As with all stories on the site, please DO NOT read if you are under 18 years old. Thanks to everyone who read and voted for ch 1 of this story. I love to get feedback, and try to answer all.
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Six months ago, my wife, Michelle, had brought me on the Maury show to tell me that she had cheated, etc. It was hell for a few weeks, but it actually ended up being the best thing that could have ever happened to our marriage. I discovered that my wife is a true little slut that loves cock. Since then, she has serviced me and others many times, as well as learning to take all manner of cocks and objects into her sweet little ass. She will take it wherever, whenever and from whoever I tell her to. Is that devotion, or what?
Along the way, I did a lot of research, had a lot of heart to hearts with her, and learned that my wife is very submissive sexually and will do almost anything to please me and my cock. I don't even let her come most of the time. I found out that it makes her feel like more of a horny slut just to be used. This all came as somewhat of a shock in the beginning, but I have warmed up to the idea, believe me. I have had her start keeping two journals. One is completely private, the contents known only to her. The second, however, is fair game to my prying eyes.
It seemed difficult for Michelle at first. To admit to me the nasty things that she wanted me to do to her and force her to do. I suggested the diary as a way for her to let me know what she was thinking without having to face me directly and say it out loud. I know, I know. There are those of you that would say that this is a cop-out, that it's no way to communicate, that it's a good exercise in humiliation for the sub to voice their deepest desires out loud. But in the early stages of our D/s relationship, I really felt like it was a good place for her to start. She had full understanding that I would read this journal and use the information contained therein.
After a few weeks, it became a game. She would hide the journal like a school girl and I would have to have to hunt for it. A punishment session usually ensued when I discovered what disgusting and dirty things she wrote about. Of course I would have to incorporate these sick fantasies of hers into her chastisement. She must be made to see what a filthy slut she is. I really had to go looking hard for the journal a few times, and I discovered on these occasions that she had been having some especially slutty thoughts. I filed the info away for later, thinking that using her for a urinal would require some planning on my part unless we wanted to make a mess of the house. Well I am not going to stop at making her swallow my piss just once, now, am I? She will need some training to accept the contents of my full bladder.
After some consideration, I decided to delve deeper into her whore fantasy. Literally, her desire to be pimped out for cash. I got a friend of mine, Dante, from work to go along with the program, and together, we formed a plan that was sure to live up to her fantasies. He had heard about her wilder side, and since she had never met him, it would be easy for him to pick her up like she was a real hooker. We agreed to meet at a city park that is well known for prostitute activity. Timing would be essential since I didn't want any real johns getting there first.
On Saturday morning, I told her to get ready to go out tonight. Our two year old daughter Bella was safely in the hands of Michelle's sister, Amy. Both of them were oblivious as to what we had been up to for the past few months. But as Amy was trying to get pregnant with her husband, she had the baby bug and took Bella a few times when we'd asked.
I laid out a super-short plaid mini skirt and a white cotton blouse with short, puffy sleeves for Michelle to wear tonight. No bra or panties. A hooker always has to be ready to fuck. Thigh high white hose and high heeled black Mary Janes completed her outfit and I told her to do her long brown hair in pigtails as well. She did her make up great, managing to do that thing women do to look like a little girl and totally fuckable at the same time. She looked so fantastic that I had her suck my cock all the way over to the park. I pulled over in the lot and blew my load in her mouth with five minutes left to spare. She swallowed it all and reached to unbuckle her seat.
I stopped her when she tried to open the door. As a safety precaution, I got out and surveyed the surroundings. I saw Dante's car a few spaces down, and knew that he was in the area. There were a few working girls around, but it was still early for a lot of comings and goings. I led Michelle away from the car and over to a park bench. I lazily sat down and told her to get her ass to work. The plan for her was to pick up a guy and get into his car. She would lead him a few blocks to the railroad trestle, and I would follow discreetly in our car and make sure she was safe while she was doing the guy.
In actuality, I would be sitting in our car monitoring the hidden cameras that Dante and I had rigged his car with. He was a techie that always had the latest gadgets, and it was his idea to record tonight's proceedings for posterity. And to sell on the internet, but that's another story. I had three monitors that captured footage from six cameras. We covered every square angle that we could figure, and prayed for some decent footage.
She smiled shyly at a few cars that rolled by, but they seemed interested in the more experienced ladies of the night. Her nipples were rock hard and you could see them right through the thin fabric of the blouse. Dante ambled right up to her out of the darkness. She seemed taken aback by his 6'2" height and his casual demeanor, but she recovered when he asked her how much for around the world.
"Around the world?" she echoed.
"Yeah, whore," he said to her low and stepped in close. "I am going to put my cock into your sweet mouth, juicy cunt, and tight ass, and not necessarily in that order," he told her, rubbing her nipple lightly through her shirt.
She looked at me for direction and I decided to join the conversation. "Hundred bucks, pal," I drawled.
"One hundred dollars," he repeated, still rubbing. "That's a lot for a street whore."