tagLoving WivesA Whore On A Bet

A Whore On A Bet

bycantbuymy©

"You really don't mind if I use a recorder? I want this in your own words, about your life." The interviewer said.

Not waiting for anything else the old woman started when she saw the red light go on.

"I have been a whore now for over fifty years, just because of a bet" she told the young woman interviewing her. The interviewer could not have been more than twenty-five, but to someone as old as the whore, she was very young.

"Yes, this is a side of you, well it surprises me." The interviewer said.

"It happened so many years ago. I was young and quiet and married when it happened. I was married to an older man, he was twenty-five and I was twenty-one."

"He was a big man in so many ways. You know what the say about big men with big hands and big feet and a big nose?" she followed.

The young woman interviewer smiled and nodded up and down enthusiastically.

"Well don't believe it honey because it ain't always true!"

"I could tell you where it started for me, but then you would not know everything, so I am going to tell you where it started for my pimp." She said with a smile as she remembered the good times her pimp and her had as she recalled what she personally knew and saw and what she later found out.

"Ronald my black brother, how is it hanging man?" Franklin asked.

"Unlike you white boy it is actually hanging." Ronald said.

"Some ho kick your ass and when you woke up you realized that she tied a weight around that puny thing you call a cock, again?" Franklin responded.

"Fuck you white boy!" Ronald added.

"Not even with your husbands dick you black fag." Franklin responded.

"I can still kick you Lillie white ass just like I did that first day I met you." Ronald kept saying.

The flow was smooth and easy as the banter continued.

"If our big sister had not jumped in I would have beat you so bad you would have spent the rest of your life calling me daddy." Franklin said.

Well that was all Ronald could take and he lunged at the smaller white man and took him in a bear hug and kissed him on the cheek.

"Where the hell have you been my little white brother?" Ronald asked. "You know Dianna is going to whip you for not writing. Mom is pissed too but she would never say a word against you."

"Look I had some business to do outside the country and I needed space and no links back home. But now it is done and all is sweetness and light." He said.

"Hey, who is the little mousey thing over there with the big lummox?" Franklin asked.

"That is Sandra and she is married to that oaf Johnson." Ronald said.

"No you are just shitting me. Is that Johnson Johnson the fool with two last names? Damn he got big. Where the hell has he been and where did he find her?" Franklin asked.

"Got no idea where he had been but the little mouse is what came back with him. They are married and she follows him around looking like she was walking in the last space in a funeral cortège and she is waiting to step in horse shit. Been married about six months. He is fucking everything that will slow down for him to poke. Not sure why they are together. Forget her. Find yourself a fine chocolate woman and enjoy the life my little white brother." Ronald said.

"As much as I like chocolate I am intrigued with her; maybe even more than intrigued. Maybe later. Now I have to find our sister before she finds me first and kicks my ass for not staying in touch. I also want to see my little nieces and nephews. And then there is penance for not keeping in touch with Mom." Franklin said.

Franklin was just walking out when Ronald said something that would change his life forever.

"Bet you a hundred that you can't get near that?" Ronald said.

Franklin immediately knew what "that" he was talking about.

"Bet you twenty five large that in ninety days I can own that." Franklin said.

"Make it forty-five days and I will take your money." Ronald said in return.

"Make it forty-five days and fifty large and you got a bet!" Franklin said.

Now it was getting serious. They had been playing like this all of their lives, ever since Ronald's mother began raising Franklin after his parents died, but never for something this real.

"Mom" as Franklin called her was his birth mother's best friend at a time when such friendships were few and far between. Franklin's mother was older and she fell in love later in life but she was crazy about Franklin, her little boy. At times it was almost impossible for him to know which one was his real mother, they both loved him so much, and he felt the same way.

"Franklin, we are talking some serious stuff here. I don't care if you are my brother, and I don't care if my mother would disown me and my sister too, but you bet that kind of money and you lose, you gonna pay. You are going to pay right then and there, or you are going to have two broken elbows and two broken knees and even then you are still going to pay. This is my business and if I let you get a pass I be kicking nigger's asses all over this town. I mean it little white brother. We are in some serious shit. Don't let your mouth do your thinking." Ronald added.

