Chez Femme Ch. 02

What if... That's where fiction begins. What if a woman risks her marriage because she wants eight or ten orgasms a night? What if her husband discovers her in a whore house and ends up screwing the woman who owns the house? Fiction is often the willing suspension of disbelief. These people never existed, these events never occurred. But what if...?

Charlie had just discovered his wife at Chez Femme, screwing for money.

Somehow Charlie was able to make the drive home, his thoughts whirling. He should divorce her. But he loved her. Could he live with her having sex with other men? There were men who did, some who even encouraged it, some who watched.

But not him.

He was a big guy, over six feet. He was still in good shape even though high school football was years ago. They had sex almost every night and she had multiple orgasms every time. Why would she want anyone else?

He stumbled into the house, poured himself a hefty glass of scotch and sat in front of the TV, still dazed from the encounter.

When Joanne returned, she was again in her sweatshirt, jeans and tennis shoes, not the sexy white jersey dress she had been in at Chez Femme. She looked fresh and neat, her auburn hair in a ponytail, her lipstick faint, and as graceful as a queen.

There was a game on the TV.

"What's the score?"

"I don't know." He realized he hadn't been watching.

"Who's playing?"

"I don't know."

She placed her hands on the arm of his chair, leaned over and kissed him. "Let's go to bed."

"No, let's talk."

"We'll talk tomorrow. Let's go to bed."

Still dazed, he followed her to the bedroom and undressed down to his shorts, his usual sleep wear. She emerged from the bath completely naked, not in her usual nightgown.

She handed him a tube of lotion and lay face down on the bed.

"Rub some of that on my bottom, please."

He looked at her cheeks. They were bright red. "What happened?" He was truly upset. "I thought you said punishment was not allowed. Who did this to you?" He was ready to hurt someone.

She turned her head toward him and smiled, "You did. Don't you remember?"

He was having trouble remembering, assimilating all that he had happened. "Yes. I forgot."

He put lotion on his hands, rubbed them together to warm it, and began applying it to her cheeks.

She oohed and aahed, appreciating the cooling effect of the lotion, the warmth of his hands.

He added more lotion and she hummed, "Work down into the crack."

He did and when he stroked across her anus, she moaned, "Yes, right there."

He slipped a finger in and was surprised and disappointed at how easily he entered. Someone had fucked her ass. Angrily, he pushed in two, then three fingers.

"Oh, yes. I love you, Charlie. Harder. Faster."

He felt her tense, an orgasm sweeping through her.

"Fuck me, Charlie. Fuck my ass."

He removed his fingers, kicked off his shorts, knelt behind her and pulled her up on to her knees. He looked at her distended asshole and thought of some one else having fucked it. He placed the tip of his cock against it and pushed in. Hard.

She screamed, "Charlie, Charlie."

He pounded into her. He had never fucked her ass, he had never asked. She had never asked. And she let someone else take the virginity of her tight little hole.

He banged into her, wanting to hurt her, wanting her to know he didn't like what she was doing.

He felt her begin shaking, but he held on to her even as the shaking seemed to take over her whole body. Suddenly she pushed back against him hard, froze and screamed, "Fuck. Me. Charlie."

He tried to pull back, to continue fucking, she wouldn't let him. She pushed against him.

She relaxed and fell forward on to the bed. "I love you, Charlie."

He lay down beside her, kissed her, and realized she was already asleep.

He fell asleep beside her.

He was awakened by a warm, wet cloth bathing his cock. He felt it growing hard again and the cloth was replaced by a warm, wet mouth. He reached out in the darkness and found her thigh beside him and traced up to her cleft. He stroked it and she became very wet. She moved so that he could kiss her vagina, and he hesitated, fearing the fragrance. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that she had freshened herself. He kissed and she rolled over on top of him, her pussy in his face.

She was going very slowly with his cock and he went slowly with her pussy, licking and kissing. When she would escalate, he would follow. She grasped his rod, and he inserted a finger. She began stroking, and he inserted three fingers and began stroking in and out in the rhythm she set. She massaged his balls and he tapped her clit. They prompted one another until he felt his orgasm building.

He was sucking her clit, had fingers in her pussy and his other hand found her other hole. When he felt himself ready to explode, he shoved a finger in her ass. He pumped his cock into her mouth and his finger into her ass again and again. He exploded.

