Bed and Breakfast Hotwife

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Her plan to stock her home with hot, horny men - run a B&B.
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[Note: The hotwife in this story is, well, a wife, right? That means she has a husband. When she gets hot, he becomes a cuckold. You following this, Annony? Get over it, or read a different story. Oh, yeah, one more thing -- BTB is a fetish and has no place in Loving Wives.]

***

Tracy and Don Elliott, empty-nesters in their late 40s, supplement their income by offering two unoccupied bedrooms in their home on an internet B&B website. Tracy manages the flow of customers, and it was not a coincidence that the guests who slept in their home were mostly good-looking men.

***

Chapter 1 - 2020

"The reservation was only for two nights, Mr. Jackson. I have other guests lined up, and I also need time to clean the room between guests."

Tracy Elliott had dealt with flaky bed and breakfast renters before, so she had some experience dealing with unexpected problems like Jackson's. One of the banes of being a B&B host is that guests frequently want to leave early (and pay less), or stay longer (despite the owner's obligations to other guests). Being a host is often a scheduling ordeal.

Jackson's issue -- he wanted to stay an extra night - came up all the time. The good part of the stay longer problem is that it gives the owner a chance to gouge some real money, whether or not there's truly another guest on deck.

Tom Jackson had rented her Cleveland, Ohio guestroom through an on-line room-sharing website. Tuesday evening, which was to have been his last, he asked to prolong his stay two more nights. His business had stretched out into another day or two of negotiation. He had already rearranged his return flight; getting the Elliotts' room for the extra nights was his only remaining problem.

Tracy Elliott and her husband, Don were in their mid-forties. Their nest became empty two years ago when their 22-year old son took a job in Denver, near his older sister's home in Boulder.

Money was tight; Don only worked part-time. He earned a decent but irregular income from part-time computer work. He sometimes worked at home, and the convenience was awesome, but they needed an expensive high-speed connection and cutting-edge computer hardware. Both were expensive. One of Don's clients, however, forbade work from private residences due to concerns about intellectual property protection. When Don worked on projects for Trickle, a start-up in Oregon, they required that he work from an office in one of those new hourly shared office buildings downtown.

Tracy's office job at a downtown hotel paid well for the first 40 hours. But she often was made to put in a few extra hours, and because she was "Salaried Admin" she earned no overtime money when she worked late. Don and Tracy found it amusing that they each "ran a hotel." Tracy helped run the real hotel downtown, and Don was home enough to manage the B&B.

But it was Tracy handling Tom Jackson right now. "If you give me $200 cash, off the books, I'll cancel the next booking and let you stay longer."

Tom agreed. "And fifty more gets me a blowjob?" He grinned broadly. He had a killer smile, and he knew women thought him attractive.

Most of her guests knew that sex with Tracy was on the menu. She frequently had sex with a guest, and word gets around on-line. Tom knew that he could have had her pussy for $250, but he didn't think she would be worth it. She was kind of a dumpy-looking middle-age broad, and with time and effort, he could do a lot better.

But he was in a strange city, his time was valuable, and a mouth is a mouth.

She took his hand, led him into the bedroom, and waited for him to undress and sit on the bed. Then Tracy Elliott went to her knees and began to fondle his testicles.

***

Chapter 2 - 1994

Before her marriage, Tracy sometimes had sex for money. It had started back in Community College when she was 19 years old. The boss at her part-time job in the shopping mall offered her a way to make more money than the pittance he paid her. She would stay late after they closed up the store, and Carl would give her $15 to suck and swallow.

Tracy was happy to comply. She needed money, and she just didn't think sucking a cock for five minutes was a big deal. And the old guy never lasted any longer than that, unlike her first boyfriend who kept her mouth busy for 15 or 20 minutes for free.

She did the math, and $15 for five minutes worked out to almost $200 an hour. Few jobs paid that well for a teenager. Tracy's only regret was that nasty old Carl was one and done. She would have happily sucked more to earn more; college isn't cheap.

