Bed and Breakfast Hotwife

Tracy was no longer able to sit by. She ordered Nancy's husband off of the bed and into the chair, and then ordered her husband to clean Wendell's cock with his mouth. Tracy then shoved Don aside, took Wendell into her arms, and dragged him down onto the floor for a fuck. Nancy's husband was already rigid and erect from watching the performance of his wife and son.

Don watched, alone now, as Wendell made love to Tracy on the floor and Todd banged Nancy against the wall nearby. He didn't mind sitting it out at this point; his anus was still sore from getting pounded first by Nancy's dildo, then by Wendell's real dick. The other man's cumload was still trickling out of Don's hole, soaking his ball sack as it dribbled out. As Don watched his wife orgasm in Wendell Andrews' arms, he idly thought about the two creampies he would soon enjoy from the fucked-out wives. Don also thought that it was pretty cool that he and Tracy were getting paid money for participating in the best sex of their lives.

Three months later Tracy got a cute note from Todd telling her he was sad to announce he'd be going to a college on the east coast, so would not likely get the chance to see the Elliotts again. "It's a great school," Todd wrote, "but I was kind of looking forward to being in your city for four years."

***

Chapter 10 - 2020

Tom Jackson, who paid the extra $200 for the unplanned extra night, and fifty more for a blowjob by his hostess, was having his testicles fondled. Not all the guests at Don and Tracy's had sex with her, but enough did to constitute a lucrative side business. Tom was one of those rare men who often preferred getting blown to fucking. It was less work, less messy, carried far less risk for him of disease, and no risk of pregnancy. He was discovering that Tracy was an artist with her mouth.

Tracy loved sucking cock, especially the ones that were short enough not to choke her. The problem was that Don got left out, and of course, she made a lot less money. Maybe if her husband was with them she could snowball him or something. They sometimes made extra money when, after Tracy fucked a guest, Don performed by eating her creampie. Tracy was sometimes surprised how much kinky shit she had learned the last 2 years from Don's porn.

She tugged on her nipples as she sucked, and Tracy wondered once again if maybe Don would suck a guest's cock all by himself? He'd enjoyed fellating that Todd Andrews boy a few months ago. And then sucking the boy's father, too, while Todd railed his mother.

The next morning, after breakfast, with Tracy at work and no guest in the house, Don turned from the regular computer and popped open his personal laptop. After more than a decade in the software business, Don wouldn't even think about running business and personal tasks on one machine.

Especially not pornography, and Donald Elliott breathed, ate, and dreamt of pornography. Like most men, his first exposure to porn came from magazines with photos of naked women. Then he started buying videotapes and DVDs of people having sex. It was here he started noticing that he got just as aroused by the naked male erections as he did from the naked women. The directors of porn movies aided and abetted Don's cock-watching habit; straight porn has an obsession with "the money shot", which is kind of gay when you think about it. Don didn't think about it.

The first year of his marriage Don was busy enough with real sex that his porn consumption dwindled close to zero. Tracy seemed an adventurous lover, and the couple had a high degree of sexual compatibility. She made a point of initiating sex with her new husband often, at least once a month. The little minx was wearing Don out!

Nowadays the few DVDs and then internet pages Don still made time for featured men crossdressing, transsexual males with breasts, and interracial gay movies. After all, any time he might want to see tits and pussy, he could leer at his wife. Porn is famously boring, and many men soon start watching a broad array of deviant activities such as bondage, lesbians, group sex, and so on.

Like most porn-addicted men, his real-world life was mostly unaffected. In their marriage, sex had usually been something Tracy initiated, and Don always responded eagerly. Don had never thought about it but letting his wife green-light their intimacy had the benefit that she never had to turn him down when she wasn't in the mood. Sex for Tracy was rarely great, but it was always good because she never had to deal with sex if she didn't feel romantic. The words "not tonight dear..." never passed her lips.

After the birth of their second child, when Tracy's sexual initiatives became too infrequent for Don's own inclinations, he could just crank one out in his study watching porn. As sexual satisfaction goes, Don was in the sweet spot: once in a while his wife craved dick, and he saddled up. Any other time the spirit moved him, he had his chicks with dicks, sissy cuckold, or men in drag videos to help him pound one out.

