tagLoving WivesIndecent Proposal Ch. 02

Indecent Proposal Ch. 02

byBOSTONFICTIONWRITER©

My friend Phil was the quintessential bachelor not getting married until he was nearly forty, thirty-seven to be exact. He owned a gym, drove a new Corvette convertible, and was a regular, every night, at all of Boston's hot spots. Friendly and personable, Phil knew everyone and because he was such a popular guy, everyone wanted to be his friend. Every weekend, it seemed, he had a different, beautiful woman on his arm. A good looking, physically fit, and successful businessman, all the women wanted to land him. Yet, he always had an excuse.

"Yeah, she's pretty, has a great body, and is fun to be around, Freddie, but she has two small kids and an ex-husband. That's a lot of baggage to deal with every night when I come home from the gym tired and hungry."

"Yeah, but Phil, you take the good with the bad. Besides, it could be nice to have a ready made family, notwithstanding the ex-husband."

"Yeah, family is nice, Freddie, but I met her mother and her mother is fat. I can just picture Janice looking like her mother in a few years, you know."

I figured that he was never going to commit to one woman and never get married, why should he, he was having the time of his life. He did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, lived in a beautiful house, and had sex more often with attractive and desirable women than any horny teenager had sex with himself jerking off to nude photos of Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton. Sure, you could make the argument for kids, but Phil did not want any children. He had two already, that he knew of and that he was held legally responsible for from chance sexual encounters, a daughter with a gorgeous African American Delta Airlines stewardess and a son with a hot Mirage Hotel Hostess in Vegas. I would have gotten down on bended knee with either one of those women, but not Phil. He was looking for the ultimate woman and I fear that he was looking for someone who did not exist.

With a no contest defense, he paid his child support after receiving the results from DNA tests that he was required to take to satisfy paternity suits and said good-bye to both these gorgeous women. Last I heard from Phil, they were married and happy without him. He visited with his children a couple times a year, basically, Christmas and birthdays. Custody was not a condition of the settlement that Phil sought or wanted, as he was not the fatherly type. Matter of fact, Phil was a child in a man's body.

Then, he met Lana. Actually, it was Lana who picked up Phil at Roxie's nightclub. She made an impression with him when she asked him to dance and then left suddenly with another man. There was something about her that haunted him, besides the fact of not being able to take her home and to bed, which he usually did when he met a woman. Also, when dancing with her, holding her in his arms, and looking in her eyes, she touched him inside and he lusted to feel her incredibly amazing body against him, again, only, this time without clothes. She was all that he thought about until he saw her again that following Saturday night. This time, he asked her to dance. This time, he left with her. They were married within the month.

Only Lana was nobody's fool. In attitude, Lana reminded me of the witty, tough blonde in the Raging Bull, Cathy Moriarty, but with the feminine sexiness of Tuesday Weld (remember her from Dobie Gillis and other movies). She had the outrageously hot body of Angelina Jolie, working out nearly as much as macho man Phil and had the angelic face of Heidi Klum. Only Lana was no composite fictional character, she was her own person and the real thing. She was married and divorced twice and had one kid who left home and is living somewhere in Montana with an American Indian woman he met on the Internet and who owns a fractional piece of a gambling casino with the other members of her tribe.

Lana, to say the least, had been around the block a couple of times, only she not only survived the journey but also, she relished the adventure. Both were perfect for one another because with the energy and attitude of live for today because you may be dead tomorrow, they lived life large. Bored easily, they were restless souls and neither stayed at one place for any length of time, they traveled, dined out, hit all the night spots, and had voracious sexual appetites. Never would you find Lana and Phil home on a Saturday night watching television. I wish I was a fly on the wall to watch Phil fuck Lana and vice versa because sex with those two healthy specimens must have been a sexual marathon. They must go through more beds, kitchen countertops, carpets, and hardwood floors than the manufacturers' imagined anyone would when they wrote their limited warranty.

"Yeah, get a new bed out to Phil's house. He and Lana destroyed another one."

When she met Phil, she was working as a bartender and had heard every line, met every kind of man, and had numerous affairs with men, women, and men and women. Some may call her wild but, when it came to living life to its fullest, she considered herself and her lifestyle as controlled hysteria.

"Freddie, I do not want to be saddened with regrets, when I have that car accident, a fatal heart attack or feel the doom when I am diagnosed with certain and impending death from lung cancer. Gee, I wish I had done that as the truck is heading for my car or I wish I had said that when my spirit is hovering over my dead body while watching the doctor sign my death certificate after failing to revive me with CPR or I wish I could have had that experience when they strap me on oxygen. No regret is my motto."

