Hazel Plays With Fire Ch. 02

Finally, Tony called quits. "Gonna have a heart attack but, fuck it, couldn't think of a better way to go. If you weren't bull-shitting me then I reckon I've got enough in there to get the job done for you."

Hazel seemed almost in a trance for moment. Her finger played with a little of his cum as it seeped from her reddened pussy lips. "Yes,,," she said dreamily, "Yes...more than enough." Then she looked at me, that little guilty look as if she knew she'd gone too far.

I took her in my arms and kissed her, "I love you so much and I'm so proud that you are my wife."

While she showered, Tony thanked me for sharing his wife but warned me too. Seemed he knew other couples who were 'swingers' and it usually hadn't ended well.

"I know," I assured him, "but Hazel is Hazel. I didn't share her with you. Instead, she just gives me the biggest share of herself. You understand?"

"Not for one second," he chuckled while pulling on his jacket, "but good luck to you and I'll be happy to get you back to the airport next Friday free-of-charge."

He did too.

After the Wedding

Our two-day honeymoon was great, just like any honeymoon. We saw all the sights of the resort, relaxed on the beach, enjoyed each other's company.

And, of course, we fucked like rabbits as I did my best to get through a box of condoms.

All the while Tony's little black swimmers were seeking out Hazel's fertile white egg.

So maybe not just like any other honeymoon, after all.

Hazel, at one point after Tony left, told me, "Fucked by a man old enough to be my dad on my wedding night and probably knocked up with his Black baby. I'd like to hear someone say I don't push my limits." It was maybe two days later I remembered who had told her just that - Levy. I fought against a feeling of dread, convinced myself that it would be alright. That cunt was out of our lives and he could go fuck himself so far as I was concerned.

We got back home and once half-term was over Hazel went back to work. As the next week passed she became more pensive and it wasn't hard to guess why.

Finally, she produced a home pregnancy test and we went through the procedure of unwrapping it and her peeing for the sample. A few drops on the stick and then that long, LONG, couple of minutes to wait.

Negative. And the next day Hazel got her period.

This wasn't like the last time years ago - this time it had been fun but not a game. Hazel had carefully planned (nearly) every moment of it and I think she was genuinely shocked and disappointed not to have Tony's baby in her. I tried to comfort her but, I must admit, I couldn't forget that his baby would never ever have passed for mine.

After a week or two Hazel announced she was going back on the pill and the whole crazy routine of our life started up again.

Vicky and Hazel still enjoyed their weekly adventures and 'the girls' would terrorize the hunky young men of our nearby cities.

But I could tell it wasn't quite doing it for Hazel as it once had. One day I caught her crying and she told me Cathy, the last of the other original 'Girls' was going to get married and retire her slutty gear for good. As each original had dropped out there'd been no trouble finding younger replacements but now Hazel would be left 4 or 5 years older than all the others.

"You might be 27 but you still look maybe 22," I pointed out, "I haven't noticed any shortage of young male attention coming your way."

"Sometimes I feel 37," she groaned, "and sooner or later I'll have to stop or be a sad old slapper."

Her reaction was not to quit the slut lifestyle and become a normal working wife and then, hopefully, mother. No, that wasn't Hazel. She decided to step it up a notch.

Home from another work trip abroad I found a beat-up van parked in the drive. It apparently belonged to an aspiring band whose members were inside with my wife.

As soon as I arrived Hazel scampered off only to re-appear in a new outfit.

She looked sensational. She wore a white mesh and lace corset, with ruffles around her breasts and hips. Her perfectly formed 32Bs were pushed up into a delectable display. Peeping through the lace was the dark of her areolas, just hunting at the long stiff nipples currently hidden away

Attached to the bottom of the corset were suspenders which held up white stockings worn under white patent-leather thigh-highs with 4-inch heels, A miniscule white thong barely covered her pussy.

I could have admired her for hours. It was wasted on those four. They were pretty much what you'd expect. Cocky, arrogant, and firm in the belief that their shit didn't stink.

The keyboard-guy was a lanky twat with long hair. She called him over, opened his fly and pulled out a good-sized stiff cock. Then she yanked her thong aside to show her pierced and glistening pussy.

"No need for lubrication," she murmured, "you've got me so wet. But I'm going to suck it because I love it." She engulfed his cock in one movement, ramming her cute little nose into his greasy pubes. She held for maybe five seconds and then began eagerly bobbing her head.

"Oh fuck! You're the best cocksucker I've ever had, slut. Fucking great!"

She let his dick out of her mouth and teased him, "Oh yes? What else am I good at?" as she resumed her assault on his spit-covered pole.

"Ass-fucking," he immediately responded, "No-one's ever taken mine up their ass like you can."

"You even like my slutty little ass-hole then?" she breathed before sucking one of his balls into her mouth."

"You're fucking FINE. Errr...except your titties, they could be bigger."