He pulled his fingers out and fell back on the pillow, not caring whether she had an orgasm. Being married to a whore might not be too bad. He easily fell back to sleep.

When he awoke, she had left for work.

There was a note on her pillow. "Thank you. I love you."

'Thank you?' For what? For being here when she came home? For fucking her in the ass? For letting her be a whore?

Typically she left for work before he did. She had to be in by nine, he was a salesman and usually worked late. But he was disappointed that they hadn't talked.

He spent most of the day trying to decide what to do. He wanted her to quit but he didn't want her disappointed. He was giving more credence to the proposition suggested by Angie, 'If you learn to give her more orgasms, she will leave Chez Femme of her own accord.'

When he returned home, she met him at the door, kissed him and went into the kitchen. She was still in her white office blouse and gray knee-length skirt but was barefoot, her hair loose about her shoulders.

He went to the den, tossed aside his jacket and poured himself a scotch.

She had made a deep dish pizza and opened a bottle of Chianti. They ate without conversation. Finally, when they were finished she said, "I'm sorry if this hurts you, Charlie. I know you're giving me all you can, but I want more. Let me experience this."

"Even though I don't understand why you're doing it, I won't ask you to stop."

"Thank you."

"But I don't want to hear about anything that goes on. As far as we're concerned, you're going to the gym to work out every Thursday."

She bowed her head, "Okay."

"The rest of the time, you're mine. My whore, my slut."

"No. I am not a slut. I will be your whore, but I am not a slut."

"What's the difference?"

"A slut fucks anybody, anytime. A high-class whore rejects those that don't appeal her. And I reject a lot."

"Okay." He stood, "Come with me."

He went into the den and sat on the couch. He unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock. "Blow me."

She sat on the couch, leaned over, unfastened his belt and pants and pushed them to the floor. She lay on her stomach, stretched out on the couch, her head in his lap and took his cock into her mouth. He lay back, closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of having his own whore. He reached out and found her fanny, reached further and found the hem of her skirt. He pulled it up and eased his hand between her thighs, stroking back and forth, getting closer to her vagina.

Her panty was wet as he rubbed, pressing the fabric between her lips. He eased his hand higher, found the waistband and slipped his hand into the crack of her ass. He reached further, slipping the edge of his hand into her crease.

She moaned around his cock. She spread her legs, giving him better access to her slit. He leaned toward her bottom and was able to touch her clit. As he did, she jumped.

He inserted two fingers into her and stroked. She sped up and grabbed his balls. He could not delay, had no reason to delay. She was his whore. He felt his cock grow harder, knew she did, too. He sent load after load into her mouth.

She took it all, continued to suck and lick until his was clean.

She turned over, sat up and kissed him. "I love you, Charlie."

He smiled, "My whore."

"Your whore."

They sat in their embrace for a few minutes, and then she said, "Let me tell how this started."

"Do I want to hear this?"

"Yes. It will help explain why I want it. I really was going to a book club. One week we read a romance novel, a 'bodice riper."

"A romance novel? Soft porn?"

She laughed, "Yes. Anyway, the women started talking about their sex lives. Most of them were complaining about the lack of sex, though a few said they could do without it. They doubted me when I said we made love every night, sometimes two or three times. They looked at me and asked if I were happy and I said yes. But one of the ladies, Sheri, asked me if it was enough. I said I might be happier if I had more orgasms. After the meeting, Sheri, asked me if I would have coffee.

"We talked. She was having just the opposite problem with her husband. He would screw her for hours before ejaculating. She said I should be careful what I wished for.

"As we were leaving, she told me her husband was going hunting over the weekend and she hated being alone and invited me to spend the night. I agreed."

"I remember."

"I went over Saturday night and we had dinner and white wine. We talked, mostly about husbands, sex and what we liked and didn't like. After dinner, we went to the den, she opened another bottle of wine, and she seduced me."

"Just like that?"

"No, of course not. We sat and sipped, she leaned over me to reach for the bottle, our lips met and I melted. While we kissed, she caressed my breasts and removed my shirt. She pushed the straps of my bra down and exposed my nipples and began teasing them with her tongue. She said they were delicious, I said they were too small."

"They're not small, and they're very sensitive."

