Exposing Amy Ch. 04

Amy suddenly began begging him not to cum in her, she desperately wanted him out of her body. However fate being what it is, Amy suddenly found herself on the horns a dilemma. My wife's fetish took hold and she was tormented by terrible thought of this Paki breeding her, yet the very same thing exciting her. The insane desire generated time and again over the last years by the desperate need for humiliation, coursed through her already excited pussy and even more so, through her warped and twisted mind. Suddenly, the thought of being impregnated interracially by a man she hadn't even met ten minutes ago, was a force too powerful for her to oppose.

Just as she had with Colin Pearce, my wife now became frantic in her arousal and began to beg him to cum inside her, then in a moment of rational thought, she realised her position and begged him not to cum inside her.

The torture of such arousal, had Amy once again swapping every few seconds.

"Oh God fuck me, Oh Jesus shoot your cum in your whore, breed me, knock me up, she wailed, instantly followed by Oh please don't cum in me, please don't make me have your baby."

In reality what my wife wanted was of no consequence, her new owner was going to shoot his cum in the dirty whore, whether she wanted it or not.

He suddenly increased the force with which he was fucking her and grunted, a man about to ejaculate. It was all too much for Amy's scrambled and overheated mind and the thrust of his cock deep into her and the flood of semen being shot into her pushed her over the edge.

I pulled on my useless cock and spurted the infertile and useless cum all over the floor.

Amy screamed her orgasm like the most shameless tramp imaginable. It was degrading and humiliating to watch and hear her, in such an uncontrollable orgasmic state.

A minute or so after her orgasm and excitement began to wane, rationality kicked in. Amy wanted his cock out of her so that she could rid herself of his cum. Amazingly however, the Asian pimp stayed buried deep inside her as he talked to his buddies. In a surreal incident the guy's phone rang and as he answered and had the subsequent conversation, all the time he stayed stood right behind my prone wife, buried to the hilt inside her pussy which was awash with his semen.

It was a scene where I could only feel total embarrassment for my wife in the position that she was in. This guy who thought her nothing, simply continued talking to everyone around with his cock still embedded deep inside my wife's raped pussy. It was also the fact that the other four guys stood around seemed to have little or no interest in my wife. There was Amy, naked, her private and intimate body with a Pakistani cock buried inside her totally on show, and they showed no interest in looking at her tits, pussy or anything.

She was absolutely nothing to them.

When the pimp had had enough, he pulled from her with not an iota of care or concern. He suddenly slapped Amy's ass incredibly hard making her cry out.

"Get back to work bitch and don't forget me and my mates will be back later to take what is ours."

With that warning they all turned and walked back to their car.

The immediate relief was that Amy wasn't going to be used by all of them (at least not yet.)

When all this started we had decided on six men as an ideal number for Amy to whore herself to. This would create enough doubt and confusion over who had made my wife pregnant, but the terrible turn of events had changed the dynamic.

We needed to run away, quickly.

When the Asian pimp returned and brought his mates with him for free samples of my wife's cunt, there was a chance that he might offer free use of the whore's pussy to more than the five we had just met. If that was the case, then it would be reasonable to assume there would be even more Paki's and blacks shooting semen into my wife's fertile pussy and this was just too great a risk. These men, if and when they returned, would take her pussy whether she wanted to or not.

A very rushed, emotional and over-excited conversation decided that the scenario I have just mentioned, would probably be the pinnacle of our fetish. The utter degradation would probably be so all consuming, so intense and powerful a humiliation-generated arousal as could be possible. On the one hand we didn't care where it took us, the temptation to subject ourselves to the most sordid, sleazy and squalid action, to be so utterly used and abused in such indecent depravity, in an action more dangerous we had ever taken, was almost too powerful to resist.

But resist it we did. We were perverts, we were dirty twisted individuals who needed a stimulus for our sordid sex life but we were no fools and allowing these men to come back and take ownership (maybe even permanently) of Amy, was just too great a price to pay for our filthy obsession.

We rushed away from the scene of our latest shame.

