Selling the Cuckold's Wife

"Strip naked."

She looked surprised, then eyed me to see if I was serious, and finally started unbuttoning her shirt. It was sweat-stuck to her body--took some doing. The jeans were similarly drenched through, but they were loose work clothes, not the skin-tight fashion variety. She got those off more easily. The underwear was workaday and not sexy, but who cares. It came off soon enough.

Only the socks were a problem--she had no place to sit down and so had to peel them off while standing one-legged. That got me hard.

I took a big towel out of the laundry hamper and laid it on the floor. "Spread-eagle," I ordered.

I stripped down and got on top of her. She smelled like soil and sweat--dirty as all get out, but a good, organic, hard-work kind of dirty. It turned me on.

I got my dick inside her and started banging. We kissed. I massaged her boobs. I banged her harder. And then as hard as I could, slapping her butt against the floor as she pushed against me.

Didn't take long.

After showering together I fed her lunch, she in the nude as she had no clean clothes. After that we both took a much-deserved nap. I woke her for another fuck.

Mr. Yoshida

I renewed my subscription for another week, and then for two weeks after that. After which Sandy came round to collect yet another week's rent.

"Sorry Sandy, but I think we've run out the string on this."

She looked crestfallen.

"I only used her twice last week. It's getting kind of old. I never said this arrangement was gonna last forever."

"But we still need money," she wailed. "Diane's done everything she can to make you happy."

"I know that. Diane's a good slave" (I caught myself) "I mean girl. But at some point it stops being fun and becomes an obligation. I don't want to go there."

"What can she do to make you happy?" Desperation crept into her voice. "Look, I lost my job. We really depend on this income. Can't you please help us?"

I looked at her sympathetically. And greedily. Of course I had something in mind. "Well, there is one thing...., but you probably won't like this."

"Try me."

"As you probably know, many suppliers for my business are in Japan. I'm their customer, so when I go visit them they treat me like royalty. As often as not that means a trip to a brothel. That's a Japanese business custom.

"It would be nice if I could return the favor--I'd probably get a better price on my orders. But I can't--brothels are illegal in this country."

"So you want to pimp my daughter out?" she asked angrily, almost in tears.

"I guess you can call it that. It would solve a problem for me. Mr. Yoshida arrives tomorrow. So I'll pay one thousand rent, and if she entertains Mr. Yoshida I'll pay her an additional thousand. He will be in town for five days--she has to be available to him during that time.

"I may have to drive her down to the city. She might have to take a day or two off work. But I don't know that yet."

"If she has to take off work you'll have to pay her more."

I looked at her, surprised. Apparently she'd already come to terms with the concept, best expressed by George Bernard Shaw's quip:

George (asking a beautiful woman): If I paid you a million dollars, would you have sex with me?

Woman: Yes.

George: Good. Now that we've established the principle we can negotiate the price.

"Fair enough," I answered. "If the thing goes on for more than a day I'll pay her two thousand. On the other hand, if Mr. Yoshida is not interested, then she'll only get the usual rent--no extra."

The terms were communicated to Diane and Matt. They agreed, so I paid my week's rent, and the next day I drove down to the airport to pick up Mr. Yoshida. My Japanese isn't fluent, but then neither was his English. Nevertheless, I learned that tei sekatsu means lowlife, which pretty well describes Sandy and her family.

Mr. Yoshida, an amateur anthropologist, thought it would be very educational to visit some American lowlifes in their native habitat--all the better to humiliate them in situ.

I got on the phone. "Sandy, I need your help with Mr. Yoshida."

"Now what?"

"He wants to come over on Sunday. I'm wondering if we can rent your house for the afternoon?"

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm gonna pay you an extra $500. But from that you've got to get food and drink for all of us. You've got to provide good food, soft drinks, and alcohol. Gotta be a real spread. You can ask Diane to do the work for you--I'm paying her anyway."

"My house isn't really set up for guests," she said. Understatement of the year.

"Doesn't matter. Just do the best you can. Again, let Diane do the work. But he gets the whole place for those few hours--bedrooms, bathrooms, closets, whatever. Nothing's off limits."

"Why? What does he want?"

"Hell if I know. He's Japanese. Just humor him. We'll be there between noon and two on Sunday. Make sure everything is ready and that there's enough to eat."

We knocked on their door around one on Sunday afternoon.

