Bed and Breakfast Hotwife

She did.

Changing their normal pattern, when she got back to the room she skipped Don's cock and just sat on his face straight away. "Oh my god, Don, he really fucked me. Jorgenson fucked me so good. What a big cock. Can you taste him?"

Unsure what was real and what was role play, Don dove into her crotch face first, and soon figured out that Tracy was telling the truth. Barely able to chew pussy and speak at the same time, he managed to moan how happy he was that Tracy finally made him a real cuckold.

She smiled and then began another series of orgasms even better than the ones she had down the hall. It was like having a seizure, and she twisted her own nipples painfully as she squirmed her hairy wet snatch all over Don's face.

Her stupid fucking husband, she thought, oblivious that he was in fact cuckolded soon after his marriage by his own father and brother, was finally getting his cuckold dream come true. The premature ejaculator who got his little rocks off imagining his wife a whore was drinking the seminal fluid of a better man's prostate, delivered from his darling wife's well-fucked cunt.

Tracy looked down on his hips, wriggling around as she sat on his head, his little pecker throbbing and finally squirting his own watery, worthless load onto his own belly. Things were going be different around here, she thought.

For one thing, she was going to take charge of selecting their guests from now on. And the good-looking ones would get lots and lots of towels.

At breakfast in the morning, Jorgenson behaved completely normal, so Tracy broke the ice. She knew that humiliation by the bull was a part of Don's cuckold fetish, and frankly, her own, too. So she said "Prentis, I want to thank you for the fantastic fucking you gave me last night. Donny, don't you want to thank Mr. Jorgenson for screwing your wife so well?"

Outrageous as it might sound, Don had long desired a humiliating scene like this. He had no trouble replying immediately, "Mr. Jorgenson, Tammy's right. She loved your big cock last night. Thank you for sharing it with her. She needs more than I can give her, and I want her to be happy."

Tracy added, "My wimpy husband really loved cleaning my pussy hole after you filled it up. He told me that your cum is delicious. We hope you can stay again with us next time."

Neither business nor pleasure ever brought Prentis Jorgenson back to Cleveland. But choosing his words carefully, he gave their B&B a positive review on an off-brand website that reviewed short-term accommodations. The salaciously-named FarmersDaughter.com hosted sex tips and recommendations for traveling businessmen. Jorgenson's review was the first for the Elliotts, but their hospitality options soon became more widely known.

***

Chapter 5 - 2018

Shortly after Jorgenson's review was posted, the Elliotts received a reservation request from an old man planning a visit to the city.

The nationally-known B&B website most people used was rigorously intolerant of direct communications. Their business model depended on maintaining themselves as the intermediary between would be renters and hosts. FarmersDaughter, on the other hand, existed mainly to facilitate direct contact and enable lusty discussions.

Gerald Bates first booked a room using the stuffy website, then canceled it after getting the Elliotts' address and telephone. He then called them directly to book a room, making it clear to Don that he also wanted the $50 special turn-down service. Soon Bates arrived and the Elliotts had their first pre-arranged sexual encounter with a visitor.

Bates was NOT one of those old men about whom it was said that "seventy is the new fifty." He looked every day of his age, a wrinkled, bald old man, tall and skinny as a rail. Tracy got no pleasure out of bringing him fresh towels that night and sucking his half-erect penis, surrounded by a thick, grey bush. In the end, she was pleasantly surprised by the size and tastiness of his ejaculation, but the night was one of the rare times that the subsequent sex with Don was better than the cuckolding encounter itself. But $50 was better than nothing.

Tracy resolved to do a more careful, active screening of future guests. Tracy had Don's consent to let her offer herself to a guest or not. But if the sexual encounter is pre-arranged, it becomes a commitment, and turning a man down would lead to negative reviews and financial harm. So it was important to screen out the pigs and toads. The Elliotts had transitioned into a situation where Tracy pretty much had to suck and fuck her guests, whether or not she felt like it.

Neither did it matter what Don thought. They had reached a point that Tracy would fuck who she wanted, when she wanted, and Don could either enjoy being cuckolded or not. One night Tracy told him that she had screwed several of her coworkers over the years, and might continue to do so if she so chose. Don's first thought was not that Tracy cheated on him, but instead that these men all now knew that he was a cuckold, and he didn't even know who they were. How deliciously exciting and humiliating!

