuckin' hot!"

"Oh my love," I said with heartfelt emotion, "you were so beautiful and sexy!"

I guess women really have to talk things out with someone to process what has happened. Fortunately, there were no more lineups Monday night, so Chloe got to pour her heart out to me, with no interruptions, about the way the fisting and the whole lesbian encounter made her feel. 

I didn't get back on the road for home until very late, but it was worth it. Once again, our fantasy brought us together more intimately than our normal lives ever would have done. 



Klassy Lady



I checked. It opened, and there was the stair. I closed it and turned back to the bedroom.

R. J. hadn't closed me in yet, and he addressed us both: "Okay, folks. You seem like real nice people, and I'd hate for you to leave here with regrets. This is where I kick the tires hard. If either of you is having second thoughts, speak now or forever hold your peace."

"I want this," Chloe said.

I nodded. "Do it."

R. J. closed the mirror. He spoke to me through it while he undressed. "I'll only say this once. If you watch this weekend, no matter what you see, do not try to interfere. This mirror will be locked. If you break it, I will hurt you. Chloe will be one of my girls, not your wife. If anything happens, someone hurts her, that's my concern, not yours. In fact, anything you see that you ain't ready for, man, there won't be a thing you can do about it. If you try, you'll be sorry--or worse. Understand?" 

"Yes."

R. J. stood totally naked, now, before the mirror. He really was muscular and cut. And, I guess I should add, he was generously--but realistically--endowed. 

Chloe had taken a seat on the edge of the bed. R. J. went to her. She hadn't taken off her high heels yet, so he knelt down and did that for her. 

"Will you kiss?" he said.

"Um," her voice was quiet and nervous. "Y-yes."

"Reason I'm asking, that's one of the few things you can say no to in my house. I just need to know. Lotta guys come in, they want a girl who kisses. But I understand how personal that is. You sure you wanna do it?"

Chloe nodded, more confidently. "Yes."

R. J. smiled. "Good. I were a trick, I don't think I could stand not kissing you. Come here."

He gathered her up on his lap.  She clung to him like a baby animal. I'd never seen her skin so white as it looked against his dark body. He brushed her light brown bangs off her forehead, and kissed her there, just above one brow. It was like he broke a spell. Her nervous tension bled away, and she became exquisitely soft and pliable in his arms. Their mouths melted deeply together. When they parted, Chloe's bangs were slightly damp, her forehead dewy with the first sweat of sex.

They moved on to "oral"--though it turned out to be much, much more than that. R. J. lay back. Chloe took his cock and worshipped it with her lips and tongue. She wasn't shy about spitting on her hands for lubrication, and she used her palms and fingers on it, too. She let her bangs sweep over it, and rubbed it with her cheek. She "Eskimo kissed" it with her nose. She even fluttered her eyelashes over it in a flurry of butterfly kisses. All the while, she took turns trying to deep throat the black cock, which she never quite managed to do. 

I'd imagine R. J. is pretty jaded, but his eyes were popping at the care Chloe was lavishing on him. So were mine.

"That's good, honey," he told her. "Now go lower. You know where."

Yes, she tongued his asshole. 

He glanced in my direction, no doubt wondering what must be going through my head. Nothing was going through my head. Any thought would have been too much of a distraction. Everything that mattered was happening out there, before my eyes. 

Two chimes rang softly. 

"How about that!" R. J. sat up. "A customer." 

"Do you need to go attend to that?" Chloe asked.

"No, no. Jana knows to handle it. Let's move along, shall we? Lay back, honey." 

Chloe did. She carefully placed her feet a little ways apart, with her knees bent.

R. J. looked down at her. "You sweet thing! I bet you feel like you just spread your legs a mile wide, doncha?"

She looked at herself. "Oh, I'm sorry." She started to open her legs wider.

R. J. grabbed her by the calves and pried her legs into almost a full splits. "See how that feels? Now that is open. That's inviting. This is how you need to be for tricks. Understand?" He put her feet back where they'd been. "Now let's see you try it."

For a second, she just lay there, looking up at him. Then, she grabbed one ankle, and bent it back behind her head. Then she took the other, and crossed it over the first. She was a Viennese oyster, as open and inviting as could be. It was impossible not to stare at her pussy, so swollen, so wet, so ready to be taken. 

R. J. rubbed his face, which showed a tension of conflicting emotions. Finally, he said, "Very pretty." Absently, he traced one finger up and down the cleft of her exposed pussy. "But that's not what I told you to do, is it? No--don't move. That's as good a place to start as any. But next time, you do what I tell you, missy." He started to lean in, to position himself for penetration. "On the pill?"

"Cervical cap." Chloe's voice was thick with lust.

"Just so long as it's something." He pressed the tip of his cock between her open outer labia. "Here we go."