Ronald was right, this was his business. Despite growing up with Franklin if he let anyone get away with not paying he would have to leave bodies all over the streets just to get them used to paying again, and Ronald would do it too. Ronald was a gangster and not a pretend one either. He had been doing time since he was ten, and at twenty-three he was a force in the local business community. He loaned money and he collected money; he bought and sold things as well as some people if he had too; and he made book on anything that anyone could think to bet on; he was the go to man when you could not find a go to man. No one owed money to Ronald for long, at least not owed to him and still was using up the oxygen. That did not happen much. Live and live in pain but paying was better than dead and not paying. So if you got your welching ass killed, it was very slow, very painful and everyone knew about it but never talked.

"You got that kind of green?" Ronald asked, now he was all business.

Franklin took out one of his bank books and showed Ronald the balance. Ronald smiled.

"So you be doing good little brother! Come back to share the wealth?" Ronald added.

"Here are the terms. I want proof positive and I mean a picture of you fucking her or her sucking you cock and I mean a fucking money shot. I want the ho to admit it is her and I want it all in one picture or video. No shot of her with a cock in her mouth and you saying it is yours. I want the bitch right here in front of me and I want the proof." Ronald added.

"Here is what I want. I want you to only lay off forty of it so that when I do some large living I know that ten grand of it is your money I am spending. I want the cash here on the night it happens and I will give you a day or two heads up. I mean it Ronald, fucking cash!" Franklin said.

We were not done yet. We even argued about what day it would start and since this one was almost over we set 12:01 am, tomorrow as day 1 and the ending time would be midnight of the 45th day. One minute after midnight and I lost fifty grand.

"Man I don't know what is wrong with you. Even for a white woman she is seriously ugly. What is she, five foot one and one eighty? Her hair is short, not styled, dry and brittle looking with a cut that looks like she used sheers on herself. I mean that the bitch looks like her dress maker is Omar the Tent Maker. Ugly dirty brown is her usual color and I have never seen her in a dress that was less than 6 inches from the knee and I mean below the knee. I bet the bitch does not own a razor, she is hairy dude. From the skirt bottom down the bitch looks like she has fur, dude. Little brother, the bitch smells." Ronald ended.

"Brother, she is perfect." Was all Franklin said.

That very night I put my plan into effect. I was going to separate the cow from the bull's herd and he was not even going to give a shit.

There are two ways to fuck a married woman. One is to fuck one who is already a whore and who wants to be fucked and the other is to have her husband throw her away. I intended to get him to throw her away and then make her a whore.

The next day was Sunday and Mom made the best fried chicken in the world. She had been Mom since I can remember. It was funny watching others as I called the large black woman mother because I did not look like I was passing.

We all went to school together and church every Sunday. Soon everyone knew that the white boy was not actually hers but I did not care, she was mother to me.

She was maybe twenty years older than me, if that. She had her daughter far too early in life and my mother helped her out. Then they both got pregnant at the same time and she had Ronald and my mother had me. Mom and dad died early in my life and that is how I ended up being raised by this black woman who really did become Mom to me in every way.

Sunday was a family affair and always was. Ronald showed alone, no whores or sluts allowed. Mom did tell him that any girl he wanted to bring would be fine with her, provided he was going to marry her.

That first day I was back I saw Mom and Donna and the kids. They all asked where I was and I told them Europe working a few deals. Yes I was buying and selling things to some very bad people and I did not want anything getting back here in case the deals went south.

I launder money when it is dirty enough. I make it nice and clean. I get it cheap and then I speculate on the foreign currency markets with my share. I also act as a broker for the buying and selling of things, bad things. I am always amazed how people can spend all that money just to kill each other. I don't get involved in big bad things, just small bad things.

