The Diary Of A Whore Ch 01

This is a story about a wife who enjoys selling her body and a husband who encourages her to do it! It isn't real life so forget your BTB and cuck trash comments, I've told you what the story is about so why are you bothering to read a story that you don't like? All trolling comments will be removed.

In this story everyone is over 18 and STD's don't exist.... After all it is just a story.

However, constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.

Thank you. Enjoy.

*****************************

Wednesday 6.35 a.m.

Beep... Beep... Beep.

It was still dark outside when the annoying screech from our bedside alarm clock resonated in my ears forcing me to confront the fact, I was now awake and didn't particularly want to be.

"Nooooooo!" I mumbled angrily from under the duvet, hoping it was just a dream, "Go away and let me sleep."

Beep... Beep... Beep.

I groaned as the sound continued, my eyes still glued shut, while my voice grew louder "Tuuuuurn... it.... off!"

Beep... Beep... Be....

As suddenly as it started, it stopped, and I felt the bed move as my husband of three years pushed himself upright and slid out from under the covers.

Moments later, somewhere in the bathroom, I heard the shower go on as Chris began to get ready for work leaving me to roll over and burrow back under the duvet. I didn't have any appointments until later in the day so I left him to it as there was really no need for me to be up quite this early.

Keeping my eyes closed I yanked the covers up almost over my head so that just a tousled mess of blonde hair was visible and hoped the world would go away and leave me in peace, at least for another hour.

Ignoring my husband as he came back from his shower and got himself dressed, I stayed wrapped up in the bedcovers, dozing fitfully and trying to go back to sleep until, eventually, the pressure on my bladder forced me up out of my warm, cosy resting place.

"Oh.... Fuck it." I yelled dejectedly to no one in particular as I threw the duvet off me and, brushing my hair back out of my face with my hand, stumbled towards our en-suite.

Wednesday 8.13 a.m.

Finally emerging rather reluctantly into the world I slipped on my robe and headed down to the kitchen, after my trip to the bathroom, to say goodbye to Chris before he went off to work.

"Hey babe, coffee?" he was standing by the counter and greeted me cheerily as I wandered, bleary eyed, into the room.

"Mmmmm... yes please." My answer sounded crabby as, still half asleep, I fell onto a chair while he placed a mug in front of me.

Picking up my coffee I gazed up at my husband through unfocussed eyes as he swallowed the last of his own drink. Then with that done, he placed the cup in the dishwasher before finishing off his half-eaten slice of toast.

"So, what have you got on today Abi?"

Blowing on the steaming liquid before taking a mouthful, I looked up at him again, trying to get my brain to start functioning "Nothing much, some housework this morning and then I have a couple of appointments this afternoon."

"Ok well, make sure you have fun and don't forget to tell me all about it later." He leant in and kissed me briefly, "I have to get going but I should be home just after six"

"Oh, I will." I giggled naughtily, "See you tonight."

"You to. Have good day babe."

And with that he was gone leaving me sitting alone as I listened to the front door close and his car pull away before swallowing another mouthful of coffee.

Wednesday 8.43 a.m.

Taking my time to finish the contents of my mug I sat and groaned inwardly as I looked around at the mess the place was in.

Dirty plates from the previous night were piled on the side while a mound of dirty clothes sat on top of the washing machine waiting to be done. In addition to the kitchen, I didn't need to look in the living room to know it needed to be vacuumed and tidied.

I sighed, I definitely needed to do some housework I decided, before getting up off my chair and putting my cup in the dishwasher with the rest of the crockery.

Getting to work I spent the next couple of hours making the bed, putting on the laundry and generally doing a few very necessary tasks around the house. Finally satisfied I was, at least partially, caught up on my domestic chores, I headed upstairs for a shower and to get ready for my first appointment of the day.

Wednesday 10:59 a.m.

I took my time in the bathroom and, after soaping myself down and rinsing off, I carefully shaved my legs and vulva, making sure I was completely stubble free. Then, once I had dried myself off, I turned my attention to getting my make-up and my clothes on.

Sitting at my vanity unit I brushed out my long blonde hair, leaving it hanging loose around my shoulders, and then started to put on my cosmetics.