"Oh!" Chloe arched her back so suddenly and hard that I worried she might dislocate her legs.

Clear across the room, with the mirror between us, I could hear the squelch of her first contraction. R. J. had to fight her pussy's slurping suction on his out-stroke. He sank in all the way again. His hips thudded on hers. 

Chloe moaned.

"God damn!" he shouted, and I knew she was gushing.

Sometimes, during orgasm, she releases a mind-boggling amount of fluid. It's hot and thick and sticky. When she's on top, it feels like someone is pouring a gallon of warmed-up maple syrup down my cock, over my balls. Her contractions feel like a soft, strong hand clenching and unclenching. Her whole body trembles, and her moans are so beautiful they make my heart ache.

R. J. did some moaning, himself, as he rode out her storm. I couldn't blame him. If there's a more intense sexual experience than one of Chloe's gushers, I doubt I would survive it. His erection sure didn't. He came out limp and spent. 

What was I feeling as I watched my wife come so violently with another man? It was so white-hot and blinding that I couldn't even tell what feeling it was. It overloaded me. It stunned me numb. 

Chloe and R. J. both were gasping and drenched in sweat--among other things. R. J. recovered his wits first, and helped Chloe disentangle herself from her oystery posture. Aftershocks still left her quivering, even in his strong arms. She whimpered each time another jolted through her. He held her tightly, and more tenderly than I might have expected from a pimp. He stroked her hair. In a sense, her crisis wasn't over yet, but still ringing through her body and soul.

"Well, well, little lady," R. J. murmured. "If you can do that every time, no wonder you want to be a whore!"

Between heavy breaths, Chloe managed to laugh. She patted his chest, signaling to him that she was all right.

He let her go. "You'll find fresh sheets in the dresser. Why don't you change this one out--just throw it over there in the corner for now--and then I'll really put you through some paces."

As Chloe moved to obey, R. J. sauntered over to the mirror. He opened it. 

"How you holdin' up? You okay with what you're seeing here?"

I nodded. I found just enough of a voice to say, "Fine."

Chloe was stretched out on a brand new sheet when R. J. got back to her. She smiled at him adoringly.

"Brace yourself," he said. "This is gonna be one wild ride."

Truer words were never spoken! He fucked her hard through a rapid series of all kinds of positions. He never held one for more than a minute. As strong as he was, and as light as she was, he controlled her body absolutely, arranging her limbs, picking her up, flipping her over, tossing her around. Several times he literally bounced her on the mattress! However she landed, however he posed her, his big black cock immediately resumed its pounding of her pussy. She seemed to like it. He paused only once--when she gushed again. He moved with her and maintained their position long enough to let her finish, but this time there was no gentle holding, no break to change sheets, no chance for her even to catch her breath. He immediately threw down in another position and kept fucking. A while later, after he'd run her through a veritable rough-sex Kama Sutra, she cried out on her third gusher, and he let himself come with her again.

He put on his pants and left. On his way out, he said, "Change that sheet again. Back in a minute."

Chloe hustled to change the sheet. She made a pile in the corner with the other one she'd soaked. She snapped on a fresh one. And then she lay down on it, ready for more.

When R. J. returned, he dropped his pants and went straight to the bed. He lay down on his back beside Chloe. "Get up on me."

She quickly straddled and mounted him.

"All right, cowgirl, let's see how ya ride."

She rode him like she was starving for sex. 

"That's good," he said. "Just wanted to see how ya did. Now, hands and knees! Quick! Almost through here." 

Chloe got into position for him. 

He knelt behind her. "Come on, baby, give me that sweet ass."

She rested her head on a pillow. With her bottom in the air, she used both hands to hold herself open, just as she'd done in the parlor.

He started rubbing and caressing her back, her hips, her buttocks. She kept pushing her butt higher, waiting for the thrust.

"You're a beauty." He rubbed a hand down over her belly, lower. "So beautiful. So sexy." He found her clit.

"Please--!" Chloe said.

He guided himself to her little anus. He started to push in. There was a moment's hesitation.

"Easy, honey," he soothed. "Relax. Relax. Rel--" He popped in. "God damn!" 

Chloe moaned. She pushed back. She took him, inch by inch.  

"Good girl!" R. J. eased all the way in. "Good girl. Oh yeah."  He paused a second to keep massaging her hips and bottom. "Ooooh yeah," he said softly. "That's nice. Real nice. Good girl." He started to move, slowly at first. "How's that feeling for ya?"

Her face in the pillow, Chloe gave him a thumbs-up.

He stroked for a while longer. Then, still deep inside, he pulled her to him until he lay on his back and she sat reverse-cowgirl on him.

"Up to you, now, honey. Do your thing. We're through after this. You done great so far."