I got into this by accident when I went to college and met some people who thought I could do some good as a fresh young face. That means the cops, federal and Interpol, don't know me. I have a shelf life of about five years and I am three years into this now. Two more years and I am out of the business.

I don't care where the money comes from, I just care that it is there and in cash, or in one of my business accounts.

These were new clients and if things went south there would be blood in the streets, my blood in the streets. Ronald and I were a lot alike, but he really did kill people, I only did business with people who killed people. Oh, one other thing, they did not like the people they did business with looking to prosperous, it made them think they were getting ripped off and then they killed people. Beginning to see the problem?

The place was full of family and my nieces and nephews were running around like they were crazy. I had to tell them more than once that I was not a climbing frame and to get off me. They responded by acting like I was now a trampoline and began jumping up and down on me.

When they were really little they used to rub their finger over my white skin and asked if the white rubbed off. I was crazy about them. The youngest was named Franklin.

Mom noticed some tension between Ronald and me and asked if we had been betting again.

"Yes momma" we both said in unison.

She asked and we told her. She was looking at both of us and after calling us fools said:

"If he wins you pay him."

She did not say which one of us was "He" or "Him." We both knew she was talking to both of us.

We had been doing this from the second day I came to live with them. The first day was taken up with fighting. Ronald and I shared a bedroom and at four we were old enough to fight and we did. We went to the knuckles almost immediately. Even though we had known each other for a long time, all of our lives, we lived in different homes and it was going to be difficult living in the same room. Ronald had to give up HIS room to ME and I did not have my own room and I was pissed I had to move. I was really pissed that my parents were now dead, even though I did not really understand it. To me being dead means not coming home for a while, so why did I have to live here? It was a serious fight and our sister had to break us up.

So we finally decided that the way to decide who was best was to bet.

Ronald and I hated each other. The only thing we hated more than each other was everyone else. You called Ronald a nigger and I kicked your ass or I tried too. I might call him a nigger but no one else would. At five I hit some cracker in the knee with a hammer at a construction site when he grabbed Ronald and called him a thieving nigger. We both ran away. The man was right of course, we were there stealing lumber to make a club house, but he did not have to try to hurt Ronald.

Ronald was just as protective of me, so honky, cracker, pecker wood, was definitely out when he was around.

We quit fighting but we never quit betting.

The next night I went to a club where I got information that they went to too. I dressed well but not flash. I danced with a couple of the women but not the sluts. I was polite and would give a little bow and escort them back to their seats. Not the kind where you put your hand around their waist or anything like that. I would hold their hand respectfully. In all things I was a gentleman.

I even asked a few of the older ladies to dance and by older I mean grey haired. Not cougars but grandmothers with their husbands. I was oh so polite.

I never even looked at Sandra, not so she saw anyway. Actually she was not paying attention to anything, just sort of sitting there ignoring Johnson Johnson and the world around her. What a stupid fucking name this dude had. He was there hitting on anything with a cunt.

I had to agree with my brother that she was hairy and she did smell. But I had a secret, I knew why, or at least I thought I did and I bet fifty large on it.

My little appearances went on for two weeks. At the end of the second week Ronald stopped me at one of the clubs.

"Listen little brother, you better get a move on. I laid this off but if you lose they are going to hit you like you never believe." Ronald warned me.

"I'm pacing myself." I told him with a smile. "See you at moms for dinner tomorrow, she is making friend chicken."

That was the way every Sunday was. Mom's fried chicken, okra, collard greens, grits and apple pie. It is not necessary to say mashed potato's and gravy, that was a given.

The next night I went out was a Tuesday and I knew that my target went out then too. This time I took a date. She was tall, thin, red hair with nice "C" cup tits.

Johnson was all over her with his eyes. I danced only with her, did not swap spit and she did not dance with anyone else, but she did look demurely at Johnson, playing that stupid Princess Di head down eyes up, fake modesty crap.

The next night was Wednesday and I was alone and I danced with all the older ladies, no tramps. This time Sandra could not keep her eyes off of me. I ignored her. Things were working well.

