Goddess, Wife, Whore 01

I have a pathological need to brag, but for what will soon be obvious reasons, I must do it anonymously. I'm a wealthy, by most standards, corporate lawyer, so what? Really, we're a dime a dozen. What sets me apart from most of my colleagues is that I'm married to a Nordic goddess. I have a photograph of my wife on my desk, and one placed on the filing cabinet behind me is to show off to the cocks that I work with that I'm married to a ten, a supermodel. But what I really what to gloat about is that I pimp out my blonde blue-eyed goddess wife for my profit and her fun. It's a sweet life that I, her husband/pimp, shares with his wife/whore. Hence the need to write it down and brag to the world anonymously my, our, story.

Almost 7 years ago I met Jennifer at a professional office where she worked as a receptionist. Our eyes met and I knew she was attracted to me. Jennifer was just my type: down the back blonde hair, real blonde not from a bottle, framing a gorgeous face: high cheek bones, fair skinned, blue eyes, straight teeth, full lips, an all-around Germanic, Scandinavian goddess. If that wasn't enough, even under her office attire I could intuit the heavy weight of her ample bosom. An honest to God pin the needle ten.

From the way she looked at me you might assume that I must be a ten as well, or as the ladies say a hunk. I've never been called ugly, at least to my face, but I'm not movie star handsome. Whereas Jennifer is in the movie star or super-model league. By any objective standard she is way out of my league. I've always been attracted to fair skinned blondes but I'm a dark-haired olive skinned Spanish, Italian type. It's been my experience that most blondes are not attracted to me, but in middle school, first with a lovely Swedish exchange student, I discovered there is a small subset of Nordic lovelies that have a Latin lover fetish. As it turned out Jennifer was just one of those blonde blue-eyed beauties that loved her some olive-skinned man meat. Praise the gods.

When I walk with her on my arm into a room of strangers, I can see all the male eyes widen and drink her in, then glance at me. I can see the gears turning,' how the fuck did that guy snatch that delicious meal? He must be loaded or have a nine-inch cock.' With Jennifer on my arm, it's like walking into a room with a young Heidi Klum. We are both 5'9", with heels she is taller than me, which only increases the envy factor.

I asked her out to dinner within sixty seconds of meeting her in that office.

At dinner Jennifer told me she was twenty, just graduated from community college and had recently broken up with her high school sweetheart boyfriend.

She admitted she didn't have any career ambitions, "I just want to be taken care of I guess."

I saw nothing wrong with that. I was twenty-five and an up-and-coming lawyer at a prestigious corporate law firm with ambition enough for two people. I also told her that I wanted to be the youngest person ever to be made partner.

"Self confidence in a man is a real turn on," Jennifer confessed.

Over dessert she accepted my invitation to come to my apartment, no pretext needed.

The sex was primeval, but I could tell she was sexually inexperienced. She later told me I was the first man to make her orgasm. I like to think I'm a good swordsman, I can hold back from ejaculating for as long as needed (many sit ups everyday) and I know my way around a woman's body. To be her first experienced lover, with by far the most beautiful woman I had every fucked, was an ego boost. Not that my ego needs a boost as you might be able to tell. We made love numerous times that night.

In a post coitus daze, she turned to me and said, "Lover I could get addicted to that kind of sex."

"God, I hope you do. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on let alone slept with."

She smiled, "Slept with? You mean fucked good and hard."

I have no idea why, but I've always been attracted to blondes, starting in the fifth grade with Rebecca, whatever her last name was, my first crush. Even before I had any idea what it is that men and women do together beyond looking, then looking away whenever they caught me staring, something about the fair skin and blonde hair always clenched my attention and sent the blood rushing. I can appreciate brunettes and redheads and the rest, but blondes always made my heart skip a beat and harden my cock. I've known guys who only date Asian or Latina women, so perhaps it's a fetish or just a preference, mine is blondes and with Jennifer I could scratch that itch and did every chance I could get.

I should mention at this point that it's not only her looks that won me over. Jennifer is socially gracious, easy going, and not in the least conceited. She realizes that she won the genetic beauty lottery, her mother was a former model/actress. When I met her mom, it was easy to see the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Her father wasn't a bad looking former athlete now retired rich guy.

Speaking of families, after about six weeks of dating, I took her to meet the parents. Within an hour my father took me aside and said, "What are you waiting for? Put a ring on her finger. You're never going to do better."

Best fatherly advice ever.

Within nine months of meeting, we were married. When married to a ten there is a great deal of mate guarding to attend to, every man she meets falls under her spell. A ring on her finger is only just the beginning to ward off competitors. Jennifer grew up in a wealthy family, big house, private school, vacations in Europe, and without her having to say it, I knew she expected to be kept in a style to which she was accustomed. Not that I'm complaining. I didn't get into law school and passed the bar to do charity work. I work long hours for the pay and the promise of advancement. But I had no other plan for advancement than through hard work and old-fashioned brown nosing.

One night not long after our wedding we watched a movie, no surprise as you shall see that Jennifer chose it, the 1968 film "Belle de Jour" starring Catherine Deneuve, a gorgeous blonde, as a frigid housewife with masochistic daydreams. She is told that a friend is working in a brothel then decides to turn tricks herself, but only in the afternoons while her doctor husband is at work. Her character wants to be forced into degrading situations.