Chloe elegantly raised and lowered herself along his length, occasionally balancing herself with her hands on his body. Considering what she was doing, she didn't look the least bit slutty. She looked like a beautiful woman who enjoyed anal sex and wasn't at all self-conscious about it. 

Not surprisingly, R. J. came again. He grunted. He groaned. He grabbed Chloe's hips and forced her up and down to his own rhythm and depth. She winced and yelped a few times. But after he finished, they shared a sensual, long kiss. 

"Bathroom's at the end of the hall," he told her. "Clean up and get dressed. Meet me down in the parlor."

Chloe got her shoes and things, and padded out.

* * * * * * * * * *

R. J. pulled on his jeans. He walked over and opened the mirror. "Show's over. Step lively."

I dragged the chair out with me, in a daze.

"Your first time? Watching her like that?"

I nodded. 

"How'd you like it?"

I felt funny, standing there, hearing that question from the guy who just fucked my wife, my dearest Chloe, within an inch of her life. But even if I posed the question to myself, there was no answer I could put into words at that moment. Processing what I'd seen would take some time. The best I could do was say, "I loved it!" Which was true enough.

R. J. led me down the stairs, and waved me toward the parlor. "I'm gonna check my messages, might return some calls. You and Chloe just wait there. I won't be but a few minutes."

And then she came down.

There was something deliciously indecent about Chloe, now. Her glow. Her presence. She looked well-fucked and well-fuckable. Her black dress fit her in that strange but unmistakable way clothes do after they've been taken off for sex. Her mussy hair, the flushed face, the knowing curve of her mouth--everything about her screamed, "I just got laid!" I could imagine a child staring at her, sensing something powerful and not yet understood. I could imagine the child's mother smacking him, and telling him not to stare, then shooting Chloe a very dirty look, and perhaps muttering, "Whore!" And the best part is, the mother would be right! 

When she rushed into my arms, she molded her body to mine in a far more provocative way than usual, even for us. I hugged her fiercely. I felt her hot breath on my ear.

"You were so on fire!" I whispered.

She tilted her face up. Her lips were parted. For a kiss? For a blowjob? It looked like she could happily go either way. Or both. That's how lustily she radiated sex. 

"Enjoyed that, didja?" Her blue-gray eyes fixed on mine with a wicked sharpness. She rubbed her hips against me. Jesus! I was about to throw her down and fuck her right there on the trashy scarlet couch!

R. J. stepped out of his office. "Well, little lady, think you could do that ten more times without a break? On Friday, you might have to. And Saturdays are busier."

"Bring it on!" she said. "I'm ready."

R. J. laughed. "I think you are. Hell, I know you are! Welcome. You are now a Klassy Lady."

She shook his hand. They hugged.

"Now seriously," he said, "you should know that what we did up there was mild. Tricks'll fuck your ass harder. And they'll slap your ass and pull your hair and call you bitch while they're doing it."

Chloe's answer was vintage wiseass Chloe: "After all that, they'd better come on my face, too."

"You'll get plenty of that, believe me." 

"Thanks. I'm looking forward to it."

R. J. looked at me. "You're really, really, really okay with this? You could watch a bunch of guys do shit to her?"

What could I say? "We want this. I want it. Yes, I can handle it."

"What should I wear?" Chloe asked. "I've got some outfits here, if you'd like to see."

"Nope," R. J. said. "I already decided on your outfit. Don't bring a thing. I'll provide it when you get here. Oh--just don't forget that wax job I mentioned. I want you bald as can be."

Chloe nodded. "Bald. Right. Anything else?"

"No sex till Friday." He pointed at me. "That means you're cut off." Back to Chloe, he said, "And don't play with yourself. That pussy is for tricks. Until you get here, you're a virgin nun. How early can you make it?"

"How's seven?" Chloe said.

"See you then. Bald. No sex."

* * * * * * * * * *

Chloe and I have fucked while driving before (she has this way of climbing into my lap), and we almost gave in to temptation on the interstate. Chloe, especially--since R. J. had to go and phrase his instruction as a stern prohibition. Fortunately, we managed to cool our fever pitch enough to see the wisdom of abstinence. It would be better, it would be, if she went in as horny as possible. 

"Really, though, only my pussy is off-limits." With that, she bent down and wriggled underneath my arms, unzipped my fly, and proceeded to make the hour-plus trip home the most pleasant commute of my life. In between blowjobs, we talked a mile a minute about what happened.

"Watching you," I said, "I think I experienced a mystical disintegration of the self!"

"Forget the earth, the cosmos shook for me!"

"I couldn't believe it when he--"

"--and then I knew--"

"--the second time you came--"

"--I am feeling more relaxed about it now." 

