Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I’m going to be a jealous bitch right the way through. I’m going to tell you you’re a disgusting, cheap slut, and slap you around, and spit on you, but nothing is going to stop you fucking him. You’ll be too crazy about him to stop, and you’ll tell me so.
By the end, I’m going to be so frustrated that I’ll make you take a ‘dick’ of my own at the same time. It’ll be a big one. Call it punishment, but you’ll be such a needy slut you’ll want it anyway.
You’ll be grateful enough to beg for it, and demonstrate that by eating my pussy like a hungry whore.
It’ll be my husband’s time to watch by then…
Duration – 6 hours.
Proposal price – £2400.
I slip out of the cab at a stunning white house known as Casa Boudique. It’s set back from the road, its imposing exterior hidden from view of the neighbours by mature trees and hedgerows. It’s gorgeous.
I feel like an intruder as I pay the driver and swing my legs out of the back seat, which is good – since that’s my job this evening, after all. To be an intruder in someone else’s marriage.
And take punishment for it.
There’s something I find very naturally kinky about this proposal. I played with myself this afternoon, morning after syndrome fast fading about my lovely fake daddy.
Ebony was right. The sooner the better to make the replacement, and the idea of this one turns me on.
A lot.
It’s been years since I’ve eaten pussy, and the first time I’ll have ever been sober and slapped around for it.
I wonder if User 1982 will make me call her Mistress?
Bizarrely, I hope so…
It doesn’t matter how turned on I am. My nerves are still jangling at the forefront, and that only gets worse every second as fantasy slams into the cold, hard walls of reality. I still have my customary shaking fingers as I click on arrived, and my legs feel weak in my stilettos. I’ve gone for slutty red platforms, my hair loose and flowing free. I’m in a staple satin bodice from my wardrobe, and a tiny miniskirt with fishnet holdups. My bodice is laced with scarlet ribbon, to match both my stilettos and slutty red lipstick.
I should be confident. Should be. But it’s already shrivelling away inside.
Press the doorbell, the instruction pings through, so I step up onto the front step and press the doorbell off to the side. I shuffle on my heels with a pounding heart as I wait for someone to answer it. Who is it going to be? Him or her? Or both of them?
I hold my breath as the door swings open.
It’s him.
He’s big, broad, clean shaven, and looking younger than I expected as he invites me past him. Thirty-five, tops. He’s attractive, but nothing that would make my mouth water. Just a mid-range hot guy with short, dark hair. He’s wearing a suit, but his tie is loose and the top few shirt buttons are undone, and he seems already on the road to tipsy as he smiles.
“Hey there, Holly.”
I’m already feeling more confident as I look at him. I could fuck him happily for hours, no problem.
“Hey. Nice to meet you.”
His hallway is gorgeous, modern and grey, with a bright row of ceiling spotlights, but he points to the stairs. No small talk.
“Upstairs, please. Last door on the right. Leave your shoes on.”
“Ok, sure. Thank you.”
I feel like such a slut as I make my ascent, trying to keep my eyes focused on the journey to the room, not flitting around looking for her. His jealous wife.
The room is already set up, with a ruffled bed – its luxurious white sheets discarded as though we’ve been fucking for hours. There are open wine bottles on the bedside cabinet, and both glasses have already been poured. Red.
User 1982’s husband closes the door behind him and points over to one of the glasses.
“Have one, if you like.”
Why not? I take a decent swig of one glass, and he smiles a decent smile in return.
“Have both, if you like,” he says.
“Nah, thank you,” I say. “One will do.”
“You think that now.” His laugh is low as he pulls his shoes off and casts them towards the door. He fluffs the pillows up, then loosens his belt, shrugging his jacket off and tossing it on the floor after his shoes. His keys and wallet go tumbling.
I get it.
This is a frantic setup of two people fucking. Two insatiable lovers, caught in the act.
I join in undressing, slipping off my own coat and kicking it to the side. I stand before him, showing off my outfit as he stares, and then I tug my bodice loose, spilling my tits free.
“How much time do we have, lover?” I ask him.