Exposing Amy Ch. 05

"Why not have one last fling of sordid and seedy experiences, we would be gone soon, the people that would use us and abuse us and therefore have the knowledge and advantage over us, would be out of our lives. If we need to degrade ourselves to people - then embrace the experience, get what you can from it, because the reminders and the humiliating relationships would be gone."

We had travelled a long road from the outset as shy creatures and had changed slowly throughout the journey. We now looked upon ourselves as just a dirty slut and her pitiful lapdog, who were excited with how much humiliation we could endure and suffer, as I was used for sex by undesirable men. Moving away would give me the chance to exercise whatever demons remained of our sick past and any of our current acquaintances involved in this last chapter would not matter.

It would also give those two filthy degenerates the chance for one last crushing and humiliating experience.

One evening I sat with my husband and told him of my new ideas and plans.

He was horrified.

In the past, the men that I had disgraced myself with had been pretty remote as far as familiarity was concerned. Now however, I was proposing to humiliate, shame and embarrass both myself and my husband with men who were not just acquaintances but enemies. I did not want to reconcile with these men, I did not want to 'put things behind us.' If anything I wanted to further deepen the animosity and the hatred that existed between us, after all that was the whole raison d'etre of the sordid idea.

Together, my crushed and defeated husband and I, drew up a list of shame, a list of possible partners for me. Each of these men was the epitome of everything Paul and I disliked, or despised, or even hated. These men were in some cases horrible arrogant men, sometimes ugly, yet sometimes they may be very handsome. Fat - thin - old - young, it didn't matter, I saw no distinction in degrading myself with any one individual over another.

Reluctance and hesitation were critical to the scenario that I needed this to operate in. If I had just gone out and screwed some guys, it would have been nothing to us but cheating and meaningless cheap sex. Not only did I need to play the role to turn myself on, it was how these men that I detested saw proceedings that were crucial. How they thought both now and later, when they remember Amy Barnes opening her legs for them was vitally important to our overall shame. I needed them to still believe that I was the shy 'weirdo' woman they believed me to be and not to be aware of the cynical fetishist that in reality I was. As a boost to their ego and to my detriment, they had to believe that they had coaxed, cajoled and seduced me into something that I didn't want to do.

Paul intervenes

It was déjà vu for me. I had been here before and I was being tortured again by watching my wife Amy ready herself for (as yet unknown) another man. I felt the gut-wrenching ache as I watched her sit at her dresser putting on her makeup for him. The way she pampered her whole body in readiness for a man (whom I had no doubt would turn out to be a man that I had every cause to despise) to take her and use her.

Amy Resumes

After all the planning and discussions on how best to proceed, the first time that I made a slut of myself was actually spontaneous. It wasn't planned but I was out with a couple of friends when we bumped into Martin Potter. He was an arrogant wanker, who thought himself God's gift to women and a man whom I had despised for years.

Behind the club, with my dress around my waist the new adventure began.

I had allowed Potter to come on to me in the club, feigning ignorance to the fact that he was actually hitting on me. So when we found ourselves separated from my friends in the darkness behind the club, I could act as though I didn't know why I had found myself in that situation. The incident being spontaneous, allowed me to play the reluctant, timid, scared and pathetic woman. As this man who I detested, slobbered over me, trying to kiss me and pull down my knickers at the same time, I acted my role.

"Oh please don't do that, Oh please we mustn't, it's not right. I whimpered. Oh please don't tell Paul," I whined, holding on to my panties with one hand.

This hesitation and unwillingness on my part created a wonderful atmosphere of anger and frustration. Potter had come so far and was so close, yet at the last minute he saw his 'easy fuck' being denied him. I found, quite accidentally, that this scene produced exactly what I needed. For these men (because I was destined to act this part on every occasion) to get so close to getting into my panties, only for me to get 'cold feet' at the last moment, frustrated them immensely. Gripping onto one side of my panties and whining pathetically, portraying all the doubt and reluctance a woman like me would have, would make these men visibly angry at the potential loss of their cheap fuck.

