Quickie
by Tristmegistus

	We've been working toward this for over a year.  It's literally 
been a labor of love.  Janelle had started it at my surprise birthday 
party by jumping out of an immense cardboard cake in her modest 
bikini.  The party I'd gotten wind of.  My wife of five year's surprise, 
though, stunned me speechless.  She was blushing from toenail to 
head top, but she'd done it.
	You see, the week before she'd shyly asked me about my 
fantasies - a topic she'd always veered away from.  I'd teased her 
into promising to trade.  I'd show her mine if she'd show me hers.  
She agreed, but made me go first.
	I hedged and hawed before very diplomatically confessing to 
imagining her showing herself off to guys sometimes.  Like wearing 
her bikini (okay - in my head it was an obscene, minuscule thong) at 
a public beach and watching everybody's head turn to admire her 
taut belly and pert breasts and wiggling little behind.  She was, of 
course, gigglingly aghast that I could think such things, but her 
embrace was warm.
	She was much more reluctant to tell me her secret dream, but 
I tickled it out of her.
	"Okay!  I give up!  Stop and I'll tell you."  When she was 
satisfied her ribs were safe, she gave it up.  "I kind of wonder what 
your face looks like when you - you know."
	"When I cum?"
	"Yeah."
	I switched on the bedside lamp with an evil smile.  I crooned, 
in a creaky baritone, "Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you 
. . ."  It made us both young at heart.  I got to watch her delicate 
features become a mask of bliss, and she got to see me look like I 
was dying.  From then on, doing the conjugal thing only in the dark 
ceased to be a rule.
	So the party was payback.  While the catcalls and wolf 
whistles from the male party goers were still echoing, Janelle posed 
nervously, but was visibly eating my up astonished joy.  When she 
rushed across the room, all eyes tracking her, and leapt into my arms 
with a laughing kiss, I saw her eyes widen as she felt my 
instantaneous erection pressed against her bare belly.
	"Happy birthday," she grinned.  And her kiss was just a little 
more demonstrative than usual in public.  And her belly never backed 
away from the tent she'd made in my jeans.
	When the kiss ended, her embarrassment escalated.  "I've got 
to go change," she whispered.
	I pouted, unwilling to release my grip around her waist.  "So 
soon?  You just got here."
	She wouldn't meet my eyes.  "My nipples are hard.  I can't let 
them see . . ."
	I shrugged my jacket off, draped it around her, then kissed her 
again.  "I understand.  But thanks, honey.  That was spectacular.  I 
really liked your present."
	She shyly bumped my hip with hers.  "So I noticed.  But that 
wasn't my only gift.  Just wait till I get you alone."
	Never had a really good party seemed to drag out so long.  
Never have so many good friends been such pains in the asses to 
get rid of.  And Janelle didn't make it any easier.  She reappeared 
wearing something from her wardrobe - a lovely but thoroughly 
modest floral print dress - with one *major* deviation.  On her feet 
were shiny new three inch black heels.  I don't think anyone else in 
the room noticed.  Her blushing wink when she saw me staring at 
them spoke volumes.  While I'd never spoken a word aloud, she'd 
caught the clues about my thing for high heels and tortured me with 
them for hours.  When I caught her alone in the kitchen, she let me 
back her into a corner.  She kissed me back with a fervor matching 
my own, raising one knee to massage my balls with her thigh.
	But she moaned and tore herself away, breathing hard.  "Not 
now.  What if somebody walked in on us?"
	"They'd see me kissing the woman I love."
	"They'd see us tongue-fucking, you mean," she said, reading 
yet another page from the book of my lust.  She *never* talked dirty, 
in or out of bed.  I almost grunted at the impact of her words.
	Janelle lightly rubbed her chest over mine.  "You like it when 
I'm nasty, don't you?"
	I quickly weighed a breast, felt the hard little bump atop it.  
"So do you."
	She gasped - a sound of pleasure - and batted my hand 
away.  "I bet you'd  love it if was still in my bikini, and all our friends 
see how turned on you've got me."
	Before I could grope her any more, she pushed past me and 
through the kitchen door.  She shot me a sly over the shoulder smile 
and put a little more wiggle in her hips as she returned to the party.
	Later, I desperately needed to use the toilet, and both our 
johns were filled with women who seemed to have moved the party 
in there with them.  I gave up and headed for the back yard to 
release some beer.  I'd barely gotten myself zipped up when I heard 
footsteps on the sidewalk.  The unmistakable clack of high heels.
	Janelle emerged from the gloom and stopped three feet away 
from me.  It took me a moment to see what her hands were doing.  
They were unfastening the buttons of her dress from the neck down.
	"Come here," she whispered when I made no effort to move.
	Feeling like everything was happening in slow motion, I 
dragged my feet forward.  I saw her separate the halves of her 
bodice.  Her skin was pale and flawless in the dim moonlight.  Her 
firm orange sized breasts were cradled in a wispy excuse for a 
brassiere I'd never seen, a creation for show, not support.  Her pale 
flesh seemed to glow through the lace.  Her nipples were dark 
peaks, stretching the delicate fabric.
	I caressed and squeezed and kissed them as she held her 
dress open for me.  Her every breath held a hint of whimper.  "I put it 
on for you.  It'll be under my dress the rest of the night.  It scrapes my 
nipples when I walk in theses high heels, honey.  That makes them 
stay hard all the time.  Nobody else can see them, but I want you to 
know."
	She gently pushed my hands down, took a half step 
backwards, and slowly rebuttoned her top.  But she left the two top 
closures undone.  With a final kiss, she swayed back into the house.
	There was no visible cause for the lustful torment I endured.  
Janelle's two neglected buttons revealed nothing.  Her shoes were by 
no means fuck-me pumps.  She never acted sleazy, or even 
flirtatious, as she circulated through the undying throng of partying 
humans.  On the surface, she was just pretty little Janelle, same as 
always.  Only she and I knew there was any difference.  But what a 
difference!
	I was ready to physically throw the last two couples out, even 
if they *were* my boss and Janelle's best friend, with spouses.  
Luckily, they left before the last of my self-control did.
	I turned off the lights and went hunting my conspicuously 
absent wife.  I found her where I'd hoped to - in our bedroom.  But, 
Jesus, the *way* I found her!
	My demure honey was spread on our bed clad in the heels 
and bra I'd already seen, but with matching panties, garters and 
hose.  A single distant lamp cast its warm yellow light over her, 
turning her spread brunette mane nearly auburn.
	"Fuck me, honey," she said, holding out her arms.  "Come 
fuck your nasty dream girl."