She asked him if he had any friends who might want to share her. He proudly bragged to a couple of his fellow shop-owners about Tracy's skills. Soon she was getting home an hour later but $60 richer. The nights she enjoyed the most were the times two or three of the men crammed into her Carl's little office and she blew them in front of each other. There was a kinky vibe that came from introducing competition between the horny old men -- who lasts longer, cums harder, or has a bigger penis, stuff like that. Tracy didn't mind sucking at all and rarely minded swallowing a load. Some guys taste better than others, of course, but it was mostly OK for her.

Towards the end of the semester, her boss started to pester her to go all the way. Tracy wasn't a virgin - she once had sexual intercourse, with that boyfriend who soon after dumped her. She hadn't enjoyed the experience. He had been a clumsy, unskilled, and callous lover interested only in his own orgasm. He'd left Tracy with no hymen and no interest in a repeat performance.

On the other hand, Tracy wasn't exactly fending off boys' advances right and left. She learned early back in high school that she wasn't pretty. Boys and girls in high school quickly sort themselves by physical attractiveness. The hot boys pair off with the cheerleaders and the ugly kids are left to date each other. Even among their own genders, rankings are cruel, with the big-dicked boys lording it over the little-dicked boys, the blossoming full-titted girls smirking at the flat-chested or fat girls. Everything flowed from how good-looking you are.

Tracy wasn't ugly, exactly. She had a pleasant but square face, and nice soft brunette hair. But she was kind of built a little wide and low to the ground. She had no curves. Small breasts and a waist the same size as her hips made her look like a boy. Life can be cruel to a young girl who looks like a boy. That one boyfriend she'd had didn't stick around very long after getting her naked once and popping her cherry.

Tracy drove a hard bargain with Carl before letting him get her in the sack, but those homely looks of her meant that she wasn't going to get rich selling herself. Carl gave her $100 dollars one night and took her home to her apartment to consummate their deal. He was underwhelmed by finally seeing her naked, and quickly maneuvered her onto her hands and knees. He would take her from the rear, her square face and floppy little breasts out of sight. Her cunt was the only part of her Carl wanted to look at.

He learned to his surprise that Tracy had the tightest pussy in town and instinctively knew how to use it. How ironic that the least sexy female he knew was the hottest trick around! She was only a two out of ten on the beauty scale, but he'd never had better sex. By the time Carl was finished slamming it to her that first night he was almost in love. Meaning that he was definitely coming back for more of Tracy's hole.

And the dirty old man was punching above his weight, too. That one painful and unrewarding experience with her jerk boyfriend had not prepared Tracy for the possibility that sex might actually feel as good as everyone said it does. Maybe it was the better position, or perhaps being in a bed instead of the back seat of a car, or even the shape of Carl's penis, but Tracy had her first-ever orgasm that night and then had her second. By rolling her hips and clenching her inside muscles, she wrung joy out of Carl's cock.

She kept his $100 that night, but from then on Carl didn't have to pay her again. Hell, he didn't even need to ask her again, she was so eager to fuck him. When he could, her boss started closing up early and spending more time riding Tracy's ass in her bed. Tracy liked it best - and could have multiple orgasms - if Carl leaned all the way over her back, hugged her chest, and pinched and twisted her nipples. There seemed to be a direct circuit between her otherwise unremarkable little A-cup tits and her cunt. She lubricated so much that her juices ran down her legs and soaked the sheets.

Whenever Carl instead kept his torso upright and off of her back, when he held her hips to bang his cock as deep as he could, then Tracy would use first one hand, and then the other to maul her own nipples.

Three weeks later she missed her period.

After two sleepless nights wrestling with her dilemma, Tracy came to work with a plan. She told Carl they were done, and why. Then she seduced her nerd coworker, Donny Elliott. Tuesday gamerboy got a handjob in the back room, oral sex in his car on Wednesday, and Friday night he scored a home run at Tracy's apartment. He wasn't much to look at, and his financial prospects were uncertain, but when Tracy told Don that he had knocked her up, he gallantly offered to marry her.

He was at her side, holding her hand, helping her breathe, when their daughter was born a month earlier than expected. Tracy ruled out naming her after anyone in either of their families and insisted on "Carla." Don didn't much care, so agreed.

Two years later Don was making better money coding software on the side, and they decided to have a second child. There were many months of trying and failing, and it was Don who suggested he should see a doctor and have his sperm tested. Tracy soothed his anxieties, reminded him how pleasant it was to be having sex so frequently while they tried for a baby, and urged just a bit more patience. "Nature has its ways, darling," she consoled him.