Tracy fiendishly dragged Don to the hotel employees' holiday party, where she held his arm and introduced him to one person after another, all the time whispering "You think I fucked him? Maybe I did, maybe not." She lightly rubbed her hand over the front of his trousers to keep his little cock hard all night.

Don got a thrill out of his abasement. Just before midnight, while they spoke to the Weekend Manager, Tracy said "I told Don that I cheated on him with someone here, but I didn't tell him it was you. Knowing I'm a whore makes his cock stand up. This is your chance to tell my hubby what a good time you had fucking his wife."

There were two other men at the party Tracy had opened her legs for, and she had a similar conversation with each one, all the while clinging to Don's arm. All three men thought it was fun to taunt Tracy's husband, and by the time Tracy declared it time to go home Don was almost trembling with excitement. Just think: he'd spent hours in the company of men who knew what an inadequate husband he was, men who had plowed Tracy's cunt behind his back.

In their car, before pulling out of the garage, Tracy stroked him all the way and laughed at him for "jizzing your pants like a little boy. Too bad all their wives were here, or we could have taken one or two of my office-husbands home with us."

Unfortunately for Don, as their cuckold play took over their sex lives, Tracy found herself less interested in normal sex with Don. His modest cock and his hair-trigger made him a really lousy fuck. His access to Tracy became completely oral for a while until he told her about this "pegging" thing he'd seen on the internet and she got interested.

They started slow, with one or more of Tracy's fingers in Don's hole while she masturbated him to climax. Don became increasingly submissive as night after night Tracy laid him on his back, tugged his cock with the fingers of one hand, and gently inserted fingers from the other hand into his rear end. Using lots of lube, and switching hands often, she literally manipulated his arousal until she wanted him to have release.

Unless she didn't want, and she would say something demeaning like "I give up. Go jerk yourself off in the bathroom. And don't make a mess."

The second step towards Don's emasculation came at the end of one of Tracy's vibrators. Sexually speaking, this was a disappointment for both of them. Tracy got little sexual pleasure from manhandling the vibe in and out of her husband, and the stiff unyielding plastic cylinder didn't do much to stimulate Don either. The idea of being pegged had been more thrilling than the actual event.

It was a little better for both of them when Tracy bought a harness and tried wearing the dildo. Pumping in and out of Don stimulated something primal in Tracy. In almost every sexual encounter in her life, sex had pretty much been something someone was doing to her. Often, she had enjoyed only the getting paid part, not so much the getting laid part. Pegging was obviously something *she* did, not something done to her.

But real joy eluded her until Tracy pegged Don with a double-ended device that was inserted into her vagina and Don's ass. Her orgasms now were better pegging Don than having regular intercourse with him.

Don liked it best when Tracy mounted him doggy style and humped him vigorously, often while either giving him a reach-around or maybe pinching and twisting the nipples on his man boobs. Tracy could slam his prostate gland on each thrust. They soon learned how to position themselves so that Tracy banged Don's prostate and he experienced hands-free orgasms of his own. Don's best orgasms came whenever Tracy mounted Don's ass and gave him a thorough screwing. Eating creampies was still a treat, but as humiliation, it couldn't hold a candle to letting your slut wife bugger you while calling you names.

Tracy's favorite position, however, was lying down in opposite directions, scissoring each other, crotch to crotch, connected by her double-ended dong. She'd gotten the idea from lesbian videos. The two of them would slither around, humping each other's crotch, and moving the dong in and out of their holes until she orgasmed. This position usually left Don unsatisfied, but increasingly Tracy just didn't give a fuck what Don liked. She'd become a selfish whore, and their sexual adventures were just beginning.

***

Chapter 6

Don and Tracy frequently talked about sex. They were immersing themselves in sexual fantasies. They discussed what they did with whom, and what they dreamed of doing.

With guests, however, Tracy found silence was usually golden. Few of the men cared about what she did or what she wanted. Some of them didn't want to talk at all, just to dump a load in whichever hole they'd paid for and roll over to sleep.

Patrick Hannover was an exception. From the moment Tracy entered his room he babbled bout the sex they would have and things he'd enjoyed in the past. He asked about her husband and delighted in talking about Don's cuckold fetish and creampie addiction.

