Chartreux Ch. 03

"By exactly like mine, do you mean fucking the guest of honor?" I asked. I wasn't sure I liked where this conversation was going.

"Yes," Brenda said softly.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You told me they didn't want that kind of image, that they were on the up and up."

"I know." I could hardly hear her. "I wasn't exactly honest about that. If I hadn't been there, Leilani would have fucked you. I had to give her a hundred dollars to take her place." I couldn't speak. I looked around the room, at the pillows, the nightstand, the lamp, anything that kept me from looking at her. "Can you forgive me?"

"You spent a hundred bucks to keep me out of another woman's pussy. I guess that proves you love me. Have you, or had you, done any other...ah...other parties?"

"No, just yours. They've called a few times since, but I always said no. We could use the money this time. A thousand is a lot."

"It's not the end of the world. We can put it on a credit card if we have to."

"That's true. You know, you've told me about your swinging single days, about how you went to wife-swapping parties."

"That was different."

"How? You were sleeping with other men's wives."

"But they weren't sleeping with mine."

"Only because you were married. Do I detect a double standard?"

"No, you don't, and I'll tell you why. You are talking about selling sex. You are talking about prostitution which is highly illegal."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with fucking a prostitute."

"I wasn't fucking a prostitute."

"You thought you were. Would you have refused to screw Leilani?" I didn't answer. "Would you?"

"No," I whispered.

"Did you know that she's married?" My eyes popped open. I shook my head. "Her husband was our escort. They both get very turned on doing the shows. They make pretty good money, and they have regular day jobs too."

"How much?"

"The agency gets seventy-five dollars per show. He gets twenty-five to be her bodyguard and play the music. If she does just a straight strip, she makes fifty. She gets another hundred when she fucks the groom, which is most of the time. They generally do two or three a night, but mostly it's just on Friday and Saturday nights."

"That's over five hundred a night. I don't make that much in a week."

"One weekend would pay for your transmission. Think about it. At our present rate of savings, it will be two years before we can buy a house. Or we could have enough for a down payment in three or four months."

"When you put it that way, it sounds mighty tempting."

"I do have one condition. I'll only do it if you are my escort."

"Let me get this straight. First you want my permission to be a whore. Now you want me to be your pimp. Plus you want me to watch you fuck other men?"

"I wouldn't put it so crudely, but that's the general concept." Her hand rested on my growing cock, "You seem to like the idea." She continued to stroke me. "Suppose we do one show. Then we'll talk about it. If we're both cool with it, then we can continue. If not, it will only be the one time." Her hand is always enough to make my dick stiff. In my mind, I pictured Chartreux with another man. The old saying is true; we men do think with our dicks. I agreed to the one time.

The car was ready in two days. We bought a boombox to play her music in case the places where we went didn't have a cassette player. Since she was doing a solo act, Brenda had to modify her routine to include completely undressing the guest of honor. For her to rehearse, I willingly agreed to play the role of the honoree.

Thursday night she applied the black hair coloring to her pussy hair before we did the final rehearsal complete with the black dress and shoes, long black nails and black lipstick, and the black wig and the cat mask. Perhaps it should be called the undressing rehearsal.

I recalled my bachelor party as she made her entrance from the hallway snarling like a cat in heat. Chartreux was definitely back and hotter than ever. To help create the illusion of another man, I became a guy named Phil. After a few turns and some bumps and grinds, she lowered the top of her dress to reveal her breasts and rigid nipples. After Phil was allowed to fondle and kiss her tits, his shirt quickly came off. Her dress landed on top of it. In her high heeled shoes her pussy was at Phil's face level. She stood over his lap and placed her pubes in front of his mouth. When he hesitated, she put her hand on the back of his head and pressed his mouth to her vulva. The low rumbling of a lioness came from her throat as Phil ran his tongue up and down the length of her slit. She backed away from him and sat on her haunches. She growled like a tiger as the first song ended, placed her hands on the floor in front of her, and lowered her head like a kitten taking a nap.