Born with a wealth of common sense, now, that she is older, she is sage like in her grasp of human nature and the human condition. Her been there and done that attitude is apparent in her deadpan expression. Nothing shocks Lana.

"Yeah, so, you want to have sex with me and a kangaroo? I did that once in Australia. Do you want to see the photos?"

She loves sports and is a huge Red Sox and Patriots fanatic. She would drop whatever she was doing for a box seat ticket to Fenway Park or a seat on the fifty-yard line at Gillette Stadium. There is not a player or statistic that she does not know. She knows more about baseball and football than most guys.

"The sox had their chance to get A-Rod when they let Garciapara go for a pittance. Now, they are stuck with Mannie's fat contract." She would make a better manager than some of the managers in baseball now.

Yet, her favorite games are not baseball and football; they are nine ball and poker. You never want to play strip pool or strip poker with Lana in the hope of seeing her naked unless, of course, you are an exhibitionist and would like to stand around naked while she wins all of your clothes.

"Okay, that's game. Now, take off those boxers and parade around the room for me while I shoot a couple candid photos of your cock flopping around."

Now, that I think of it, playing strip poker or strip pool with Lana is a win/win. Even if you lose, you win and get to walk around naked in front of Lana.

"Damn, I lost again, Lana. I'll just remove my boxer shorts. Gee, I am so embarrassed (lol)."

Talking with her is like hanging out with your best friend only she has boobs and a vagina. Come to think of it, having a woman like Lana is every man's fantasy woman.

"Freddie, I'm telling you. I am in love. If God created a woman for me, she is it."

"Phil, finally, it is about time you found someone who shares your interests."

Lana was a looker, too. She stood 5'8", had a full, firm C rack, long shapely legs, bleached blonde hair but nicely done like Loni Anderson's and not like the straw hair of Anna Nicole Smith. Like colors of the Aegean Sea, her eyes changed from blue to green and every shade in-between depending on what she is wearing. Guys stared at her whenever she smoked a cigarette and you knew what they were thinking. She looked hot, that is, until she opened her mouth. A crass, street-wise local from Southie, who said what she thought and did what she felt, never carefully chose her words or tempering her emotions for fear of hurting your feelings, she knew what she wanted and always got it. Whether you were a man or a woman, everyone wanted to fuck Lana.

"What? I can't smoke a cigarette without one of you perverts thinking about me sucking your cock? Imagine if I was out here eating a banana," she said taking a cigarette break out back behind the bar. She flicked her cigarette butt away in the direction of one of the guys. "That's it. Take out your cocks. Let me see what you got? What no takers? I'm going back inside. Assholes!"

That was Lana, outrageous, beautiful, and street savvy. She was the perfect woman for Phil.

After I hit the lottery winning all of that money, I made a special trip to Phil's house.

"Dude, how you been?"

"Good, good, Phil, still working out, I see."

"Yeah, pumping iron to me is like breathing. I have to do a couple hours every day so I don't lose what has taken me years to build."

"Well, you look ripped, Phil, better than you did the last time I saw you."

"Thank you, Freddie, thank you."

"What's it been a couple of years?"

"Yeah, two years sounds about right. You came for dinner a few months after we were married. Where does the time go, huh?"

Phil flexed his big bicep. He was always flexing something. I think flexing was an unconscious reflex with Phil. He did not even realize he was flexing, he flexed so much. Growing up, we used to call him mirror man because he was never able to pass a mirror without striking a bodybuilder's pose and flexing his muscles. He had muscles as far back as I can remember. Decades later, he's the same.

I stayed for dinner waiting for the moment when I could get Lana alone and that chance came whenever she stepped outside for a cigarette and when Phil went to the bathroom, which was fairly often for both.

"Still smoking, huh?"

"Yeah, it centers me. I call it my Yoga stick."

"That's funny."

"I wasn't trying to be."

Lana frightened those who did not know her when she shot you her look, but I knew better. I knew she was kidding. She had the type of sense of humor that was a cross between black humor and dry humor, and with her absurd insensitivity and deadpan delivery, you did not know if she was serious or trying to be funny. Usually, she was trying to be funny, but she seldom cracked a smile and that put most people on edge. Other women hated her because of how she looked and the things that she said, probably wishing that looked as good as she did and wishing that they had the balls to say the audacious things she said.

The only time I saw her really laugh out loud was when a woman trying to hit on Phil, slipped off her high heels and fell center stage in the bar. With her dress around her stomach, the woman tried to regain as much composure as she could without making any more of a spectacle of herself, but with her legs spread and her panties in plain view for all to see, it was a tough thing to do, especially with Lana cackling.

