The Nude Waitress 04

The ride back home from Arnie's party was at first a silent, if regrettably, thoughtful affair. I think Ben knew that nothing could be more effective than silence to let the full magnitude of what I had done - and by virtue of who had witnessed it - what I had become, to sink in. It was all like some kind of nightmare. I had just popped out of a cake stark naked, then shown off obscenely and then... I had sucked one of the biggest assholes I knew in front of all his friends.

As far as they knew I was doing it for the money. As I stared out the window of Ben's big SUV, the world of McMansions and gated community homes and golf course went by accompanied by the ambient sound of the road. I had to admit that in a way, they were right. Sure, I could justify that I was saving my home and had made a deal that was exploiting me and thus had no choice, but in another way someone had paid someone for me to be there and that made me something in their mind. That fact only compounded my shame.

The car hit a bump and made my unfettered tits bobble and bump against each other under the thin, pink, satin sweat top. I looked down as my nipples reacted involuntarily to the sudden jarring and coincidental alignment of the air conditioner's blast.

"Whoooiieee, I will never get tired of seeing that," said Ben with a guttural chuckle.

For a second, lost in my self examination and condemnation, I had actually forgotten he was there. I looked over, just in time to see his overjoyed leering at my huge boobs.

"Damn, Renee. I have to tell you I don't think I have ever seen anything quite that hot in my life."

At first I wasn't sure if he meant my nipples or what I had done at the party so I gave him a neutral if slightly disgusted look. I mean there wasn't anything I could really say in my defense. I had stripped down to nothing, not a single stitch. I had shaken my tits with delighted smile on my overly made up face. I had shown off every indecent inch of my ass and pussy for men that at one time had treated me with deference and respect. And then to top it all off I had given a filthy tantric blowjob to one of the biggest dumbasses I knew while they all watched. I also realized what that made me. And worse, I knew, I could never ever again, really mount any kind of decent defense against any of Ben's dirty observations and commentary. I felt so... meek, so weakened, very nearly doomed to compliance. I think it came across too.

Which was why he was sitting there, openly grinning ear-to-ear as his big erect cock tented his shorts.

"I mean it. Sure I've seen pornos and I've even seen some strippers and hookers do bachelor parties, but god damn! Seeing YOU on your knees sucking a cock like that. I mean REALLY working for it."

He chuckled again.

"Damn baby, you ARE too good."

I did not say thank you. In fact, I did not say anything. Somewhere deep inside I just shrank a little more. I tried not to dwell on the fact that I had just become the queen of slutsville and my anointing had been with a fountain of Arnie's jizz. It was like I would never be able to truly defend myself, my honor, or even say, "you must be kidding" or "hell no, who do you think I am?" to even the most outrageously humiliating request of nudity or perversion.

I don't think Ben picked up on it just then, because, well, he did have an erection and that always seen to occupy every ounce of his meager brain capacity. It was just as well, because I hated to think what might be coming next. We had just turned onto my street and were driving along past all the other nice homes where "decent" people lived when he said something that shook me.

"You know you are going to be the talk of the neighborhood after this."

At exactly that same moment the sunlight reflected off the car window perfectly and I got an absolutely undeniable mirrored reflection of myself in the glass. Hair still stringy and wet face without any make up, I looked like a thirty-something, surgically augmented, suburbanoid milf, the kind that aging pornstars began to play when their blush of youth was fading. It hit me that in a bunch of ways now, I was no different.

We pulled up in front of my house and Ben eased his vehicle into the drive. I started to reach for the door handle when he cleared his throat, stopping me. I looked back over at him.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he grinned.

I just blinked and stared. We both knew he was coming in. Now he was just fucking with me... my head at least. He waited.

"Would you like to come in, Ben," I said.

He faked a frown.

"Are you sure, I mean only if you really are sure you'd like me to come..." and then almost giggling added, "...in."

I couldn't help it. I rolled my eyes and just sighed. I suppose it was just what he was after because he chuckled as my shoulders sagged a bit.

"Fine, I said affixing that fake beauty contestant, stripper-out-of-a-cake-and-couldn't-be-happier smile on my face. "Sure. I'm sure."