After watching the movie Jennifer was quiet, just staring at the screen.

I looked at her and asked, "What did you think? I thought it was pretty good."

She took a moment to answer then said, "It really turned me on."

"Really which part?"

"You know the part about being a hooker, a prostitute, a call girl. That makes me wet," she replied in a low whisper, as if she didn't want anyone in our living room to overhear what she was saying.

"Really? Now that's interesting."

"Oh god you don't think I'm a terrible person for getting turned on by the idea of being a hooker, do you?"

"Of course not. In fact, it turns me on. Let's act it out, let's pretend I'm a John and you're the escort. What do think?" I had done a bit of dramatics in high school.

She smiled and without hesitation said, "That sound divine."

We had known each other by this point for more than a year and I don't remember her ever uttering the word "divine". I was discovering something new about Jennifer. I did not know just how much more there was to discover.

On the way to the bedroom, it occurred to me that I had never asked Jennifer if she had other sexual fantasies. Of course, she has fantasies, what were they?

"Let's sit down and talk first," I had her sit on our bed, and I sat in chair across from her.

"Do you have any sexual fantasies when you masturbate."

In retrospect a dumb question.

She took a moment then again in a whisper said, "Why don't you ask me if I like one thing or another. That would help me. I'm a bit embarrassed by my fantasies."

I thought about where to start, "Do you like it when I spank your ass?"

"Yes, I like it a lot and when you pull my hair," she said with a bit more volume in her voice.

That got her started. For the next hour she confessed her deepest most shameful secret sexual fantasies.

Jennifer has an early memory, maybe seven or eight years old, when pirates, neighborhood boys, "captured" Jennifer, tied her hands together with some string and took her to their jail (a basement bathroom) to hold her captive. She said the experience, although it was well before she had reached puberty, agitated her. The very idea of being under the control of the boys, to be at their mercy knocked about in her imagination, she said for years to come. When she reached puberty, it was a fantasy that she called forth repeatedly to stimulate herself. Still in her early teens she discovered in one of her parent's arts books a nineteenth century painting titled "Slave Market" depicting a naked white European woman being displayed to dark-skinned, dark-haired Arab Muslim trader. Just as an aside, this is based on actual history, Muslim Arab traders dealt in European as well as African slaves for hundreds of years before Europeans did and continued long after it was outlawed in the west. This is the origin of the term "white slave trade." This genre of painting, the Muslim slave trader with captive white women, has numerous examples Jennifer explained. I had no idea. She should know, after she couldn't find any other examples in her parent's collection, she went to the public library and found many others and made use of the library photocopy machine for at home "art appreciation."

I speculated that perhaps this is when she acquired her taste for olive-skinned dark-haired men like me.

She shrugged her shoulders and said," Maybe."

She told me of her fantasies of being submissive, under the control of a powerful man that made her do sexual acts against her will, verbally denigrated, taking command of her body to please himself, much like the hooker in the movie scenario.

This conversation, confessional really, blew my mind. It took me a few minutes to realize that I hadn't won the lottery with Jennifer but the Powerball. I had married a submissive goddess.

I stood up, unzipped my pants pulled out my semi hard cock and swiftly moved towards Jennifer pushing her down on the bed mounting her chest and roughly shoving it into her mouth. Within moments I was hard, Jennifer was moaning and putting up a mock struggle. I pinned her arms down with my knees and thrust my hip forwards, stretching out her thick full lips to accommodate more of my cock disappearing and reappearing in and out of her mouth. I pushed my member so far down her throat I made her gag several times. I felt myself about to ejaculate and had no desire to hold back. I pulled out jerking off shooting my spunk all over her face. It was the first time I had done that, usually if I came in her mouth, she drinks all of it.

After recovering I looked down at Jennifer's face, the first shot of my jazz had shot up to her forehead, the second and third less powerful loads covered her cheeks and mouth. Those naturally full lips, the kind that women pay extravagant amounts for, glistened with the wetness of my fluid, I took the tip of my cock and spread my load all over that lovely face. She stuck out her tongue to catch fleeting touches of my member working back and forth over her mouth, her arms still pinned under my knees.

She moaned.

"Did you like that baby? Did you like how I fucked your mouth?" I asked.

"I love it. It's what I daydream about."

I got off her and asked her to wipe the sperm off her face and onto her breasts. Taking off her shirt with one hand, she scooped the sperm off her face with her other and worked it onto her D cup breasts like a lotion.

I should at this point describe her gorgeous breasts. They are large melon sized with an upward curve at the bottom, so her nipples point straight and parallel to the ground. I never tire of sucking and fondling those beauties.

"From now on tell me all your daydreams and fantasies. Keep nothing from me. Understand?" I commanded.

"I will, of course I will. I was scared to tell you. I thought you would think I'm a freak or something."

I smiled and said, "I do think you're a freak but that only makes me love you more."

"Really?"

"Yeah really. Besides I think I might have a freaky side. Telling me your fantasies really turned me on. Keep it coming baby."

She said, "I love you,"

I moved to her face and forcefully kissed her still wet with sperm lips.

I had never tasted my own sperm before.

Before we went to sleep, I told her what I wanted her to do the next night when I came home from work. I gave her specific instructions. She listened aptly.

"Oh my god, I can't wait," she let out in one breath, "It's my fantasy."

At that point neither of us had any idea of how far we were going to live out her fantasies.