0 comments/ 72183 views/ 11 favorites The Chess Player Ch. 1 By: Dutchboy Patrick, my husband, and I had spent a long day in Dallas, and instead of going home, (we lived about a hundred miles away) we decided to spend the night there. That's not an unusual thing for us to do. We often went to Dallas just to party, and since we were already there, we figured we might as well have some fun. Patrick is always ready to have a good time, and we hadn't really had a good party in almost a month. I'd been three weeks in England, and though we'd been together for the last week, and enjoyed some hot sex during that week, we both needed the relief that we could not get as easily at home as we could when we were in the big city. It was only about eight o'clock when we got to the hotel room. I made reservations for a late dinner, and we opened a bottle of champagne, intending to have a little wine before we went out that night. Both of us knew that we needed some adventure, and wanted to unwind a bit before we went out. Patrick asked me if I was up to a game of chess. Now I know that doesn't sound very exciting, but believe me, we don't play like others do. Besides, I enjoy chess. The challenge was issued. "Wanna play a quick game of chess before we go out," he asked, "You know it won't take me long to beat you." It was a sucker bet, but I made it anyway. I knew I'd lose, but sometimes losing is fun too! Anyway, Patrick bet me he could beat me in a game of strip chess, and it seemed like it would be fun, so I said "Sure, but winner gets a special prize." "What kinda prize?" he asked me. "Oh, I don't know. What do you think would be good?" "How about the winner gets a blow job?" "I give you head all the time!" "So, what's the big deal. If I win, you owe me a blow job. If you win, I eat your pussy." Not exciting enough. I thought I'd spice it up a bit. "Okay, but the winner gets to pick where and when." I knew that would get his cock up. We've been married going on nine years, and a girl's got to keep the excitement going. "I'll go you one better. The winner owns the blow job, and can do with it as he (or she) pleases." Ummmm, this was getting interesting. "Tell you what, the winner owns the blow job, can spend it however they want, and the loser agrees not to protest, no matter how the winner wants to spend it, and the winner gets to dress the loser for the occasion." "No restrictions?" "None." "Deal!" Well, that's how it began. We got out the chess set and began playing. I don't know if you've ever played strip chess, but it's not like strip poker. In strip poker, you can't win your clothes back, I mean, you can't get redressed after you've lost an article of clothing. In strip chess, at least the way my husband and I play it, you always have the option of putting an article of clothing back on in lieu of taking a piece of your opponent's army off the board. For example, shortly after we began, Patrick got my king's knight. I had the option of giving up my blouse, or the knight. I let him have the blouse. Shortly later, I captured his queen's bishop. I let him keep the bishop, and put my blouse back on. The big deal is to capture the king. When that happens, the loser has to completely strip, and the game begins again, this time, the loser is naked, and the winner gets to redress. I forgot to mention that the game is only played in hotel rooms, and only with the window drapes open. That does tend to distract one as the second game is in progress, because anyone passing the room can look in and see one of you naked, and the other has nothing to worry about. The first game took twenty-seven moves. The second game, which I played totally naked, took much longer. Patrick slowed his playing down to a crawl. He enjoys knowing that I am naked, exposed to any man walking by, and he also knows I love every minute of it! Now, don't misunderstand me, 'cause as much as I love to show my body to strangers, I also hate to lose! So I try my damnest to win, but I must confess, Patrick is a better player than me. He should be. He taught me to play! I sat, my back to the window, totally naked! Patrick would, from time to time, look out the window and wink, as if he was acknowledging someone standing there. I couldn't tell if there was anyone there, of course, and that added to my excitement. My husband knew that, and he played it to the hilt. It had its effect. My body was a mass of sexual energy, as I sat there, not knowing if anyone was behind me, looking at me, staring at my naked backside. That evening, as we continued the second game, Patrick stopped me just as I was about to move my rook in a castle move. "Rachael, get a cigar for me, will you. I left them on the air conditioner." My nipples suddenly hardened! I knew without looking that there was someone standing outside, looking in. And I knew the cigar was just a ruse to get me to stand up and turn around. Well, a deal's a deal, and fair is fair. I smiled at my husband, stood up, and walked toward the air conditioner, (which happened to be under the large picture window. My naked body was tingling all over. I didn't look up, but rather concentrated on the cigar. My admirer, however, was concentrating on me. When I reached the window, I leaned over and retrieved the cigar my husband wanted. I picked it up and then, instead of turning back to my husband, I lifted my arms over my head, and stretching them high over my head, I gave the stranger at the window a full view of my naked body. My breasts were jutting straight out, my nipples hard as little thimbles! I could see the man staring at me, and at the same time see my reflection as well as Patrick behind me. My heart-shaped red bush, trimmed short enough not to obscure a view of my pussy lips, sort of popped open just a little, just enough to reveal the glistening moisture that was gathering at the open of my cunny. I had a sudden inspiration! Taking the cigar from my hand, I rubbed it length way, down my slit, and slid the end of it into my hot pussy! Sometimes, I amaze even myself. I closed my eyes, still facing the window, and inserted Patrick's Jamaican cigar into my creamy box! I imagined the six inches of his cigar, firm, dark, exotic, being a thin cock. My body shuddered as the tobacco slid deeper and deeper. I hadn't intended to do that, and I certainly hadn't intended to lose control, but it happened! I felt the first wave of my orgasm as my husband's cigar sunk into my wet pussy. Then it happened! I started to come, and couldn't stop. My body heaved forward, and as my cunt squeezed the long firm cigar into itself, I braced myself on the aluminum beam on the window. As the first major orgasm of the evening overtook me, I opened my eyes, and I looked straight into the eyes of the stranger. He was mesmerized! I reached over to the curtain's cord, and slowly brought the two halves together, slowly bringing the show to an end! My friend outside moved as the curtains did, probably without realizing he was even mobile. Finally, there was nothing more he could see. Then I heard my husband's voice. "Rachael, come here." I walked back to where he was sitting. My breasts were level with his shoulders. He bent down, placing his mouth against the pubic hair of my pussy, and fixed his mouth against the opening he knew so well. Placing his lips