tagLoving WivesKlassy Lady: Working Holiday Ch. 01

Klassy Lady: Working Holiday Ch. 01

bycatomanytales©

Hello!

I'm Paul, Chloe's husband, and this is the third account we've written about her adventures as a "Loving Wife." If you haven't read the first two installments, I'll quickly go over what you need to know.

Chloe has straight brown hair that she used to wear short. She's let it grow, and now it's just above her shoulders. It's a different look, but still a very cute and chic one for her. She also wears glasses now sometimes. She has blue-gray eyes, fair skin, and freckles. She's short, and very trim from regular workouts (she ran a marathon once, and still runs the occasional 5 or 10K). She's in her mid-thirties, but still gets carded regularly.

If you're not familiar with the "Loving Wife" lifestyle, it's where the wife, but not the husband, has sex with other people. It's not swinging because the husband stays "faithful," but it isn't cheating either, because the husband approves of and enjoys the wife's activity. It isn't like she goes outside the marriage for sex; the arrangement makes it all part of her sex life with her husband. We're relatively new to it--obviously, since this is only our third story to tell--but it's definitely deepened our intimacy and made our marriage even stronger than it was (I wouldn't recommend it if your marriage isn't rock-solid to begin with).

KLASSY LADY tells how we got started. I dared Chloe to work for a weekend in a brothel, and she did. Klassy Lady was the brothel's name. A few months later, two canoers--a father and his college-age son--caught her skinny dipping in a river. She made love with them all afternoon in a dandelion field (hence the title of the second story).

Nothing happened after that for quite a while. Summer ran its course. School started again. Chloe teaches high school English, and this term kept her busier than usual. A series of crises where I work monopolized most of my time, too. We had no time or energy to even think about pursuing lifestyle fantasies.

One evening in mid-December, we were having dinner at home--nothing special, just some sushi I picked up after work. Chloe seemed to have a lot on her mind, but that was nothing new. The end of the term was coming up, and that was always a hectic time for her.

Without any warning, she slapped her chopsticks down. "I have an idea for your Christmas present. But I thought I'd better discuss it with you first."

I said, "Okay."

"School lets out the 17th."

"Okay."

"I'll have a little more than two weeks off."

"Okay," I said again, starting to wish she'd get to the point.

"What would you think about me spending them at Klassy Lady?"

When I finally recovered my wits enough to talk again, I said, "You mean your whole break?"

"Mm-hmm." Her tone was completely serious, almost matter-of-fact.

"Christmas day?"

"Probably. Do brothels close for Christmas?"

I scratched my head. "You're up for that? I mean, two weeks!"

"Look, if you don't want me to do it--"

"No, no!" I said. "I do! I love the idea. I love you for having it! It's just, that one weekend was so exhausting. One guy after another after another."

Chloe flashed a naughty grin, and blushed. "Sometimes two."

Those words instantly filled my mind with images of her sandwiched between customers, double-penetrated, both guys pumping her for all they were worth. "Well, yeah. My point exactly. Could you have kept going?"

"It would be a challenge." She was trembling, I noticed, and her voice shook slightly. "I want to do it." She clasped my hand. "For you."

I squeezed her hand and smiled. "Well then, I accept this beautiful, gracious present that you offer me. I can't wait!" Suddenly, I had a thought.

Chloe must have sensed it, because she said, "What?"

"I'll be working for most of that time. I can ask for some off, but ..." I shrugged.

"I thought of that." She got up and left the table. When she came back, she was holding a small wrapped present. "Here."

I unwrapped it. Inside was a pager.

"Every time I finish with a customer, I'll page you." Chloe snuggled in my lap, put her arms around me, and whispered in my ear, "Every time you hear it, or every time you feel it, you'll know I just gave some man the fucking of his life. You'll know I'm lying there, most likely in a wet spot, flushed and panting and sweaty from the sex, because I gave it my all to satisfy the customer. His cum's inside me, but maybe a little of it's leaking out between the bald lips of my little pussy. And I'm grinning and quivering, because you know how good I got at coming with the customers."

Yes, I remembered! If a guy could just stay hard, no matter how inept he was, Chloe almost always found a way to get herself off, too. The other working girls looked down on her for it. When one of them asked her (in a very snotty tone) why she did it, she explained, "Why not? It's fucking. I'm getting rubbed where it's supposed to feel good. If I have to fuck a guy, like it or not, why shouldn't I take as much pleasure as I can? Why shouldn't I go for it, if I'm doing something anyway that could lead to an orgasm?"

"Do you promise to imagine that, every time I page you?" Chloe asked me.