Sandy greeted us remarkably warmly. Mr. Yoshida--ten years older than me, and only 5'8" tall--looked harmless. "Herro," he said in strongly accented English (Japanese can't pronounce "L"). Understanding him was virtually impossible--any conversation had to go through me, translating from Japanese (or at least Japanese-accented English).

It being a hot day I had worn shorts. It took some doing to convince Mr. Yoshida to leave the suit & tie back at the hotel. Instead he wore a summer tracksuit--short pants and sleeveless shirt. Good thing, too, because lowlifes don't have air conditioning. The guy, despite his slight build and advanced years, was fit. The outfit flattered.

"This is Sandy," I said, introducing our hostess. Mr. Yoshida bowed. Standing behind her in the hallway was Diane. He looked her up and down from a couple yards away. Then, with his fingers, he motioned she should turn around.

"She's a sexy girl," he said, staring at her butt. I didn't think she was all that sexy, but she definitely didn't look Japanese. Mr. Yoshida undoubtedly thought her exotic and mysterious.

We walked into the living room. "This is deddobito," I said, using the Japanese word for deadbeat (obviously borrowed from English). Deadbeat, bearded, fat, unwashed, and already drinking a beer, couldn't be bothered to stand up. He did manage to return a handshake.

"And this is Matt, Diane's husband." Matt also didn't stand and he refused to shake hands. He looked bent out of shape. "I don't think he's very happy to see you," is what I told Mr. Yoshida. He laughed.

The room lived up to its reputation. Matt sat on the old recliner with broken springs. Deadbeat occupied an easy chair in the other corner. In between, also facing the TV, was a sofa--more like a loveseat. Mr. Yoshida sat nearest Matt, while I took the seat closer to Deadbeat. In front of us was a coffee table. Scattered around were a few folding chairs for other people to use. Behind us, in what passed for a dining room, were a couple of card tables on which food was placed.

The shag carpet--it must have once been red or orange--was filthy brown. It reeked of cat piss, or maybe dog shit. Perhaps even some human excrement added spice--who knows if Deadbeat always bothered to walk to the toilet. The windows were closed and the shades were drawn--the room was stuffy and uncomfortable. The only light came from the kitchen windows, on the other side of the house. And from the TV.

"Diane," I exclaimed. "He wants you to go barefoot."

"Barefoot?" She looked at the carpet in disgust. "Why?....Do I have to?"

"I don't know why. But that's what he wants. And if you want to get paid you follow directions."

"Don't worry," comforted Sandy. "You can wash up later."

"What a fuckin' whore!" declared Matt to nobody in particular.

Tennies and socks were removed. Toes burrowed into the swampy shag.

On Sandy's invitation we all went and fetched food from the spread in the dining room. Pizza, wings, beer, cookies--perfectly good, American lowlife food.

Yankees vs. Reds

The Japanese love baseball--especially when Masahiro Tanaka is pitching for the New York Yankees. Tanaka used to pitch for the Golden Eagles in Tokyo, and Mr. Yoshida was a fan. He timed his visit so he could watch the game with a bunch of lowlifes.

The TV was put on the right channel--it was the pregame show. Another 15 minutes, during which Mr. Yoshida told us the rules.

I translated. "Every time the Yankees get a hit or score a run, Diane will lose some clothing. Every time the Reds score a run she can put something back on again. Mr. Yoshida and I will take turns stripping her."

"What happens if the Reds win?" I asked.

"Then she doesn't have to strip in front of her family." Fair enough I thought. Though I certainly was rooting for the Yankees!

It was a busy first inning, with the Yankees at bat. Brett Gardner reached first, but the umps ruled it on an error. "Doesn't count," ruled Mr. Yoshida. So Diane was safe as well.

Then Aaron Hicks singled to right, advancing Gardner to second base. "Diane loses one," intoned the Jap.

Jacoby Ellsbury walked, leaving the bases loaded. Gary Sanchez singled, batting in two runs. "One hit and two runs. Diane is down by four."

Didi Gregorius singled to right, hitting in a run. The next batter hit into a double play ending the inning.

"One hit and one run, so now she's down by six," ruled Mr. Yoshida as we headed into the commercial break. Gee, I thought. She's gonna be naked by the first inning! Not so fast. "She's already taken off two shoes and two socks, so she only needs to lose two more."

I'd told her to wear as many clothes as possible. She paired a long skirt with a short-sleeved, button-down blouse. The skirt was supported by a belt, while a little hat topped off the outfit.

