Goddess, Wife, Whore 02

Arriving home the next day, I walked straight to our bedroom where I had told Jennifer to wait.

I walked in and she said, "Hi there Jim, good to see you again," as she moved towards me.

I kicked off my shoes, "Honey always good to be back here again with my favorite girl," I looked her up and down, "You look great, I like the outfit, very sexy."

Smiling she did a spin and said, "Thank you, sir."

She was wearing black thigh high stockings, black thong panties and a low-cut bra that barely covered her nipples. I love that look.

The "sir" was an ad lib, I didn't request it, but I liked it.

While I took off my jacket Jennifer quickly moved behind me, taking my jacket, then shirt and hanging them on clothes hanger.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a firm crisp new Ben Franklin. I had gone to the bank that day to withdraw the newest version of the iconic $100 bill. The new ones are distinctive with many anti counterfeit technologies such as a watermark and the like, but it was the crosswise holographic strip that really caught the eye.

"This is our bill. I'll always use the same one," I said as I folded it width wide and placed it vertically on the dresser.

"I understand," she said as she undid my pants and in one motion pulled down my pants and underwear to my ankles. I lifted one leg then the other, her pulling them away, then neatly folded my pants and placed them on the back of a chair.

I unbuttoned my shirt which she took from me, took to the closet and hung it on a hanger.

She came back and stood in front of my now naked body, "What's it going to be tonight sir?"

"Let's start with a blow job. Get on your knees and grab your ankles."

She immediately did what she was told.

Her beautiful face looked up at me as I fed her my semi-soft penis. The sight of her full lips wrapping themselves around my dick always quickly arouses me.

When she worked my cock to full sturdiness I said," Get up, lie on the bed on your back and your head over the edge of the bed."

She did as she was told. This is my favorite blow job position. I can play with her breast while pumping my cock in and out of her adorable mouth.

I've never been to a brothel, so I was just guessing that this is what a john does, just tell the hooker what you want her to do.

I was having a lovely time fucking Jennifer's mouth but though it best that I do less work and her more. I moved onto the bed with my back on the headboard.

"Come over here between my legs and suck my cock until I come," I said in a commanding John voice speaking to his whore.

Jennifer obediently moved onto her stomach between my spread open legs and worked her mouth and hands over my penis.

I placed my hands on her head and grabbed handfuls of her hair. I had no desire to hold back or to reciprocate the pleasure she was giving me. After all, the whore is there to please the client. The John doesn't care if the whore doesn't get off.

It wasn't long before I was ejaculating in her mouth.

After a few of my brain cells were operational again, I asked her, "Did you enjoy that?

Still stroking my now limp dick with her hands, she said, "I loved it. Did you like it?"

"Hell yeah."

We talked for a good while and agreed that we would incorporate fantasy play into our sex lives from then on. We talked of other scenarios, but her favorite was the whore in the brothel. I said we could come up with others.

I still had no idea that this private fantasy play would lead to pimping her out to another man for monetary compensation.

It was the company holiday party that set the twisted wheels in my mind in motion.

I had not taken Jennifer to the firm's holiday party until we were married for one reason; too many sharks. Not that a wedding ring would deter many. Only two of my work associates had met her so when I walked in with Jennifer on my arm, I made note of all double takes and extended looks that we, really, she, received from males and a fair number of females in the room.

The next day at work Wilson, an arrogant prick, so I like him, said what everyone was thinking, "So Maxwell, I didn't realize you have a trust fund. It's a trust fund, right? There is no other explanation why you have a super-hot wife."

"Wrong again, Wilson. I have an eleven-inch cock."

Banter like that went on for the rest of the day. I enjoyed how it irked Wilson and a few others in the office that I was married to a centerfold. Do you remember those? My older brother had a Penthouse magazine collection which I would steal and look at while choking the bishop. Jennifer could have been in any of those men's magazines although she would have been more appropriate for Playboy, the girl next door look. But I digress.

At the party I made a mental note of how much attention Jennifer received from my boss, Hoffman. He came over immediately and introduced himself and spent a good deal of time talking to her, even, perhaps an inappropriate amount of time. Jennifer was her usual gracious charming self.