It was then, once I had generated and caused the malevolent and spiteful atmosphere between us, I would imperceptibly loosen my grip on my underwear, the triumph in their faces as the knickers finally slid down to the ground was a picture to behold.

This first time worked exactly so, Martin Potter's look of triumph was sickening.

He knew I had let go of my knickers

"She is going to let me fuck her!!"

"She wants to get fucked!!"

"The slag actually wants me to shag her, the whore!!"

For me it was an electric and shameful moment.

As I was pushed back against the wall, Potter grabbed a handful of my pussy, crudely shoving a finger into me. I opened my legs like a cheap slag, yet at the same time, continued my fake opposition to what he was about to do to me.

"Please Martin, we shouldn't be here, we can't do this, it's not fair on Paul."

I knew that by bringing my husbands name into the moment, it would excite us both.

Martin Potter tried to kiss me, an act that I suddenly felt revolting and unwanted. So it was while I turned my face from side to side to try to avoid his slobbering lips and to stop him kissing me, that I felt the first touch of his large cock against the rounded swell of my outer vagina.

It felt hot against the smooth rounded swell of my exposed sex, it felt hard and eager to be inside me. I moved slightly (hoping the gesture wasn't noticed by him) to align myself with his rigid cock, helping to make the imminent violation of me easier, whilst simultaneously saying the opposite of what my body was actually doing.

To the soundtrack of my protestations and pleadings for him not to take me, Martin Potter thrust forward, bulldozed my sodden inner labia apart and slid beautifully into my oh-so-willing and receptive pussy. In the reflected street lights he crudely and hurriedly pushed himself repeatedly into my cheating and swollen vulva.

He slobbered and grunted like an excited child, like an idiot. He humped me against the wall like a common whore, gasping and grunting as his cum exploded deep inside me after no time at all.

This may sound weird to you but the lack of care or concern for me, the asshole simply humping me and ejaculating into my bare pussy, was incredibly satisfying. He had used me and finished inside me before I had chance to become properly aroused, or even take the slightest pleasure from his cock, let alone actually achieve an orgasm. This contempt made the experience so much better, I know this is a contradiction in terms but the lack of sexual gratification -gratified me intensely.

His fucking of me was incredibly unfulfilling, it was over so fast and it left me with an incredible empty feeling. I felt used, I was nothing but a slut who had been fucked against a wall by a man I had met only minutes before. That absolute lack of sexual satisfaction only served to enhance the whole sorry and sordid incident.

I was here for what was going on in my head, not what was happening between my legs.

It was a shameful and sorry episode to witness, let alone be part of, a fact I couldn't wait to torment my husband with.

I entered my house through the kitchen door and almost instantly my agitated and demoralised husband appeared from the hallway.

I grinned at him in a contemptuous manner and simply raised the front of my skirt. I exposed my bare abused pussy, the semen which I had deliberately smeared all over myself and which now coated my swollen pudenda, clearly on show.

"Martin Potter." was the only words I spoke, as I then stood and watched the terrible and awful truth, of not just what I had been doing but who I had been doing it with, dawned on Paul. I could literally see the disgust and the torment in his defeated face, as reality hit him and the whole sordid truth crushed him.

After my first experience of cheating with Potter, I realised that although it degraded and humiliated me to spontaneously have sex with them, to carry on with this tactic of 'accidentally' meeting them would only reinforce the 'Doris' in me, the old slag looking to get laid. I instinctively felt that by subtly enticing them to come on to me, I could play the shy, reluctant, faithful wife, slowly and without suspicion letting them bully me, coax me and seduce me, into actually making a date with them.

The whole thing revolved around and depended on, what they thought of me. Doris the slut worked yes, but Amy the shy wife, the bitch that none of them even liked, letting them into her panties was different. To achieve even further humiliation for my husband and I, instead of the man in question thinking he had just 'got lucky' one night, if he knew that I had wilfully arranged to meet him, it would make everything a conscious act.

The period between making the date and meeting them, was laden with a sleazy anticipation. It prolonged the period of excitement on my target's behalf and extended the revulsion I felt over several days. On the days leading up to our date my target would be fully aware and excited by the fact that I was bound to be lying to Paul and would somehow make the whole sorry affair more exciting to them.