Even though I had masturbated away the most urgent cum, I was still absolutely desperate to fuck Amy - the whore, Amy - the prostitute.

Aware of the slightest danger of my semen being inside her, together with that of her customers, Amy refused me. Instead, to complete the final chapter in the night of ignominy, she lay on our bed with money around her. She opened her legs and showed me the ravaged, abused, raped cunt of a dirty whore, still swimming in semen. She would only allow me to wank myself as she played in the disgusting mess that was her vagina, whilst continuously telling me she was a prostitute.

Three weeks later and I returned home from work one evening. I was becoming increasingly excited in expectation of my wife telling me that she was pregnant.

As I entered the kitchen through the back door Amy stood at the far end of the room.

She wasted no time in waving the bloody tampon in my face and laughing at me.

"I guess this means I will have do it all again, don't you?" she taunted.

That bloody tampon was the absolute symbol of my humiliation. The second time of putting yourself through that trauma would be worse. At least the first time events just occurred and you dealt with them but the second time, armed with the knowledge of what is to be done would be unbearable.

Four hours later, my wife who had become so good at the humiliation game, put me out of my misery.

The bloody tampon was just a joke.

She had dipped a tampon in cranberry juice and then used it to torment and humiliate me.

THE FUCKING BITCH.

Amy and the aftermath

Whilst I had been putting myself through the trauma of having sex with Colin Pearce, my alter ego had been born. A further ordeal, which saw the conception of my third child that I was now carrying, had brought that alter ego to the fore.

I realised that I had been very much aroused by, not just the usual things which have been described fully in this story of ours, but by the new sensation of being looked down on by men. I had been incredibly aroused by being considered worthless and inferior to the men who abused me and I wanted to experience more of it.

However the latest escapade had scared us and we were looking to stay away from such dangerous situations. However, I still needed the humiliation that made me feel alive, so I needed to find my thrill in a gentler and safer way.

Kylie was to come out to play in a different way.

Drawing on the naked delivery scenario we had seen in porn clips, I would wait for Paul to go to work and I would bring Kylie back out to play. I wanted this fantasy to just be my own, I didn't want to share the shame with my husband. During my night on the street, I had been quite turned on by the embarrassment of looking so unattractive and had been aroused by the contempt of men looking at me. I wanted men to look at me with scorn and distaste - it turned me on.

The concept to remember, was that I am still same shy woman as when all this started, it was not directly sexual, but sexuality had to be at the core of my humiliation. To this day, the terrible idea that men had seen parts of my naked body was still incredibly traumatic and still made me feel as it did all that time ago.

My strategy was simple, I would order countless low value items on the internet and await the numerous deliveries that ensued. I would then deliberately set up scene where those delivery men, plus the milkman, the paperboy etc. could see me.

My previous pregnancies had left my body in a bit of a mess, which now gave me a wonderful opportunity. I had droopy, saggy tits and my flabby stomach made me look extra dowdy. I had to make the most of this because as my current pregnancy progressed, it would tighten that stomach up for the duration.

The first ever 'show' I subjected myself to, was imminent. I had neglected to wash my hair for a few days and the moment Paul had left, I ran upstairs and straightened the life out of it to make it look lank and dirty.

I had noticed on the videos we had seen, that the women always had problems with their robes in the 'set up'. They either didn't open enough, which spoiled the attempt, or they gaped open so blatantly that it was obvious that they were flashing. I had skilfully sewn my robe into such a position that my breasts couldn't help but fall out or be exposed. I had assessed just where the bottom needed to be in order to let these men see glimpses (not blatant nudity) of my now totally hairless and shaved pussy.

I wanted men to come to my door and see me as a lazy, slovenly slattern.

In order to set the scene and put the events into the context that my fetish needed, I deliberately kept a messy kitchen. It was a scruffy and untidy mess and it reflected very badly on me as a woman.