Tracy didn't want much sex, and her needs were more than satisfied by her prostitution when she fucked or sucked a paying guest. It only happened sometimes, but she always loved the money and sometimes liked the sex.

For his part, Don got a thrill out of his otherwise meek wife "forcing" him to eat her dirty pussy after she cuckolded him under his own roof. Don particularly enjoyed the kinky breakfast banter the next morning, when Tracy let the stud know that Don was a submissive willing participant in his own cuckolding.

Some of the guests got so aroused by this reveal at breakfast, learning Don had eaten their cream pie the night before, that they wanted another romp with the opportunity this time to watch Don clean up.

Funny thing was, Tracy was never horny in the morning and didn't enjoy these encounters at all. She soldiered through for the money. Frankly, most of these customers didn't care at all if Tracy orgasmed -- they just wanted to load her cunt and then watch Don suck out their ejaculate.

***

Don realized that his porn fantasies were narrowing on the kinkiest kinds of sex. But they were only fantasies. He could not imagine himself ever doing any of these things he found so theoretically. It's not like he would ever actually go to a glory hole, or submit to breast augmentation, or go out in a dress.

One day Don realized that he didn't need to "go out" in a dress. His wife went out, and he was home alone, except for the occasional B & B guest, and they were always out all day.

Maybe not a dress, he bargained with his demon. Maybe he could wear panties in the privacy of his house. And it wouldn't hurt anyone if he wore a matching bra, would it? He could borrow his wife's things or, better yet, buy his own, on-line. He could have them delivered to the nearest UPS Store and fetch them when he knew Tracy wouldn't be home.

Soon Don was spending hours in front of his computers -- it didn't matter which one -- dressed partially or completely in feminine lingerie. Don had three or four matching sets of bras, panties, and nightgowns. When he worked, he worked, laptop closed, happy in silkies but mentally focused on his software projects. And when it was time for a break, he'd turn towards the laptop and stroke a load right into his very frequently laundered ladies' panties.

Tracy had no idea her husband spent hours every day in drag, pretending to be a woman.

***

Don knew that if his wife or his guest arrived unexpectedly, he would hear the front door opening chime. His study door was also locked. Some days he dressed more than others, and many days he never got around to masturbating at all. But his study was his castle, and he wore what he felt like whenever he felt like it, with no worry about being interrupted.

What Don didn't know is that Tom Jackson had never left the house that morning. His meetings had been canceled, and he slept in.

Shortly after Tracy left for work, Don fired up his laptop and resumed browsing PornoTube. Soon he was watching his favorite content, "chicks with dicks," while stroking his erection with a pair of Tracy's dirty panties. Every few strokes, Don liked to pause a second or two to sniff the musty crotch, then resume stroking. He wore gym clothes, a loose-fitting absorbent T-shirt and athletic shorts. Under the shorts, his favorite robin's egg blue bikini pants.

He sat that morning gently stroking his very hard cock. He kind of liked edging himself -- 5 minutes on the laptop every half-hour or so, then 20 minutes of porn-free, clearheaded computer debugging. He thought he'd go an hour or so, and then dump his prostate around 10:00 a.m.

Tom didn't waken until 9:00. He decided to get himself a cup of coffee from the kitchen before he jumped into the shower, so in a bathrobe and slippers, he went downstairs, where he thought he heard the sounds of sex from behind the door to Don's study. It clearly sounded like porn, not real people, and Tom smiled at the thought of Dirty Don rubbing one out while his cock-sucking wife was out.

Standing in the kitchen, sipping his coffee, Tom could hear the laptop a little bit more clearly now. Not really well, but better than from the foyer. And it all sounded a little gay.

Now Tom really got curious. Tracy had assured him the night before that Don knew about and encouraged her sex with guests. He wondered what other kinky shit Don got involved in. Maybe Don swung both ways, like he did?

In fact, he enjoyed being blown by a man more than a woman. For one thing, men swallowed. They always swallowed, and you couldn't say that about broads. At some point, every guy on the planet tastes his own cum, and many find it delightful, if not the first time they try it, maybe the tenth. (Funny thing how many guys go "yech" the first time but then continue to do it every time thereafter, until one day they admit to themselves that in fact they kind of like it.) Most men who taste cum once do it often, and most men wish they had *more* cum to swallow. A mouthful of some other dude's cum scared very few men.