This went on for another week and then I brought the redhead back. She smiled at Johnson when she danced with me. She danced with a few other men and I danced with a few other women, older, safe women, who were there with their husbands. I was polite and asked the men if I could dance with their lovely bride as my "date" appears to be occupied. Sandra heard me being polite.

We were now in our forth week. The redhead and I were everywhere they were and soon Johnson was asking her to dance and making moves on her.

He was a real scumbag. Ok, I was a real scumbag too but not just yet.

He hit on my date for the next four nights. I was lucky that he went out nightly, he was a creature of habit and Sandra went with him.

My brother was hitting me hard to get off my ass. I think he was really rooting for me. Hell if he was smart he laid off every penny.

By now Johnson was asking my redhead to dance every dance. So I just moved in and asked Sandra to dance, so very politely.

The first night was a simple dance, actually a few, and I bought her a drink, a soft drink. I made sure to have a coke. I learned while holding her that my brother was all wrong about her size, very wrong, and I was very right. Red drank, Johnson drank, and they groped each other and ignored us. We all sat together at a round booth.

I think it was that first night that Johnson fingered my date and I know he played with her ass and tits. I was a perfect gentleman. Sandra was getting closer to becoming mine.

I realized a few things, she no longer smelled, she was bathing starting the second week and by now was using just a dash of perfume. Her clothes while still frumpy were now pressed and unwrinkled. She still looked like a Stalin era fashion model, huge top that hung like a tent over a long skirt that covered her at least six inches below the knee.

"You see sweetie, when Franklin kept showing up I got interested." She told the interviewer. "I began to take a look at myself and for some reason I wanted him to see me as I wanted to be seen by him, not as I wanted that oaf I married to see me.

"Johnson got an ugly smelly wife because I hated him. I only married him because he got some pictures of me that I should not have allowed to be taken. Nothing bad by today's standards but bad enough that I did not want my parents to see them. So when he got me naked and fucked me in return for the pictures I found out what a shit he really was. He filmed it and was going to publish it unless I married him.

"I have no idea what he was thinking but the minute we were married the value of his pictures became zero. Who the hell cares if he filmed himself fucking his wife? The idiot did not have them time stamped so they could have been after we were married.

"We were in Reno so we got married. Then I turned his life into hell. I would have tried to make it work but on the day he married me I caught him actually fucking a whore in the hotel public bathroom. Well her bad luck and his too.

"She got a bad fuck and he got VD. I refused to fuck him until he was checked and that is when we found out. I quit bathing regularly, and quit shaving anything. It is not that I did not believe in divorce, but my parents told me that if I divorced they would disinherit me. If he divorced me I would be ok but I could not file for divorce. These are my parents?

"So when I spotted Franklin I wanted to look good for him. I kept the ugly clothes and did not try and buy new underwear, but I did clean up. Johnson did not even realize it because we were not sleeping in the same room. I slept on the couch in sweats." She finished telling the interviewer.

"And Franklin actually talked to me, nicely. He smiled nicely, and he was polite and sweet. I knew he could not tell what I looked like under my clothes and that was a test too. He had to want to be with me or he would not have stuck around." Sandra said to the interviewer.

[Franklin thinking to himself: I realized that there was another reason she looked fat, she had the largest tits I had ever had pressed into my chest when we danced. I mean she was humongous. She was small, small waist and a small back, but her rack was a back breaker for a weaker woman. I was looking for a counter balance over her shoulder to equalize the weight.

If I wanted her before I was going nuts now. Huge tits drive me over the top.]

The next night was Friday and Sandra was now comfortable in my arms dancing. This had been going on for four nights now and I wanted her. She would flush when I held her close, her breathing would shudder and there were many sharp intakes of breath and not once did I try anything.

I intentionally held her good and close so that I could feel her tits against me and I figured with tits that size she had a wire that went from them to her pussy. I knew that the more I excited those tits, the hotter her pussy would get.

Report Story

bycantbuymy© 16 comments/ 44953 views/ 6 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

Next
4 Pages:123

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar:

   Cancel