Then he did something no other guest had -- he offered more money to fuck Tracy in front of Don. He wanted her husband in the corner, watching Tracy be his whore. Tracy was fine with his idea; it just meant more money for her, and if Don didn't enjoy watching, well, too bad. Might even be more fun if he refused; they could tie him up in a chair against his will.

That wasn't necessary; Don was delighted to comply. Tracy's sex life involved him less and less, and she almost never cared any more when or if he had an orgasm. He sat in a chair in the corner and was soon masturbating while Patrick, energized by his audience, fucked the daylights out of Tracy. The masturbating was also Patrick's idea, not that Don needed his arm twisted. But he might have sat there quietly if Hannover hadn't taunted him to "pull out your sissy dick and beat yourself off."

Performing in front of Don and taunting him had been Patrick's idea, but Tracy loved the new kink and had one of her best-ever orgasms. It was a bigger rush to humiliate Don in front of another man -- a bigger, more sexual man - than merely to humiliate him in the privacy of their bedroom. As she lay on the bed next to her guest, enjoying the after-glow, sperm leaking from her banged-up cunt, she had an idea. It, of course, involved both sex and money.

"Patrick? For another $50, I'll let you watch Don eat your creampie."

What followed gave all three of them pleasure. Don had never even imagined anything as humiliating as eating Tracy in front of the man who had fucked her. It was absolutely delightful. As he lay face down on the bed, his face firmly planted between Tracy's sweaty, meaty thighs, he orgasmed, soiling the comforter. Patrick had never felt manlier, more powerful, than fucking a load deep into another man's wife and making him clean it up. Tracy was enjoying herself so much that she had a tremendous cum of her own, her second.

Two days later, in the comfort of his own home, Patrick Hannover left a detailed, glowing 5-star review on FarmersDaughter.com and the phone at the Elliotts' house started ringing all the time. Requests for simple blowjobs or intercourse diminished, and threesomes became a house specialty. They were a bargain at $300.

***

Chapter 7

The Elliotts really enjoyed many of their FarmersDaughter customers, but the "regular" B&B guests using the national B&B webpage still came frequently, too. In the autumn B&Bs in college towns get busy. High school seniors across the country start selecting colleges to be applied to, and a campus visit is almost a necessity.

B&Bs with two guest rooms, like Don and Tracy's, get booked by families, with the parents in one room and the student in the other. When demand is high rates rise, too, and an October booking by a family pays more than an off-season "single with a blowjob".

The Andrews family booked two rooms for two nights so that Todd, their 18-year-old son, could visit two campuses in one long day. They arrived mid-day on a Sunday, planned the campus expeditions for Monday, and would leave town Tuesday. Two rooms for two nights would keep Tracy and Don busy in the kitchen, but they loved the money a booking like this provided

Wendell, Nancy and Todd Andrews arrived around Noon on Sunday. The husband was over six feet tall and carried some extra weight on his broad-shouldered body. He appeared neither fat nor fit, just bulky. Nancy was a tiny woman in comparison, about five foot four, and slim. It wasn't obvious the way she was dressed, but she was lean and toned. Their son was a very handsome combination of the two parents, tall like his dad but lean and fit, like his mother. His arms were solid muscle, and Tracy kept noticing them as Todd flexed and motioned.

An attractive couple in their forties, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews wanted to do some sightseeing Sunday and then visit a well-reviewed restaurant. When their son begged off, they left Todd in his room to study a little, to prepare for his interviews the next day, and to relax. Planning to be alone for three or four hours, instead of doing anything productive Todd opened the bedroom window as much as he could and fired up some marijuana. He was very relaxed indeed when Tracy caught a whiff while walking down the hall.

If you work in a hotel there are some smells you become familiar with. Regular cigarettes, of course, are number one. I mean, what part of "No Smoking Room" do those idiots not understand? Sperm, surprisingly, is smell number two. Who are the pervs who whack off all over the bed comforters? Guests sometimes leave a room fragrant of beer, vomit, or an unflushed toilet.

And marijuana. Tracy knew what she smelled in her house right away. Smoking anything was not allowed in their house. It wasn't so much that Don and Tracy cared about morality, but residual smoke odors of any kind could ruin the stay of the next guest. Tracy knocked on Todd's door and, not waiting for an answer, went right in.