She shot a glance at me. Well, out of the mouths of ungrateful twats... That was another of the little seeds Levy had planted in my wife's brain. He'd wanted her to get ridiculous top-heavy boob implants, HHs or something like that. I'd always loved Hazel's perfect little natural breasts and had argued against any unnecessary surgery. She, I knew, wanted them a little bigger and had done so ever since Levy had complained he couldn't tit-fuck her with his thick nine-incher. I'd caught her checking out her figure in the mirror and I'd known she was imagining what she'd look like if she followed Levy's orders.

I could have told her - a brain-dead bimbo.

Mr Keyboard Wizard was impatient so Hazel lay back on the bed, spread her legs wide and invited him in, "C'mon, give it to me, give me your big fat cock."

Three hard slams and he was in her balls-deep.

"Ooooh, yes, that's what I need!" she cooed. Then she threw back her head as Mr Keyboard gritted his teeth and began hammering into her with some force. "Yes! Fuck me! I love your cock!"

"Is it better than your husband's cock?"

Not a moment's hesitation, her eyes are wide with lust and Wild Hazel has taken over. "Fuck yes, much better. I'm a rock-chick and he's a boring old fart. I love your cock."

The drummer has his phone out now. "Tell the camera", grins Mr Keyboard.

"I love the Tubesteaks, I love their huge hard cocks and I'm their fuck-slut groupie."

The Tubesteaks? No wonder they didn't put their name on the side of their van.

Then, waving a sparking wedding ring, "I'm a married slut for the Tubesteaks."

Mr Keyboard lifted her legs, pinned her knees against her corset and really pounded into her. His grunts and her yelps formed a rhythm - and her yelps were getting higher in pitch...

"CUMMING!" she yelled - her back arched, her limbs quivered and her pussy squirted over the dick which continued fucking her at pace. Her eyes were half-closed and she smiled, little aftershocks rippling around her body.

The guitarist had his big cock out and was stroking it impatiently. His band-mate looked to be tiring and his pace slowed.

"You like me dressed as a slut," demanded Hazel, "you like these boots."

"Fuck, yeah," gasped Mr Keyboard.

"Then fuck me like it you bastard, fuck me harder!"

He tried but he was about done and groaned, "Gonna cum."

Hazel urgently slid off him and jumped off the bed and onto her knees. She just made it and he blew a heavy load straight into her open mouth. She carefully showed the camera the pool of spunk in her mouth before swallowing it down. "Yum, delicious. Thank you." She stood up, faced away from us and bent at the waist. She spread her legs to reveal a gaping swollen pussy and wiggled her sweet little bum in the air. "Next!" she demanded.

The drummer was your typical drummer, all tattoos and muscle. He stopped the guitarist with a stare and took possession of her little round ass. He got on his knees and kissed her pussy and butt all over before slipping a finger into her and tickling her cunt lips with his tongue.

"Nice," she cooed, "but I need your cock." She lay on her back and spread her legs for him.

This guy did know what he was doing. He pushed smoothly into her and set a slow but regular pace while deep-kissing her all the time. He whispered to her - and whatever he said went down VERY well. She whispered back and giggled. Whatever she said did the job because the drummer suddenly picked up his pace and began driving both of them rapidly to climax. Hazel rubbed her pierced clit with her hand but didn't seem able to get off until he shoved himself deep and groaned. Then she reacted to his orgasm and came herself.

The guitarist had got very tired of waiting. He hauled Hazel to her feet and pressed her against the wall. She was soon grasping it and trying to hang on as he lay pipe viciously, a little grunt resulting from each hard thrust. He wasn't waiting around and started playing with Hazel's asshole.

"You know I'm a bit sore there today," warned Hazel.

The guitarist grinned, rammed his finger into her butt and to her annoyed, "Owwwww!" he came deep in her cunt.

Hazel spun and looked at him. The moron just shrugged and smiled at her. Hey, he was the guitarist in a band and she should be honored apparently.

The fourth guy, the singer, was if anything even more of an arrogant prick. He'd been out somewhere but now he just strode in and ripped the top of her corset open. Her face showed shock as her pierced tits bounced free. His hands grabbed and kneaded them as he watched the light glint over her silver rings. "These tits are tiny," he commented, "but the rest is OK. Cute little ass," and he spun her before giving her butt-cheek a sharp slap. Then another and another, harder and harder.

He noticed her little tattoo, "Who's Levy?"

"Someone I knew, once."

"Need to put our band tattoo there - get it put over this one."

"You can mark me if you like," she agreed, "but not there."

He didn't like that and ripped her thong off before roughly mauling Hazel's ass. Another series of slaps and then he stuffed two fingers into her pussy. "This is good but those tits are fucking shit," he growled. "Ready to fuck?," he asked.

It was an under-statement - I'd have stepped in long before if I hadn't seen the unmistakable signs that Hazel was horny as fuck under his treatment. She made a grab for him and her eyes widened with lust, "Please, I NEED it."

He smirked, "I'll stretch that cunt so wide with my big monster that you won't even feel your husband's little prick if I ever let him fuck you again."

"No," she said, "you can say what you like to me but leave him out of it. The moment he tells me to kick you out then you are gone."

He reacted by grabbing her head and fucking her throat like it was a pussy. She gagged and tears streamed down her cheeks but she mastered herself and her hands moved down and clasped behind her back. She was willfully submitting to his brutality.