over my cunny, he sucked against my hole, sucking hard enough to force the cigar to reveal itself to him. I felt his lips nibbling down there, his tongue flicking across my clit. And he slowly pulled the cigar out of my cunt, with only his lips. As it came out, he ran it up and across my clit. Damn, he's good! My body gave up its Caribbean treasure, as well as its second orgasm in less than three minutes. As he withdrew the cigar from my pussy, I could do nothing but stand there and come! And I did! He sat back in his chair, with his cigar now in his mouth. I finally regained my composure, and seeing him sitting there, I knew why I loved him so. I reached across the table and picked up my lighter. Flicking it, I put the flame to the end of his pussy coated cigar. It lit, and I could hear it sizzle as the heat evaporated the juices I'd left on the now, not so firm, prize of Jamaica. He only smiled as he enjoyed what he called his "Rum soaked" smoke. And I knew the night was just beginning! Yes, the evening was still young. I stood there in front of my husband, without a stitch on, quivering from the aftermath of a gut wrenching orgasm. Patrick's cock was rock hard, I could tell that even though it was still inside his jeans. And I wanted to return the favor that he'd given me when he made me come with his cigar in my twat. Besides, I did owe him a blow job from the chess game. I started to knell in front on him, with full intention of sucking his dick to a throbbing orgasm, when the phone rang. No one knew we were in Dallas. I couldn't imagine who was calling, and listened as Patrick lifted the receiver. "Hello," Patrick said. There was about ten seconds of silence. Then handing me the phone, he said, "I believe this is for you." "Hello, can I help you?" That sounded silly even as I said it. There was no voice on the other side. I repeated myself. "Hello, can I help you?" Then the caller found his voice. "Hello. You don't know me, but I watched you when you...when you took that cigar and...I mean, I don't want to be rude, or obscene but..." He was obviously having trouble saying what he wanted to say. I liked him already! I remained silent. "I really liked what I saw you do. Do you think you and I could get together? I mean, for a drink or for supper. Or something? I mean...I want to get to...ah...I mean..." "Well, that's very nice of you to call, but I was just about to give my husband a blow job. And it really is kinda up to him whether or not I'd go out with you. Would you like to ask him?" I couldn't help taking great delight in the callers discomfort. He didn't know what to say. At the mention of the word "husband," I knew he wanted to bolt, but at the sound of the word "blow job," he knew he couldn't hang up. I had been rubbing Patrick's cock, still safe in his jeans, all the time I'd been talking to my invisible would-be lover. I started to unzip my husband's jeans, tucking the phone under my chin. The caller remained silent. Patrick's cock is so very smooth, that sometimes, not very often, but sometimes, I like to sleep with it in my mouth. I don't do it often because Patrick won't let me. He says he's concerned that I might dream I'm eating a hot dog, and get carried away. I reached into his jeans and pulled out his jumbo cock. It was hardening, but I knew it would get a lot harder. I guess my admiration made me bolder. "I just pulled it out of his pants, and I'm stroking it to full size while we talk. I hope you don't mind." The stranger on the other side of the line just whispered, "No. I don't mind. Tell me what you're doing." "Whenever I stroke my husband's cock, he likes for me to run my nails across the soft smooth head. He says it makes his blood rush faster, and that makes his hard cock harder! And he may be right. His cock is growing in my hands. It's little eye is pushing toward me, and he wants me to suck him inside my hot wet mouth. But I'm not ready to suck him. I want him to get harder. Do you like to have your cock sucked?" "Yes," he half whispered, half moaned. "I'm going to put it in my mouth now. I can't talk to you while I suck him, but you can hear me slurping his meat into my mouth. Listen." I put the receiver on Patrick's thigh, the mouthpiece only an inch away from my husband's now rock hard cock. I looked up at Patrick's smiling face and asked the unnecessary question. "Do you mind if I suck your dick while this man listens?" He didn't answer me. Instead, he placed his hand on the back of my neck and gently pulled my lips toward his cock. I didn't need the encouragement. I knew Patrick would want me to let the man listen. It gave him great pleasure to share me with whoever he wanted to. I'd sucked Patrick's dick in all sorts of places, with all sorts of people watching. I didn't care. Far more important to me than being Patrick's wife is being Patrick's whore! And no one can be a better whore than me! I began by kissing his shaft. There is something so erotic about running my lips up and down his dick, from the soft underside just below where the head splits apart and forms a little mushroom effect down the shaft to the part that connects to his sack, and then, I like to take my tongue and dive into the ball sack, separating them, and sucking them into my mouth, one at a time. His balls are Huge! Patrick has told me that some women can suck them both at the same time, but I never could. Even after he's come two or three times inside of twenty minutes, even when I should have sucked all the come out of him, his balls are still enormous. That night was no different. I sucked the one in front first, and then, spitting it out, sucked in this other one. I exaggerated the noise I made, though I do find it difficult to suck his, (or any one else's) cock silently, I usually don't make as much noise as I was making then. But remember, my shy caller couldn't see me, he could only hear me, and I wanted him to understand what I was doing. What he heard was the kissing and sucking of my husband's cock. That and the occasional murmur of "Oh, it's so hot," or, "Damn, your dick is so hard!" As this blow job-of-the-air was being broadcast via phone to another room, I began to get hotter and hotter. I forgot I was playing to an audience of two, and soon, I was sucking his shaft in earnest. I wanted his dick in my mouth, I wanted him to fuck my face! And I wanted to taste his hot come as it splashed down my throat. At some point in time, I realized Patrick had taken the phone from his thigh and was speaking into the mouthpiece. "She's deep throating me right now." A silent pause. "Yes, she's naked." A silent pause. "Yes. She likes sucking cock." A longer silent pause. "Of course you may." I heard the phone being placed back on the receiver. Patrick eased my head off his lap. At first I was confused. Then I understood what was happening. "Rachael, go open the door and then come back." I did as he told me. I opened the door but not all the way. Anyone passing by would not know that I was naked, that I had no more lipstick on. That it was coating my husband's glistening cock. I left the door ajar and returned to where my husband was sitting. He'd skinned his jeans down around his ankles and was sitting there, still wearing his shirt, but naked from his waist to his ankles. When I returned, he didn't say