A Colleague's Wife

To my surprise, she eventually managed to bypass her gag reflex, and she began to deep throat me. She swallowed me up to my balls. Her nose was in my pubic hair. No woman had ever done that to me before.

She wanted to show off for the voyeurs, so she would withdraw from my cock super slowly, revealing to even the most casual observer just how much she had swallowed. She did this over and over again. It must have looked quite impressive.

Finally, I said, "I'm going to cum. Where do you want it?" I figured she would want me to cum on her boobs or something, for the dramatic effect; but no, she just kept right on going. I had no choice; I exploded inside her mouth. She opened her mouth, proudly displaying my cum, and then she turned her open mouth to the window so that the voyeurs could see, too, and then she flamboyantly swallowed all of it. Next, she wantonly kissed me, forcing me to taste my own cum. I was as grossed out as I was turned on.

Ann's cell phone buzzed. Her neighbor had texted, "They're all applauding." Ann smiled.

After that night, I realized that Ann was more than a handful. What she said about Martha kept bouncing around in my head. Ann wanted more from me. It was okay; I was having a good time. All right, I'll be honest. I was having the time of my life!

I had a lot of fun helping Ann "get into character." I went to her bar every night, and watched more and more men pleasure her pussy with their fingers while she took their orders. People kept ordering more and more drinks, in order to get her to return to their tables. I saw men flamboyantly smelling their fingers after ordering drinks. I overheard one man at the next table say, "That waitress is soaking wet. Let's ask what time she gets off work."

They asked. She told them. I knew this was Ann's plan. She wanted to try sex with random men before she had to perform that dreaded scene with the male lead. Her sex with me had been too special. She wanted the experience of having sex with a man she did not know, one she did not care for. That would prepare her for sex with the male lead in the play. That was her thinking, anyway. Personally, I thought she was nuts.

The men did indeed ask her what time she got off work. Luckily the men were at the neighboring table, so I would tell who they were. However, there were two of them. I assumed she had chosen one of them. Silly me. She told them that her shift ended at 11pm.

At 11pm, Ann changed into her street clothes, complete with bra and panties, and the men were hovering at the bar's exit. There's a special door for the employees on the side, so Ann surprised them when she came to them from an unexpected direction. She met them at the main entrance to the bar. "Waiting for me, boys?" she asked, giggling nervously.

The creeps offered her money, asking her price. I could see that this took Ann by surprise. She covered her surprise well. She really is a good actress. She winked at me, and she said, "It's $5,000 per man. $10,000 if you want me to do both of you."

Undeterred, the first man, Craig, said, "$5,000 for both of us. Your pervert friend can watch if he wants." I could tell Ann was shocked that these men could casually pay $5,000 to have sex with her. Of course, they were bargaining, offering her only half of her asking price.

"Are you disease free? You need to use condoms," Ann said. The men claimed to be disease free, and more importantly they agreed to use condoms. "You pay for the hotel room, too, boys. Can we compromise? $7,500 for both of you." The men agreed. I myself was shocked in so many different ways, I could not count them all just then.

Off the three of them went to a nearby hotel. I followed for a little bit, so I overheard Ann say, "No. I want the Trump Soho." She told me later that she liked the idea of having wanton sex in a Trump hotel. She liked the idea of being a whore in a Trump hotel. I don't know why. Maybe it was for the perversion aspect? This was a side of Ann I had not yet seen. There seemed to be layers upon layers of Ann. She was a complicated woman. I guess most good actresses are, after all.

I watched the three of them walk off together, each man with an arm around Ann, who was walking in between them. My emotions were a mess as I watched the woman I thought I loved become a prostitute just to understand better her character in the play. Who was this woman I thought I knew and loved?

The next day Ann dropped over. She was a total mess. She could not stop crying. I finally learned that everything went fine with the two men. She gave them each a blowjob, she let each man fuck her, and she even let one man take her anal cherry. The other man got jealous, so she let him fuck her in the ass, too. She showed me the $7,500. "Tax free, too," she said. Ann was having trouble dealing with having been a whore for the night. She could not come to terms with it. She would have been happy to have let the men lay her for free. It was taking the money that freaked her out. I did not know what to say to comfort her.