Chloe's animation and enthusiasm were infectious, and I think mine were too, for her. We started off a bit wary of each other. At first, of course, we were high and excited, but on some level we were also scared and confused about what happened. We weren't sure how each other felt about it, and weren't even sure how we ourselves felt about it. We talked up the positive, and reassured each other. And then we explored the not-so-positive feelings. My jealousy. Her difficulty switching out of "love mode" for "just sex". Each of our fears about how the other one was judging us. Partway along the interstate drive, I put the cruise control on, and she actually did end up in my lap, snuggled close with her head on my shoulder. The physical closeness, more affectionate than sexual, was something we both needed. The night glided by, with occasional headlights. We whispered in the dark. The experience had touched us very deeply to our cores, and now we had to take each other to those deep parts, and let each other see the marks that had been made. 

By the time we got home, we were so worn out that sex was not an issue. We collapsed into bed. Chloe murmured, "Spoon," and I cuddled up behind her. And that was that.

Wednesday evening, however, before I left work, Chloe called me.

"I'll attack you the second you get home," she said. "Let's meet somewhere for dinner instead."

After dinner, we tried to distract ourselves by going to a movie. It worked, sort of. Chloe went down on me, but at least we didn't break the "pussy rule". 

Eventually, we had to go home. By mutual agreement, I was banished to the spare bedroom. Chloe locked herself in ours. At one point in the night, I heard her pad out to the kitchen for some water. I couldn't help myself. I ran out and tackled her in the hall. We rolled on the floor, kissing like two out-of-control vacuum cleaners, dry humping, she pushing down my boxers, me pulling off her panties--finally, she slapped a hand on my chest and shouted, "Stop!"

"Oh, honey, we'll never make it this way," she said. "You need to go get a hotel room."

She was right. I packed what I needed.

In the entry-hall, I held her so tightly. She was soft and warm, she wore a little peach nightie, her brown hair needed combing, and she smelled the way she does when she's been sleeping.  The next time I would see her, we'd be driving to a whorehouse to live out the fantasy. She would fuck any guy who paid. She'd do anything he paid for. She'd turn trick after trick after trick. And I would watch. 

"I'll call tomorrow," I said.

"Call tonight. Tell me where you are."

We kissed.

"See you Friday."

"Love you."

It was a lonely, sleepless night for me!  Thursday, I was a zombie at work. That evening, I called from the hotel. 

"I got that wax job today," she told me. "Yee-oowwww!"

"Did they get it all?" I asked.

"Let me tell you, I am bald, bald, bald! Bald as a baby. Balder! A hairless Chihuahua is fuzzier than me. Wait'll you see how smooth I am!"

I could imagine. Damn, it made me hard. 

We kept it short. 

Finally, Friday.

I left work early, and got her right at five. We grabbed something to eat along the way, and took off on our drive out to Klassy. We didn't talk much. Too excited. As per R. J.'s instructions, Chloe didn't bring along any extra clothing, but she did have a bag for grooming needs and makeup. The drive went by very fast. Before we knew it, I was in place behind the mirror, and Chloe waited in the room for R. J.

He stepped in. "Chloe! My little lady! Are you ready for this?"

"I'm here!"

"Great! Here's your outfit." He tossed a pair of shoes on the floor at her feet. They were used, cheap, trashy, high-heel mules. Clear plastic decorated with little gold stars that were wearing off.

I couldn't believe it! We'd seen several girls since we got here, and all of them had on some kind of lingerie. I wondered if this was a joke. Apparently, it wasn't.

Chloe stared at the mules for all of a second. Then, without a word, she started to undress.

"Here's a quick rundown," R. J. said. "Remember those bells we heard the other night?"

"Mm-hmm."

"That means we have a gentleman downstairs. Unless you're occupied--and I mean with a trick--you need to hustle down there for the lineup. You and the other girls strike a sexy pose and hold it. No moving, no talking, unless the gentleman initiates it. If he picks you, Jana will handle the money, then you bring him up here. And give him what he paid for. If he wants more, he can drag his ass down there and pay again. By the way, he leaves your tips with Jana, too. You may not accept them in the room. No freebies. No exceptions. Got it?"




Klassy Lady



Naked, Chloe stepped into the mules. "Like this?"

My eyes popped when I saw her smooth and hairless pussy. 

R. J. obviously liked what he saw, too. He looked like he wouldn't have minded another quick go at her. But he controlled himself and said, "Exactly like that."

She sat on the edge of the bed, with her legs held out in front of her. She let the mules dangle from her toes, and tapped them on her soles in a quick staccato. "Woo-oo! Look at me! Ain't I Klassy with a capital K?" She looked at R. J. "Um, these are a little big. Like two sizes or so. Got anything smaller?"

"That's your outfit. You're ready to work." He picked up the neat pile of her clothes. "I'll hold onto this for you."

The chimes sounded.

"Ask not for whom the bell tolls," Chloe said.

R. J. helped her to her feet. "Steady, there. Okay? Let's go meet your first trick."

"How ya know he'll pick me?"