"Well, okay then," he said happily turning off the ignition.

I climbed out of the car and feeling every part of my anatomy loose and jiggly with every step walked up to the front door as my new boss and manager followed with his cock pointing the way. A second later we were inside my home. It was still the same opulent, tastefully decorated refuge from when my husband and I had been socially on top, but now, with what I had done to maintain it, and especially with Ben physically invading, it seemed somewhat different. That was reinforced when he patted my buns affectionately.

"You know I could really go for a beer."

I gave him a put out look, but without saying anything, walked away to the kitchen. I had just opened the refrigerator and taken a beer out, and was in the act of popping the cap - a sound I am sure he could hear - when I heard him say, "Oh, hey, be sure and be naked when you bring it back in," before adding enthusiastically, "I just love watching you walk around in the buff."

I swear it sounded like he was suppressing a dirty laugh. But in my newly low self-esteemed state of mind, I didn't even raise my usual objection to his childish sexual requests. I just set the bottle on the counter, pulled off the sweats and walked back out in the nude. As I rounded the doorway into the living room I saw that he had used the time to get naked as well.

He was sitting on my almost brand new couch completely nude, lolled back so his big belly and erection both stood out as he stretched both hairy arms along the back of the settee. He looked me up and down and his cock twitched as he took the cold brew.

"God tell me that isn't every 50 year-old man's idea of a heaven, a big ol' boobied momma handing me a beer in the nude."

I really could have slapped him.

Instead, I watched as he took a sip and stared at me, right between my legs.

"Why don't you give me a tour of the house," he said getting up.

I had no idea where this was heading, but I also knew I was way past objecting so, as he wandered around behind me, his cock sticking out from beneath his hairy belly, I led him, bare-assed through the house. I pointed out the kitchen, the mud room - which elicited a weird chuckle that made me more than a little uncomfortable - the dining room, where he mentioned it was about to make him hungry, then off to the study, the exercise room, the home theater where he leeringly mentioned his deep appreciation for photography.

Then we arrived at the bedrooms, passed both of the kids' rooms, and then arrived at the master. Along the way he was taking everything in like some pervily naked tourist.

A second after I said, "And this is the master," I knew it was a mistake.

"Well now, the master," he said. "I'm guessing that sounds like the perfect place for me."

I might have just changed my local reputation to shit. I might have just become the local slut and a veritable sexual joke, but there was one thing that had not been touched and that was the relationship...the most intimate aspect of my affection for my wrongfully jailed husband. We might have been railroaded, ostracized, persecuted and ruined, but this bedroom was the last vestige of what the world hadn't been able to soil.

As Ben sauntered in with his big hard cock and that beer in his hand, I realized that even that was about to change. He looked around. It was an assessment and though I wanted to shriek at him to get the hell out, the best I could manage was, "Uh, so let's just go back to the living room."

The grin on his face said that wasn't going to happen. Instead, he sat down on the bed and took another sip. Then he spilled a tiny bit onto his cock. It trickled down to his hairy balls and disappeared into the wiry pubic growth sprouting from them.

"Oops, I guess maybe you should get that before it drips onto the carpet."

I knew exactly what he meant.

"Come on, Ben. Not here. Please."

"No?" he said dribbling some more onto his manbush.

"This is my husband and mine's bedroom," I kind of whined. "Please, not here."

"Oh don't worry. You and I will get to christen every room, but first, I gotta get a taste of what being the man of the house is like."

I turned two shades of red as I realized what he wanted. Silently I knelt down and grasping the base of his big thick dick, I turned my head and lowered my mouth to his balls. Then, feeling especially degraded I slurped and sucked the spilled beer from his wet scrotal fur.

"Oh I got some on my cock too, Renee," he said gleefully after I had been at it awhile.

I was just starting to move up to lick it clean when my eye spied something on the dresser. With a particularly desperately, filthy feeling I recognized it was a photo of my husband. He was smiling, standing on a tee box at the country club with, of all people, Ben Gossage. If I'd had a shred of resistance in me left, if there was any vestige of my old life, my entitlement to decency psychologically, this was the last devastating insult. Something broke. Apparently Ben also noticed because he had followed my stare and recognized the pic.

