The British are Cumming Pt. 03

When Polly hadn't returned home by one a.m., I went to bed. She was supposed to have been back by ten. I guessed she had decided to spend the night with him as she had done with Peter. Fifteen minutes later she came in. Her hair was in disarray as were her clothes. "I thought you weren't coming home," I said sitting up in bed.

"Why would I leave you?" she asked. "I love you."

"I meant until morning. You said it would only take three hours. You were gone six."

"I ran into a couple of my regular clients who wanted to have a three-way. Instead of making two-fifty tonight, I made seven-fifty." She dropped the extra five hundred on the bed table.

Slowly I picked up the money and stared openmouthed at it. "You made this much in three hours?" I asked incredulously. My prick was getting stiff.

"Two men at two-fifty each. That equals five hundred."

My mind was whirling. In just six hours she made more than we jointly earned in a week. Unless you consider having orgasms work, she really didn't work for it. She got paid for doing what most people do for free. Having a tart for a wife was revolting, but I couldn't argue with the money she had brought home. Because I had set up the first guy, I had become a pimp, which was a lifeform I detested. The more I thought about it, the stiffer my cock became. "This is unbelievable," I said softly. "A hundred twenty-five pounds an hour for spreading your legs?" She nodded her head as she stripped off her dress. How could I think such a thing? Selling my wife's body as though she was a common whore. Still the extra money would come in handy. "What's it like?" I asked.

"What's what like?"

"Having sex for money. Don't you feel cheapened by doing it?"

"Why should I? If a man is such a loser with women that he can only have a relationship by buying one, then he's the one being cheapened. Judging from that tent in the bed covers, the whole idea of me doing other men appeals to you. Lay down." Her bra fell to the floor. Her nipples were still taut. She pulled down her knickers and held them up as I stretched out on the bed. The crotch was drenched with spunk. "Clean them," she ordered as she shoved them into my mouth.

I licked up every drop I could find, but they were still wet. Folding them I stuck the crotch into my mouth and sucked and sucked until I could not get any more sperm from them. While doing that, I watched more cum drip from her cunt onto her stockings. My stiff cock became harder as I imagined her being repeatedly being shagged. Breathing was difficult. Slowly she turned around and bent at the waist. She spread her arse cheeks with her hand, and more spunk flowed from her hole. My breath was deep and rapid. My balls pulled up, and I shot my cream into the air.

"You pathetic excuse for a man," she sneered at me. "Look what you've done. You are supposed to put that inside me, and nowhere else. Don't you ever do that again. Clean up that mess." Using her knickers as a towel, I wiped up what had landed on my belly, then started to go after what was on the bedding. "You are supposed to clean up my knickers, not mess them up again." Quickly I licked my semen from her drawers. I hesitated a moment before I started on the bedding while deciding the best way to do it. I immediately realized the safest way would be to lick it up, too. "You learn your lessons well. As a reward, I will let you clean my cunt." She straddled my face and sat with her love tunnel directly over my mouth. My tongue traced the inner edge of her slit. Her entire body trembled when I lightly brushed her clit. More sperm was squeezed into my mouth. Because I couldn't move, I had no choice but to swallow the sticky substance. I continued to lick her lips and suck on her cunt until no more spunk came out. Then she turned and placed her bum over my mouth. Eagerly I lapped up every drop that flowed from her anus. The taste was a bit unpleasant, but I didn't stop until I got every bit of it.

When I had completed my task, Polly calmly got off the bed and removed her stockings and suspender belt, then went to the shower. When she finished bathing, she came back to bed wearing a long white nightgown. My cock was aching for relief. She pulled the covers up and gave me a quick kiss. "Good night, Darling," she said sweetly and rolled over with her back to me. I snuggled up against her and started running my hand up her leg. "It's two a.m., and we have to get up at six. Let's get some sleep."

"What about me?" I pleaded.