"Shee-it! Crazy not to!"

* * * * * * * * * *

Chloe returned with a young, average-looking white guy on her arm. Dark hair, cut short. Dark eyes. Kind of chunky. A little taller than me. Dressed in what must have been his spiffiest polo, cargo pants, and sneakers.

When the door shut, Chloe seemed at a bit of a loss for what to do. I'm sure she knew what this guy paid for, but maybe she wasn't so sure how to get things rolling. Part of the problem, I realized, was that she had no lingerie to tease with or take off. After a few seconds of them standing around, I half-expected her to say something like, "All right, then. Let's fuck."

What happened, instead, was that the guy began undressing. 

"Want some help with that?" Chloe stepped toward him.

He lowered his boxers.

I don't know whose jaw dropped farther or faster--Chloe's or mine. This guy had a Monster Cock! It was the sort of freak-of-nature I'd read about often in those Loving Wives stories. Outside of porn films, I never expected to see one in real life.

He walked to the bed, flopped down on his back, and said with a shit-eating grin, "There you go, baby. Make it fit."

Chloe couldn't help laughing. "You picked me because I'm little, didn't you?"

"Don't think you can do it?" His grin was a challenge.

She looked down at her pussy. She spread her lips open with two fingers. It would be hard to imagine a smaller, daintier opening. She looked at his gargantuan erection. She could only shake her head and laugh again at the preposterousness of what she was about to attempt.

She kicked off her right mule, then her left. They sailed through the air and klunked off the wall.

"Here goes!"

The "cocky" bastard lay there with his hands behind his head, and his legs stretched out. He watched amusedly as Chloe rocked back and forth, wiggled her hips, bounced up and down, squatted, knelt, rested her whole weight on it, and groaned out loud with every inch she conquered.

Halfway down, she paused to catch her breath and wipe the sweat off her brow.

"You okay?" the guy asked.

"Yeah. Yeah. I just, whuh--" She fanned herself with her hands. "Whew! My God, you are hayuge!" She reached down and patted the remaining inches with her fingers. "Honestly, blessing or curse?"

"Oh. You know. Little bit of both."

"Little bit of nothing!" Chloe said.

They both had a good laugh over that.

In the stories I've read, the wife always takes the whole cock in, even if it's big as a skyscraper. No such luck tonight. Chloe tried to go lower on him, but it was clear she'd hit her limit.

"I'm sorry. I really am. That's as much as I can fit."

"No, don't be sorry. You did great. Most--even most, uh, most ladies like yourself--"

"Whores," Chloe mouthed. "It's okay. You can say it."

He gave a nervous laugh, apparently not comfortable calling Chloe a whore. "Well, most won't even try it." For the briefest instant, a sad look passed over his face. "Most of the time, I just get my money back. The reason I picked you, I had a feeling you'd be different." 

Chloe flickered her eyebrows. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"I'm not saying you're easier than others." He reached a hand tentatively to her breast. "You just seemed. . . ."

Chloe held both his hands to her breasts. He rubbed his palms over them, rubbed her nipples between his fingers. "Ah yes," she sighed.

"Nicer."

Almost imperceptibly at first, Chloe started moving, riding him.

His breathing deepened. He smiled up at her. "You're cool. I like you."

She paused to ask, "Ummmm, are you far enough in that you'll be able to get off like this?"

"Oooooh yeah."

Chloe didn't exactly fake an orgasm, but when he started to buck, she did say, in that kind of voice, "Oh yeah! Fuck me! Come inside me! Yes!"

And did he ever! He shot such a load in Chloe that every in-stroke forced some out of her. It oozed around his plunging cock. When they separated, white froth ringed her pussy, and creamy cum dripped and drizzled out. 

She collapsed on the bed beside him. They both lay there, gasping. It took a while for them to catch their breaths.

"Wanna hear a secret?" Chloe said at last. "You're my very first trick. I mean ever! It's the truth. That's my first time doing it for money." She stretched her legs. "And ooo, I think you fucked me bow-legged. You big stud! I may never walk right again."

He rolled on his side to face her. "That was the best I ever had. Incredible! Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

"What's your policy on kissing?"

She moved her face closer to his. "My policy is yes, yes, yes!"

* * * * * * * * * *

After he left, Chloe ran over and rat-a-tat-tatted on the glass with her knuckles. "We're doing it, baby! We're making it happen!"

The bell sounded. 

"Oh! Gotta run." She stepped into her mules, and tried to dash out. The too-big, too-high heels tripped her. She barely caught herself on the doorframe, and kept on, none too steadily.

It dawned on me, the logic of R. J.'s choice of "costume" for her. Watching her, with her little white body, clop around naked in those ridiculous shoes, was incredibly sexy and endearing. It brought out something in her that the other girls didn't have. What was it? I thought about that for a while, and decided it was a kind of vulnerability.