	Well, that was act one.  Acts two through two dozen - not that 
I was counting - came about in like manner.  Once a week, every 
Friday evening, she'd tell me a fantasy, and I'd fulfill it for her.  
Saturday night, I'd give her one, and she'd perform it for me.
	Hers were varied.  Sometimes romantic, sometimes just a 
little kinky, sometimes not overtly sexual at all.  Whatever they were, I 
threw myself into them with all my heart.  When she voiced a desire 
for a candlelit, five course picnic, in formal clothes, at the edge of a 
lake on lover's lane, I enthusiastically gave it to her.

Fetish Hotel has Tons of spanking story with hot xxx pictures and porno movies. spanking story will be sure to give you a hard on your make your pussy wet wanting even more spanking story Goto Fetish Hotel today and get more spanking story you will not be sorry. Thousands of Pictures of spanking story. And hot sexy movies with spanking story

Click Here to Enter Fetish Hotel - #1 Site for spanking story

  When she shyly 
asked if she could bind my hands and feet to the corners of the bed 
while we made love, I instantly spread eagled.
	My desires, though, were all variations on the same 
voyeuristic theme.  At first, they were pretty tame.  She wore some 
of the racy, impractical lingerie I gave her when we went out to 
dinner.  A teddy and hose to work under her work clothes.  A little 
tarty makeup while we screwed one another silly.  Describing in great 
detail what my cock felt like buried in her pussy.
	As months passed, my fantasies escalated - or I just let 
myself ask for what I'd always wanted.  I got her to wear a tight new 
minidress around the house all day with nothing under it but garters 
and hose, and bent her over a chair and the sofa and the kitchen 
table to fuck.  By then, her orgasmic cries had become loud, and her 
shrieked carnal needs were always very graphic.
	"Yeah, pinch my clit, baby.  Make me cum like a whore.  Fuck 
me hard and deep.  Oohh, shit.  Squeeze that tit.  Milk it like a cow.  
I'm going to cum.  I need you to pump me full.  Shoot it way up inside 
my nasty cunt.  I'm your slut, lover.  Fuck me anywhere you want."
	And, over time, I did.  It took about three painful tries to get 
anal sex right.  She had an even harder time learning to deep throat 
my modest six inches.  And when I introduced the dildo to our 
sessions, I thought I'd gone too far.  It was the only time she resisted.  
Then, she surprised me by bringing it to bed with her as part of *her* 
next turn.  I fucked her with it, and on my next round, I took her in the 
ass with my dick and in the pussy with the big silicone filled 
surrogate, and made her pretend she was fucking two men at the 
same time.
	My needs were cumulative.  I always wanted to begin where 
we'd left off last time and expand on it.  I fed her *two* dildoes in 
addition to my prick and stunned her into wild orgasm when I 
squeezed the bulb on the fake one in her cunt and shot spurts of cum 
there and into her mouth at the same time.  She automatically made 
herself up like a hooker when we played, and became much more 
comfortable walking around in spike five inch heels.  She cursed like 
a sailor for me and acted like a nymphomaniac, sometimes deriding 
me when I couldn't get it up to fuck whichever hole she wanted filled.
	And, somehow, her sessions and mine gradually merged.  
Her desire for limousines to take us to expensive french restaurants 
and innocent walks in the moonlight  seemed to wane.  One Friday 
night, I walked in from work and was greeted by a full blown 
dominatrix, clad in a second skin of black leather, stiletto heeled 
boots, midnight hued wig hanging to her waist, carrying a riding crop 
in one two inch long, scarlet nailed fist.  Another, she had me 
alternate my cock between her shaven cunt and enema cleaned ass 
while she bent over her vanity chair and applied heavy makeup, all 
the while telling me to imagine she was a real whore who was going 
out to turn tricks as soon as she got dressed.
	Eventually it led to here, to Saturday nights like this.  To 
Janelle wearing the tight red miniskirt we went shopping for this 
afternoon.  To sitting at the bar in the tight white silk halter that leaves 
no doubt that her tits are bare, that her nipples are fully distended.  