Mr. Yoshida motioned her to stand between his thighs. He grabbed her by the butt, holding her close--his face against her tits. It was the first time he'd touched her.

"Frickin little whore!" growled her husband. Sandy moved toward the kitchen where she pretended to keep busy. Deadbeat just sat there drinking beer. Mr. Yoshida massaged her boobs.

He unfastened the top three buttons of her blouse, spreading the flaps to make sure some cleavage showed. She wore a yellow blouse. "Your turn," he said, sending Diane my way with a sharp slap on the butt.

I, too, grabbed her between my thighs, also burying my face in her bosom. It was more fun now--lips to skin. I thought about unfastening her bra, but figured I'd better let Yoshida do that. Instead I turned her around and had her sit in the chair with her bottom against my hard dick. Then I reached around her waist for the belt buckle. Unfastening that I removed her belt.

Purely decorative and unrevealing, still, she was that much closer to being naked.

Masahiro Tanaka took the mound for the bottom of the first. It didn't go well for him. Center fielder Billy Hamilton singled, followed by a hit by Zack Cozart, leaving runners at first and second. The third batter, Joey Votto, drove in a run. After which a high fly ball, followed by a double play ended the inning.

"You can put on one article of clothing," I said, relaying instructions.

"Why only one? They got three hits and a run?"

"Our game isn't fair. Remember, you lose on each hit and run by the Yankees, but you only win when the Reds get a run. The hits don't count."

She looked pissed, and then put on her right shoe. Apparently the carpet was that bad.

"You afraid they'll bite off your toes?" asked her hubby.

Reds' pitcher Rookie Davis gave up a hit to Ronald Torreyes. Tanaka sacrificed, but advanced Torreyes to second base. Before the inning ended Aaron Hicks singled to center field, letting Torreyes score.

"Two hits and one run. Come over here little girl"

Again she snuggled between Mr. Yoshida's thighs. He put his arms around her waist and gradually pulled the blouse out from under the skirt's waistband. Then reaching up her back he unfastened the bra.

Tits sagged a bit, of course. But she was still a young girl--looked sexy as hell.

"You guys are sick," complained the man in the recliner. "Why don't you just fuck her and get it over with?"

Masahiro hit his stride in the bottom of the second. While Tucker Barnhart hit a double, he never scored. So it didn't help Diane any.

Davis walked a couple of batters in the third, but gave up no hits or runs. And it was three up and three down for Masahiro.

The Yankees went down three in a row in the top of the fourth. The Reds got a couple hits in the bottom of the fourth, but no runs.

The Yankees loaded the bases in the top of the fifth, on an error and two hits. Gregorius hit a long fly ball to left field, letting Matt Holliday score.

"Two hits and one run," and he soon had his hands under her skirt, massaging first her butt and then her pussy. He took his time, but eventually the pantie pooled around her ankles.

"Are you getting finger-fucked?" asked Matt.

"Shut up," replied the lady, though just by looking at her it was obvious that was happening. She squirmed around, glassy-eyed, concentrating. Though eventually gooey fingers emerged from under the skirt, dripping pussy juice. He cleaned his hands on her skirt hem.

The lady's luck changed in the bottom of the fifth--the Reds scored a run on a hit by Duvall.

She chose to put on her other shoe!

The Yankees came back in the seventh--two runs on one hit (along with two batters hit by pitches, and two walks). It was my turn to strip her--I went for the shoe she'd just put back on.

"Yeech!"

Mr. Yoshida massaged her boobs, finally removing the unfastened bra from under her partially-unbuttoned blouse. He made sure everybody got to see her nipples. "You practicing to work at that strip club?" asked Matt. "They do some really sick lap dancing down there. You'll fit right in."

"What do you know about that?" she asked, covering herself with the blouse flaps as soon as the Jap was finished with her.

My turn next--I just took off her other shoe, leaving her barefoot again. I figured I'd better leave the fun stuff for Mr. Yoshida.

Votto hit a home run for the Reds in the bottom of the seventh, scoring two runs. Diane chose to put her bra and panty back on, giving up on the shoes.

The Yankees locked the game up in the eighth, scoring four runs on three hits. Castro opened the inning with a single. Then Gardner homered scoring two runs, followed by yet another home run by Holliday.

That pretty much did it for our young lady. Mr. Yoshida removed her pantie, repeating the finger-fuck trick. I took off her blouse. Mr. Yoshida stripped off her bra, while Mr. Yoshida dropped her skirt.

