My story goes back 20 years to when I meet my first wife. We were both in our early twenties and for me anyway it was lust at first site.
Hazel was a voluptuous big titted blond with long legs and brown come to bed eyes. She really was sex on legs. I've always been a tit man and her 38" DD's were out of this world. Not only were they big, but, in those days they stood out rather than droop and were topped by magnificent sensitive nipples. She was the first girl I'd ever had who could achieve multiple orgasms, it seemed that once she started, they just went on forever. Our sex life was good, but she always wanted more and always wore me out. I used to joke that I'd married a nymphomaniac.
During the first year of marriage we lived in a rented one bedroom flat in High Wycombe and like most young couples we struggled to make ends meet. As a self employed motor sports photographer, I managed to supplement our income by doing the odd weekend wedding etc but overall life was pretty hard.
Hazel was a giggly immature girl that loved being the center of attention and put in front of the camera she would pout and pose all day. I'd taken some shots of her wearing what we called her whore suit; thigh high black high heel boots over black stockings and suspenders, an under the nipple bra which made her tits look even bigger and a pair of open crutch panties that showed of her shaven pussy to perfection. Some were of me fucking her in various positions or of her playing with herself or sucking cock. I had my own darkroom set up in the flat so she felt safe in the knowledge that only I would see the results and was quite happy doing open leg shots and even some of her bringing herself off with a large dildo.
I'd spent Monday morning developing the film and left the prints on the drying rack while I went to the agency. On my return I had the shock of my life, Mr. Houseman, our landlord had let himself into the flat and was happily going through the photo's. "What the hell do you think your doing," I yelled, "steady son, I'm only here to fix the leaking sink, you were aware that I was coming today, I spoke to your missus on the phone".
Fuck, I'd completely forgotten. "Bit of all right, your missus, wouldn't mind some of that meself." I snatched the pictures away and shoved them in a drawer. I didn't like Houseman, he was about mid fifties, fat and balding with a nasty attitude, a real shifty character with a dodgy reputation and not someone to fall out with. He usually called twice a month to collect the rent and always had a couple of heavies with him, mostly coloured lads built like brick shit houses. Coming close to me he whispered in my ear, "if ever she wants a real man, you let me know." With that he was gone.
I didn't tell Hazel, how could I, she'd have gone absolutely mad. After that day, whenever he came to collect the rent he would openly stare at her tits or legs. "Christ, he gives me the creeps," she said one day, "always staring at my tits, dirty old bastard."
A few months later and disaster hit, Hazel was made redundant and I sprained my ankle falling of a step ladder. With no income and no savings to fall back on we were in deep shit and didn't have enough money to pay the rent. As usual, Houseman called on Friday night and listened patiently to our tale of woe. "Tell you what," he said, "I'll give you to next Friday to get the money together or I send the lads in to take the telly and hi-fi and you find somewhere else to live, now I can't say fairer than that, can I," he said patting Hazel on the leg as he got up to leave.
We tried everything, family, friends etc, but nobody had that sort of money. We waited for the inevitable and sure enough, Friday night and Houseman arrives with one of his heavies. "Well," he said after we told him we didn't have the money, "looks like you're in a real fix then doesn't it." "Barry, go get the motor and load the telly and hi-fi." The black guy disappeared and Hazel started to cry. "Hey pretty thing, no need for tears," he said standing over her. "Tell you what, perhaps there is a way you can stay here and clear your debts." Hazel stropped crying and we both looked at him expectantly. "See, I don't know if your husband told you but I seen you all dressed up in those stockings and fancy knickers and I like what I seen, get my drift." Hazel looked from him to me, "what does he mean?" "Sorry love, I know I should have told you." I explained what had happened with the photographs. "You did what." She was furious.
"Hey, hey, remember me," Houseman interrupted, "now then, it's dead easy really, I get to do what I like with your missus once a week until your back on your feet like, that way the rents paid and you still got somewhere to live. Tell you what, I'll call Barry off and finish my rounds while you think it over, if agreeable, then I want her dressed like she was in the photo's when I come back. See you in about two hours, nice hi-fi that."
There was stunned silence after he left, I just didn't know what to say. "Well, this is a fine mess," Hazel said, "fat boy fucks me of we loose everything." "Look, why don't we throw what we can in car and just get the hell out of here," I suggested, "and how do you drive with a sprained ankle, (Hazel didn't drive) for Christ's sake Tony, we've no bloody option, we can't just walk out and leave all our furniture, where do we go, what do we do." She was in tears again. "What do you mean, surely your not going to let him fuck you?" "I can't let him take everything we've ever worked for, look, it's once a week, he's fat and old, he can't last that long and besides, your the one that always said you wanted to watch me with another man, well, thanks to you and your bloody photo's now you can." That was true, it had been a fantasy we'd discussed during sex but Houseman was not exactly what I had in mind.
Without further discussion she stormed of into the bedroom slamming the door in my face. When she came out about an hour later I got an instant hard on. She looked absolutely stunning, she'd put on some really tarty make up, thick black eye shadow and bright red lipstick and she was wearing her whore suite. Her big tits were heaving up and down with each breath and her pussy lips were clearly visible through the open crutch knickers. "You're really going to go through with it?" I asked her. "No, I'm going shopping," she replied sarcastically. "Look, when he comes back it'll be a quick fuck and then he goes. I'm going to insist that you stay or the deals off, OK?"
My stomach was in mouth and my hands were shaking. What other option did we have? We sat in silence for what seemed like hours until suddenly there was a knock on the door. Hazel ran to the bedroom while I let Houseman in. "Well, what's it to be then?" he said looking round the room for Hazel. Before I could answer, she came into the room and stood in front of him. She was deathly white and shaking from head to toe. "Once a week until we're back on our feet right," "right," he confirmed looking her up and down. "No pain, you just fuck me and leave OK." "Whoa, not so quick little lady, I want to enjoy it, not rush it. The deal is, you do anything and I mean anything I want. If I want two or even three fucks a night then you say yes, get it." "Fuck him," I said, "lets just go Haze, we don't need this."
