If your wife, the love of your life, decided you weren't enough for her and went to work in a brothel, what would you do? Find another wife who would be satisfied with two or three orgasms a night or would you try to win her back?
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Though he usually slept in, this Friday he rose early to catch Joanne before she left for work.
"I love your book club."
She looked up from her coffee, "Oh, why is that?" Her long hair was pulled back across her shoulders. She took a breath and he was reminded how much he enjoyed those beautiful breasts.
"When you came home last night, you were a tiger; a hungry tiger."
"And you fed me rather well," she smiled.
"What are you reading that was so exciting?"
"I'm not, but some of the ladies were reading Lady Chatterley's Lover and the discussion was interesting."
"Well, keep reading."
The next Thursday night, he was running errands, picking up parts for a weekend project. He was close to the bookstore at closing time and decided to meet her and maybe catch a late night snack.
The bookstore was almost deserted except for a group of women but Joanne wasn't there. He talked to one of the ladies as they were leaving and he discovered it was a quilting group.
He was surprised but realized he had assumed the club was at the bookstore and he must have been wrong. But he was sure Joanne had mentioned the bookstore.
He said nothing, but the next Thursday, he waited for her to leave and followed her. She parked and went into a building. He slowly drove past after she entered and saw a sign, Chez Femme, a Ladies Hotel.
So, they had a meeting room in a hotel. That wasn't unusual, but Joanne hadn't mentioned it.
He drove around the block, looking for a parking place and found one behind the building. He approached the rear entrance and saw a sign similar to the one on the front, but when he got close enough to read it, it was Clubbe Maison, Members Only. Charley ignored it. He entered a hallway that led to a hotel receptionist, a lovely lady in her thirties, a business like white blouse and her brown hair in a braid.
She was smiling, but there was a questioning frown on her brow, "Sir, are you a member?"
"No, I'm looking for my wife."
"I'm afraid we can't help you."
But at that moment he heard laughter that he believed was hers and started down the hall.
"Sir, you can't go in there. Only Members."
He stepped into a large room where men and women were gathered in small groups. The men were all in suits and the ladies in cocktail dresses. He was definitely out of place in his slacks and windbreaker. He spotted Joanne surrounded by three men. When she saw him, she stepped away and started toward him.
She was wearing a white knit dress that caressed every curve of her beautiful body, not the jeans and shirt she had on when she left the house. Her hair was drawn up in to a very nice chignon with a Japanese comb holding it making her graceful neck appear even longer.
As Joanne reached him, a woman joined them followed by a very large man. Charley was big, broad shouldered, in good shape. But he was intimidated.
Joanne smiled, "Angie, this is my husband, Charley."
Angie nodded, "Pleased to meet you." She turned to Joanne, "Are we going to have a problem?"
Joanne smiled, "I don't think so." She took Charley's hand, "Come with me."
She led him upstairs and he watched the tight cheeks of her beautiful ass shift beneath the jersey dress. They entered a room and she closed the door. There was a bed, a wardrobe, three full-length mirrors, an armchair and a couch, all done in pinks and grays.
He started, "Now, tell me..." She placed a finger to his lips to quiet him.
She went across the room, poured him a drink, and pulled her dress over her head. She turned. She was beautiful. She was naked except for high heels and white stocking held up by a thin white garter belt, framing her shaved vagina. The tips of her tits were as erect as his cock.
She handed him the drink, reached up and pulled the pin holding her hair, letting it cascade over her shoulders.
As she approached, he started, "Tell me..." but she stopped him with a kiss, her tongue invading him. She pushed off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. She moved down and began nibbling on his nipples as her hands found his belt and unfastened his pants, letting them drop to the floor. She knelt, pushed down his shorts and let his erection spring free. She caressed it, stroked it, kissed it.
This was his wife. Joanne. She hadn't given him a blow job since they were dating ten years ago. But now she kissed and swallowed him to the back of her throat. One hand stroked his cock and the other caressed his balls. Damn, she was good. His wife, a cocksucker.
He felt his jism rising and knew he was close. "Joanne, I'm going to cum." He tried to pull away, but she grabbed his ass and held him. She had never swallowed.
He could no longer contain himself and exploded deep in her throat, pushing, growling.
She never lost a drop.
Even though he finished, she continued to suck till there was nothing left.
She licked him clean, stood, and pushed him down into the armchair. She sat in his lap, both legs to one side, her arms around his neck, her bare ass on his bare thighs.
She kissed him, "I love you, Charley."
"Then what is all this?" He indicated the room.
"How often do we make love?"
"Almost every night."
"And how often do you cum?"
"Every time."
"And how many times do I?"
"Once or twice, maybe more."
"I come here and I will have ten, maybe fifteen orgasms in an evening."
"How many evenings?"
"Just on Thursday nights. I need the week to let my pussy and asshole recover."
"You let them fuck your ass?"
"Sure. I get six hundred for my ass."
"You get paid?"
"Yes, two hundred for a blow job, four hundred for my pussy, six hundred for my ass and another hundred if they don't use a condom."
He blustered, trying to understand, "You're a whore."