"What about you? You shot off. Tomorrow you are going to tell all your other salespeople about me so I can make us some more money. If you prove to be a good enough pimp, I might consider quitting my day job."

Dejected, I rolled over putting my back toward hers and attempted to sleep.

The next morning, my customer signed his contract and left town without mentioning his time with Polly. I had hoped for some inkling of what they had done. I knew he had taken her bum, but what else transpired? Would she ever tell me?

My supervisor and my colleagues all converged on me with congratulations on my first major contract. The bonus was a healthy one, a full month's salary. Additionally, there would be a continuing commission every quarter. It all added up to a doubling of my income. I hated to admit it, but I owed it to my whore wife. There was a lot of back slapping and "How did it you do it?" going on. The latter bothered me the most. How could I say, "I sent my wife to his room to fuck him?" There wasn't enough room under the carpet for me to crawl into and die. At some point, my boss pulled me aside. "Did you follow my advice?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, sir," I said very sheepishly.

"I though as much when the old boy signed and left so quickly this morning," he replied. "Be sure you attach Roxy's receipt to your expense report."

"I used a different service, sir."

"No matter. We got the contract. "That's what counts. As a matter of curiosity, which service did you use. I may want to use them myself."

"She...she was...an independent contractor. I didn't get a receipt."

"Use your computer to make one up. Call her some kind of office support company. That was one of the toughest sales we've ever made, yet you got him to sign after a single night. Do you have her telephone number handy? I want the others to call on this woman." I felt my face begin to burn. "Nigel, are you all right? You suddenly look very ill."

I grabbed a chair back for support and slowly sat down. "I'm okay," I gasped. "I think I had too much to drink. I'd better get to the loo."

I dashed down the hall to the loo and quickly locked myself into a stall. Visions of the customer probing Polly's arse with his prick flooded my mind. My own shaft turned into a solid rod from the thoughts. How could I return to the celebrations in such a state? Everyone was apt to figure out the whore had been my wife. No stranger could provoke such a response in a man. I couldn't refuse to let my boss send her to one of his clients without tipping my hand, and I couldn't give him my own telephone number either. I would have to come out and face the group eventually. I couldn't flush myself down the sewer. Wait. Maybe there was a way out. I had referred to her as an independent contractor. Maybe they would buy that if I handled it correctly. It was my only chance.

After a little hand work to get my cock under control, I went back to my office and attempted to hide behind some paperwork. The chief was in a couple minutes. "Do you have her number?" he asked furtively.

I put my pencil down slowly as though in deep thought. "I did ask her if she would like to do more work for the firm," I said slowly. "She's very concerned about her family finding out what she's doing."

"I assume that means she will only do it for you."

"Not exactly. She's willing to work for us. I just have to be her go-between."

"You dirty devil," he said with a sly grin. "Yesterday, you were all about morals and ethics. Today you are a pimp."

"I would rather be called her booking agent. She does give me a sales commission."

"Nigel, you really had me fooled. I can see you are going to be a major asset to this firm."

"Thank you, sir."

I had just finished creating a receipt from "Consolidated Office Services" for two hundred fifty pounds when Ted stuck his head in the door. "Nigel," he said, "I need your help."

"Come in," I said. "What can I do?"

He closed the door and sat in the guest chair. "The boss says we have to go through you if we want to use that tart you sent to your client last night. Is she available tonight?"

"I can find out. Her fee is a flat two-fifty for two hours."

"Anything goes?"

"As long as she doesn't get hurt."

"I'll get the money while you call her." He handed me a piece of paper. "Here's his name and where he is staying. Eight o'clock sharp."

My hand trembled as I picked up the handset and rang Polly's office. How did I manage to stoop so low? I had become a pimp, a stinkin' slimeball procurer. The whore I was selling was my own wife. The one woman I adored more than anything else was simply merchandise, and I was making a sale. The worst part was I was doing it out of love for her.

She answered on the second ring. "Hello, Sweetcakes," I said in a shaking voice. "I have a customer for you."