The play was a huge success. The critics panned J. Blaine's dialog, even if Ann thought it was brilliant. On the other hand, they loved the play overall, and they praised Ann to the high heavens. The critics said that she was the brightest young star on the New York thespian scene. They admired her courage, as well as her acting talent. Every show was a sellout, mostly because lecherous men wanted to see this gorgeous woman spectacularly masturbate for their viewing pleasure. I don't think the brilliant dialog written by one J. Blaine was the key draw for the play.

I went to every performance. I'm the playwright, after all. The documentation disclaimed that the sex was simulated, but I of course knew that the male lead was truly fucking Ann. Most of the audience knew too, I suspect. I watched my sweet Ann get fucked every single night, usually by the male lead (who did in fact have a huge cock), but he would get worn out, and then the understudy would fuck her at the next performance. She was doing what I had written her to do, after all, even if I had specified simulated sex.

Ann, in contrast, never seemed to get worn out. She would come over to my place after each and every performance and fuck my brains out. On Mondays, when the play was not performed, she would make dinner for me at her place and then we would openly fuck in her window. Her regular voyeurs now owned binoculars. One guy had a camera with a telephoto lens that probably could have taken close-ups of the man in the moon. Things were getting out of control.

Ann became a star. She was the talk of the town, and most definitely the talk of the Internet. Illegal pictures were everywhere on the Internet. Pictures of her naked and masturbating, strictly forbidden by the theater to be taken, nevertheless were secretly taken and circulated on the web. This made the clamor to see her in the play even more intense. People were scalping tickets to the tiny Greenwich Village theater.

There was also a picture, and also a short video, of her fucking the male lead, without the deniability provided by the partially transparent screen. It had been taken secretly by a back-stage crew member, and sold to a British tabloid. That too made it to the web, and she stole the spotlight from other starlets who had been betrayed by a boyfriend in similar ways, usually with a supposedly private sex tape. Now everyone knew the fucking was real.

Ann became a celebrity, and she was offered starring roles on Broadway. The small Greenwich Village theater let her take one of those roles, as there were actresses galore clamoring to take her place. The play ran for a year, before a new mayor shut it down. A couple copulating on stage was just too much, even for the relaxed morals of New York. Nobody any longer believed it had been a simulated fuck, thanks to that goddamn back-stage crew guy. Nudity was okay. Masturbation was okay. Fucking? No.

Murray became a wreck. I never wrote another play.

I went to see my play with the new actress replacing Ann. She was just as good as Ann had been. Her masturbation scene was every bit as good. Wow. It was hot! And I got to watch her get fucked, too, albeit through the screen.

One difference was that this new actress did not come over to my place afterwards, for an after-theater fuck. She did not even know me. The new actress was every bit as good as Ann was, but it was Ann who created the role, and it was Ann who became a star. Her replacement became a well-known actress, and a sex symbol, but she did not become nearly the star of the stage that Ann had already become.

Ann stopped returning my phone calls. Martha and Steve broke up. I waited a couple of months, and I asked to meet Martha. I was over Ann. I was totally over Ann. My torch for Ann was now buried the requisite full six feet.

I was very nervous on my first date with the lovely Martha. So was Martha. I was not sure how I felt about her having shacked up with Steve. I could imagine them fucking on a daily basis. The thought of that made me want to wretch.

Martha, on the other hand, felt equally insecure. She knew what I had been up to with Ann. Apparently, Ann had given blow by blow accounts of our sexcapades to her friend Sarah, and Sarah had spilled the beans regularly to Martha. Martha did love me, but she felt she could not measure up to Ann, the sexpot starlet whom I had not only deflowered, but whose charms I had enjoyed on a nightly basis.

Martha and I took it slow. For our first date, I took her to the movies. We held hands as I walked her back to her apartment, and I kissed her at her door. She told me later she would never forget how I gently pulled her into me and then softly kissed her, caressing her lips. That kiss itself told her I loved her. It was not lying, either.

