I despise myself. I have allowed myself to get carried away and done some despicable things. I hardly recognise who I am anymore. How could I have let things get this far? I am resolved to tell Will that I can't entertain his friends at my home anymore. It is hot but it's not right. It sickens me that I can whore myself in my own home but it is worth it when I report back to Will all about my adventures.
It is as though someone else has wandered into my body and taken me over. How else can I explain how what was until so recently important to me: my home and my relationship with my husband now makes my mouth fill with ash? I am too ashamed to tell Colin what I have been doing, yet I crave to show off my body. My 'normal' clothes keep me in a state of frustration. I can't wait to slip into my alter-ego. I do lead a double life for when I'm with Colin I feel foul and deceitful and I'd better get my act together; yet when I think of giving up Will and settling down I feel claustrophobic, trapped, I can't breathe. I cannot give up on my new high octane life.
"Where were you the other night when you didn't come home?" It's a difficult subject for both of us, as neither of us know where it will lead.
"I told you I was out with the girls. We just went to a bar and it got late. So I stayed over." I can see he doesn't believe me.
"You've never done that before." What can I say to head him off?
"Well I just needed sometime away." It trails there in the air, floating like an unpleasant odour in the room that repulses both of us. I can see the uncertainty in his eyes and yet he doesn't push it. When we are together I feel so guilty and resentful towards Colin and there is an awful part of me that delights in seeing his uncertainty, his insecurity. I think he has taken me for granted for too long.
We are both reticent to acknowledge our marriage is struggling because for me there is nothing on the other side of that. Will has not said anything about me leaving Colin and I am not sure he is ready to take me in. He has not said anything about our future and I am not sure whether it would be too pushy of me to ask him, although I do let him know how frustrated I am in my marriage. As for Colin, I think he is just afraid to admit the problems between us, as he doesn't know how to fix them.
The weekends are a struggle for me as I long for Will to call round. I am certain that if he showed up he would fuck me right in front of Colin and I'd let him. I seem to have no shame, I am consumed by Will, but I am not so sure whether I love him now in the way I did. My feelings are confused. I am tormented by my desires and feel revulsion for what I do to appease them. Being with Will is my release. I feel good around him, off balance. I love to dangle helplessly on the end of his chain waiting for him to contact me. When he is not with me, the whore inside me is on hold. She has become such a dominant force in my life that when she is not satisfied she leaves me no pleasure in anything.
But our home now is not a refuge but a torment. I have tainted every corner of it and it haunts me. I sit opposite Colin eating our meals at the table and stare at the polished wood and myself sprawled across it, Will fucking me hard his cum splattering over the pristine, house-proud surface. It disgusts me that I am capable of that and I irrationally blame Colin. I know it is not fair, but it is the only way I find to deal with it. I snap at him and make his life a misery.
Through the day I think about going to bed and lying next to Colin where I have invited in so many strangers. I am confounded by images of being used me over and again, and under the clean sheets on which we sleep lurks the dark stains that I cannot get out of the mattress. I am kept on edge, both aroused and disgusted - it is becoming a familiar contradiction for me.
I wonder whether the neighbours have noticed. I wonder what Colin would think if he found out. I feel so bad, unclean around him. I hate this and would do anything to escape these feelings. I just need to cum and while I masturbate in the toilet I can escape for a while my torment.
On Sunday Colin goes off to the golf club. I think he must find the atmosphere at home choking too. My words are abrupt, critical and laced with anger. Colin is just the same. We don't talk about what we need to talk about, but lace our everyday lives with the vinegar of our anger. In our roundabout way we blame each other for our failing relationship, and yet I know he is more in the right than I am. I have done terrible things to him and this just fuels my vitriol towards him all the more.
The moment he has driven off down the road I exhale with relief, I feel free. I rush upstairs and dig out my whoring clothes. I stare at myself in the mirror, so hot, so sensual. I want Will to be there to see me. I can see a whore before me, I know how this makes me look and yet I feel less fake. I have become a different person, not afraid to express my own sexuality, flaunt my body. I have bought a very small tight pair of hot pants in a bright blue colour. There are two tiny little pockets at the back, but it is so tight it is impossible to feed my fingers into them. The sweeping curve of my ass looks so hot as I stand with my back to the mirror and look at them. I can see the erotic way the seam sweeps down the line of my ass crack and disappears between my legs. I follow it with my finger imagining how it will look in the booth this week, and I press my finger where my asshole is and recall Will pushing his finger in as I described to him how the punter finger fucked me. I have a pair of boots, a deeper blue with heels and platforms. They tilt my ass deliciously. I turn round and look at my crotch fit snugly inside the tight material. Although I have always been brought up to think of a whore as someone to look down on, I know many girls do, yet I actually think I like being a whore.
The following day Colin heads off to work and I try to call Will. We have to talk, I have to stop him sending more guys to the house. I love dressing this way for him, and for the guys at the booth, but in my home it is becoming too real. Will does not pick up and with sinking heart I hear the doorbell go. My first punter arrives and I try to tell him I am not working but he starts to make a scene and I am afraid of attention being drawn to what is going on so I invite him in. Once inside he doesn't take no for an answer. What can I do? If I argue with him I will just rob myself of the opportunity to call Will and the next punter will be here.
I lead him upstairs and tell myself that as soon as I can get through to Will then I won't need to do this any more. Once we are on the bed then it is business as usual and there is something delicious about being cornered, forced to take a step back and let the whore take over our bedroom. I know I will feel guilty, I already do, but that just adds to the occasion.
More punters arrive at the house and still I cannot get through to Will. My weak attempts to put them off are swept aside by one guy who throws his money down and grabs my clothes tearing them on my body. He is angry and demands sex from me. He shows me that actually I do not have a choice. He fucks me in our hall, sprawled across the carpet, ramming his cock hard and fast into my asshole. I make a lot of noise as the guy on top of me forces his way in. I don't feel hot or aroused by him, although his brutality melts something in me. It is all an act. Will told me that it doesn't matter whether I cum or not but the punters want to believe I cum hard as they fuck me. I know it makes them feel better so I pretend for the guy on top of me. I have acquired a taste for rough sex and before long I realise it is not all an act.
All the while I am thinking about telling Will of my exploits, telling him each and every one of my dirty little adventures while he makes me cum. The sensible me that was desperate to end this is being washed away by the sperm of the punters erupting inside me protected only by the ever so thin rubber of a condom. It makes me so hot being a whore. I know my real fear is losing myself entirely to the whore.
After that I stop any attempt to try and put off the punters and submit myself to being Will's whore. I store up details of the visits of each punter excited to tell Will later. The first I know there is a problem is when the bedroom door swings open while one of the punters is buried deep inside my cunt. My legs are wrapped around his back and I am groaning and panting dutifully. I am so shocked that we are not alone, my stomach lurches and my heart leaps into my mouth. At first I think I must have left the front door open and the next punter has arrived early. I worry that I messed up and how Will is going to react. Still groaning and roaming my hands over the chest of the big guy pounding me I try to see over his shoulder. To my horror I see Colin standing at the door staring in disbelief at my naked body entwined with a stranger, his body draped between my legs, his hips pistoning in and out of me on our bed. My heart squeezes painfully tight in my chest. I immediately stop my moaning and try to push the punter off me. He still hasn't realised what has just happened and he keeps fucking me as I stare helplessly at Colin from under his bulk.
Colin clears his throat to let him know he is there. The guy hesitates and turns around. Seeing my husband he assumes he is just another punter.