Two months later she was pregnant again. Don was thrilled when their son arrived on schedule. The little tyke looked just like Don looked in his baby pictures.

Tracy would never know if it was Don's brother or his father who had done the job. She'd given them each several opportunities, once together, which turned them both on. She was just glad that Don never found out that his low sperm count and poor motility rendered him functionally sterile.

***

Chapter 3 - 2017

Don and Tracy had a good thing going with the bed and breakfast. Costs were low, the money was good, and the steady stream of men they'd likely never see again eventually became a solution to their cuckold fantasies.

Tracy's deepest secret was of course that Don had always been a cuckold but never knew it. Ten years ago, when their two children were teenagers, Don discovered on-line stories about shared wives, hot wives, swingers, open and half-open marriages, and cuckolding. Soon many of his sexual encounters with Tracy involved him fantasizing that he was a virile bull making some lady's husband a cuck.

When Don mentioned the fetish to his wife, she happily joined him in role-playing. Now that they were both fantasizing, Don sometimes played the role of a movie star making love to Tracy, while her own fantasies tended towards most of the other men in her office. Many an orgasm was had when Don thought he was Brad Pitt while at the same time Tracy's toes were curling as she imagined getting fucked by the Weekend Manager.

Don had no clue, but it's not a great idea to stoke your wife's slut-wife fantasies if she works 40 hours a week at a hotel. There weren't many men who looked at Tracy and wanted to rip her clothes off, but there were a few desperate guys, and Tracy never said no. There was always an empty room handy. When Tracy opened her legs for random men, there was no need for her to pretend she was cuckolding Don. She just wished there were more desperate men.

And then there were.

As soon as their bed and breakfast operation started, both Tracy and Don worked the idea of "the guy in the guest room" into their cuckold fantasies. Nothing much happened for a month or so, but one night after an unsatisfactory experience with each other Tracy went on the prowl.

That night started like most others, with Don and Tracy excusing themselves and retreating to their en suite bedroom sanctuary shortly after supper. They had a small desk, a nice TV, and two lounge chairs for reading. Don had downloaded some filthy cuckold videos onto a thumb drive, and he and Tracy watched a little before having sex with each other.

At least half the time they had sex with each other, Don would ejaculate before Tracy got her orgasm, so she would make him finish her off orally. There was an inescapable D/S aspect to this, and Tracy liked to verbally deride Don as an incompetent lover as she demanded that he "clean up his mess."

Don enjoyed being talked down to in these situations. He liked being humiliated, and once in a while even ejaculated a second time while sucking his first load out of his wife's vagina. In order for this to happen, however, they both had to pretend the first load was another man's. They pretended that Don was licking Tracy clean after she had sex with a fantasy lover. One night the fantasy lover was their overnight guest.

After Don dirtied the bed linen with his second squirt, Tracy introduced a new element to the game. "Since you loved drinking Roger's jizz so much, I'm going to go ask him to fill me again, Don." She got out of bed, put on a thin bathrobe, and took some clean towels out of the closet. Breaking out of the cuckoldress role, she truthfully said, "I'm only going to see if our guest needs more towels, dear; but you imagine he's making love to me and when I come back you can eat me some more."

And that's all that happened that night: Tracy knocked on Roger's door, made sure he didn't need more towels, and then tiptoed downstairs for 10 minutes. Not knowing for sure what his wife was doing, Don trembled with excitement as he imagined their guest fucking his wife. When Tracy slipped back into their bedroom Don's cock was so hard it was twitching. Tracy rode him cowgirl to a rare mutual orgasm and then sat on his face while he pretended he was sucking two loads, one his, one Roger's, out of her soaking wet crotch. Going down the hall for a make-believe fuck became a routine part of their game.

***

Chapter 4 - 2018

Until one night, there was a misunderstanding.

Tracy, almost naked in her bathrobe, knocked lightly on Prentis Jorgenson's door. He was lying on the bed, naked, masturbating while watching porn on his iPad. Tracy thought she heard him say "come in," and slowly opened his door.