Tom quietly opened the door to the back deck and leaned around over the railing.

Don was facing away from the wall, sideways to the window. Curtains had been pulled together, but not quite all the way. A roll-up blind had been pulled down as well, but again, not quite all the way. Tom had a good view of Don and his busy penis, but couldn't see what was on the screen.

Which was fine. Tom knew what was on the screen because the audio was even clearer now. Don was watching a porn wife order her porn husband to suck some porn stud's dick. Tom quietly went back into the kitchen, retrieved his phone, and went back to capture Don playing with his erection in Tracy's dirty panties. Don continued edging himself, beating a little hubby meat, then sniffing a little wifey crotch.

Tom decided to go for it. Back in the house, he knocked on the door of Don's study quite a bit louder than strictly necessary. His plan was to knock Don off-guard right away. There was the expected "just a minute," and some shuffling of chairs and desk drawers. Don opened the door a little bit and said "Mr. Jackson, what is it? Is there a problem? I thought you were out."

Tom just bulled his way into the room and started pretending to be outraged. "A sex pervert? You're renting rooms to the public and you're a sexual deviant?"

Don just spluttered and Tom went on. "Disgusting gay pornography? Playing with women's underwear?" He then strode boldly to the window and rolled up the shade. "Masturbating in front of a window where anyone can see you?"

Don tried to utter some sort of rebuttal about his privacy and an invasion thereof, and Tom cut him short with a raised palm and went for the goal line.

"I have it all on camera, you sick fairy. Does your wife know what you do here every day? Shall I show Tracy this video of you," Tom paused dramatically, "of her dear husband, smelling the crotch of her panties and indecently exposing himself while drooling over pornographic pictures of hard cocks?"

Don crumpled into his chair. He looked stricken, pale. He leaned forward to put his head in his hands, and his shoulders shook as he began to cry and hyperventilate. While he was open with Tracy for two years now about his -- their -- cuckold fantasies, he carefully kept from her his interest in transsexuals and cross-dressing.

Tom lowered his voice. Soothingly, he went on, "It's OK, Don. Don, I'm sorry. Get a grip on yourself, buddy. All men are a little curious. That's all it is, right? You're a little curious?" He gently placed a hand on Don's quivering shoulder. "Tracy doesn't have to see this camera, Don. Why upset your wife?"

He reached with his camera hand and opened his bathrobe.

"It's just a little curiosity, right?"

Tom now drew his very erect penis through the fly front of his pajama pants. Don stared at it like a drowning man who thinks maybe he sees a ship approaching to save him.

"Just curiosity, Don. Me too. I'm like you, Don. I'm so curious. I wonder what it's like, you know, for a man to please another man. Maybe we can help each other." And with that, Tom gently stroked his hot cock against Don's cheeks, and lips. As Don yielded, he saw no point in telling Tom that this wasn't Don's first blow-job.

"Let's both be curious, Don. Let's explore, all right? You and me. It's not fair that Tracy gets to suck cocks and you can't. What do I taste like? Open just a little and kiss my cock, Don. My cock is hard for you. You made me so hard. Harder than Tracy did."

Don stopped shaking and pulled himself together. Tom now had his hands on both sides of Don's head, holding it gently in front of his erect penis. Don tentatively, very slowly, licked the head of Tom's cock and then drew just the head of it into his mouth

"What do I taste like, Don? Is it as good as you always dreamed it would be? You've been dreaming of this for years, am I right? Years. Wasted years, Don. Just a taste, for curiosity, OK? Our secret."

For a long time, quite a long time, he just suckled on the large round head at the end of Tom's cock. Don's lips nibbled Tom's glans and his tongue swirled around the head and across the slit. With each passing minute, Don became more relaxed and tranquil as Tom came closer and closer to his impending climax. This was a first for Don; not the first blow-job, but the first sex he had without Tracy since they married decades before. As much sex as the two of them had shared, this was a kind of coming-out party for Don.