Following my habitual and almost neurotic routine to getting ready I carefully glued my false eyelashes in place before applying a thick layer of mascara to make them even longer and blacker. A deep burgundy eyeshadow went on next with just a touch of eyeliner to give my eyes an upswept look so they were exactly the way I liked them.

Making a last check of my appearance to ensure the make-up complimented my big blue eyes as I wanted, I turned my attention to getting dressed.

Fastening a black satin and lace suspender belt around my waist I slipped on the matching panties then rolled a pair of black seamed stockings up my long legs attaching them to the clasps on the eight straps.

After checking the seams were straight, I pulled on my dress; a simple tight blue sheath that clung to my slender 34B-24-34 figure. With thin shoulder straps it barely came down to mid-thigh on me, short enough to show off my legs but just sufficient to decently cover the tops of my stockings.

Finally, after easing my small size four feet, I'm only 5' 3" tall, into my 3" black stilettos I reviewed my appearance in the mirror. Slowly doing a twirl I looked myself over making sure I was happy. Then taking one last moment to put on some lip gloss I decided I was finished.

Perfect for the Wednesday I had scheduled I concluded.

Taking a couple of seconds to compose myself I took several deep breaths and cleared my mind of everything but the afternoon ahead.

I was ready and, with one last look in the mirror, I headed downstairs to set out for my first engagement.

Wednesday 11.57 a.m.

Confirming I had my house keys in my handbag I stepped outside and, after locking the door, I walked across our front lawn and straight onto the Harpers property, next door.

"Morning Mrs Cartwright." Smiling I waved to the elderly woman in the street, exercising her dog.

"Huuummpphh.... Tart." She snorted rather derisively back at me and turning her nose up she ambled away.

I sighed as I continued my very short walk, some people were so judgemental.

Standing outside the front door I paused and smoothed down my dress before running my fingers through my hair while I let my thumping heart slow. Even after all this time I found myself getting nervous, especially when I went to the Harpers.

Margaret Harper was my neighbour and my friend despite her being a good 25 years older than my youthful 24 years. I had first met her when my husband Chris and I had moved in to our new house next door, shortly after we got married, 3 years previously.

On the day we moved in she had come round with tea and cake, to introduce herself, as we unloaded our possessions from the removal van.

She was that sort of person.

We had coffee together in each other's kitchens occasionally during the weekends.

We chatted over the garden fence in the summer months.

We exchanged recipes.

Over the intervening period we had become good friends despite our age difference.

Taking a deep breath, I stood up straight and readying myself pressed the bell.

It was just a moment or two later that the door opened and I stepped inside.

Wednesday 12.27 p.m.

I wasn't unfamiliar with being in the Harper's house but, as anyone would imagine, it felt more than just a little strange to be laying in Margaret's bed.

Especially as I was completely naked apart from my seamed black stockings, a black suspender belt and my 3" stiletto heels.

Even more perturbing was the fact her husband was also naked and laying on top of me.

"Oh, fuck Abigail!" Derek Harper grunted as he rode me, slamming his rather large cock forcefully into my pussy and making me yelp, "Take it, take it all you fucking little whore!"

Lots of guys like to call me a whore and make me squeal as they fuck me. It goes with the territory, I guess. But he was bigger than most and he definitely knew it.

"Yes, oh yes, fuck me Derek, just fuck me." laying under him, my stockinged legs were spread wide with my modest tits pressed to his chest while I moaned what I knew he wanted to hear.

The hard length of his prick was thrust into me with increasing gusto, his breath warm against my cheek, as he took his pleasure without any concern for mine. All the while his hips were slapping against mine as his weight pressed my stockinged legs wider with every stroke.

"Take it, you fucking little scrubber. Take my cock." He wheezed and panted with the effort of fucking me.

Squirming against him, I drew my knees back and pressed my thighs even further apart. I was enjoying the sensations he was creating in my belly but I held back from letting myself go completely.

I was a whore and, like any good working girl knows, the customers satisfaction always comes first. Especially if you want repeat business from them.

"Harder, please.... fuck me.... harder." I urged him, my fingernails digging into his biceps as he used me.