He was facing away from the door and appeared not to know she had entered his room. In fact, Prentis was quite an exhibitionist and was excited to have this "excuse" to flaunt his dick in front of the proprietor's wife. So he remained motionless, tugging on his erection, pretending he didn't know she was there. The screen of his tablet was reflective enough to be a decent mirror, and he saw Tracy rub her own clit for a few seconds as she stared at his erection. This was an exhibitionist's dream -- he had staged a perfect excuse to be displaying himself, what with her entering his room "unexpectedly. His victim had a perfect excuse for seeing his cock, having heard him say "come in", and she would now shriek, run away, and he could finish himself off. Mission accomplished.

Except.

Her guest's long penis was the first dick other than Don's that Tracy had seen in 15 years since she'd stopped fucking Don's brother and father. And none of the three Elliott cocks were anywhere near the size of the one in front of her now. She stammered something like "I'm sorry," but made no move to leave.

Prentis was disappointed at first by her lack of response to his provocation. The whole flasher kink requires the victim's shock, disgust, and embarrassment, seeing his cock. But Tracy didn't look shocked, she looked interested. And she didn't look embarrassed, she looked, well, she looked hungry.

Prentis brazenly waved his cock around and then asked her if she liked what she was seeing. She wasn't much to look at, this frumpy middle-aged lady, but she had a cunt, and she was there with him. And she wasn't running away, was she?

"Come closer. He won't bite. Have a look."

And she did. Tracy shuffled slowly closer to the bed and, when he offered her the shaft, she gently wrapped her fingers around him. Tracy had, of course, heard of big cocks, but to see one for the first time was mesmerizing. As she slowly pulled and stroked it, Prentis sat up on the bed and pushed gently on her shoulders. Tracy sank slowly to the floor and hit that familiar old position from her youth: on her knees, between a man's thighs, sucking cock.

One reason Don had sex so infrequently was that Tracy was, for the most part, not that interested in sex. Her early experiences had been very transactional, sex for a goal: money, marriage, or even pregnancy. Sex had never been bad, never forced, or painful. But other than with Carl those three weeks long ago, neither had it usually been blissful, either. It was mostly just OK. Tonight, for the first time in her life, she really, really craved a cock. And it was in her hands. Then her mouth.

It was all that recent cuckold talk with Don and the cuckold/towel games. Prentis Jorgenson's good fortune was to be a real, hot, naked, hard, ready to fuck penis when Tracy "pretended" to come down the hall for a fucking. He was about to have the honor to be the man to finally dump a real load of cum into the cunt Don would soon be licking clean.

And Prentis wasn't going to waste his one shot on a blowjob. After letting her slather him with saliva, he got up and raised Tracy to her feet. She moved her head, without thinking, to kiss her lover, but he turned her whole body to the bed, shoved her face down onto the mattress, and mounted Tracy like a barnyard animal. He didn't have any interest in hugging, kissing, or even looking at Tracy. All he needed was to fuck a big load way deep into the back of her vagina. And he was thrilled to discover that it was an extraordinary tight vagina, too.

Jesus, that's good," he said to Tracy. "You're tight as a teenager." He slowly slithered his long snake into her greedy hole from the rear. Wanting to degrade her even more than he already had, he told her "Christ, your poor husband. His slut just eyeballs a real cock and bends over for it? You're a cock-needy old bitch and I hope you don't think I'll pay extra for your tired old pussy."

Tracy had not, in fact, had any thought about getting paid. Since the stunning appearance of his magic wand in front of her a few moments before, she hadn't formed any cogent thoughts at all. She was already teetering on the brink of the first of the three orgasms Jorgenson was going to give her. She almost lost it a moment ago with his "tight as a teenager" remark, and she doubled down on her Kegels and squeezed his big shaft as tightly as she could.

But now, with his wonderful strong pole rearranging her plumbing, she realized that offering her body to future guests might kill two birds with one stone. Don would get his wimpy cuckold fantasies in real life, and she'd make even more money as a hostess getting her slot filled with the jizz he wanted to drink.

Between his sadistic words and his generous endowment, Prentis had Tracy wracked in constant orgasms all ten minutes he railed her. Slapping her flabby ass, banging his cock into the back wall of her vagina, he dumped a prodigious load of cum, then slapped her hard one final time, and said: "did you get what you came for?"