"Yes, she found that out quickly because I had an orgasm right there. That encouraged her to take my hand and lead me to the bedroom where she undressed me, laid me down, spread my legs and kissed my vagina. And, damn, she was good."

"Better than me?"

"Charlie, there's no comparison. You make love to my vagina. All she wanted was for me to have another orgasm. And I did. She kept fingering, licking, and sucking until I had another. And another. I almost passed out.

"I pulled her up beside me and held her. When I recovered I told her I had never been with another woman. I had never wanted to kiss a woman before, but I wanted to please her as much as she pleased me.

"I asked her to teach me to make love to her vagina. I remember, she corrected me. 'Hon, you're eating my pussy, you're not making love to it.

"I sucked her breasts. They were too big to get in my mouth but she was telling me what to do; to suck, nibble, bite. She pushed me down to her belly button, then between her thighs. I didn't know a woman was so fragrant. I licked her and she was tangy, sharp, and I loved it. I moved around so that she was lying on the bed, her legs spread, and I was on my stomach, licking and fingering. It took a while, but she had a very nice orgasm. I wanted to continue, but she pulled me up beside her and we kissed. She turned me around and spooned against my back, her hand cupping my breast.

"We woke a number of times and made love, but it was never as intense as the first time.

"It was light out when I heard a noise and woke her and told her someone was in the house. She said it was probably her husband, Bobby, back from his hunting trip. I started to get out of bed but she didn't let me. He came in to the bedroom, smiled at us and went around to her side of the bed and sat. He said 'Hi' to me and kissed Sheri. She pushed him away, said he reeked. He said the bedroom smelled a bit rank, too. She asked him if he got laid on his trip and he told her they had gone to a titty bar where the girls stripped. He got a lap dance, but he couldn't even get a hand job, much less, get laid.

"She sent him to shower to get the smell of cigars and whiskey off of him and when he left, I tried to leave again. But she wanted me to stay and watch him screw her. You and I have watched porn, but I had never watched a couple screw and though I wanted to leave, I was curious.

"Bobby came out of the shower, drying himself. He was naked and had an erection He's not as big as you. He came over, sat on Sheri's side of the bed and kissed her. He pulled down the sheet, climbed between her legs and plunged into her. I was lying beside them and Sheri pulled me over to kiss her. I felt Bobby's hand on my ass and I knew."

"Knew you were going to get fucked."

"Yes. I didn't want Bobby, but I wanted someone in me and you weren't there. He was. He fingered my vagina, getting me hotter. Then he switched from Sheri to me."

"How was it?"

"Honestly, it was awful. He did me. He did Sheri. He did Sheri while she went down on me. He did me while I went down on her. We went on for almost two hours. I had three or four more orgasms but it ceased to be exciting. It was work, hard work. Finally, he was on his back and Sheri was bouncing up and down on his penis. I was sitting on his face. She started yelling, 'He's cumming. Yes. Yes.' She and I hugged and kissed as if we had just scored the winning point. We fell down on the bed together. When we looked over, he was sound asleep."

"You wore him out."

"Nothing compared to what he did to us. We got out of the bed, showered, and I came home."

"I remember that. I was watching the game and you took me to the bedroom and attacked me. I thought you were going to rip my cock off."

"Yes I did. And once you ejaculated, I fell asleep."

"And I watched the end of the game, wondering what just happened."

"I wanted you. Even though I was sore and overly sensitive, I wanted you to make love to me. I had over ten orgasms that night, more than I had ever had in one night. I was hooked.

"Sheri took me to Chez Femme on Tuesday night, her regular night, and introduced me to Angie. Sheri took me with her while she entertained two members and afterwards sent me back down to Angie. We discussed the rules and I filled out forms, releases and a W-9."

"W-9?"

"Yes, I'm an employee, a concierge."

"After that, I got a physical and returned Thursday and have been entertaining ever since."

"How long?"

"Almost two months. It hasn't effected our love making, has it?"

"It might have if I had known."

"If anything, it's been better."

They made love again during the night, again the next morning and after lunch. She gave him a blow job while he watched the game. He ate her to orgasm before he screwed her that night. He was torn between using her like a whore or delaying his orgasm to insure she had as many orgasms as possible.

He awoke Sunday morning to the smell of bacon and coffee. He pulled on shorts and a t-shirt and headed to the kitchen.