The persona of the ill-educated tenement prostitute had become my alter ego. It was important to me that men not only saw my body but saw it dishevelled and in as bad a light as possible. My vagina has a rounded swell and slightly fatter outer lips, which produced a wonderful cleft. My breasts as I have previously described are swollen, heavy with milk and sag towards the floor, the areola dark and the nipples also tend to be always distended and erect.

I watched the street for the delivery van and upon seeing it turn the corner into our street, my heart and stomach leapt. I took up my position.

I was dressed in a scruffy white robe that I had earlier dirtied with food and I shuffled across the kitchen towards the door. I was wet and excited at my terribly shameful appearance, the cheap scruffy slippers shuffling across the floor. I made a fake attempt at modesty, pulling my robe together over my breasts, breasts that I knew I would deliberately expose with a deft movement, or by bending down to put the delivered parcel down.

I stood at the door and took the parcel. As I signed on the electronic pad, the first of many delivery men got his first look at the slovenly scrubber that lived here. With barely a movement, my robe slowly opened under the pressure of my engorged breasts and became visible to him. When I handed the pad back to him his gaze was nowhere near my face, which served a dual purpose, one - I had got what I wanted, a total stranger being able to see my bare breasts and two - he couldn't see the scarlet blush of embarrassment on my face.

He delayed me in conversation as he constantly took glimpses of my saggy tits.

As I bared myself to more and more strangers over the following days, the embarrassment and arousal did not wane one bit, if anything it continued to build.

My alter ego began to change. As my situation no longer suited the chav that was Kylie, Doris, as I named her, developed a look which took on a whole new dimension. The mature woman that was now allowing men to see her saggy unattractive body, was not the simple minded low-life anymore but a slovenly older woman, with the appearance of a knocked up slag.

I loved who I was and I loved the game I was playing.

Doris liked to have a child latched onto one breast, with the other one exposed and dripping. It was incredibly embarrassing to appear like this and to expose my saggy tits to strangers. Day after day I would stand before these smirking men, feeling belittled and ridiculed as time after time, my robe would gape open, exposing myself to their derision as they inwardly disparaged me. Sometimes I had the perfect added bonus of my breasts starting to lactate on their own.

I also had sewn the robe so that at certain angles brief glimpses of my pudenda could be had. I alternated between being knickerless, my vagina completely bare and unprotected from their lustful gaze. Sometimes I wore sheer panties through which these unknown men could see my hairless rounded lips, or if not, I would deliberately wear a pair a little too small for me, in order to produce the most obscene 'accidental' camel toe.

All this I somehow managed to pull off as accidental nudity and successfully convince the voyeurs, that I was unaware of my exposure. This (false) appearance of innocence, added to the whole naughty thrill of embarrassment. The charade that I was a scruffy trollop, a frumpy hag and a total slob, who was either totally unaware of her body being exposed, or she was such a tramp that she didn't care.

It was of no use being sexy and attractive to these men, I didn't want their approval, I craved their disapproval.

In all this self-abasement I had only ever considered shaming myself to men but one day a woman delivery agent called. I had a most unexpected but thrilling feeling in my vagina, as I stood in the harsh light of the critical eye of a woman. As this was not directly sexual, then why not embarrass myself in front of another woman?

I could have died with shame as this clean, well kept woman cast her eye over me. She must have thought,

"What a mess, what a slob, look at the state of her, look at her tits hanging from her filthy robe, God I can even see her fanny, and look at the state of that fucking kitchen! What a dirty bitch."

After this experience I found myself hoping that more and more of the deliveries would be made by women. I felt somehow that the scorn and derision that I received from my audience, was greater from the women than from the men.

A lot of times my scene failed. It was either too rushed or I was so unattractive the men couldn't be bothered to look at me. The one perfect time however happened when a gorgeous hunk of a man knocked on my door. I had recently made Paul cover my neck and breasts in love bites to add to my 'costume' and make me look even tardier and cheaper than ever. I had chosen that day for no panties and what happened was totally spontaneous. As I signed for the parcel I deliberately dropped the pen, my tactic was to squat to pick up the pen, therefore spreading myself a little for him. However being heavily pregnant by now, I lost my balance and fell back onto my ass then my elbows. Without thinking, I instinctively opened my legs and for first time in my new game, I wilfully exposed my inner labia to a complete stranger.