It all gave the sordid act an extra dimension of shame to me.

My figure and what these men saw of me was definitely not at its best. I was still slightly chubby after childbirth and my breasts were still saggy and heavy with milk from the constant breastfeeding of four children. These arrogant men somehow acted as though they didn't need to care about my enjoyment, pleasure or satisfaction.

"What does it matter what a fat old slut thinks? I can just use her and not give a damn if she doesn't get satisfied."

This attitude played to my sickness and desires perfectly. I experienced the same embarrassed turn-on, of men seeing my imperfect body, as I had done whilst exposing myself to delivery men.

Sometimes I was 'treated' to a disrespectful hump in the back of a car, or against a dirty wall in a filthy dark alley. However sometimes, I would meet them at a hotel and would be treated to dinner as a reward for me opening my legs for them. On these occasions, I would always wear black stockings, garter belt and heels. I was deliberately 'dressed-for-sex' so my 'target' or 'victim' would arrogantly and boastfully assume that I had dressed like this for him, to please him!!

Nothing helped to create the notion that I was doing things to please my 'date', more than a waxed pussy. I always left it to the last minute so that my 'lover' could tell it was new and freshly done and was obviously newly prepared just to please him.

With words sticking in my throat I would say,

"I did it for you baby, crooning like a pathetic woman seeking approval, I hope you like it."

Tony Denton was a small fat man who seemed to have 'little man syndrome.' He was constantly trying to prove himself against all other men, both physically and with material possessions. This obnoxious creep of a man had done Paul down at work. The incompetent Denton had screwed up big time and to cut a long story short, he lied and put it all on Paul. My husband had been fired over the issue, on the basis of the sole testimony of this man, which was bad enough but in the following weeks Denton had boasted to the other men about what he had done, thinking it somehow made him more of a man.

This incident had not done Paul any real or permanent harm, he had found alternative employment straight away but it had left my husband looking both foolish and stupid.

I despised Denton with a passion for what he had put Paul through.

And I was going to fuck him.

I will not waste time explaining how I had subtly coaxed him into coming on to me, or how I had allowed myself to be 'bullied' into meeting him. Suffice it to say, I now found myself with my legs spread wide in the 'doggy' position on the hotel bed. My garter straps stretched across my ass cheeks, tugging the tops my black stockings in that familiar sexy way.

Knowing what this man could see turned my stomach. I knew he was gazing at my wet pussy lips, he could see my rapidly spreading labia opening my inner sex to him and he could see the wet pinkness of my soft velvet insides. Being in this position for him made me nauseous, it made me sick to my stomach and it filled me with revulsion.

It also turned me into a cock hungry whore.

Tony Denton could somehow sense that this was not an ordinary act of infidelity. He had no idea where my mind was and what I needed to get from this repugnant act but he still knew somehow, that treating me nice was not something he need concern himself with. With no real explanation as to why, Denton called me a few abusive names in the midst of his rising passion, when he received no rebuke from me, totally oblivious as to why I was allowing him the freedom to abuse me, he became both more emboldened and more turned on.

"Suck my cock bitch."

"Let me suck them saggy tits, slut."

"Get that pussy open, I'm gonna eat that sloppy cunt, real good."

When he fucked me in the submissive doggy position he used the most derogatory language he could conjure up, obviously turning himself on by abusing a woman who he disliked - the wife of a man he hated - with the nasty and abusive treatment he was subjecting me to.

As I was abused in this malevolent hate fuck, this revolting man made me cum. I desperately did not want to orgasm and have a shared pleasure with a man who had got Paul the sack with his lies. I found it grotesque as I debased myself with him, as he committed the vile act of pumping orgasm after orgasm into me. With every part of me desperate not to climax on his mediocre cock, I was betrayed by my body as somehow the angle, his size, his tempo, all conspired to take it out of my hands. As Denton inadvertently hit my g-spot time and again, I came, wailing like a slag.

I gave myself to this horrible little man. I opened my legs and bared the lips of my most intimate part for him to gaze at, to touch, to lick and taste and finally to thrust his stubby little cock into. I felt that I had achieved what I set out to achieve, namely the complete sexual humiliation of both myself and my husband.