"Good morning." He sat at the table.

She called from the kitchen, "Good morning to you, sleepy head. Sit down, I'll bring you some coffee."

She came out of the kitchen, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing an apron. And as far as could tell, nothing else.

She poured his coffee and as she returned to the kitchen, he watched her tight little fanny. There was almost no bounce.

When she brought back their plates and sat down, she asked, "Have you any plans for today?"

He shrugged, "Maybe go back to bed."

She smiled, "I can work with that."

They finished breakfast and she took the dishes to the kitchen. He watched her fanny. Was she his lover or his whore? Watching her ass, he decided today she wanted to be his whore. He followed her into the kitchen. She was at the sink and he walked up behind her, brought his hands around to rub her tits, kissed her neck and pressed his growing rod against her fanny.

She tilted her head, giving him more access to her neck. With her hair pulled back, he was able to nibble on her ear. She pulled her hands out of the dishwater, leaned on one and with the other reached back and began stroking his cock though his shorts. He looked over and there was a pat of butter on one of the dishes. With his finger, he scooped it up and began rubbing into her crack, getting her asshole lubed.

"Do it, Charlie," she moaned, pushing against his finger.

He pushed down his shorts, guided his cock into her crevasse and pushed his way past her sphincter. She did not complain, she hummed, enjoying it. She leaned forward, letting him, begging him to go deeper. He found a rhythm, pumping in and out, listening to the slap of skin on skin. The eroticism of taking her like this, the sounds, he pushed harder.

"Faster. Faster," she choked.

He increased his tempo and felt his balls tightening, knowing he was going to explode in her ass.

And then he did. He lost count of the number of shots he unloaded. She moaned. He didn't know if it was from an orgasm or disappointment, but then, he didn't care. He continued pumping until his cock was too limp to push in.

She turned, kissed him, pressing her apron-covered body against him. "Go get a shower. I'll join you as soon as I finish the dishes."

He went to the bath, stripped and stepped into a nice hot shower. In just a few minutes, he heard the shower door open and Joanne step in behind him. Her arms went around him, her tits pressed against his back and her hands went down to his cock.

"Got to get it clean. Joanne told me where it's been. Said I should wash it if I was going to suck it."

He turned around. It wasn't Joanne. He should have realized that they weren't Joanne's tits. These were much bigger; not huge, but bigger. He was looking down at a round face, blue eyes and curly blonde hair. And beautiful tits.

She saw him looking, smiled, "Go ahead and hold them. They don't break."

He cupped them and her smile grew bigger as her soapy hands continued to stroke his cock, massage his balls.

"I'm Sheri."

Slowly it registered. This was Sheri; Sheri who seduced Joanne; Sheri who let her husband fuck Joanne; Sheri who introduced Joanne to Angie and Chez Femme.

This was Sheri who fucked up his life. He grabbed her, turned her to face the wall, spread the cheeks of her ample ass, and slammed his cock into her asshole.

She screamed. But when he pulled back, her ass followed him, not wanting to let him go. He pushed, she pushed. Quickly they developed a rhythm. He heard the door open, saw Joanne standing there before she closed it. He didn't care. Joanne had sent this Jezebel to him and he was going to use her.

He felt her hand on his balls, massaging, pulling and he began pouring his seed into her ass. When he finished, without pretense, he pulled out, turned, washed his cock and left the shower.

He dried off and grabbed his robe. After a few minutes, the shower was turned off and she stepped out, smiling. She kissed him, "Thank you."

He tossed her Joanne's robe and she followed him into the bedroom.

Joanne was sitting up in the bed, the sheet pulled up over her breasts. "I see you two got to know each other."

He sat in the bedside chair and Sheri sat on the side of the bed, leaned over and kissed Joanne. "Yes. And he's all you said he was. Thank you for letting him fuck me."

They kissed again, but this time it went on, nibbling, caressing. The sheet slipped down as Sheri's hand found Joanne's breast and began circling her nipple. He knew Joanne's nipples were sensitive to his touch, could orgasm when he played with them. Sheri knew it too. She pinched and pulled and Joanne moaned through a small orgasm.

Joanne's eyes were closed. She was ignoring his presence. Sheri got between her thighs and began munching on her vagina and Joanne had a massive orgasm, holding on to Sheri's head, pulling her tight against her.