The delivery man did what you would expect and bent down to help me up. He was in between my spread legs as he reached for my arms, he couldn't resist however gazing between my legs and as my pussy opened he could see my pink lips, my clitoris and as the labia spread, he could see right into my over excited and swollen vagina, it's pink wetness clearly on view.

This would have been a wonderful thrill for me at any time but him being a hunk created such a difference between the attractive man and the squalid slob, that the contrast was even more arousing. I hope that he went away thinking that he had got a good look at the slag's cunt, whilst also thinking that he wouldn't fuck her with a stolen dick.

Of all the men that called to our house there was only one that called regularly, the milkman. The devil in me for some reason wanted him to see me often, as he was quite old and I realised that I was giving him a treat. At the same time, my instinct told me that I would be more embarrassed showing myself to him, than the countless youngish delivery men. It wasn't everyday I could manage this, as I was not always in a position to play, but over time I let him see me frequently. It soon became the norm, even though I kept to the pretence completely, that it was an accident or I was unaware of what he could see of me.

The sexual tension between us began to grow. It was not a simple sexual tension 'is she going to let me fuck her?' It was a weird tension built up around him constantly seeing my breasts and occasionally my pussy, whilst at the same time we both (for differing reasons) kept up the pretence that nothing untoward was happening. I had absolutely no intention whatsoever of having the slightest sexual contact with him. Somehow this made the sexual tension quite unique and different from a normal one. It always gave me a warm, gentle, naughty feeling deep inside my sex, rather than the extreme and highly charged arousal that my more extreme activities brought me to.

As this familiarity grew, each morning the milkman began to rap on the door and just enter without waiting. This continued for a while and I kept letting him catch me a little more exposed than normal, entering the kitchen and playing the, 'Oh I didn't know you was here' act.

This continued until we both became comfortable with me being more and more exposed.

One day he took me completely by surprise when with trembling and unsure hands he reached forward and touched my breasts. The action seemed so natural and normal it was surreal. I somehow managed to act as though I hadn't even noticed.

We continued talking as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

I am certain that was the point when Amy, Kylie and Doris all converged. I was totally at a loss to get the context of my (non) reaction straight in my head. Was I playing the timid Amy, too scared to say no? Was I the unconfident Kylie, too stupid to say no, or was I the lazy slob Doris, too uncaring to say no?

As though he had every right in the world (just like the Pakistani pimp) the milkman took hold of my breasts. In a crazy situation, where we discussed the half-price-sale a store in town was having, he took my dark erect nipples, already hard and excited between his thumbs and forefingers. As we continued our conversation as though nothing whatsoever was happening, he began to quite forcefully pull and extend my tender buds.

I nearly came on the spot, not through conventional sexual arousal but because of the insane, weird and unconventional situation I found myself in. It was a unique and exquisitely captivating experience, the fascinating and amusing act of denial, added an electrical suspense to proceedings.

My lack of protest emboldened him, as he tugged and pulled roughly at my nipples, holding and pulling them to an incredible length. The embarrassment at what I was allowing him to do, coupled with the delightful pain, made my face blush furiously and my pussy run like a tap.

He milked me.

As I desperately did not want eye contact and to divert attention away from what he was doing, I idly gazed out of the window. Whilst in the midst of this surreal denial between us, my breasts let go of their sweet treasure. His rough and insistent kneading and pulling of my hugely engorged and excited buds encouraged my milk to flow copiously.

I was in heaven.

I thought of all the dangerous and extreme acts I had committed in the never ending cause of humiliation and shame and here I was, a man simply pulling my nipples was creating an incredible arousal in me. Although this excitement could never be exactly the same as from those extremes, believe me the lustful eroticism I was experiencing from this harmless little charade and game of exhibitionist/voyeur, was every bit as pleasurable but in a warm, safe, sensual way.