I kissed her long and passionately, then said, "That's a promise. "

**********

Chloe called R. J. (the guy who ran the brothel) to set everything up. She didn't make a big deal about it, or even tell me she was doing it, just made the call and scratched it off her to-do list. I happened to overhear her end of it, and it was so businesslike that at first I didn't realize what she was discussing. She uses the same tone of voice when she calls our insurance company, for example. That made it all the more exciting when it dawned on me that she was making arrangements to spend two whole weeks letting strangers pay to fuck her.

She cut me off from sex after that, because she wanted to go in as hungry for it as she could be. We did that the first time, too, and I have to say it worked.

The days flew by. Before we knew it, Friday the 17th was upon us, and we were driving the interstate on our way the ninety-odd miles to the next city over, where Klassy Lady awaited our arrival. Although Chloe would be staying there for two weeks, she only packed a bag of toiletries and makeup. In fact, she was nude under her coat. The other girls wore lingerie to greet the customers, but R. J. had made Chloe go completely bare all weekend long. He only let her wear a pair of ridiculous cheap mules that were way too big for her. When she spoke with him on the phone, she asked if he still had them, and it turned out that he did. For the next two weeks, those clear plastic mules with the tacky gold stars would be her entire wardrobe. I sure hoped the building's heating system worked!

When we stepped inside, Chloe handed me her coat, and was instantly naked. She didn't even wait for the door to close! She had tiny, firm, upturned breasts. Her nipples were gloriously pointy and erect. She'd gotten the most extreme waxing possible, so she was smooth as a nectarine. Her delicate pink labia were plainly visible. The golden barbell through her clitoral hood was glaringly conspicuous, as always. Its size and placement make it impossible to miss. If she's naked, you will see it. It's her souvenir from last time. One ball is engraved with an R, and the other with--guess what?--a J. She's never taken it out, that I'm aware of.

Speaking of R. J., he greeted her, smiling, with the mules. She changed into them on the spot. Her other shoes were added to the coat in my care.

"All right," she said, rubbing her hands excitedly. "Let's rock!"

"Let's get this party started!" R. J. responded, laughing.

They hugged. They kissed, with tongue.

The three of us walked into the waiting parlor. I hung back a little, and it was a good thing, too. One guy jumped up as soon as he saw Chloe and said, "Whoa! Can I have her?"

R. J. handed her off to the guy. "All yours. Enjoy!" To Chloe, he said, "You know the room?"

Without turning back, she raised her arm with a thumbs-up, and started up the stairs, with her other arm hooked through the customer's.

I hurried up the back stairway. Chloe's room hadn't changed at all, that I could tell, since the events of KLASSY LADY. Here's how I described it then: A ceiling lamp shed meager light that didn't quite reach the edges of the room--amazingly, since the room itself was pretty meager. Three huge panels of mirror occupied most of one wall. The double bed clearly had seen much rough use. There were a beat-up dresser and matching nightstand. A red sofa. A scarred wooden chair. Two small, threadbare Persian rugs lay on the floor, and I couldn't help noticing that one had been positioned directly in front of the chair. Otherwise, the bare wood floor was mostly bare of varnish.

What made this room special was the secret closet where someone could watch behind a one-way mirror. I was just seated there when the door opened.

Chloe, wobbling a bit on the high-heel mules, stepped in with her partner for the hour. It was the first good look I got at the guy--"John," she called him. He was almost a foot taller than Chloe, and fat. I mean, he wasn't obese, but he was quite thick around the middle. I wish I could describe him further, but that's the only detail that stands out in my memory. I guess he wasn't too bad-looking, apart from the extra pounds.

Chloe didn't seem to mind. She was already naked, of course, and wasted no time helping John out of his clothes. The bedsprings creaked when they lay down together.

"You kiss?" John said.

Chloe smiled. "I do, and thanks for asking."

They made out for a while. While they kissed and necked, he ran his hands all over Chloe, cupping her breasts, rubbing her nipples, playing with the barbell in her clit, sliding fingers up inside her. From the way she was squirming, I could tell she was getting hot and excited. She let him suck her tongue, and meanwhile she stroked his cock, "fluffing" him up, getting him hard.

All at once, their arousal reached the boiling point. Together, they maneuvered their bodies into position for sex. He got on top, missionary-style, but careful not to rest too much of his weight on Chloe. She slid under him, facing up, and wiggled a bit to settle in. A lot of times, she likes to wrap her legs around her partner, sometimes hooking her ankles together over his back. Or at least she'll raise her legs so that her feet are in the air. John was too big around for any of that, so Chloe's legs splayed out to the sides.