The next day Wilson commented, "By the way Hoffman is getting divorced from his wife, a shiksa blonde (Yiddish for gentile woman) watch out he really has the hots for Jennifer."

His comment was the seed, one of those floating type seeds which stayed suspended in air, swaying about in the brain for days afterward. I had no inkling what that seed would grow into. The idea of pimping out my wife hadn't yet sprouted. It was just information, datum, my boss lusts after my wife. Nothing unusual about that, I bet ten men a day lust after her.

Then I received an email informing me of my upcoming yearly performance review meeting with my boss Hoffman. Among the topics of discussion would be my salary and bonus. I passed him in the hall, and he mentioned the meeting to make sure I had gotten the message. It was only then, in the moments afterward did that datum, my boss lusted for my wife, did that seed flower in my demented mind.

When back in my office I looked at the picture of my wife on my desk, and thought to myself, "I bet he would double my bonus and give me a one hundred percent raise to fuck my wife."

Once the idea entered my head, I couldn't get it out. Why not pimp out my wife? It would fulfill Jennifer's fantasies of being an actual call girl, a whore, hooker while at the same time be with someone safe. It would be for a very large sum of money, no street walking or escort money for my wife. She is worth five figures, even six figures.

For the next several days I thought about how I would execute such a plan. I also had to honestly consider how I would feel knowing my wife is having sex another man. It should make me crazy with jealousy, right? It should make any normal man senseless with jealousy to know that another man is having coitus with his wife. But the more I mulled over my plan I discovered that I'm not normal because the thought of my beautiful wife sucking the cock of another man gave me a hard on. I would have to watch; I want it to be a personal porn show for me. But I didn't have to be in the room, I could be in the next room, watching a video stream via Wi-Fi cameras. Slowly I put my plan together to present to Jennifer and then how we would pitch it to Hoffman.

The idea of pimping out my Nordic goddess was made easier because Hoffman is in no way a threat. He is in his early sixties, married for thirty years with adult children, balding with a few extra pounds, not hideous, I could even imagine even handsome when he was a young man. He is rich but if I set up the terms and conditions, I didn't think he would pose any kind of menace to our happy marriage.

Our sex life had by now come to include light S&M gear such a collar, handcuffs. We played the hooker and John scenario many times. The next day, I was ready to tell her my plan and see what she thought of it. This was not to be a role play between husband and wife, but, in fact, prostitution. She would fuck my boss for a bigger raise and a bonus for me, her husband and pimp. How do you start such a pitch?

Best to start with something innocent, over dinner I asked, "What do you think of my boss Hoffman?"

Jennifer looked at me, "He's OK, he seems like a nice guy. I know he has a thing for me. Why?"

I said, "I have an idea. It would make your fantasy come true and get me, us, a big raise and bonus. Hear me out before you say anything. Of course, don't hesitate to say no if you don't want to do it."

Jennifer sat up straight, paused, looked into my eyes and said, "Alright counselor, what's your opening statement?"

I gave her the outline of my plan. Jennifer would fuck Hoffman to extract from him a very large raise and bonus for me.

"We invite him to dinner, get him drunk, layout the quid pro quo, something for something, he gets to fuck you for ninety minutes, and I get a big raise, say 75% and doubles my expected bonus. Only after the raise and bonus hits my bank account does he get to come back and make his deposit so to speak. The night of the pitch we give him a coming attraction, a preview of the merchandise, not to put too fine a point on it, your hot wet cunt."

I told her of my camera idea, I would be in the master bedroom watching her fuck my boss in the guest bedroom. After an hour and half, I would knock on the door, as a conscientious pimp would, and say time's up. Show yourself the door boss and see you at work Monday.

After I was done, Jennifer looked away, placed her elbows on the table, folded her hands in front of her face and rested her chin on her hands.

She thought in silence for perhaps three minutes, then said, "Are you sure you wouldn't become jealous? I don't want to do this if it endangers our marriage. I'll do it, l want to do it it's my fantasy but only if it doesn't ruin our relationship. It's not worth it, I love you, you're my man, I'll do anything for you as long as it doesn't ruin what we have."

How lucky can a guy get.