The second date I wanted to impress her, and I took her to my favorite, elegant Village restaurant. It was a romantic meal, and while we were waiting for dessert, I gave her a small set of gold bangle bracelets. She immediately put them on, blushed, and leaned over the table and kissed me. When she leaned over to kiss me she knocked over my wine glass, and red wine spilled all over my suit pants. We actually giggled while we kissed.

Martha said, "I could lick all the wine off your pants, you know. If you want... It's a nice wine. I love Bordeaux."

I replied, "Sadly, it has not penetrated down to what's underneath my pants."

"I could lick that, anyway," she said. "It won't have the taste of a good red Bordeaux, but I'm sure I'll love the taste, you know?"

"You're on!" I replied.

"Is that a dare?" Martha asked, her eyes twinkling. "I never refuse a dare."

"It's a dare," I said, smiling mischievously. "And I dare you to do it naked." Martha raised a single eyebrow.

"It's time to go, my love," Martha said. We ate dessert, I paid the bill, and Martha led me off to her apartment. Her apartment, on the 14th floor of a Greenwich Village building on Washington Place, has a little balcony, high above Broadway. Anyone in the street could see it if they looked up. Luckily, nobody, or at least almost nobody, looked up. The people who would be most likely to notice, live directly across the street.

Martha gave me a blowjob right on her balcony. She was naked, too, as I had earlier specified that she be. She swallowed my cum. I felt maybe she was competing with Ann. She need not have bothered. I was hers, hook, line, and sinker. I loved the woman before she hooked up with Steve. I realized that love had never left. I still do.

Martha and I married, and she is now pregnant with our first child. She looks even more beautiful while she is pregnant. She is four months pregnant, and her skin has a rosy glow to it. Her belly button has begun to stick out. She is radiantly happy all the time.

I'm still a boring, and bored, junior executive. Martha and I haunt the theater on the weekends, both movies and -- especially -- plays. We have yet to see a play on Broadway starring Ann, but Martha has tickets to one. We're going next weekend.

I believe Ann stays clothed in the play, but I guess we'll know for sure next weekend. I heard that at one point her costume falls away revealing a naked breast. Not at all like the exposure she gave in J. Blaine's masterpiece, but hey, I'll take it! One thing is certain. After the play, out on her balcony high above Broadway, Martha will certainly not stay clothed! I intend to see to that, personally.

Closer to Christmas, Ann threw a Christmas party. She invited her close friends (Martha, Sarah, Murray, me, and a few others) and the entire cast and crew of the original play that had made her a star. We all had to come in costume, and (of course) Ann came as a Santa's Helper. Martha (who is small) came as an elf, and Murray came as Santa Claus himself. He was one of five Santas at the party.

I did not know what to dress as. I bought a snowman outfit and came as a snowman, even if New York had not yet received any snow that winter. The male lead, and his understudy, one of whom had fucked Ann at every performance, were also there. Martha kept a close eye on me; I think she wanted to make sure I was over Ann.

Ann was glowing, and she looked as hot and as sexy as I had ever seen her. In her Santa Helper outfit, she was wearing no bra at all. She kept flashing her boobs, as she often found reasons to bend over deeply. Her bright red panties, so often flashed in her onstage performances, were replaced with lacy see-through panties. Her much less modest panties were frequently flashed at her party.

Any other woman, dressed like that and behaving like that, would come across as a hussy. Not Ann. No, she came across as a sweet innocent thing who did not fully realize what she was doing. It was an illusion. She knew all right. She knew in spades.

When she saw me after we entered, she came over to me and gave me a big hug, pressing her boobs into my snowman costume. My chest got a very nice feel of her boobs, mediated through my costume. I still love her boobs. After Ann's hug, and all the old emotions it brought to the surface like acid reflux after Mexican food, I clung to Martha, and Martha took me aside and planted a huge kiss on my lips. She was claiming me, and I loved it. Martha was more than enough woman for this man!

The real object of Ann's party was not me, Jason. Nor was it me, J. Blaine (I was worried Ann was going to out me as J. Blaine, but she did not). No, the real object was Murray. At first, I thought Ann wanted to taunt Murray, and show him how stupid he had been to have lost her. I was dreading that. Maybe she would let the former porn star fuck her publicly just to humiliate him? Martha and I were prepared to leave if anything like that happened.