Derek's flabby 53-year-old arse continued to rise and fall steadily between my splayed stocking clad thighs. His big hard shaft pistoning up into my dripping pussy, splitting my puffy cunt lips open around it, as it filled me again and again.

"I'm gonna cum in you, whore. I'm gonna fucking knock you up," he snarled, his face flushing scarlet, "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna fill your dirty little snatch up and put a baby in you.... And there's nothing you can do about it!"

"No, Mr. Harper, please, you can't," I pleaded, my voice sounding frantic, "Please, pull out, I'm not on the pill!"

That was a blatant lie. I'd been on the pill since I was 18, but I knew it was what he liked to hear me say.

"I don't... fucking... care... you... dirty little... scrubber... " his thrusts got quicker and shallower, and his face got even redder making me worry he might have a heart attack, "you're... just a... fucking... WHORE!"

As he shouted the word "whore" virtually spitting in my face, his whole body tensing momentarily before it convulsed wildly. He was cumming, deep in my belly, his cock pulsing as it pumped his thick white cream into my womb.

Underneath him I writhed, bucking my hips against his as I finally let my climax take me.

"Oh, yes, yes... oh fuck," I squealed loudly, "I'm... fucking... c... c... cummmiinnggggggggggggggg!"

I shuddered and jerked uncontrollably, my orgasm racing through my slim frame, my hands clawing at his shoulders as it completely overwhelmed me.

"Fuck Abigail.... That's it.... Cum on my dick, you little slut."

Finally, spent, he collapsed onto me, panting and wheezing, his weight pressing me down into the mattress.

Wednesday 12.53 p.m.

"Aren't you supposed to be at home cooking dinner or something?" he asked cynically, pushing himself up onto his arms when we had both got our breath back.

"My husbands at work," still trapped beneath his body I answered succinctly, "he won't be home till just after six."

"So, you've plenty of time then?" Derek leered at me and I wondered if he wanted to go another round.

"Anyway, aren't you the one who's supposed to be at work?" I countered, trying to push myself out from under him "And where's your wife this afternoon?"

He rolled off me before pulling me back against him so we were spooning in his bed.

"Yeah, I probably should be," wrapping his arm around me, his fingers playing with a firm nipple as he responded, "and Margaret's at her bridge club this afternoon. She won't be home till four o'clock gone."

I had no idea what Derek Harper did for a living and I didn't particularly care. He had plenty of money though, and always arranged his appointments with me for the middle of the day when his wife was out.

We were quiet again.

Derek and I had fucked in his marital bed several times before, it was always his favourite place to do me. We had done it elsewhere in the house on some of my other visits but we always seemed to end up back in the bedroom eventually. I guess it turned him on when he was doing his wife knowing he had fucked the whore from next door in there.

"You're so fucking sexy Abigail." He whispered in my ear, letting his hand wander down across my bare belly and over my suspender belt to rest between my legs.

"Again?" raising an eyebrow I enquired, not objecting to his wandering fingers.

It was sort of surprising to me that he wanted to go again, since I could feel his completely limp dick pressed against my back.

"I just like feeling your young pussy," he informed me, "Don't worry, I'll pay you extra."

That hadn't really been my point, but paying me "extra" was necessary if he wanted to have me again.

The money thing was rarely ever mentioned but he always had to pay me. Sometimes he'd fuck me senseless and leave me with the hundred pounds, and other times he'd pay the same just to finger and play with me. There was no rhyme or reason to it. Not that it mattered, I was just a whore to him on these occasions, there for his pleasure.

"It's getting kind of late though?" I looked at my watch, "And I do have another appointment at 2 o'clock."

He released his hold on me, giving my breasts a final grope before allowing me to get up off the bed.

"Shit, shit, shit." I stuck my hand between my legs, catching his semen as it started to dribble down my thighs towards my stocking tops, and made a dash for his bathroom.

"Why the fuck do you always have to cum so fucking much!" yelling back at him I unrolled a wad of toilet tissue to clean myself up.

Still laying on the bed in the other room he laughed loudly, "That's your own fucking fault Abigail, you shouldn't be so bloody good in bed."

