First off, is you hate cuckold stories, STOP NOW! Of course, it would help to read Chapters 1-4 before reading this. I am pleased at how this chapter turned out and I hope you like it too. Please let me know your thoughts on it, pro or con. Your feedback helps.
As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters exist solely within the confines of the story and my imagination. Enjoy! Oh, and again, if you hate cuckold stories, stop now...you've been warned!
I think I fussed over this dinner more than I haveA ever done for our Thanksgiving, Christmas or Easter dinners in years past. I had prepared a roast and potatoes as well as my mama's coleslaw and my own creamed corn. For desert, I'd fixed a chocolate meringue pie – my specialty, always in high demand at Church suppers and the kids' bake sales. Our dinner table was set with our best china and silverware – I even got out the good linen napkins that rarely saw the light of day outside of Christmas dinner.
I wasn't wearing my Sunday best for the dinner, but rather a new dress I'd picked up the day before – a simple black dress, modest compared to many of my working outfits, with the hem a mere four inches above the knee and displaying only a little cleavage in its mild scoop neck, accented by the double strands of good, but fake pearls my mother had left to me. The fabric molded itself to my braless breasts, my nipples swollen and hard, making prominently displayed bumps. Beneath my dress, my lacy black panties were already soaked and I feared that at any moment I would feel the warm trickle of pussy juice running down my thigh.
Donnie lingered nearby, wandering into the dining room or the kitchen to give me looks of disgust and anger on occasion, the words "whore," "slut," or "cunt," always on his lips and occasionally wafting to my ear in his venomous hisses. At least he'd put on dress shirt and his good slacks and looked presentable. I would smile back at him and tell him I loved him, occasionally glancing down to confirm the hint of an erection tenting his pants.
With the food prepared and looking absolutely delicious, the younger kids staying overnight with friends and my oldest daughter, Tara, about to leave to spend the night with her best friend and myself looking hopefully elegant and a little sexy, I glanced at the clock. It was just a few minutes shy of six o'clock in the evening and I let loose with a little sigh of relief.
As the old grandfather clock in the living room struck six, its chimes were countered by the ringing of the front door bell. He was here! I met Donnie in the hallway, his expression stormy and his fists balled in anger. "You fucking whore," he growled. "I can't believe you really did it. You invited that motherfucker to dinner in my house."
I stood on tiptoe and bussed my husband on the cheek. "Our house, Donnie...that I'm paying for at the moment, thanks to him." I walked on by him and then glanced over my shoulder, smiling happily as I said, "Well, c'mon. Let's greet our guest."
With Donnie slowly following me, I opened up the front door, my heart beating very quickly with excitement that I could feel all the way down to my loins which were pulsating with arousal. Our guest stood there and his appraising glance of me sent quivers of desire through me as I said happily, "Good evening, Mister Richards. Welcome to our home."
#
"Mister Richards, would you like to come to dinner at our house Saturday night?"
I was standing at the door, about to leave the office of my bank manager, Mister Richards, feeling a bit nervous – almost like an awkward teenage girl asking a boy to go on a date. I was already feeling strange simply because during my entire visit, I had stayed dressed, sitting in a plush chair in front of his desk, chatting about my recent visit to Key West and my whorish triumph there.
I had arrived with the hope – no, hunger and need to suck the older man's cock, something I had done twice a week for nearly a year without fail, but under doctor's orders and the command of one of my more influential patrons, Gustav Stockman, I had been chaste for nearly three weeks – the recovery time deemed necessary after having sucked and fucked one hundred and eight loads from my winning a gang bang competition.
My employer had declined my offer to resume sucking his dick a few days early and had instead spent almost half an hour praising my sluttish ways, having revealed that he'd seen a recording of my gang bang victory. It didn't upset me that copies of the DVD of my gang bang were being passed around – in fact, it made me even hornier. Finally, Mister Richards had dismissed me with a heavy sigh, a regretful glance at his pocket watch and then telling me, "I look forward to seeing you on Tuesday, my dear Sonya."
I had gotten up and was at the door when I paused and turned back and worked up the nerve to invite him to dinner. Mister Richards looked at me for a long moment, studying me. "You mean, me coming to your house socially...outside of our business relationship?"
I nodded and said, "Absolutely. I would very much like to show my appreciation for all you've done for me and my family. I'm a good cook and...well, you already know where my other talents lie."
What our business was and where my talents lay was that for the past year, I had served Mister Richards and a cabal of well off citizens of our town as a whore, offering sex in exchange for keeping our mortgage paid – the recession having cost me my job, and almost costing my family the roof over their head. My husband's job had been cut back to almost half-time and we'd have never stayed afloat without my whoring paying for the mortgage and the substantial tips I got with nearly every job I was sent on.
Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, I received assignments and on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I would give Mister Richards a loving blowjob. Strangely, he had never attempted anything more...staying as it were within the agreement we had established for our "business" relationship. It had taken the insight of one of my favorite customer's daughter, Jane Stockman, to make me understand that Mister Richards would never expand on our activities within the confines of our agreement. From that simple explanation, an idea had been born in my mind, one that had grown over the last couple of weeks, complete with all the ramifications it entailed. Indeed, it had been some of those ramifications that had spurred me all the more to ask Mister Richards to come to dinner.
Mister Richards studied me for a long minute, his intense gaze making me wet for him. I'm sure some people would find it amazing that I harbored such ardent desires for a man hovering around sixty years old, with a pot belly and greatly thinning hair, a seemingly ordinary man. But...there was something about him, something that spoke deeply to the sluttish side of me...a confidence and a power that had captivated me since the day he had proposed I become a whore and work for him and his cabal and had then proceeded to command me to strip naked and suck his cock. Since that first moment when he'd awakened that realization about myself, I had ached to be his...to do whatever he bid me do.
Mister Richards smiled and nodded. "I think I'd enjoy such an evening very much. What time should I arrive, Sonya?"
I licked my lips as every fiber of my being wanted to crow with joy that he'd said, "Yes," and I replied, "Would six o'clock be good for you, sir?"