Ten seconds of silence on the tape allowed for applause before the next tune began. As the music started, she raised her head and crawled forward to remove Phil's shoes and socks. His trousers came off next; his shorts were jerked down to his ankles. Somewhere in the room Frank watched Chartreux rape Phil, and Phil wasn't putting up a fight. She rose to her feet long enough to take his hands and coax him into a standing position. She knelt before him and began kissing his belly and ribs. Her teeth brushed lightly against his skin raising his nipples up into steel bullets. The mask rubbed against his face as she kissed his neck. When he tried to adjust it, Chartreux snarled and pulled his hand down and placed it on her bottom. Frank was pleased that the mask remained inviolate.

Phil's right ribs were Chartreux's next targets. Slowly she returned to a kneeling position as her mouth moved down toward his stomach. Her lips kissed their way down the front of his right leg to his knee. A tap on his left ankle was enough to get him to spread his legs. Her lips on his inner thighs brought his cock to full attention. The moment he was fully erect she took his balls one at a time into her mouth. His breathing was deep and slow. Gripping his tool in her hand, Chartreux took it into her mouth and sucked hard enough to collapse her cheeks. She let his dick slip from her mouth but held onto it with her hand while she laid down on her back. Her pussy lips were open inviting a tongue.

Phil knelt over her and placed his lips on her cunt's mouth while placing his knees on either side of her head. She took his prick back into her mouth. His face was buried between her wide-spread legs tonguing her inner lips around her clit. Chartreux's tongue traced the edge of his glans sending him to the brink of an orgasm. Quickly he spun around and poised his cock over her cunt. Her hand led him to her dripping cavern. He was inside her in a flash. She pulled her knees up to her chest to give her audience a clear view of Phil's manhood thrusting in and out of her. Faster and faster his hips bounced. His nut sac slapped her ass. Their breathing rates synchronized as they fucked themselves into a frenzy. His toes curled up and his balls lifted at the point of no return. He gave a loud animalistic howl as he arched his back. She thrust her loins against his, and he emptied his load deep within her womb.

We lay on the carpet for a minute catching our breath. When she put her hand on my chest, I rose up. My spent dick slipped from her pussy, and I rolled over onto my back. She picked up her dress and walked slowly to the hall. A few minutes later she came back and sat down beside me. She removed the mask and wig. "So what do you think?" she asked.

"That was incredible," I said. "I actually became Phil. It was like I was watching him make love to Chartreux. It was a total out-of-body experience. Frank was sitting on the sofa and he could see everything."

"Who am I talking to?"

"Frank. Phil's gone."

She picked up my limp prick and waved it around. "It looks like Phil had a good time."

"What about you?"

"Are you asking Chartreux or Brenda?"

"Both."

"Chartreux loved every second, and Brenda is horny enough to fuck her husband silly."

Essentially, I was worthless at work the next day. Images of Chartreux and Phil popped into my head every few seconds. My dick strained against my pants from the time I walked into the office until I left at end of the day. Everyone noticed that I was unusually quiet. Several people asked if something was bothering me. How could I explain that I was mentally preparing myself to watch another man fuck my wife that night? I kept saying I was all right, but I wasn't very convincing.

The appointment was for nine o'clock, so we had plenty of time for dinner. Neither of us had any appetite. We both played with our dinner, but we ate very little, and we said even less.

At eight, Brenda went to the bedroom to change clothes. She came back a half-hour later with the wig and the mask in her hand. Everything looked perfect. The dress was clean, and her black nails were freshly polished. She had applied her lipstick. I picked up the boombox and we went out to my car.

We pulled up in front of the party's house at eight forty-five. A path to the back of the house was illuminated just we had been told. I turned off the motor and shut off the lights.

Brenda looked at me. "Well, I guess this is it," she said nervously. "Your wife is about to become a whore. Are you sure you want to go through with it?"

"How do you feel?" I answered. "You're the one getting fucked.."

"Scared. I'm scared you'll leave me."

"We made a deal, and I'm keeping my part. We'll decide together whether we like it or not, and we'll continue or quit together."

She put the wig and mask on. "They've paid their money, and the show must go on. Let's go."

I got the boombox from the backseat. After locking the doors, we stood looking into each other's eyes for a minute. "I love you," I whispered. "No matter what happens tonight, remember, I love you."

"I love you too, Frank."

"Break a leg."

I took her hand in mine and we went down the path to the rear of the house.