Now that they were comfortably in place with each other, John lined his cock up with the slit of Chloe's labia. In another heartbeat, he would enter her.

I knew this was a special moment for Chloe. She says it's the most exciting part of sex, that first penetration--even more than when she comes (and considering how hard she comes, that's really saying something!). "I love the way it feels," she told me. "There's just something so deliciously abrupt about it. No matter how slow he goes, there's always that instant when he breaks the surface, so to speak. It's like a first kiss. It's crossing the line. I'm like, 'Oh my God, this is real!' We're doing it. He's in me. It changes everything. One second we're not fucking, the next second we are, and there's no going back on it. Forever after, like it or not, he and I have fucked."

So that's what she would have felt if she could have frozen time the instant the tip of his cock pushed that first centimeter between her nether lips. Actually—talk about abrupt—he slammed in to the hilt.

Chloe went crazy. She gasped.She arched her back forcefully enough to lift him, to push hisbulky body up an inch or two. Her legs stiffened in pleasure. "Aaah!" she cried.

And they were fucking.

Whether she's on top or bottom, Chloe always tries to take control of the rhythm, the depth and direction of the strokes, etc. She does it very subtly, using only her own motion and her body's reactions to guide her partner. Most guys go along. Most probably can't even tell that she's leading the dance. I'm not always sure how aware even she is that she's doing it--it became so natural for her the last time we were here--but it's how she can have orgasms with almost anybody.

Whether John knew it or not, he quickly fell into following Chloe's lead. He wasn't passive by any means, though. His crotch-flesh smacked loudly on hers in a strong, steady beat. His fat belly pressed against her tight little stomach, and his flabby sides jiggled with the shock of every impact. Even Chloe's firm, tiny breasts vibrated with every body-slap.

Chloe sighed on every stroke. "Ah! Ah! Ah! . . ." She couldn't help it. Her pussy contracted in loud slurps and squelches. She began to tense and stiffen. She flexed her legs, her feet, her toes.

I can always tell when Chloe ejaculates, from the guy's reaction. Even if he's experienced it before, it can be startling, how much fluid she releases when she comes. We call them gushers. It's never business as usual for anyone. John stopped thrusting altogether. He gawked down between their bodies to where their crotches joined. To keep her climax going, Chloe had to arch her hips up and grind herself against him quite aggressively. He got the hint, and they quickly fell back into their rhythm. If anything, they fucked more passionately, like their lives depended on it.

John groaned. He had to be pumping rivers of white cum deep inside her. Her orgasm trailed off, but she accepted his with tender enthusiasm. She rubbed her hands up and down his sides. She didn't seem the least turned off by all the fat under the flesh. In fact, she grabbed his love handles to urge him back and forth. Well, I guess that's how they got the name. "Give it all to me," she said. Her voice had a post-coital huskiness that only occurs after her most intense orgasms.

John did give it all to her. He looked like he was trying to ram his whole lower body up into her pussy. She made cooing lovey-dovey noises and kept caressing his fleshy folds while he pounded her. Through all the lard, I could see the muscles of his ass cheeks flexing as he tried to squeeze out every last sperm into my wife.

He stopped when his limp cock plopped out. For a second I thought he might collapse on her, but he let her wriggle out from under him first. The bedsprings creaked ominously when he hit the mattress. He rolled over on his side. He grinned at Chloe. "That was fucking awesome!"

She smiled at him and winked. She fanned herself with her hands. I realized how much she was sweating, how hard she was breathing. She sat up. She left her legs wide-open. I could plainly see John's cum all over her pussy. There was a great, pearly glob of it peeking out between her labia. I couldn't see the wet spot from her own ejaculation, but I knew it had to be a big one.

Some people say there's no such thing as a stupid question. There is. John asked it: "Um, so how was it for you?"

Chloe pointed at herself. "This is what a woman should look like after sex. Disheveled and sticky and lazy and flushed. That means you did it right, sport."

He got dressed, then, grinning like a fool the whole time. She slipped her mules back on. She kissed him on the cheek, and out he went.

She ran over to the mirror and flung it open. "Woo-hoo! Was that sexy or what?"

I'd made a bit of a mess, myself. I let her see the tissues. "You're so hot, Chloe!"

She leaned in, and we kissed. We giggled like teenagers. This was like a second honeymoon, living our fantasy all over again.

"Can you really take two weeks of that?" I said.

"The point is not to 'take' it," she corrected me. "The point is to enjoy it. I will. You'll see."

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