After enduring this hateful and spiteful act with a man I hated and after receiving a full load of his scalding cum, deep inside my cheating cunt, I allowed him the intimate sight of his cum running from my tiny lips and my crimson flesh. As I deliberately exposed myself to his leering, lustful horrible little face, I paraded myself before him in stockings, garter and heels.

I let him watch as my heels clicked across the floor to the bathroom and I left the door open, so he could take in the incredibly intimate act of me sat emptying my slut pussy of his semen.

It was not over.

Recovered from his initial ejaculation, he wanted me again. I felt nauseous and revolted at the thought of allowing this man to just use me as he pleased. Unfortunately, that abhorrent and distasteful feeling was the reason I was here, to satisfy the self-loathing slut that I was here to be. So I lay back and opened my legs like a cheap and nasty slut and invited him back into me.

There being no chance of him cumming again for ages, Tony Denton simply used me for his own carnal needs and for his own gratification and entertainment. My pussy was becoming raw from the contemptuous pounding it was receiving. It prolonged the unwanted intimacy and when he decided to try his luck and see if I would let him fuck my ass, he did it without consultation, or permission, or consent. He pulled from my sore vagina, placed himself at the puckered entrance to my rectum and shoved into me.

It was quite a while later, that I took my cum-oozing, sore ass home to my pathetic husband.

That night, I went home to my loving but sick and perverted husband and found myself astride his face, pulling my pussy wide and taunting him over what I had been doing and with whom. Paul was powerless to resist the all consuming obsession which controlled us and sucked on my abused and slick labia. He devoured as much of Denton's semen as was left inside my unfaithful vagina, as I taunted him with the fact that one of his biggest enemies in the world had fucked my ass relentlessly and hatefully and how he had finally ejaculated deep into my defiled rectum.

Then for the first time in our lives, Paul rimmed me.

I won't regale you with the particulars of every man that I disgraced myself with but I will tell you, that every hate fuck I subjected myself to, I let the man dominate me and treat me like a cheap slag.

We had steadily progressed to the point of leaving this town. The house was sold, Paul transferred in his job and a new house bought. Two days before we physically left here, it was time for the piece de resistance.

Stephen Moore had grown up with Paul, they were the same age and had gone through the entire school system together. They hated each other with an intensity that even scared me.

I could explain all the points of contact and conflict that had occurred between them over not just their childhood but through adolescence and adulthood but that is just too long a list to recount. Paul was more studious and sporty, whilst the animal that was Moore had been brought up in a rough family, always falling foul of the law and never far from a violent confrontation with someone. Stephen Moore was much bigger than Paul and over the years my husband had suffered his fair share of bumps and bruises at the hands of his nemesis.

Believe me when I tell you, me having sex with this man would be the ultimate gut-wrenching betrayal and insult. It would destroy Paul and corrupt me totally, (for us) it would be an act of vile depravity.

Allowing this man to have me, needed to be done 'spontaneously' as making a date with him would stretch credibility and reality too far. I deliberately bumped into him in a bar I knew he used and making it up as I went along, I decided to act a little drunk.

Stephen Moore took advantage of the drunken old whore, in exactly the fashion I expected him to. Once again I allowed myself to be bullied and forced into going outside with him. I expected to be dragged into the dark alley but when he pushed me into his car and drove me to the remote junkyard that he worked and lived in, I was suddenly out of my comfort zone.

Once inside the atmosphere changed, the talk became full of malice - malevolent and abusive.

"C'mon bitch, get ya tits out, I know it's what you're here for, c'mon bitch, lets see them big tits."

I brought out the 'Oh please don't tell Paul' act, which seemed to galvanise him and spur him on.

"If I let you do it to me, you won't tell anyone will you?" I whimpered, falling back on my previous alter egos.

I allowed Moore to bully me. All the time he was treating me like shit, I could at any time have told him to go fuck himself but there was the sexual thrill of being a pathetic bitch, being talked to like that and still not leaving. I was a slut that obviously valued a hard cock in her cunt, over retaining her self-respect.