He was sitting in the room's only chair, next to the open window, stretched out backward as if the chair was a recliner. It looked uncomfortable, but he seemed relaxed. He slowly raised his head but made no move to get up. He was so tall, well over six feet, that his athletic body stuck way out of both the top and the bottom of the chair. His brain wasn't firing on all cylinders -- he was really baked -- and he just turned his head and stared at the middle-aged lady shooting daggers at him with her eyes. Holding a cigarette in his right hand, his left on his crotch seemed to be idly stroking an erection inside his sweatpants.

It took a second before he connected his brain cells and remembered that she was the landlady. As he stared at her, ogled her, really, he ran his eyes up and down her body. Her hair was cut in a style suitable to an older woman, with touches of gray. Some wrinkles around her eyes and her neck. Her blouse didn't show any curves, so Todd knew her boobs were small. He noticed she had no waist at all and her torso was all straight up-and-down like a tree trunk. Chunky thighs with surprisingly trim, shapely calves. The lady wasn't ugly, but she was far from beautiful. A lot of hard miles on this broad, he thought. Not a woman to be fucked with, he bet.

Her best feature, at least as she appeared to Todd, was her eyes. When her mouth smiled, her eyes just twinkled. Todd locked on her eyes and reached inside his waistband to grab his erection unencumbered. He was too stoned to wonder why she didn't care about his jerking off, and at the same time was too befuddled to have any particular plan to continue, or to stop. His dick was sending pleasure signals to his brain, and he kept stroking. Tracy kept staring.

"I just came to see if you were comfortable in your room, Mr. Andrews."

Todd's dick jerked in his hands when she called him that.

"There's no smoking permitted in my house. I thought you knew that."

He just continued his vacant, drug befuddled stare.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone look more comfortable than you do right now, Mr. Andrews." Her eyes watched his hand manipulate his hard cock, still inside his pants. Tracy knew that, brain all fucked up by the grass, Todd wasn't going to be much of a conversationalist. She idly wondered if he had any money.

"I mean, I stopped in to see if you need anything to make yourself more at home." As she continued speaking softly to Todd, she approached the chair.

"Is there anything you need, Mr. Andrews? Anything at all to make you happy here?"

Todd just stared at her and stroked his dick inside his sweats. Tracy knew that if Todd was fucked up enough, he might never utter a complete sentence, so she took some initiative and reached in his pants to take over the job of whacking him off.

He groaned and stiffened in the chair. His hand, slathered with his own pre-cum, fell out of his pants and dangled next to the chair. Once Tracy leaned forward, his hand slowly went to her thighs, and then up under her dress. Todd was gently rubbing the older woman's meaty ass as she lowered his pants.

"Mr. Andrews," she said, and felt his erection twitch, "you have a really nice cock. I hope you don't mind if I play with it for you, do you? I like my guests to feel right at home here."

After deciding that Todd was not going to object to anything, she tugged his sweat pants completely off of his body and fell to her knees between his muscular thighs. Tracy Elliott had blown so many men in her life that she couldn't count. But the first five inches of Todd Andrews's teenage hard-on were the best she could remember. That left several more inches exposed, but Tracy's mouth could only take just so much dick before choking. She gave it her best, being sure to clinch her lips tight just behind the large head on the end of his teenage erection.

Todd stared down at the older woman's face. He took another pull on his cannabis cigarette. His dick looked terrific between her lips. His brain slid sideways, and he wondered whether it was a pretty mouth or a pretty cock. He didn't finish the thought. He wasn't finishing any of his thoughts.

Tracy's hands were tugging and squeezing his big balls. She began to whimper, and Todd's brain was so clouded that he feared he might be hurting her. His first complete sentence in several minutes was "Am I too big for you? Most girls say I'm too big."

"You're perfect, Mr. Andrews." Another dick twitch. Several more twitches of cock and clenching of scrotum. He kept smoking, getting more wasted. She kept sucking, and occasionally touching herself. Her underpants were soaking wet.

He loved being called Mr. Andrews for some reason. Tracy decided to go with it. "I love your dick, Mr. Andrews. It's just the right size for a horny old woman like me." Actually, Tracy thought, he really might be too big. She'd never taken a cock his size before and wondered if it would be too much for her vagina. It would be fun to find out. He was definitely going to get fresh towels late tonight.