Filming again with his camera, Tom held his jizz back as long as he could. He knew Don needed to settle down and do this for a while, unhurried, exploring both the cock and his own heart. Tom restrained himself from too much motion. No thrusting, no stabbing his cock into Don's throat. Tom was unconsciously aware that while he was fucking Don's face, his throbbing cock was healing something in Don. Something that had always been broken inside. Tracy sucked dick for money, but Don was sucking cock because he just *needed* to.

When, ten minutes later, Don swallowed Tom's ejaculation, it was like finally getting the right medicine to put him on the path to the happiness that had always eluded him. Soon Tom spoke to Don while still stroking his head: "Let's go rest for a while." Tom took Don's hand and led him upstairs to the guest room. "We need a few minutes to talk. You'll be back at work in no time. But we need to talk about us."

They lay side by side on Tom's bed and talked a little bit about fear, and curiosity, and bisexuality. Tom drew Don out, offering a few facts, or maybe fictions, about himself, and eliciting secrets from Don. Tom learned how the Elliotts stumbled into prostitution while they were chasing Don's cuckold fantasies. Tom spoke about his own first time being blown, in college. Don talked about the time he masturbated a stranger in a movie theater downtown. When Tom took Don's ass half an hour later, Don was ready, even eager, to offer it to him. Tom was persuasive, and Don was still curious. Well-lubed and curious.

Tom was experienced at anal sex, and did all of the right things: used lots of lube, and one finger at a time. He knew that for a beginner the easiest position in which to open his anus was face down on the mattress, so Tom started Don there. Don chewed the pillow a bit before Tom finally slid the final inch up into his rectum.

Then, when Don was ready, Tom lifted him up on his hands and knees and mounted Don like a dog. This was always Tom's favorite position for taking another man because he could reach around and either torture his bitch's nipples or give him a reach-around. For Don, Tom worked his inexperienced tits. No reach-around for the new guy, not this time.

Finally, Don's body completely surrendered the fight and stopped trying to resist entry to Tom's dick. Soon after that, Tom was happy to see that Don was rocking back up onto the cock unaided, horny for more penetration. After a few minutes savoring Don's submission, Tom rolled Don over on his back and introduced him to the intimacy of the missionary position.

Tom knew that while it was humiliating for a man to be fucked from behind, it completely transformed a new bottom to take another man's cock between his splayed legs, face-to-face, like a woman. There's nothing quite as humbling as staring into a better man's eyes as his hips heave back and forth between your thighs and his hard shaft plumbs the depths of your ass, hopefully banging your prostate from the inside on each stroke.

Don wrapped his legs around Tom's hips and tried to hang on tight as Tom's hips thrust forward and back, drilling for satisfaction. Don's sphincter was spasming uncontrollably, pinching and chewing Tom's dick as it thrust in and out. Once every three or four strokes Tom withdrew completely, and Don's asshole closed all the way with relief. But then Don's empty rectum complained, and his anus willingly reopened as Tom came sliding up inside again.

It can't be explained why so many straight men fantasize about cock but shudder in disgust at the thought of being kissed by another man. It just isn't rational. It makes no sense to think a cock in your mouth will be merely an adventure, but male lips against your own would be an unspeakable, disgusting horror. But rational or not, it is universally true, as Tom knew from experience when he attacked the very last shred of Don's masculinity by French-kissing him.

Don firmly resisted at first, holding his lips tightly together and trying to turn his head away from Tom's mouth. But Tom persisted and held their lips together despite Don's efforts. Don finally accepted who he was and let that last shred go when he finally sucked Tom's tongue into his own mouth and then ejaculated all over his own stomach. No reach-around had been necessary; Don was a natural, and Tom just simply fucked the cum out of him. Don would never quite feel like a man again.

Sound asleep, exhausted, they heard nothing when Tracy came home early and found them together, Tom naked, Don wearing a brassiere and a nightie, his battered shit hole still leaking cum, the bedroom door half-open. To be honest, she'd always had her suspicions about her husband. She quietly closed the door and left the boys as she found them.

Downstairs she smiled and thought that now their B and B could *really* make some money. She opened the web browser and logged on to LGBTQBandB.com.