"You complaining?" I eventually ambled out from the bedrooms en-suite to look for my clothes.

"Not a chance." He grinned, "You're the best little whore I've ever had."

Wednesday 1.09 p.m.

Making my way back in to the bedroom I looked around for my knickers, which had been discarded on the floor earlier. Tugging them up my legs I picked up my dress off the chair and slipped it over my head, reaching behind me to zip it up.

"You sure I can't persuade you to stay for another round?" he asked me, still reclining naked on the bed, gently stroking his slowly hardening dick.

"Sorry Derek, you've already overrun and I really do have another appointment at 2 o'clock." I apologised with what I hoped was a sympathetic smile pleased to have got my first session of the day out of the way.

"I'm sure you do. Whores that fuck like you do are hard to find." he paid me another compliment of sorts.

"Don't bother to get up, I know the way out." once I was fully clothed, I told him, pausing for a moment to pick up the small pile of notes on the bedside table, as I turned to leave.

"Thanks. I guess you'll text me about the next time?" glancing at him before leaving, I enquired.

"You can count on it sexy." Grinning he watched me as I walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs and out of the door.

Wednesday 1.18 p.m.

Living in the house right next door to him was convenient and I just had to make my way, discretely, across the short area of open lawn between the two buildings and then I was home.

I was running late but I knew it wouldn't cause me a problem.

Stopping briefly to retrieve my car keys from the hall table and pick up the small holdall I had packed earlier that morning, I was ready for my second appointment. Stepping out of the door I locked it behind me and climbed into my car to head off for my 2 o'clock engagement.

Wednesday 1.24 p.m.

I hadn't had my new mini very long and I was still revelling in the pleasure of driving the lively little car. Happily sliding into the drivers-seat and enjoying the smell of the new upholstery I fastened the seat belt and ran my fingers around the leather steering wheel.

Taking a moment to savour the pleasure it gave me I flicked on the radio and, starting the engine, I glanced over my shoulder before pulling away from the kerbside. Quickly accelerating up through the gears I reached the end of our road and indicated to turn right.

It was only a fairly short, 20-minute, journey across town to my next appointment and the traffic was light so I took my time and enjoyed the drive. Stopping briefly at a small supermarket on the way, to pick up a couple of essentials for the kitchen, added around fifteen minutes to my journey but wouldn't make me late.

As I swivelled around and slipped out of my car my dress rode up my thighs, flashing my stockings at the two builders who were just getting back into their van. Seeing them staring I gave them a smile taking my time before tugging the hem of my dress down and strutting sexily off.

Taking a wire basket I wandered around the shop, picking up a pint of milk, bread and a couple of other items, like any normal housewife.

However, dressed in a short blue dress, black seamed stockings and heels in the middle of the day made it very apparent that I wasn't like any of the other women shopping. Walking along the aisles I found myself feeling more than a little self-conscious and several people, especially men, gave me rather strange looks. I'm sure a lot of them came to the correct conclusion that I was either a whore or a slut.

Not that I minded, I long since been used to people judging me for what I was.

The builders van had long gone by the time I returned to the car park but I did give an older man a long look up between my legs as I got back in my mini to continue my journey.

Wednesday 1.56 p.m.

I pulled up outside the large detached house just a few minutes before two o'clock and, taking my bag from the back seat, walked up the short gravel path and knocked at the front door.

"Ah hello Abigail, right on time as always. Come in, come in." the sprightly white haired older man who opened the door a few moments later smiled and welcomed me warmly.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Dennison. How are you today?" I smiled pleasantly back at him.

As always, I was astonished that although he looked at least ten years younger than his real age Arthur Dennison was actually well into his sixties and had been retired for some years. In his working life he had been a teacher of some sort and he still maintained the upright bearing of an educator even though he was no longer employed.

He stepped back allowing me to enter the hallway before closing the door behind me "All the better for seeing you Abigail and I've told you before you should call me Arthur."

I giggled "Yes you have but under the circumstances perhaps Mr Dennison is more..... shall we say.... appropriate for these meetings."

"Perhaps you're right." He smiled at me and started to walk away into his house.