anything else to me. He merely spread his legs widely and waited for me. His cock was still hard, sticking straight up. For a moment, I considered straddling that hard dick, but knew that he wanted my mouth back on his shaft. I dropped back to my knees, leaned forward, and resumed sucking his cock. I was absolutely consumed with a desire to make Patrick shoot his jism inside my mouth! As I continued sucking him off, I heard the door shut. But I didn't stop. Patrick is my husband, and I trust him explicitly. If there was any reason to stop sucking him, he would have pushed my head back. But he didn't, so I kept sucking! I did change my position somewhat. Without losing a beat, I arranged myself on all fours, so that I was leaning into my husband's cock, while my ass was elevated. My backside was facing away from him, facing the door. I knew I was being watched, and I knew that in this position, I had no secrets. My ass and pussy was plainly visible to whoever had entered the room, who ever had locked the door behind him. My cunt was leaking my passions, and they were running down the inside of my legs. I spread them apart even further. I knew whoever was watching could see right up my pussy, could see my cunt lips twitch as the excitement of my exhibition worked me into a cock-sucking frenzy. And as I continued sucking my husband's dick, I felt something touch my upraised ass. It was another set of hands, another group of fingers! I didn't care. Patrick's cock couldn't be any deeper in my mouth. I felt strange fingers probing me, separating the lips of my pussy, pushing them apart, and then sinking into my most private parts. I jumped at the feel of the stranger stroking me, flicking my clit with his finger. And as his finger pushed my hot button, I felt his thumb push against my ass hole. His middle finger kept stirring my pussy, while I felt his thumb invade the privacy of my ass hole. There was no need for delicacy. I had enough cunt juice running down my legs to lubricate ten women. But there weren't ten women in this room. Only me. And my husband. And a man whose face I could not see. And now this stranger had two digits inside me, one in each hole, while my mouth was filled with my husband's cock. Then, as suddenly as the stranger's fingers had penetrated me, they were gone. I didn't stop sucking. I knew what was about to happen. And I was right. The void the fingers had left was not to be empty long. I stopped sucking for just the briefest of time as I felt something else slide into my pussy. And I knew! I was about to be fucked by the faceless man who had minutes earlier called me on the phone to ask me out for a drink. Now, less then five minutes later, he was sinking his cock into my pussy. Behind me, and in front of my husband! I couldn't hold back any longer. I pushed my ass against this man, and his cock slid into me, fully, in one thrust! And as this mystery man was having his way with my cunt, my husband was pushing his cock even deeper into my mouth. I could no longer breathe, but that was alright. I could hold my breath for over a minute, I knew that. And inside of the next sixty seconds, I knew I would have a mouthful of come, and probably a pussy full of strange jism. And with that knowledge came my third orgasm of the evening! As my mouth and pussy worked independently of me, I started to feel the orgasm I knew was there, and I could feel the passions pushing against me, releasing a flood of urgency, taking me to heights I knew well! Without a doubt, only a whore could do this, could take her husband's cock into her mouth while another man watched, and then take that other man's cock into her pussy while the husband watched. Yes. Only a whore. And right now, I was nothing but a whore, and whore's only want one thing! To be used and then discarded! And these two men, bonded together by the use of a common body, made me feel like the whore I was! And because I was a whore, I had no trouble coming in front of them both. My screams of passion were stifled by the fact that my mouth was stuffed with hot cock, cock that was at that very moment spilling its seed into my eager mouth. And as Patrick spent himself in my oral cavity, the stranger dumped his load into my willing pussy. And then it was over. I felt myself floating back to reality, and suddenly I began to give serious consideration to the situation I was in. What would I say to the man who had just fucked me at my husband's invitation? I giggled mentally at the thought. "Hello, my name is Rachael. Thank you for fucking me." But I need not have worried. As the man I had yet to see withdrew his now flaccid penis from my pussy, I heard him straighten up, and though I could not see what he'd done, I knew he was pulling his pants back on. And I heard his zipper close. I rested my head in my husband's lap, his now softer cock laying less than an inch from my mouth. Slowly, as his proud cock softened, I watched as the remnants of my oral manipulation seeped out the tip of his cock. Without fore thought, I flicked my tongue against it, and licked the little shoot hole clean of any residue sperm. And that last drop tasted as exciting as the first spurt against the back of my throat! The Chess Player Ch. 1 "Rachael, we have company. Turn around and say hello." I did as I was told. Turning toward the man who had just fucked me, I smiled. "Hello." "Hello. And thank you." "Thank him," I said tilting my head backward, in the direction of my husband. "I only fuck the ones he chooses." "Then, thank you, sir. That was without a doubt, the most exciting fuck I've ever had!" Patrick smiled. "My pleasure. We're going to be here all weekend. Maybe we'll get together again before we leave." "Call me. I'm in room 243. My name is James." Patrick didn't say anything else, and James walked toward the door. He opened the door, and as he walked out, he turned to me. "Regardless of who told you to do what... I'll never forget you." And with hat the door was pulled shut behind him. I watched the door close behind the stranger who'd fucked me without any emotion, other then desire. Turning back to my husband, I awaited his next order. "Rachael, go clean up. And then get dressed. I feel like seeing a movie tonight." I knew what that meant. Patrick was hot from watching James fuck me, from watching me suck his cock while the man from the night pushed his hot dick into my waiting pussy, my whorish, wanton pussy! It was always like this. First a little exhibition, then Patrick's cock would demand attention, and then, sometimes, like tonight, even as I would satisfy my husband's ravenous appetite for sexual thrills, it would not be enough. It would not be enough until a stranger had humiliated me, had touched, or fucked or placed his cock inside my mouth. It would not be enough for Patrick. And it would not be enough for me! I knew what my husband wanted me to do, and how he wanted me to dress for the evening. I let the warm water of the shower pelt against my skin, turning it to a shade of deeper red, the shade of a deep blush, if I could still remember what a blush looked like. I allowed my washcloth to linger a bit longer than necessary as I cleaned the cunt the stranger only fucked ten minutes ago. Dropping the cloth to the floor of the shower, I replaced the terry cloth roughness