It was a huge turn-on for me, watching Chloe relax, get the hang of it, and lose her inhibitions. By the time she brought Bachelor (or Husband?) Number Six into the room, she was completely natural about going on her knees before a total stranger, wrapping her lips around his cock, and bobbing her head in his lap while he ran his fingers through her hair. When it came time to spread her legs and let him in, she opened them as wide as R. J. showed her. When Chloe and I make love, she often wraps her legs around me and urges me on harder. I watched her do that with her tricks, each time the fucking got intense.

She did everything to please. One guy wanted to fill her belly button with his cum. He shot all over her stomach (which she was flexing beautifully as she held her head up to watch what he was doing), but with teamwork, they managed to fill her lovely navel to the top. Another trick requested that she not take her shoes off. It surprised me how much it turned me on to see her feet in the air with those slutty mules still on. When she crossed her ankles over him, she looked so hot I couldn't stand it. She didn't bat an eye when a trick asked her for anal sex--just got down on her hands and knees and took it. And enjoyed it.

She did seem to be holding one thing back, though. Between tricks, I tapped on the glass. I called out, "Having fun yet?"

She walked over and stood before the mirror with her hands on her hips. "Hey, it's sex, right? Va-va-voom!"

"I mean, are you getting off?"

"I'm getting used to it, okay?"

"Okay. I didn't mean to pressure you."

"We have the whole weekend ahead of us. Just let me take it one step at a time."

"Whatever you're comfortable with," I said. "I couldn't ask for more than what you're doing."

The bell rang. 

She kissed her finger and touched it to the mirror. "Back in a sec."

Left to myself, I realized that--goddammit!--I had to use the restroom. Had to! I'd been holding it as long as I could. Worst of all, it felt like it might take a while. I hadn't missed a second so far, and hated the thought of missing anything. Well, there was no helping it. Most reluctantly, I went down through the back passage. I tried to console myself with the thought that the last few "dates" had played out pretty much the same, and this one probably would be no different.

Since the stairway opened just off the parlor, I had to grit my teeth and wait until the new trick chose his girl and everyone cleared out. Despite my growing physical discomfort, it did give me an opportunity to watch a selection, which was something I'd been curious about. 

The guy was rail-thin, but in a strong kind of way--I guess the word is "wiry". Dirty blond hair, cut very close. Blue eyes. Well-tanned. He wore a denim cowboy shirt, dirty jeans, and work boots.

The girls stood in a lineup, all of them in lingerie except my Chloe, who only had her mules. I guess Mr. Cowboy found her nakedness appealing, because he motioned for her to step forward.   

"Fresh meat!" R. J. pitched her. "Very first day on the job." He turned her around for the cowboy, and slapped one of her buttocks. "Check out that ass. Hell, check out everything."

The cowboy slapped her ass, too, playfully. Chloe blushed deep red from head to heel. But she also giggled. The cowboy whispered something, and she burst out laughing. 

He paid, then returned to Chloe and swung her up in his arms. "Let's go, baby!"

She put her arms around his neck. She kicked her feet in excitement.

He was easily the most attractive partner she'd had yet. It would be interesting to see how she responded to him in bed. Hopefully, I'd make it back before the fireworks were over. I cursed my rumbling bowels, but I couldn't put it off another minute longer.

The other girls stood around bitching about Chloe for a while. Some complained to R. J. about her lack of an outfit.

I couldn't wait. I stepped out and made for the downstairs bathroom door. I kept my eyes lowered and mumbled, "Excuse me." As luck would have it, that bathroom was occupied. I hustled to the upstairs bathroom as fast as I safely could. 

Finally, feeling much better, I stepped out of the bathroom.

Chloe's voice filled the upstairs hallway. "Ha--! Yes! Aaah! Ah!"

It wasn't hard for me to figure out which door she was behind. My God! I'd never heard her make noises like that. Girls and tricks actually came out of their rooms, wearing only bedsheets, to see what was going on. They gathered around me outside the door. Even R. J. came upstairs to check out the commotion.

There was a pause, a silence, of about five seconds, and then Chloe cried out and the bedsprings squawked--louder, faster, louder, faster! Chloe and her cowboy sounded like twenty people jumping up and down. The rapid, rhythmic slapping of their bodies rang out clearly through the door. I'd always thought she was a moaner, but she was screaming now, and it sure didn't sound like she was faking it.

Suddenly, another silence. 

I heard one of the girls behind me mutter, "That new girl." 

Another girl answered, in a low voice that was loud enough for all of us to hear, "Fucking slut. I hear she's doing this for fun."

A third said, "She won't last."

"Not like that, she won't!" the first girl said.