There only remained the hat, bobby-pinned to her hair. He pulled her over his lap to remove it, and then started spanking her. Not hard--likely didn't hurt--but Diane looked surprised, vulnerable and humiliated. Matt took out his phone and snapped a picture. "For the family album, whore."

Fuck You

Mr. Yoshida wanted to see the house--naked Diane showed us around. Sandy followed. We'd already seen the first floor, and so went upstairs to the bedrooms. I watched Diane's asshole as she climbed the stairs in front of me.

"This is where my mom sleeps." With drawn curtains and a dark carpet, it looked very dreary. The sagging mattress didn't improve it any.

"Sorry. We didn't have time to get it cleaned up for you," Sandy said sheepishly, as if that were more embarrassing than her exposed daughter.

We passed the upstairs bathroom. "The toilet's broken. Please use the one downstairs." I translated that important information into Japanese as best I could.

"We're getting it fixed next week," reported Sandy. I didn't believe her.

We moved on to Deadbeat's room. "Deddobito" I told Mr. Yoshida. Same as the other, but filthier, if that could be imagined.

Across the hall was the third bedroom. "This is where Matt and I sleep." At least the curtains were pulled and the windows were open. The fresh air felt good. Otherwise it was just as worn and dirty as the rest of the house. The conjugal bed was queen-sized.

Mr. Yoshida gave Diane a hard slap on the butt--she grimaced and looked at him surprised. "Watashitachi wa koko ni tomaru" he said. "You stay here," I said, indicating that's what Diane should do. It was fucking time.

The rest of us left the room, shutting the door on our way out.

"Where's Diane?" asked Matt.

"She's up in your room with Mr. Yoshida," answered Sandy.

"What? They're doin' it on my bed?"

"Where did you expect them to do it?" she answered.

"I thought they go back to Jim's house or something. I didn't say they could do it in my bed." He started to rise from the recliner.

"Calm down," ordered Sandy. "Remember how much money you're making. And we did promise them the whole house."

"I won't pay you if you don't cooperate," I contributed.

That put him back in his seat. Then, looking at his mother angrily: "You wash the fuckin' sheets after that fuckin' little whore finishes, with that fuckin' li'l shit."

"Diane can do that over at my house," I offered, knowing that they had to use a laundromat.

After he'd calmed down I fished for more info. "I'm happy you're getting some money. I thought it was all going to Deadbeat." Deadbeat was too far in the drink to be paying any attention.

"Why? You really think I'd let you fuck my wife for free? Why you..." Sandy calmed him down before it could escalate any further.

Another pizza slice and beer later, Mr. Yoshida came down the stairs following the still naked Diane. Though now she arrived with cum and pussy juice dripping down her thighs, her hair completely mussed.

"Your turn," he said in Japanese.

"Go clean yourself up first," I ordered. Diane went to the bathroom to obey. Ten minutes later I found myself in Matt's room with Diane lying spread-eagled on the bed. She obviously enjoyed my company more than Mr. Yoshida's.

Not keen on sloppy seconds, I decided that this one time I wanted to wear a condom.

When we got back downstairs again--Diane still naked--Mr. Yoshida decided he wanted a blowjob. Right there in the living room. I didn't have to translate anything--his fly was already unzipped with his dick poking through the underwear.

"What a fucking little whore!" exclaimed Matt, angrily. "Who taught you how to do blowjobs?"

She couldn't answer, not with her mouth full of dick. Fortunately over the past few weeks I'd taught Diane a thing or two. She wasn't a complete novice. I made her swallow, too. Ever the diplomat, I chose not to say anything. Though it was obvious she'd had some practice--she really worked it.

"How come you never give me a blowjob?" complained hubby.

"We can fix that here in few minutes," I offered.

By now Mr. Yoshida had lost interest in anything we were doing. He grabbed her hair while humping her face.

I really don't need to describe what happened next. Mr. Yoshida shook violently. Diane tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her. She'd just have to suck it up like a good little cunt. Which she did--and then she swallowed, just as I'd taught her.

We let her go rinse her mouth out. "Do you want one, too?" I asked while she was gone.

"Yeah. Sure. She owes it to me."

"And you deserve it." Matt smiled in agreement. "How much are they paying you for this, anyway?"

"Five hundred dollars," he replied, with a mixture of shame and pride.

"I guess that makes you a pimp! Congratulations," I said as the whore--still naked--stepped back into the room. "Go blow your hubby," I ordered.