with the tip of my finger. I found the little nub of tissue I was seeking. My clit was hard, harder even than my nipples. I ran my soap coated finger across the tender patch of passion, and with each stroke I became more excited! Memories flooded my consciousness, bringing vivid images of nights gone by, long forgotten, forgotten till now, and now remembered with stark reality. I remembered the trucker who had stopped to help me a few months ago as I stood on the side of Interstate 20, looking at the flat wheel on my BMW. I had been standing there only a minute, and I must have looked very vulnerable, dressed in a summer outfit of a loose skirt and tied top. I was wearing sandals, bound with leather thongs, atop of high heels. I remember how the heels looked as the trucker lifted my legs back, back over my shoulders, his massive hands wrapped around my ankles, as his hard, hot cock sawed in and out of my pussy, without stop, without mercy! He had fucked me like a whore, called me a slut as he came in my pussy, and I loved every minute of it! And later, as I cleaned his cum soaked dick with my mouth, with my tongue, my lips, I tasted both of us, and it was sooo good! And I remembered the man in the mall last month, the man whose wife was shopping in one of the department stores. He looked so sad, sitting there. I had sat next to him, engaged him in conversation, and right there, in the middle of the mall with literally thousands of people passing in front of us, I had jerked his cock to orgasm while covering my actions with my overcoat, which I had settled over both of us. I didn't know the man's name. That wasn't important. What was important was that I could be so sexual, so exciting, that a man would risk his marriage, his family, his entire life just to have my hand on his penis, just to feel my nails as they raked across his exposed cock! And Patrick had been there when I'd done it! He'd watched the whole show. He knew the minute I'd adjusted my coat over the strangers lap that my hand would disappear under that coat, and the stranger would soon be the recipient of an unexpected carnal pleasure. My body racked with orgasm as I recalled these things, these collage of men with hard cocks, with cocks shooting come all over me, all over whatever part of me they wanted, my face, my breasts, my ass, my pussy, maybe only my hand, maybe into my hair, but they all used me as they wished, and I used them as only I could! The shower water stopped! I looked up. It was, of course, Patrick. He had watched me as I lost control again, control of my passions, control of my pussy. It didn't matter. Patrick understands me. And he understands my need to come, and come often. We are a perfect match, and as all good matches, we create the magic that is fire! "Really, Rachael, don't you think you can wait a little while? You've had six orgasms in the last hour. That's a bit excessive, even for you!" "Yes. I know. But I was remembering..." "It's okay, baby, but come on now. You don't want to miss the movies do you?" He left the bathroom. I toweled off, removed my shower cap and began getting dressed. But first, I checked myself one more time in the mirror. Though the glass was somewhat fogged, I could still make out my fullness. My hard, proud breasts, sticking straight out, nipples pointed even further, perhaps almost another 3/4 inch from the tit itself. My green eyes traveled downward past my flat tummy to the reddish gold hair framing my pussy. Patrick doesn't allow me to maintain a full bush of hair there anymore. Only a fine coat of closely cropped fur covered my snatch, and it was too short to hide my pubes, my lips, my clit. All was there to view, to penetrate with eyes, fingers, cock! The hair was more for cosmetics than for protection. Besides, my pussy never sought protection or mercy. It is the pussy of a whore, and whores deserve no quarter when it comes to fucking! I slipped my leg into the first stocking and attached it to the pink garter belt I'd already put on. I love the feel of silk stockings. As I smoothed it over my leg, my fingers grazed the soft skin of my upper thigh, and a chill ran down my spine. I knew I could come again, with little to no effort. Instead, I fastened the second stocking to the other garter strap. My pussy was framed now, long garter straps reaching across my thighs, between my legs, and biting into the top of the stockings. And they would cut into the back of my legs if I sat too long on them. That would not be a problem. I knew I'd not be sitting long. More than likely, I would spend the rest of my evening either on my knees or on my back. Movies are like that! Yes, they are. I stepped into my dress. It was pinkish-peach, and fastened from the front. There were twelve buttons up the centre of the outfit. It was cut low, but not too low, in the bodice, and the back was respectable. It came to the top of my knees, maybe a half inch above. All buttoned, the dress looked rather decent from a distance. But with a few buttons undone, and upon closer inspection, a person could see that I wore nothing over either my breasts or my pussy! If I stood in such a way as to have light behind me, my entire shape was patently clear to any eyes fixed on me. I had watched many men walk into walls, or trip over their own feet as they watched me enter a building on a sunny day wearing this dress. And I would always stop right in the doorway, looking for some imaginary something in my purse, acting as if I didn't know that the men were seeing the same thing a man usually sees just before he fucks me. They could see my entire figure, pussy and all! Completing the outfit was my cream colored pumps. The heels were a bit over four inches tall, and they shaped my already well shaped calves as I walked. Patrick liked these shoes. He called them my "fuck-me, fuck-me" pumps. And he was probably right. I had no idea of how many men had rammed their cocks into my pussy while these shoes were still on my feet! The image was perfect. At first glance, I looked like a wife. With a bit more study, and a few buttons undone, I looked like a fun date. And with one or two more buttons, and the right attitude, I looked like a bought and paid for woman! Before this night was over, I knew how I'd finally look. Before this night was over, I would look, act, talk, and suck like a slut! I could hardly wait to get out of the room! I exited the bath, and Patrick was waiting. "You look absolutely beautiful!" "Why, thank you. How kind of you to say that." "Sweetie, I'm a lot of things, but kind ain't one of 'em. Let's go!" We were on our way to the movies. My husband and me, about to engage in the normal kind of things All married couples do. Not! To Be Continued... The Chess Player Ch. 3 There was not much conversation as Patrick continued the drive to the adult theater he'd picked out for the rest of our night of adventure. My arms were getting sore from being cuffed behind my back, but they were far from unbearable. I knew that if they really started to hurt, Patrick would let me out of them, but I get such an erotic quality to the feel of steel holding my hands behind me, out of the way, making me vulnerable to any man's eyes, to any man's hands! As we pulled into the parking lot and my husband found a spot toward the back of the