To leaning forward, doting on the words of the stranger beside her, 
letting him peer down at her heaving tits, at the garters showing 
above her hem.  To throwing back the tequila shooters he buys and 
rubbing her thigh against his as he lights the long cigarettes she's 
started smoking.  To pursing her full, glistening ruby lips and blowing 
a soft plume of smoke toward my reflection in the bar-back mirror.  
To raking his thigh with her painted claws and whispering something 
nasty into his entranced ear.
	This is the fantasy now.  The only one left.  They've all 
merged, become an ongoing chain of connected links  Janelle 
picking up an absolute stranger - rather, letting him pick her up.  My 
wife.  My lover.  My whore.  Taking him to the hotel room I'd carefully 
selected.  One with a closet to watch from.  So I can see her take his 
money before she fucks him however he wants.  So she can stare 
toward me, her eyes glazed with lust, even immediately after her 
massive orgasms.  So she can be sure I'm aware of the renewed 
spasms twisting her cunt as her john fills his rubber with cum
	Whoever's turn it is now, it ends like it did tonight.  After the 
anonymous cock is dressed and gone, I burst from hiding and suck 
the large grapefruit sized tits her new income financed.  She tells me 
that she hopes the next one wants to rape her ass, or this one was so 
big around that he stretched her cunt wider than ever, or that she'd 
made a date to fuck him and two friends next weekend.  She takes 
the filled rubber and let's the sperm dribble around the lips of her 
permanently hairless cunt and tells me how much she loves me, how 
much she loves what we do, while I lick yet another man's cum from 
her well-used body.  She says that's always her best orgasm.  She 
completely loses it and drags my mouth to the slick red lips that've 
sucked so many cocks.  Anybody can fuck her face for the right 
amount of money, but she kisses only me.  While she licks the inside 
of my mouth in search of cum, her lipstick and makeup smear all 
over my face, and my prick drives into one of her loose, just fucked 
lower holes.
	Tonight, she rolled me onto my back, her skilled cunt gripping 
my cock.  "Ah, fuck me, you bastard.  I'm just a cheap piece of ass 
for anybody with a buck."  Her thirty-eight C's leap as she rides me.  
"God, it makes me so fucking hot.  I feel you watching me, baby.  All 
the time, it's like your eyes are fucking me from the inside.  Even 
when I'm doing parties and you're not there, I can fucking *feel* you 
fucking my brains out.  I'm a fucking junkie, lover.  I'm hooked.  I 
won't quit fucking until I'm too old and ugly to even give it away.  And 
you, my cum sucking, pimp husband, will make sure I get cheaper 
and dirtier and nastier with every john I fuck.
	"Oh, fuck your slut baby.  I'm going to cum again for you.  I've 
gotten off six times tonight, and there's still time for more.  Maybe I 
should quit my job and whore full time."
	After we've both gotten off, she clamps her hose clad thighs 
around me and lights a cigarette.  With my shrunken dick trapped in 
her hole, I lay under her and hold her mirror and ashtray while she 
repaints the gaudy whore's face we've fallen in love with.
	"What's next, honey?  It's your turn.  Come up with something 
really twisted for me to do," she says around her lipstick tube, rocking 
her hips slightly as I re-awaken inside her sloppy hole.
	I think for a moment.  My pole swells yet again.  "Movies," I tell 
her.  "I want to film you fucking three black guys and sell amateur 
fuck flicks."
	"Ooh," she coos through newly fuckable, collagen enhanced 
fat red lips, her wide eyes glazing and going wide within her tatooed 
eyeliner.  "I like that idea.  Hundreds of people seeing what a cunt I 
am.  But our camera's dead.  We can't afford a new one."
	I slide my engorged dick from her sucking hole.  "Not for long.  
Get your ass back to the bar, whore."
	"Whatever you say, lover."
	She grinds her smoke out into the ashtray, tugs her hem 
down, fluffs her bleached blonde hair and makes sure there are fresh 
rubbers in her handbag.  I'm dressed and ready, following her lewdly 
swaying hips back to the bar, already wondering what comes after 
her porn career.

Sexy spanking story - Hot spanking story in these Xxx Pictures and Porn Movies at Fetish Hotel