I was wrong, once again. Ann threw the party with Murray in mind, yes. What she wanted, however, was to win Murray back. Murray had not brought a date to the party. He wanted to, but when his date, a nice woman named Mary Anne, learned Murray's ex-wife was throwing the party, she backed out. So, Murray was there with Martha and me, but without his own woman. Ann gave him a big smile when he entered alone. No sane person, man or woman, could resist such a smile. Murray is sane.

Ann did not even have to make an effort. The moment Murray was hit with that smile, I knew he was hers. The smile said, 'All my life I have waited for you to come into my life, and now here you are. I love you with all my heart and all my soul.' That's a lot to say in one smile. Ann is the only person I know who can say all that in a smile.

Ann flirted and showed off her body throughout the party. She was too smart to try to flirt with me while Martha was there, but she flirted with the former porn star, his understudy, and some of the stage crew. I saw the ex porn star get some nice looks down Ann's blouse. Ann just giggled. At one point, she whispered something to her best friend Sarah, and Sarah took over taking charge of the party. While Sarah was making announcements, Ann quietly led Murray off to the bedroom, where everyone had thrown their coats on the bed.

I slipped away at one point during the party, and I put my ear to the bedroom door. I heard Ann's signature moans. I knew those moans well. I imagined myself in Murray's place, going to town in Ann's velvety pussy. I wondered what position they were using. I hoped it was my favorite one with Ann.

I used to live to hear Ann moan while I fucked her silly. Now I just thought, 'Good for Murray. Good for Ann.' I went over to Martha to give her the news. "Merry Christmas, my love," she said. She knew I was hard. It was impossible to hide my erection in my snowman outfit. Martha kissed me, and surreptitiously squeezed my cock through my snowman pants.

"Is this for me, or for Ann?" Martha said.

Too smart to fall for that, I simply kissed her, pouring my love down her throat, and mauled her boobs right through her elfin costume. She was not wearing a bra. The costume had a zipper down the front. I had been fascinated by that zipper ever since she put on the outfit without a bra. Martha had suggestively lowered the zipper a bit.

I was tempted. We were at a party, though. But Martha is an exhibitionist. I felt as if there were a good angel on one shoulder, and a bad angel on the other. And then there was that damn zipper. It called to me. The zipper was screaming in my ear.

It was Christmas Day. If ever there were a time for the good angel to win, it was then. I unzipped her elf costume as we kissed. I did it with a gentle touch, and I think Martha was unaware I was doing it. To hell with the good angel.

Martha became aware, however, when, still kissing, I reached inside and began to fondle and caress her boobs. Martha broke the kiss and pulled away from me in surprise, allowing me to open up her costume for everyone's viewing pleasure. The men around us then burst into applause, and Martha's anger and shock morphed into a blushing acknowledgement of the applause. God, I love that woman. She even shook her shoulders to jiggle her boobs. They jiggle well.

She made no move to cover up, and with her boobs hanging out beautifully, she resumed kissing me. While we were kissing, the ex porn star came over and began to fondle Martha's boobs, tweaking her nipples. Martha stopped kissing me and instead of slapping him, she giggled. He said, "Great boobs, Miss,"

Martha said, "It's Mrs." She flashed him her ring, waving her ring finger over her nipples, to get his attention. He apologized and walked away, a big smile on his face.

"Nicely done, my love," I said.

"Take me home, you bastard. And stop trying to earn your moniker bastard!" Martha replied.

"I love you, my sexy little elf," I said. "Let's claim Ann's bedroom when she and Murray are done."

"No. Take me home. Ann and Murray will not be done tonight. They have to make up for years of abstinence with each other, and I need you now," Martha replied. I took her home. We didn't come back up for air until Boxing Day. Ann and Murray came up for air around New Year's Day, as far as we could tell. They make a nice couple.

The four of us went out for brunch on New Year's Day. Murray looked exhausted, and Ann looked radiant. I had eyes, however, only for Martha.