building, he stopped the car and spoke to me. "Are you ready to go in?" "Yes." "Do you want me to uncuff you?" "For the night?" "No, just for now. Till we get in the arcade." I thought about it. There was a chance someone might see us as we walked across the parking lot, someone might see me, hands behind my back, my dress almost open, (there was only four buttons keeping it closed by now. Four out of twelve! You can imagine how I must have looked.) But humiliation is an integral part of my excitement. Patrick knew that, and that's why he offered to take off the cuffs. And he also knew what my answer would be. "No, I'll keep them on." "I thought you would." My husband got out of the car and came over to my door. He helped me out and balanced me as I stood next to the car door. He started to put my purse in the trunk, when I stopped him. "Patrick, could you help me with my lipstick. What little I had left after sucking the cop, I rubbed off on the boy at the gas station." "Of course." Patrick reached inside my handbag and withdrew a tube of lipstick. It was the brightest red I had. Carefully, he traced the outline of my lips. As he touched my lips with the end of the tube, I parted them slightly, and allowed myself the pleasure of being totally in the hands of my lover, my husband, my friend! When he was finished, he stepped back and admired his handiwork. Then, without warning, he opened the top of my dress, and dabbed just a bit of the lip gloss on my nipples, first the right one and then the left. He rubbed it in a bit, till they looked redder, but not garish. It was a nice touch. He pulled my top back together, (although with the number of buttons undone, there was no way to cover my breasts completely. I knew as I walked the bottom of my dress would flash my legs, right up to my naked pussy, and the top would alternately reveal first one and then the other breast, including the now newly rouged nipples, nipples that were always alert, always hard!) We were ready! Taking me by my right elbow, Patrick escorted me to the front door of the adult arcade. As we approached the front door, the lights were brighter. Cars passing in the street, (and there is a lot of traffic at ten in the evening on Harry Hines in Dallas) could clearly see me, and could easily ascertain that my hands were cuffed. Knowing this, my level of excitement climbed. As Patrick leaned past me to open the door, he whispered in my ear, "I love you, Rachael." I replied softly, "I love you, too!" We were inside. The main room, the area where the books and movies are displayed was much brighter than I had ever seen a store of this kind. For just a moment, I thought perhaps we were in the wrong place. But then, quickly scanning the shelves, I knew we were in an adult store. The shelves were jammed with different merchandise, all sexually related, things like dildos, vibrators, XXX rated video movies, and even a rack of lingerie! I'd never seen that before, and this was far from my first visit to this kind of store. Patrick kept his hand on my elbow, steering me in the direction of the front desk. The attendant was kinda cute, a little on the heavy side, but then, I like big men. Patrick laid a twenty dollar bill on the counter. "Two rolls, please," he told the counterman. "Twenty dollars worth of quarters? That's a lot of quarters, man," the clerk responded. "We're going to be here awhile." The cashier laid out the two rolls, and Patrick picked them up, turned toward the darkened hallway, and started off. After taking about three steps, he turned back to the counter, where I was still standing, and aid only, "Come." I had done this on purpose. I wanted everyone in the room to notice me, (as if they hadn't already!) and I wanted to re-enforce the idea that I was in bondage, and my master was the one who ordered me to action. By waiting at the counter I was giving the attitude of a faithful and obedient slave! The gesture did not go unnoticed. Patrick's command had been firm and crisp. He really does understand the inner workings of a slut! If I was going to do the things I knew were in store for me that night, I would have to do them under duress. Consciously, I knew I would need to submit to my husband's desires, unconsciously, I knew I had to be in the proper state of mind to do what he would tell me to do! We walked toward the hall, I was a step behind my husband. As he entered the curtained doorway, the ambiance of the room changed dramatically. It was considerably darker, and even the air had a different quality to it. It was musty, laden with the smell of men, men ejaculating, men sweating, men's passions. And with the first whiff, my pussy started to wet! Patrick walked up to a booth, opened the door, and motioned me inside. He closed, and locked the door behind us. It was not a very large booth, but it was big enough for both of us to fit into nicely, and there was still room enough for us to move about. My husband dropped three quarters into the coin slot. Instantly, the light dimmed, and the movie came on. These were videos, really, and not movies. The difference is enormous. Movies were usually badly done, had ugly actors and actresses, and moved at a rather jerky pace, with poor sound quality. The videos now showing in the porno palaces across America are much nicer, and for the most part, much more exciting. I watched with interest as the tape ran. Patrick stood behind me, rubbing his hands over my ass. He did not lift my dress, but rather just rubbed me through it. He knows how erotic I find this, and knowing how important it is that I get as hot as possible, as quickly as possible, he was doing everything he knew I liked, and it was working. The combination of watching the screen, on which a black man was ramming his cock into a white girls mouth, and the feel of my husband's hands on my cloth covered buttocks, was making me hot. Very, very hot! Patrick ran his hand up my back, and then around to the front of my dress. I felt his fingers peel back the two halves of my top, and then play gently across my naked breasts. By this time, I could hear the occupants in booths on either side of ours. I had heard them when they went in, and had heard them as they dropped quarters in their coin slots. Now I could hear their movies as well as ours. Glancing down, I noticed holes in the walls. Glory holes, Patrick calls them. I'd no idea such things existed, and hadn't believed Patrick when he first told me about them, it was only after he'd taken me to my first adult theater that I came to believe it. The holes, about the size of a coke can in circumference, were situated at mid level of a man's body. And the first time I'd seen a cock come through one, I thought I'd die laughing! Imagine, a grown man sticking his hard cock through a hole in the wall, not able to see what was happening to it, trusting someone on the other side would take it in their mouth, and suck him to conclusion! I don't want to seem condescending, but only a man would do that. When I mentioned this fact to Patrick, he replied, "Of course only a man would do that. Women can't do it, they don't have cocks, and if they did have cocks, they wouldn't be women, they'd be men, and then they'd do it!" I suppose. But at any rate, I glanced down, to see if this both had a hole in the wall. It