"Ohhhh man," he chortled. "Busted." Then he added, "Well, sorta."

He placed a broad hand in my hair and grasping it gently but definitely guided my face around to the head of his cock. I knew what was expected and with an extraordinary sense of depravity and even shame that was starting to become irreversibly welded to my own arousal, opened wide and began bobbing on my second hard penis in less then two hours.

"You know he and I were playing closest to the hole," said Ben referring to the picture.

I could help myself I shot him a hateful look. Of course doing it with his cock impaling my face didn't carry the same impact that I intended. He just looked back down at me and smiled broadly before continuing. "Yeah, I won though. Then again why wouldn't I? I mean I do have a much bigger club."

He lifted my face up off his big angry cock and smiled at me.

"Then again, I also always liked making my way around the rough...or should I say...muff."

I didn't exactly know what he meant by that initially, but a second later it became clear. He let go of my now tousled hair and grabbed me under the arms and pulled me over onto the bed. I rolled over his body ending up on my back and almost as soon as I was there, Ben was moving downward to push my legs apart. Suddenly, he was right between my thighs, on his knees and elbows taking a nice close look at my shaved pussy and tiny, trimmed bush.

The expression on his face was priceless. He reached upward with one hand and grasped one of my nipples, then emulating exactly what Arnie had done he gave it a long slow, insistent pull. Fuck, "Cowgirl" does really fit you, honey. He tugged on the other and they both plumped and stood out thickly.

"Holy shit. There's no denying how much you like that!" he said like a schoolboy who has discovered a hole in the girl's locker room wall.

He spent the next several minutes playing with them, alternating tugging, changing the tension, the grip, and the length of pull watching my pussy the whole time for telltale moisture. It was like a dirty sophomoric sexual experiment in how to make me hot regardless of whether I wanted it. Unfortunately for me, he knew what he was doing. It was a longgggggg slow tug, actually like the pull on an udder - a point he would soon be bringing up forever, I knew - that had the most intense effect. He had been going at it a while when despite myself, I shifted a little on the bed. It was ever so subtle but completely involuntary. From the way he reacted, you would have thought he'd struck gold.

"Oh yeah, baby," he said really loudly. "That is money!"

He pulled again, watching me too closely. I tried not to show anything and focused on not saying or expressing even the slightest thing on my face. Sadly enough for me, that was not where his focus was. He was staring closely at my pussy. With the lips so closely shaved and my legs that far apart, my lips had opened just the teeniest bit, like a floral split of a tulip bulb when the ground begins to warm up in the spring. It was enough of a biological insight that when Ben saw my own dewy moisture collect, he announced it like he had won the lottery.

"Oh holy fuck, you might not be making milk, Cowgirl, but I think you got a little cream going on down here."

I wanted to die of shame. To be in my bed, the same bed my husband and I shared, where he had made me climax, and to now be aroused here by Ben Gossage, it was beyond horrifyingly humiliating.

Then he lowered his face and took a long lick.

I can't explain how conflicted and horrible that was. I think he knew and I also think he loved it because from that second on, he began licking and slurping, eating my pussy, pushing his tongue into the wet salty slit and forcing his plump face into the wetness of my vagina. I didn't want that. I really didn't, but my increasing vaginal soaking only encouraged him. The moisture increased. I became wet both from my own resented flood as from that bathing by his tongue. The man was eating my last semblance of marital privacy and decency alive along with my betraying pussy.

I wanted to tell him to stop. In fact, at one point I begged him to. It was a gasping coughing, incredibly pathetic, breathy appeal.

"Ben please no. Stop. I... I am begging you. Don't do this."

If anything it only drove him on to redouble his effort, like he was conquering me. I felt the most despicable sense of shame, of betrayal, of my betraying the man who smiled from that picture on the dresser. I tried to will myself not to go further, but in spite of my concentration, my hatred for Ben, my self-disgust and my horror at what this would mean from that moment forward, my eyelids fluttered and a sad sigh of, "God noooooo" escaped my lips.