The door flew open, and the cowboy rushed out, still pulling on his shirt. "Whoooo-eee!" he shouted. His legs wobbled and he actually fell down!

R. J. helped him up. "Whoa, careful! You okay?"

"Whew! She wore me slap out. Holy fuck, it was ridiculous." The cowboy leaned closer to R. J. and said confidentially, "That one there has a golden pussy. Golden! You'll be taking that shit to the bank." 

As the cowboy staggered down the hall to the stairs, everyone crowded in the doorway to gawk at Chloe.

She lay there in completely disarray, so relaxed it looked as though her bones had turned to jelly. On the sheet, between her legs, was the biggest, most sopping pearly puddle I had ever seen. 

I went in, and cradled her head in my lap. 

"Please sir," she quoted, with a British accent, from Oliver Twist. "May I have some more?"

We laughed together. I hugged her fiercely. "Oh, Chloe. My love!"

"My God, everybody heard me, didn't they?"

"For miles. I think you made a lot of people jealous."

"Honey, I'm embarrassed."

"Don't be! I hope you come like that again." I bit my lip. "I sort of missed it."

She sat up. "What!"

"Sorry! I had to use the restroom."

She gave me an exasperated look.

I tried to explain, "I absolutely could not have waited another second longer."

"Well, don't worry. I intend to do it often."

The bell rang, and I had to go. Chloe actually had to stay and clean up the soggy mess, changing sheets and so forth, but R. J. said I had to leave her to it.

* * * * * * * * * *

I kick myself every day for missing Chloe's hot date with the cowboy, but I thank God every day that I didn't miss her next party.

Chloe stepped into the room, with a huge black man on each arm. They could have been pro football players. Each looked twice or thrice as big as Chloe. Immediately, without speaking, they undressed.

One guy flopped down on the bed. 

The other led Chloe to the sofa. He sat down, and she turned around, as though to sit on his lap. It took her a few seconds to figure out how best to position herself for the initial penetration. She ended up balancing herself with her hands on the back of the sofa, and her feet on the cushions, on either side of him. As she lowered herself, he held his massive erection with one hand, and guided her down with the other.

"That's it, sweet thing," he said. "Doing fine. Keep going. Keep going." He wasn't rushing her, just giving her gentle encouragement.

She settled her bottom on the broad head of his cock. 

He put his hands on her hips to help steady her. I was nervous that he might grab her and start slamming her up and down, but he was the perfect gentleman, and let her move however she felt most comfortable. She seemed very much at ease with him, and eventually took his whole cock in her ass.

Then she started moving. Slowly. She wasn't in any rush. I held my watch up to the glass, so I could glance between it and the action. She was averaging a little over a minute on each full stroke. For thirty seconds, she would draw herself up his shaft. For another thirty, she would slide back down.

He patted her tummy. "That's enough, baby. Just sit like that now."

Chloe settled herself to the base of his cock, and relaxed there.

"That's good, that's good," he told her softly. "How you feeling? You okay?"

She laughed. In a throaty, shaking voice, she said, "I haven't felt this great in twenty minutes!" She flashed him a wry smile and winked.

He chuckled. He helped her lean her head back, and they enjoyed a long French kiss.

"That's good, that's good," he repeated. "Stay just like this now." He motioned to his friend. "Okay, bruh, I think we're ready for ya."

The other man got up off the bed.

He took his place in front of Chloe, which involved some positioning and re-positioning of her legs before everyone was comfortable. Slowly, he entered her. The in-stroke forced a breathless moan up through her body; up through the lovely throat where her pulse was visible; out through her trembling lips. Her slick pussy swallowed up his cock. 

So pale and naked, sandwiched between their dark black bodies, with her white legs sticking out at funny angles, Chloe looked radiantly sexual. Her eyes closed. Her mouth opened in sigh after sigh. Her face glowed, as the guy in front really got into his groove with her. It was truly beautiful to watch, like one of the best scenes from a classic porno film. If only every porno film could capture the raw joy of sex I got to see firsthand!

* * * * * * * * * *

Chloe's next few dates were not so fun. 

There was an old white guy who couldn't get it up to save his life, no matter what Chloe did to turn him on.  

Then there was a grotesquely fat guy. He insisted that he be on top, and almost squashed poor Chloe flat. When he rested his full weight on her, she looked in my direction and made a face with her eyes and tongue bulging. 

I was sneaking down to peek every now and then, to see who was coming in, and to watch Chloe get picked. I noticed that the parlor was getting pretty full.

Chloe had to run her next trick down the hallway to the bathroom so he could vomit. 

"Why did you send me up with a guy so drunk he's puking?" she yelled at R. J. in the room.

R. J. kept his cool. "Did he look that bad to you downstairs?"

"And another thing," she went on angrily. "I did the last two lineups by myself! Why aren't the other girls coming down? There are ten fucking guys down there!"