did! Not one, but two, one on each side wall. But there were no dicks coming through now. No, instead, I could make out an eyeball in each hole, watching, waiting to see what my husband would do to me, how much he would expose his wife, how much he was prepared to do to her inside the very unprivate video booth! And Patrick was not disappointing them. His hands pulled back the two halves of my top, and in doing so, he exposed to the prying eyes of the two strangers my breasts, complete with hardened nipples. He twirled the nipples between his thumb and forefinger, making them grow just a bit, making them even harder than they already were. And he made sure they were not obstructed from the view of the two men. He dropped his hands to the front of my dress. And he undid another button! My long shapely legs, encased in stockings and garters, were prominently displayed. As Patrick pulled my dress open a bit further, I knew both men could see my pussy, my naked, glistening pussy. And the thought of this was driving me crazy. Patrick slid his right hand around my backside, and started to fondle my cunt. He found and stroked my clitoris, making me moan under my breath. It was just a little moan, but even though both the strangers as well as ourselves had a movie going, I was sure everyone concerned could hear it. They had all heard my body betray my dignity! And as if all that wasn't bad enough, suddenly, without warning, the lights came on in our booth. The machine had run out of time! Patrick didn't seem to be in a hurry as he released my tit and leaned forward to drop a few more quarters in the coin slot. I knew that during this time frame, after we ran out of quarters, and before he reloaded the machine, that the men in the next booths could clearly see me now, clearly see me naked, clearly see me standing there, my breasts exposed, my pussy being fondled, and my husband's finger snaking its way up my cunt! Finally, Patrick dropped the coins and the lights went off again. I heard Patrick undo his zipper. Yes. That's what I wanted. I needed to be fucked, and if the only fucking I was going to get would be in this booth, with two men watching, that was fine with me. I needed to feel my husband's cock slide into my wet pussy! I needed it bad! But I was wrong. Fucking me was not what Patrick had in mind. Instead, he turned me toward him. He pulled me toward him, placing his lips on top of mine. As soon as our lips touched, I felt the passion begin anew! His lips glided over mine, softly teasing me, pushing and pulling at the same time. His tongue snaked out of his mouth, and somehow found refuge in mine. I wanted him so badly! His teeth nibbled at my soft inner bottom lip. And as his tongue continued to swab the inside of my mouth, I felt his hands reach down around me, and again fondle my ass cheeks, this time, from underneath my dress. I continued to press my mouth against his. I love kissing, and I especially love to kiss my husband. I guess it is my way of being sure he still accepts me. Especially after I've been sucking another man, Patrick's lips on mine seem to say, "It's okay. I don't mind kissing a mouth that just held another's cock." Then he broke the kiss, and I felt his hands leave my ass cheeks. They moved to my shoulders, pushing downward. I knew what he wanted, and sank to my knees. I had no trouble finding his hard cock, no trouble lifting it with my lips, and no trouble sucking it into my mouth! I took it all! I wanted to suck his cock better than I'd ever sucked it, (or anyone else's) before. I couldn't believe it when, as I pulled my mouth back, preparing to suck him in again, he took his cock away from me! Before I could object, Patrick turned me slightly away from him, as if to turn me a quarter turn from his hard cock. I felt his hand on the back of my head, pushing me, away from him, and toward the wall. Of course! Even before I felt the other man's cock bump into my face, I knew it was there. And I didn't need to be told what to do. I opened my lips, and accepted the stranger's hard dick immediately into my mouth. After sucking Patrick's cock just seconds before, I didn't need to warm up to this task. I simply bobbed my head up and down, and sucked the new man as deeply inside me as I had my husband just moments ago. And I had no sooner started a rhythm on this new cock when I felt Patrick pull me away! Damn! He turned me a quarter turn again, and once more I tasted the familiar taste of my husband's turgid cock. At last, the cock I loved to suck! And again, I immediately went to a deep throat action. And again, Patrick stopped me. Turning me again, this time opposite the wall where my new lover's cock had been and I knew why. Again, I was faced with the prospect of another hard cock, and again, I did what my husband wanted me to do. I accepted this new cock, this dry, yet unsucked dick, inside my mouth. As I continued to suckle this stranger, I felt Patrick reach behind me, touching my hands, and then I felt the handcuffs release their hold on me. Patrick had unbound me, but only taking the cuffs off my right hand. My left one still wore the steel bracelets, and the other end of them was left open. I didn't know why he had chosen this moment to release me, but I didn't care. Suddenly my sexual abilities were doubled. Now, I could reach up and touch my husband's hard cock while I continued to suck the dick of the stranger. My other hand circled the cock I was sucking, pulling on it, gently urging it further through the hole, deeper into my mouth. I felt Patrick urging me to stand, or at least attempt to stand, and I did so without releasing the new man's cock from my mouth. I did not straighten out, however. I was bent from the waist as I continued to suck the stranger from the second hole. Patrick pulled my legs back a bit, as if trying to brace them against the other wall. I was too engrossed in the cock sucking I was performing to wonder what he wanted now, or in what position he was placing me. He continued to position me until finally I was bent over at the waist, the stranger's cock sliding straight into my mouth. My ass was straight out, and I felt Patrick's hand running over my buns, his fingers playing with my exposed ass hole and pussy. It occurred to me that he was deliberately making my pussy open and contract, and then I realized why. The man in the other booth, the first man I had sucked after Patrick in the booth, could now look straight up my pussy, he could watch my husband as he touched me there, as he rubbed his finger across my ass hole! How decadent! My husband as exposing me in the most intimate of manner, and there was nothing I could do to stop him, short of dropping this prize cock out of my mouth. And Patrick knew that I wasn't about to do that! I continued my attention to the cock coming out the wall. It was sooo big and sooo smooth! As it slid in and out of my mouth, I was very eager to make my mystery lover spill his seed in my mouth. I knew it would be soon. Patrick stood next to me as I sucked off the stranger. Then it happened! Suddenly, without warning, my new friend started to spurt, and he spurted hard and fast! I swallowed as much as I could, but I'm afraid better than half of it overflowed my mouth, and spilled to the floor. I hate to waste hot come, but in this