"Did you say that broad fall off her shoes? That was so freakin' funny. Oh, my God. She thought her shit didn't smell until she found out differently. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Hey, nice panties Honey! Did you get them from your Granny? You should wear a thong like me." Then, Lana would bend over, lift her dress to her back, and flash her thong creased, shapely ass.

"So, what's up with you, Freddie that you made a special visit after so long? D'ya need money? Are you here to hit up Phil? I'll tell you, he is one cheap bastard when it comes to giving anyone money, including me, especially me."

She gave me an in and I pounced on it.

"I hit the lottery big time, Lana. I don't need Phil's money. I have plenty of my own."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Wow, that's great. Good for you, Freddie." She took a drag of her cigarette. "I wish I had that kind of luck. I could use some serious scratch right about now." She looked at me. "I'd like to open my own place, a bar downtown smack in the insurance and financial district where the suits and skirts can go to relax after a hard day at work." She took another drag and let out the smoke like a chimney. "I betcha that I'd make a million bucks selling drinks, pardon me, cocktails to the white tower executive crowd at $7.00 a whack.

"Well, I am here to offer you money, maybe, not enough to open a bar, but enough to give you a down payment."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"No, shit. That's a kick in the ass, someone offering me money." She took a drag of her cigarette letting the smoke out slowly this time. "They think with Phil's gym, his 'Vette, our lifestyle, plus that fact that we have no kids, that we are rolling in the dough." She laughed. "Well, compared to most, we are."

"Well, I know Phil and I know better. He likes living life large. He lived alone so long that he is not used to sharing. What's his is his."

"You're right there." She gave me that sexy look that she knows melts me and makes me want to run away with her. "So, what do you have in mind?"

She was nearing the end of her cigarette but Phil was still in the bathroom. He had a bad bowel and I knew he'd be in there a while, still.

"Actually, it was you who I wanted to—"

"What? You wanna fuck me, Freddie?" She looked me straight in the eyes. "Right? Am I right? You wanna fuck me don't you?" She dropped her butt to the cement patio floor and squished it with her shoed foot. "You always had the hots for me. You want to give me money to fuck me? That's it, isn't it?"

She was sharp. You had to go a long way to fool Lana.

"Well, I admit, you have been a fantasy of—"

"Listen, with all that money you won, buy yourself a bottle of lotion and I'll give you a nude photo of me to stroke to while you imagine me blowin' you."

Now, knowing Lana as I did, I knew she was interested, otherwise she would have been inside the house already.

"Listen, what if I give you—"

"Since you hit the lottery and are rolling in the dough, I want five grand, lover boy, for you to stick your cock in me, once, and more if you want to do more." She put her hand to her mouth like she was giving a blowjob. "And I want another woman. I get off with threesomes. Geez, I haven't had a pussy since I married Phil."

She shocked me by her steep price but I was prepared to give her twenty-five grand just like I did Anna (Indecent Proposal I) for the chance to fuck her pussy.

"Geez, five thousand dollars, Lana, just for a roll in the hay with you, are you serious?"

She gave me a look as if she could read my mind.

"You were going to offer me more, weren't you, until I opened my big mouth."

"Listen, I was thinking of giving you twenty-five thousand but—"

"Twenty-five G's, just to fuck me? What are you in love with me or somethin'?" She laughed. "Has it been that long since you've been laid, Honey?" She laughed, again. "You poor man."

"Well, you would have to act like you were enjoying it for me to give you that kind of money."

She reached her hand down and rubbed my crotch while giving me a deep, wet kiss that culminated with her slowly licking my lips with her tongue. Damn, she was so sexy.

"Oh, I can make you believe that I am in love with you for that much dough. Now, close your mouth and call my cell with the details. She handed me her business card. We'll set something up. And you pay for everything, the room, the food, and the booze."

"Okay."

I could not believe how easy this was. I could not believe I was going to fuck, Lana, Lana, the lay of the decade. Oh, my God, my mind was reeling.

I called her the next day but she could not get away until the next week. She already had a girl in mind, Robin, a bartender at a bar she frequented downtown.

When I saw Robin, I had an instant erection. She was every bit as gorgeous as was Lana. I never would have pegged her as a lesbian but she was. She only dated women, never a man but would make exceptions and do a threesome so long as she was with the right woman and Lana was the right woman.

Finally, the day arrived and we pulled up to the hotel. Now, this is a story that I could not make up but, unfortunately, that story is earmarked for group sex at a later date.

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by Anonymous

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by johnstang203/27/19

If you are going to start a story

Then finish it. The finish for this story is the sex. You brilliantly set it up but did not include the execution which is part of the story.

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by 26thNC10/10/18

Price

Every whore has her price. Cheap at any price.

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