The other guys were sitting around - not even really watching. Mr Keyboard was playing on his phone.

The Singer was in his element now - displaying his dominance. He spat on Hazel and then pulled her off him and threw her to the ground. "What makes you think you deserve my dick?" he crowed.

"Please," she begged, "fuck my pretty pussy or my tight little ass. I'm desperate for your huge dick."

He cast a dominant gaze over his bored band-mates and then me. "How desperate?" he asked

"I'll do anything," she responded, and she meant it. I knew the signs - he had her. He could pretty much take her how he wanted and for as long as he wanted. I'd only ever seen anything similar when she'd been with Levy. But Levy had been the real deal while this guy was a prick and didn't even know how to take his prize when it was awarded.

He gestured at me, "I want to fuck your faggot cuck."

It was like watching gears change. Hazel suddenly lost her submissive attitude and stood up with a seriously pissed-off expression.

Shit-for-brains didn't see the signals and just strutted forward straight onto a right hook from a small female fist. He squealed in surprise and went down. Hazel was no heavyweight so she must have caught him off-balance.

"Hey, why did you do that?" he protested like a little brat. "You can't do that."

I saw his fists bunch as he considered his size compared to her petite frame. At that moment I stepped forward and kicked him squarely in the balls - it seemed the thing to do.

The other guys in the band were shit-heads but I think they enjoyed watching the Singer put in his place. I told them to get him out of there and they went, the drummer pausing to kiss Hazel good-bye.

"You OK," I asked her.

She took my hand and placed it between her legs. Her pussy was dripping wet.

"You feel it?" she asked looking me square in the eye. "That's what the idea of a powerful man using me for his pleasure does. He could have told me to do about anything and I would have done it for him." Her lip suddenly trembled, "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

I took head in my hands and tried to reassure her, "But you wouldn't do anything for him. You took a stand for me and that was a beautiful thing. He was a fake and your love for me showed him up."

"Yes, he was a fake and I don't want to see those guys again, except perhaps the Drummer. He was a good fuck."

"OK, baby," I said, "that's probably smart."

She hugged me, "I love my cuddly security blanket," and giggled to herself.

My blood went a little cold. I remembered very well who had called me her 'security blanket.'. For a man of few words she certainly quoted Levy a lot. Maybe seeing that miserable fake collapse in front of her had brought him to mind. If we'd tried that shit with Levy then the outcome would have been very different and I doubt I'd be here to tell the tale.

Sliding Towards The Edge

Hazel actually took the drummer, Scott, as a semi-permanent boyfriend for a while. He hung with a younger crowd and they and 'the Girls' were soon regularly partying together.

Hazel had once ditched her chav look for an expensive slut one. Now she moved onto 'rock chick'. Her beautiful shoulder-length red hair was cut short and dyed dark brown. When she wasn't at work or asleep she almost always wore skintight leather jeans or leggings with a black leather biker jacket over her small crop-top. Black leather knee-high boots with stiletto heels replaced her old favorites and she began wearing very heavy make-up and especially dark mascara.

She was still cute, but now with an edge to her cuteness. It also seemed, if only to me, that there was some desperation to her games that hadn't been there before.

Scott, the drummer, obviously found her scalding hot. I got used to getting home and finding him between her legs. He was young and enthusiastic and was, by now, fucking her far more than I was.

I saw very little of Hazel for a while. She was either at work, out at concerts or on her back under Scott. I wasn't jealous. I knew he was enamored of her but she was just using his hard young dick.

Scott may have sensed it too. They smoked pot together sometimes but she wasn't impressed when he suggested trying a line of coke. He started saying how much he wanted to have a baby with Hazel - but she shut that down, saying she'd decided that when the time came any children should be mine. Finally, he wanted her to stop seeing other guys.

So that was that for Scott.

Her hair became raven-black with a few streaks of bright red, always expensively arranged in a just-fucked style. A nose-ring appeared and she got a written warning regarding the dress-code at her school. That might well become a moot-point too. If I recognized her in the videos posted on the net by that band then it was only a matter of time until someone else did. She now had a tongue-stud marked 'SLUT' and had to remember to change it before going to work. If her consumption of WKD kept going up at the current rate then soon she might be forgetting to go to work at all, let alone change the stud. As for sex - single guys didn't seem to interest her anymore. She'd want two or three or more at a time pretty much all the time.

You know the strange thing. None of that would have bothered me if she was happy. Don't get me wrong she sometimes still got 'in the zone' with Vicky and with some of her studs but once that high was gone she couldn't settle for a while like in the old days. Now she had to be chasing that next hit of sexual experience almost immediately. She was like a crack addict who could only get aspirin. She NEEDED the real thing.

I actually finished the week's work early one Thursday and got home to my beautiful wife ready to discuss how we could make things better for her.

She'd been waiting for me to get home - she'd always said she never wanted to go behind my back. On the table in front of her was that repaired piece of paper in its leather wallet, Levy's name and number. "I'm sorry honey, I really do love you and I really do hope that I can always come back to you but..." She gave a hopeless little gesture with her hand towards Levy's message and then picked up her phone...