case, I had no choice. And as quickly as he started coming, he finished. The action was over, but I wanted more. The man on the other side of the wall withdrew his cock, leaving me starring at an empty hole. Before I could think the situation through, Patrick came around and stood in front of me. "I want the same," was all my husband said. I started to get on my knees, but he stopped me. "No. Just like him! Bend over from the waist and ork for it!" I knew better than to deny him. So assuming the same position I had for the invisible man on the other side of the wall, I bent over from the waist, and took my husband's cock into my mouth. He started to walk forward, just a little, almost without my realizing it. But after a few seconds, I found myself against the other wall. And within seconds of that, I felt a hand on my ass, stroking me, fingering my ass hole! It was the man on the other side! I had completely forgotten him. But I could forget him no longer. I pushed my ass against the back wall. Of course! This is what Patrick wanted. He wanted me to align my hole against the hole in the wall, and he wanted my ass accessible to the other stranger. No problem. So did I! As I pushed against the wall, I could feel where the cut out hole was, and did my best to align my ass hole to it. I obviously succeeded! The next thing I felt was something very hard, and very wet, pushing against my ass hole. I knew what it was. It was not the first time I'd been fucked in the ass. But it was the first time that I'd not seen who was buggering me before it happened! I held my ground. Patrick's cock was pushing inside my mouth, forcing me back against the wall, and the stranger was drilling me from behind, forcing me back against Patrick's dick! I was the filling in a sex sandwich, and I absolutely loved it! It would be unfair to blame Patrick for coming so quickly, but I guess the sight of his wife getting ass reamed while she sucked his cock was too much for the poor dear. He started to come, and when he did, he let out a primal scream which alerted the entire theater to what was happening in our booth! And it certainly alerted the man whose cock was pushing into my secret hole. Moments after my husband came in my mouth, the stranger dumped his load in my ass. I've always said a girl can't get too much dick, or too much come. But that was before that night. Right then, for just a moment, I was filled with all the come I thought I could use. When my heart stopped racing, and I regained my composure, I took a quick inventory of my situation. Patrick had made a mess of my hair, (he always does whenever I blow him and he can control my head movements) and I had cum leaking out of my ass. My lipstick was nonexistent, (having lost most of it on the first stranger's cock, and what was left on my husband's). If we were going to continue the evening, (which I wanted to do very much!) I would need to make some minor repairs and clean ups. I told Patrick I would need my purse, which he'd locked in the trunk. "Do you want to go out with me?" He asked. Now this was a dilemma. If I went with him, I'd have to walk through the front of the store, and while I didn't mind strutting my stuff, I am always hesitant to go anywhere looking less than my best. And trust me, right then, at that moment, I looked less than my best. But if I stayed there, alone in the arcade section of the adult theater, I would have no one to protect me, and while I do have a rape fantasy, I didn't want it to be raped by twenty horny guys with no other sexual outlet except me! Patrick took the decision out of my hands, so to speak. Reaching for my left hand, the hand which still had the cuff attached, he quickly ran the open cuff through the lock on the coin box in the booth. I was manacled to the metal box, unable to move more than three inches away from it. "There, now. You should be safe for a few minutes here. I'll just run out and get your purse. And maybe grab a sandwich at the store across the street. Lock the door when I leave, and don't let anyone in till I get back." Before I had a chance to say anything, my husband was out the door, pulling it closed behind him. I knew he was just kidding about going across the street to get something to eat. I mean, I was sure he wouldn't leave me in the booth of a men's porno theater any longer than it would take for him to run to the car and get my purse. I reached over to lock the door as he'd instructed and suddenly realized to my horror that I couldn't reach the doorknob. My reach was about three inches too short! I started to panic, and realized there was no reason to lose control now! Patrick would be back in a few moments, in the meantime, I'd be better to just sit and stay calm. I glanced down at the two glory holes that were carved into the side walls. The hole to my left was vacant. The one on the right had a cock sticking through it. Patrick hadn't put any quarters into the machine, so the light in the booth was still on, allowing me a clear view of everything happening in the room. I considered the cock coming out of the wall, easily within reach of my right hand, when I caught a movement on the left side of the booth. Glancing down at the hole to my left, I saw an eyeball watching me. I made quite a show, I'm sure. My dress had only two buttons holding it on, my breasts were exposed totally, hard nipples and all, the bottom of my dress was open all the way to my pussy, which was obvious to the most casual observer. And I was chained to the coin machine, totally unable to protect myself from prying eyes, or hands. The Chess Player Ch. 3 There wasn't much I could do to shield myself from the man looking at me through the hole. So I did the only thing left to do. I reached over with my free hand and started to fondle the cock coming through the other hole. I placed my hand under it, and wrapped my fingers up, allowing the man in the other booth, the guy who was watching, to see me jack the cock back and forth. It grew in my hand. I love to do that, to bring a semi-soft cock to full erection, and this was no different. I mentally calculated how much movement I had with my left hand tethered, and determined I could make the move I wanted. Sliding off the seat, I turned my body to toward the cock I was massaging, and managed to get my head next to it. I slipped the hard, hot cock inside my mouth! And it was delicious! I knew the guy in the other booth could see all I was doing, and I realized also that I was presenting my unprotected ass and pussy to his gaze, but I didn't care. I allow very little to distract me when I'm sucking a cock, especially a cock I'd not sucked before. I was really into it now, running my tongue under the cock head, raking my teeth gently across the top, tougher section, and pulling the soft underside along my wet, hot lower lip. Sucking a dick is an art, and I am a master of my art. I continued to suckle the stranger's dick, even when I heard Patrick reenter the booth. I knew this would please my husband, to come back inside the small booth and find his wife's back to him, and another man's cock in her mouth. And it must have! I felt my husband lift my dress away from my ass, and drape it over my back. He slipped his hand under my waist and pulled me upward, forcing me to support myself with only