We talked for hours. Then we did a dry run rehearsal of what we would do when Hoffman came over for dinner and how I would make the indecent proposal.

When we finally made love that night, I played the dominate pimp.

While on her knees sucking my cock, I said, "Are you, my whore?"

She let my cock drop out of her mouth, "Yes sir, I am your whore," she returned to her cock sucking duties.

"Will you fuck who I tell you to fuck?"

With her mouth filled she moaned in the affirmative.

"That's my good little whore. Now make your man drop his load in your mouth."

She sped up her movements with her lips around my cock and I came in her mouth, with her still on her knees in front of me, a bit of cum still dripping out the corner of her lips I took her chin in my hand to make her look up at me and said, "You are a good whore, you're my whore, aren't you?"

Looking up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes she said, "Yes sir, I am your whore."

My wife, I think I'll keep her.

At work the next day I sent Hoffman an email asking him if he would like to have dinner with Jennifer and me, she's a great cook, at our home in two days. My performance review was in four days, so I felt this needed to happen soon. He accepted quickly, asking what kind of wine Jennifer liked, red or white. I said red. Of course, he didn't ask me what kind I liked. I wondered if he knew what we had in mind. No, how could he?

Jennifer cooked a lovely meal; I left work a bit early to get home and prepare our presentation. I had asked her to wear the sexiest outfit she owned, and she didn't disappoint, she went out and bought a very tight-fitting black dress which barely covered her ample bosom and ended well above the knee. Underneath she wore a matching black bra and lacy panties. She looked sublime.

Hoffman arrived and I answered the door and invited him to sit on the sofa while I opened the bottle of very expensive red wine he had brought. I made sure I could see his face when Jennifer walked into the room. I called her in when I was well positioned.

She walked in and he was unable to control his eyes, their movements were involuntary. They widened, scanned her down then up again. He quickly got to his feet and shook her hand. Pleasantry was exchanged, but from the timber of his voice I could tell that the sight of Jennifer's hot body poured into that dress had raised his temperature and quickened his heart rate. During dinner he made no attempt to hide his lustful glances at Jennifer's body.

We finished dinner and I opened another bottle of wine and suggested we go into the living room. I specified the seating arrangements. Jennifer on the couch, Hoffman on the cushioned chair facing the couch and I sat a bit behind him in another less comfortable chair. Jennifer would lean forward while she talked to give him a better look at her cleavage, her long legs barely covered with dress fabric. Small talk and wine flowed.

Then I made my pitch, "Jack, the reason Jennifer and I wanted you over tonight was to discuss my upcoming raise and bonus. We were both curious as to the amount so we could make plans. We would like to travel, perhaps do some renovations to the house, that sort of thing."

Hoffman didn't say anything, forcing himself I'm sure to stop looking at Jennifer's tits, he turned his head to look at me and said, "You want to discuss your raise and bonus? It's already set, it's been decided. You get XX percent raise and XX bonus. Is that OK, does that meet with your approval."

[I don't want to disclose the actual amounts because you, the reader, might think it exorbitant what corporate lawyers are paid, and you wouldn't be wrong. In addition, I want you to envy me because I'm married to a ten not because I'm rich. But I'm not rich in an absolute sense but rich compared to most people and beside as the saying goes you can never be too rich or too thin, although I only agree with the former.]

The last phrase had a hint of sarcasm to it. I wondered if he thought we were hoping that the sight of Jennifer's tits was our negotiating tactic.

I continued, "We think it's important before you formally tell me so that we can perhaps persuade you to increase that amount, in fact double it."

I got up from my chair and moved to Jennifer on the couch. Hoffman turned his head following me to his favorite sight, "And before you say anything, I want to show you what we are offering in exchange. And I do mean we. I'm offering you my wife's body for ninety minutes to fuck as you please."

I stood to the side of where she was sitting and said, "Jennifer, stand up. I want Jack to have good look at what we are offering him."

Grabbing my hand, she unsteadily stood up on her black fuck me high heels. Her face gave away no hint of anxiousness, she could have been thinking about what to make for lunch tomorrow, but she was breathing fast and shallow.