A moment later, I came as Ben continued his oral onslaught.

I don't know how long it went on. I don't even remember feeling him move. It wasn't until I felt the head of his big dick pushing between my slippery labia that I realized he was going to fuck me. Despite his size, with me as lubricated as I was, he had no problem driving in deep in a single thrust. He paused then, completely in me. As deep as anyone had been in the missionary position. He looked down at me and then with a kind of smug grin started a slow rocking, fucking motion with his hips. It was calculated for full effect, both physical and psychological. He pulled all the way out until just that last tip of his penis was between my lips and then slowly, excruciatingly, he slid back in, and in... and in, until I felt him press against my cervix. And then he pushed in some more.

"I guess this game is "deeper in the hole" than "closer" this time," he chuckled as I grunted mindlessly. And then as my eyes widened at the implication of his besting my husband on the gold course, he added, "Of course I have a bigger club this time too."

With that he started in again sliding in and out fully subjecting me to a slowly applied experience of every inch of his cock. I really thought he intended to have me that way, like a husband would and be done, but I was so wrong. A few minutes later he pulled out and looked down at my spread pussy, the flower was now really open from some serious tilling.

He moved off and laid down on his back next to me. I stared up at the ceiling, slightly overwhelmed by the working over my pussy had taken.

"So uhm, Cowgirl?" I heard him say.

I looked over. He was grinning at me, tensing his pelvic muscles so that his cock pulsed and bobbed like it was alive.

"Why don't you jump on that bucking bronco and go for a ride."

It wasn't a request.

I sat up on my elbows, turned on my side and got up on my knees. Across the room I could see myself in a full-length mirror. It was almost enough to make me start crying with shame. I could see; me, so naked looking, hair now dry but wildly pillow headed, makeup-less like I would have been waking up with my husband, only now next to me was a different man's giant hairy belly and a big, thick cock sticking straight up and bouncing obscenely. In spite of that I obediently swung a leg over Ben's hips and reached down to position his thick head at the entrance to my pussy. With my hands on his chest I moved my hips and sank down onto him.

His thick hands gripped me around the waist and he started an encouraging giddyup motion, which I obeyed and began a wildly perverse ride. He made it clear and soon I was doing exactly what his hands indicated. It was a combination of grinding and bouncing that he wanted, I think, so he could see my tits bounce and sway. I did it, making a completely slutty spectacle of myself. He loved it.

"Oh fuck yes. Make those big knockers... knock," he laughed.

I forced a smile and began an even more exaggerated motion as I rode up and down on his slick cock and with each deep landing, as my clit contacted his coarse wiry-haired mound, my big tits slammed against each other with a soft smack. Apparently that was exactly what he desired because pretty soon Ben was thrusting upward to add even more force to the collision of our bodies. Unfortunately for me, he also started grabbing and milking my nipples again. It was completely unfair.

In no time my "creamery" was working again and he was presented with a glistening evidence of how effective that little action was, all over this hard shaft. To my surprise, instead of pushing it further and forcing me to climax again though, he let go.

"Sit all the way down on my cock," he said.

Surrendering, I sat down fully, impaling myself to the limit of discomfort.

He grinned up at me and then like they were some big toys began softly batting at my big tits with his hands. They moved slightly and delighting in the result he gave my left boob a slight swat. It shook and swayed into my other big boob. It wasn't hard. It wasn't painful, it wasn't even intended to be offensive, I could tell, but that he could play with me like this in my bedroom was in its own way one of the more offensive things I had endured with him. Maybe it was because I had gotten my implants, at least gotten them this big, at my husband's request that it bothered me so. In any case, Ben was having the time of his life and lifted each by the nipple before letting them individually fall and then heavily sway. I felt a sense of near visceral manipulation with that, and in no time, my poor pussy had his bush and balls coated. He sensed the full impact of what that meant, because yet again, having pushed my buttons against my will, he had more fun and games in mind.

"You know what I think would be fun," he grinned lasciviously.

"What's that?"

"Well," he said coyly, like he was trying to phrase something delicately. "I think you look great riding to the north, but uhhhhhh..."