my right arm, since my left was still cuffed to the front wall. I knew what he wanted. Making an effort, I pushed my ass up higher, making my pussy more accessible to him. I wondered if he was going to put some quarters in the machine before he started fucking me, at least to make the room darker, but my mouth was full, and I wasn't about to spit out this cock just to ask a dumb question. I felt his dick against my ass cheeks. For a moment, I thought he was going to ass fuck me, and that would have been alright with me, after all, I still had cum in there from the guy who'd fucked my ass through the wall earlier. But instead, he slipped lower, and I felt his cock slip into my hot, and neglected, pussy. Damn! That felt good. If ever I needed my husband's hot dick in me it was right then. The man whose cock I was sucking started to move his dick in and out of my mouth a bit faster, a bit more forcibly. I knew what he wanted. And I knew he'd be ready in a few seconds. He wanted to come in my mouth, not he air. He wanted to feel him spunk shoot inside the warm cavity of my lips, tongue, mouth. And that was fine with me. It's not a blow job if the guy has to shoot into coldness, into an empty area the size of the earth. No, it's only a blowjob if the mouth and cock stay together till there's no more desire, no more passion. And I wasn't about to deprive this nice cock of its reward. After all, the stranger had lived up to his end of the deal, he'd fucked my mouth with vigor and with determination, and I wasn't about to cheat him out of his rightful come! The cock in my pussy was pushing harder too! I felt my husband pushing harder against my cunt, and in doing so, he was ramming my mouth deeper on the stranger's cock in front of me. I felt Patrick's hand touch my shoulder, rub against my cheek. His fingers traced the outline of the other man's dick as it filled my mouth, forcing my cheek to distort somewhat. This was a new sensation for me. In all our years of playing, Patrick had never done this. I wondered what had possessed him to do it now. He took his hand off my face and braced himself against the same wall the other man's cock was coming from. I could see his hand in front of me, on the wall, just inches from where the stranger's cock was coming through. At the same instant that the cock in the wall started to shoot his hot come inside my mouth, I realized the hand on the wall was not Patrick's! This man had a tattoo on his hand, Patrick does not! This man who had slid his cock inside my pussy without asking if I'd mind, the man who had run his dick the entire length of my quim, and was now forcing me to accept his constant blows to my pussy, this man who was about to unleash his stranger's load of cum in me, was not my husband! I wanted to look back, to see who was using me in this way, fucking me like a whore, but the cock in my mouth was spurting at that very moment, and I couldn't stop sucking it. I couldn't stop it from coming in my mouth. And I didn't want to miss the feeling of hot sperm as it rolled across my lips, over my tongue, and down my throat. But he stopped soon. Too soon for my tastes. I continued to suckle, hoping to keep him there, hoping to get another small taste of man juice from him, but that was not to be. Instead I felt the inevitable withdrawal from my mouth, as the stranger pulled his cock out of my oral cavity, back into the darkness of the other booth, and forever more, out of my life! I spent a moment lamenting its loss, but was jarred back to reality by the grunting noise of the man in my pussy. Turning my head to look behind me, I was horrified to see what may well have been the ugliest man I'd ever encountered, grunting as he dumped his load into my pussy! This is not a man I'd ever have chosen to fuck. He was massive, but in a brutish way. He had no hair! And where his hairline should be was another tattoo, this time of a dagger with blood dripping from it, and the words, "Don't piss me off," inscribed next to it. He was wearing a leather jacket, and there was no doubt in my mind this guy was a motorcycle gangster. I turned my head back. I'd seen all I needed too. As this man used my pussy for his pleasure, as he rammed my cunt with his hard dick, I released the most intense orgasm I'd experienced in days! This was my fantasy, to be taken, without being asked, or even considered, by a biker who would fuck me without saying a word. And now it was happening, and I was truly helpless! I was getting fucked by a man who'd not even remember me, who'd not been concerned about who I was, or who I belonged to, or even what I looked like. To him I was simply a pussy he'd fucked in a porno store. I had no more meaning to him than a rag he'd use to wipe his cock off after coming in his own hand. I was just a receptacle for his lust, nothing more. I came a second time as I thought about just how used I was. I was no more than a two bit whore. Less, really, because he hadn't even invested the quarter it would cost to darken the booth, to prevent other men from seeing me take his cock up my pussy, his dick up my cunt! I know the intensity of my orgasm must have surprised my lover. It did me! I was so lost in passionate ecstasy that I didn't remember when he withdrew from my pussy. I vaguely felt him pull back, and I think I remember his wiping his cock on my dress, removing from him the wetness of our encounter, forever more leaving its memory on the fabric of my frock. And then he was gone. Just as simple as that. He'd come into the room, lifted my dress, fucked me, and then left me lying there, on the filthy floor of a man's jack off booth, and never said a word to me. I convulsed one last time in a mini-orgasm as I gathered a mental picture of what had just happened. And I felt tired. Very, very tired! My mind was about to shut down. There was no doubt I was in orgasm overload. It had happened before, and it would happen again, but right now, I was no longer in control of what was happening to me. I felt someone tug at my left arm. And suddenly I was free from the coin machine's grasp. A pair of arms went under me, pulling me to my feet. I could barely stand. It was Patrick. "Are you ready to go home, now?" He asked me softly. "Yes." I moaned almost inaudibly. Then, from a place I still do not know, I found the strength to ask him, "Did you see the guy with the tattoos? "I sent him." I should have known. Only my sweet, sweet husband would have thought to have had me so thoroughly fucked, and by a man who would be so close to my ultimate fantasy! "I'm ready to go home, Patrick. I am so exhausted. I only need one more thing tonight." "What's that, my pet?" "I want you to promise that when we get back to the hotel that you'll lay me down on the bed and lick all this off me. Clean my pussy and my ass and my legs, and that you'll do it all with your tongue. Will you promise me that?" I didn't have to open my eyes to see the smile I knew was on his face. And as we walked down the dim hallway, passing men whose cocks I may have already sucked or fucked that night, I knew the best orgasm of the night was still to come, and it would come the second my husband's tongue touched my clit, as he began the clean up of his wife's much used body! I couldn't wait! * * * * * Write to her or me at the link below.