"It got slow for a while," R. J. said calmly. "I didn't anticipate the rush. I let the other girls go. Right now, it's just you. Don't worry. You're doing great."

"I'm starving and exhausted."

"I'll give you five minutes for a candy bar and coffee."

"And I need to pee."

"So eat your candy bar and drink your coffee on the can."

Chloe put on her mules and scuffed out of the room. Four and a half minutes later, though, she was back, gulping a last handful of M&M's and finishing her coffee.

"Listen," R. J. said, "just knock 'em out, bam, bam, bam. One at a time. You can do it. I'll put it on the fast track. Then you can get some breakfast and a nap. You'll need it, because you're on again at noon."

"Noon! Noon to when?"

"You see how late it's gonna go tonight. Look, you said you want to be a whore? This is it, baby. You're mine till Sunday, so enjoy it while it lasts."

Chloe stood there, stunned by what R. J. was demanding of her.

"I'm not kidding," he said, more harshly. "Get your ass down there and bring the next one up."

And so she did. Somehow, she got her second wind. She was going through the wringer and giving it her all, running up and down the stairs, falling into bed with a new trick every few minutes, and kicking them out satisfied. In the next few hours, she served all ten guys, one after another--bam, bam, bam, just like R. J. said. Ten different men climbed on top of her; ten strangers felt her arms and legs wrap around them in a hot, lover's clinch; ten cocks slipped between the beautiful labia her artist friend had sketched. She kept up a frantic pace, but every man left with a swagger and a smile. 

In fact, all night, it had impressed me how positively she affected the men she fucked. Guys went in tense, depressed, insecure, whatever, and came out relaxed and confident. Hell, most strutted out like they were the Duke of Earl. It's a weird thought, I admit, but the world really was a better place that night because of what Chloe was giving on that sweaty, cum-stained bed. 

The last guy was a great example of this. 

Shyly, when they were alone in the room together, he told Chloe that she reminded him of a woman he used to have a crush on.

"What happened?" Chloe asked.

"Got away."

"Ever get to kiss her?"

He shook his head.

"Touch her? At all?"

"Never."

Chloe went to him and circled his neck with her arms. "Now's your chance."

They shared a lingering, romantic kiss, with a flicker of tongue. 

"Mmmmm, nice," Chloe purred. "What was her name?"

"Amy."

Chloe looked surprised. "Scary coincidence! That's my name, too. What's yours, if I may ask?"

"William." 

"William. Mmm. I only asked because I like to say my lover's name when I'm excited. Is that okay with you?"

He nodded.

"And I like it when he says my name. Will you do that for me?"




Klassy Lady



He smiled and nodded.

"What's my name again?" she asked.

He was really grinning now. "Amy."

"Come here, William."

They spent the next few minutes in some very tender necking and petting. Chloe managed to move things along briskly, though. Ten minutes later, she was flat on her back, her feet swaying in the air to the beat of his thrusts. Instead of the wild screams the cowboy had wrung out of her, she was cooing a low, almost continuous moan. 

And sometimes she moaned, "William! Oh!" 

"Oh Amy!" he would answer. 

I watched her limbs begin to stiffen as her squishy noises started. This was turning into one nice, sticky fuck for both of them. I was glad. Chloe needed something positive at the end of her long night. And--weird to say, I know--but I really liked this guy. Nice, a little shy, not bad looking but not confident enough with ladies. He treated Chloe sweetly and respectfully, and I have to say I appreciated it. Suddenly, her voice cracked. She arched her back. Her toes flexed open, then snapped into a quivering curl. Oh, she was gushing--much to William's amazement. Most guys seemed to understand what was happening when she came like that, but it "came" as an extremely pleasant surprise to him.

"Oh my God!" he kept saying, after they separated. He couldn't take his eyes off the wet spot on the sheet, between her still-wide-open legs. "I mean, I've heard of that before, but. . . . My God! I never imagined--!"

Chloe winked at him. She closed her legs.

He asked, "Um, do you think I could do that with another woman?"

"Uh-oh!" Chloe teased. "You have a crush on someone else now?"

Bashfully, he nodded. "This woman I keep running into at Starbuck's. She's even talked to me a few times."

"Look at it this way," Chloe said. "You got me there, so you know you have it in you. I say, go get her, tiger!"

He looked like a completely different person. His expression was genuinely happy, and his posture had gone from a slouch to something prouder.

After he dressed, they said their goodbyes and exchanged pecks on the cheek. It was an astonishingly chaste gesture, I thought, considering what they just finished doing. 

It was a funny way to end her first night as a whore.

* * * * * * * * * *

[Thanks for reading my story! I hope you enjoyed it, and I invite you to rate it and/or send feedback. Also, I appreciate the helpful feedback of several volunteer editors. Thanks!]