I reached around her back and unzipped her dress from the neck down above her ass. She moved her shoulders then lightly shook her body and the dress slipped off and fell on the carpeted floor. Jennifer was now standing in from of my boss wearing only her bra, panties and high heels.

"Jack, look at this body. Well, you have been looking at it all evening haven't you. Now I want you to really see it."

I reached around with one hand and unsnapped her bra and pulled the straps off her shoulders and away from her body. Her arms instinctively covered her breasts. I roughly pulled them away to reveal their glorious fullness to my boss.

In my best Arab slave trader voice, I said, "Look at these beauties Jack. Have you ever seen such gorgeous breasts?"

I cupped her left breast in my hand as if weighing it and then squeezed up and away from her body until I reached her nipple then quickly snapping my fingers over the tip, away from her body. Jennifer's body shook slightly, she was breathing through her partially opened lips.

I then placed my fingertips into the elastic band of her panties and quickly pulled them downward to her ankles. Her shave triangle was now in view.

I looked at Hoffman. Any trace of the arrogant big shot law partner was gone. He was still the balding Jewish guy in his sixties but transformed, somehow, into a teenage boy seeing a naked girl for the first time.

I took Jennifer's hips in my hands and moved her sideways to give Jack a profile of Jennifer's substantial curves. She has a substantial ass without being grotesque and a slender waist for an awesome hip to waist ratio which I don't know what it is exactly, but I think it kills. As with everything else about her, it was perfection.

Running my hands over her backside I said, "Look at that ass Jack. Think about burying your cock between those cheeks. She likes it when you spank her."

I demonstrated with a nice hard spank across her ass cheek closest to Jack. Jennifer flinched at the smack.

"To give you a free preview and demonstrate that this is a genuine business proposition. Jennifer is going to rub one out in from of you."

Just as we had rehearsed Jennifer sat back on the couch, pushing the panties off her ankles and opening her legs to give Hoffman an excellent view of her vulva. Her fingertips began to work their way over her pussy lips. I went back to my chair behind Hoffman. He didn't even see me anymore. His eyes had a laser like focus on the flesh between my wife's legs.

Jennifer leaned back on the couch, closed her eyes, and explored the folds outside of her entrance with her fingers. I noticed Hoffman moving about in his chair. He loosened his belt buckle then stuck his hand down his pants to rub his cock never taking his eyes off my ravishing wife now enthusiastically masturbating not more than six feet in front of him. I just leaned back and enjoyed watching the power of Jennifer's beauty had on another man.

Slowly with her right hand she rubbed her outer labia lip sideways, back and forth, then periodically dipped one or two fingers into her inner lips to pick up some moisture to spread back on the outer lips. She occasionally opened her eyes to make sure that her performance was being appreciated. Soon one finger then two began to disappear into her cunt and moans radiated from deep inside her body and out her open mouth.

I could see Hoffman was furiously rubbing his cock in his pants.

After what seemed to be many minutes, Jennifer's back arched and her body shook as if electrical shocks were being sent up and down her body, (in a literal sense they are) and morphed her face into the mask of agony that the French call petite mort, (little death). I love to see that look on her face while I am fucking her hard and fast to orgasm, perhaps only second to my own orgasm as my favorite phase of sex.

Hoffman dropped his load very soon afterwards, loudly and with violent shakes of his body.

Jennifer was still in her post orgasmic bliss when I walked over to her, placed my arms under her arm pits, pulled her to her feet, turned her around and still holding her up and walked her to our bedroom. I laid her on the bed and pulled the covers over her still moist body. I sat on the bed with her for a while to give Hoffman a chance to put himself together. As I was getting up to go back into the living room, I heard the front door close. By the time I got to the living room Hoffman's car was pulling out of the driveway. I guess I would find out how this went over soon enough.

I went back to the bedroom for a debriefing with my wife, now officially a whore in training.

I began to get undressed, "That was hot. What'd you think? You like it?"

Jennifer's head rested on a pillow, her arms over her head, she said, "Hell yes, I liked it. That doesn't make you mad or anything right, that I got off in front of him."

"No of course not, that was the plan baby. I want you to live out your dream of being a real whore, my sex slave."