Chapter 02- Hotwife842
"Welcome to the Volton. My name is H.R. I am your host as you explore this fine establishment. It's a restaurant, a nightclub, a strip club, a coffee bar, even a brothel, and much more. It's an adult playground like you have never seen before where you are limited only by your own morality.
Of course, in such a workplace you may hear all sorts of lies, rumors, and stories. Do not worry yourself. It is my job to gather up all of those lies, rumors, and stories. I weed out the lies, investigate the rumors, and then I will tell the stories just as if you heard them from the person themselves.
Oh?
You've heard a rumor about a particular member?
Missus Hotwife842?
Oh yes, I have indeed heard of her.
Do I know her story?
Why yes I do!
Come with me and let me tell you all about how she got started."
----(!)----
"Come on honey!" My husband begged as he dabbed cologne into his hand, rubbed them together, and patted his face, "I know it has been a long day but it's friday night! Let's go out! To a club maybe and dance, maybe eat a little dinner, and then we can see where it goes from there!"
My husband, Oliver Hart, is my high school sweetheart. I am Brunhilde Hart. We graduated school seven years ago, got married, and soon after had a little boy, Jasper. Yes I am one of those high school clichés. Had sex with my sweetheart during prom. I was a virgin and so excited to finally lose it to my boyfriend. You know, since it's such a horrible thing to be, right? Isn't that how all the high school coming of age movies portray it? Anyway, a few weeks later guess what, "I'm pregnant!"
Jasper was born that fall. I was eighteen, and so was Oliver. That was a tumultuous year, but we made it, and then two years later I gave birth to our daughter, Shawna. Seven years later, Jasper is almost seven and Shawna is almost five. Now I am twenty-five and I finally have my pre-baby body back!
With a father that was Irish and a mother that was Norwegian, I am a pretty even mix of both. My hair is fiery red, long, and straight. I have clear blue eyes, and milk white skin with red freckles. I used to have nice C-cups for breasts, but after two pregnancies they are very bountiful F-cups. I was never a hardcore weight lifter, but to get my body back I have to say that I did join a gym and worked very hard to tone up. I slimmed down my waist and now have a very nice four-pack belly, only a small roundness to my lower abdominals that bespeaks to my previous pregnancies, and I worked my ass off, literally, to trim down and tone my buns back into large capital-C's in profile and large bubbles from behind. As for Oliver, well, he always looked good. He was a jock and never stopped working out. He was my very own Brad Pitt.
"Honey, I am so tired tonight," I whined, "Can't we go tomorrow night?"
"Come on Bru," He begged, "We need a date night, and besides I've already called Pauline and asked her to babysit the kids for us!"
"But!" I complained with a shake of my head.
"Look!" He interrupted, "It's only 5 o'clock right now. Why don't you go take a bath? Relax and freshen up. I will make dinner and drinks, and if you still don't want to go then we can go some other time."
I couldn't say no. Oliver never offered to cook unless he wanted something really badly. So I nodded and gave him a smile and a quick kiss before I headed to the bathroom to take a bath. An hour later I heard a shriek come from the kitchen and thought that maybe Oliver had hurt himself, or worse maybe Jasper had gotten into something!
Jumping out of the bath I grabbed a towel and quickly wrapped it around my breasts before running out of the bathroom and through the master bedroom. Scared half out of my mind, I twisted the doorknob and pulled it open only to be frozen in place by what I heard, "Ha! Ha! Ha! Faster! Fuck me baby!"
Shocked out of my mind, pain stabbed my heart like a knife had been driven in to the hilt. The towel wrapped around my body fell to the floor. It didn't even register that the bedroom door was half open. I knew the voice that was mewling so sweetly from the kitchen. It was Pauline, the babysitter. She was... eighteen now, I think? She was thirteen when she started babysitting for us five years ago, and now, she was fucking my husband!
"Shhh!" Oliver shushed in a near hiss, "Bru is in the bath! She's not asleep, and she certainly is not dead! She will hear you if you keep moaning like that!"
"So!" The little twat said bitchily, "Maybe she should find out. Maybe then she'd work harder to satisfy your needs."
She laughed at her own words then added, "Then again maybe not, if she finds out then I wouldn't get to have this fine fucker slamming my cunt every time I come over, now would I?"
Every time? I shrieked in my head. How long has this been going on? How long have they been fucking?
In a daze, I walked down the hallway and peaked around the corner into the kitchen and there they were. Pauline was bent over the kitchen table with her ass high in the air, and she was completely fucking naked!
I noticed strange things like Pauline had golden skin and golden blond hair, and she had no tan lines. She was petite, standing maybe five feet tall. Her ass was thick for her size, well rounded and shaped like a perfect heart. When Oliver slid out of her, I saw that her pussy was completely smooth and hairless, and her vulva was rosy and wet from her arousal and creamy from previous loads of cum. Was he fucking her raw? Further up the table it was easy to see that she had small breasts, B-cups if not A-cups.
"Oh yes!" She wailed suddenly, causing me to jump and take a step back, "Fuck me deeper baby! DEEPER!"
Oliver rammed all the way inside her, every thrust ending with his thighs and balls slapping her ass and pussy in a resounding "whack whack whack whack" that seemed to echo off the walls and reverberate through my heart.
My chest hurt as I clutched at my own breast, and then Oliver growled, "Fuck! I'm cumming again!"
