Isabelle Goes To College Pt 02

Isabelle Fifteen Years Later: Her New Career

Married with two kids, Isabelle goes to work to help with the family's finances and she does whatever it takes to make a sale

Warning:

This story contains cheating, interracial sex, reluctant sex, a threesome, bribes for sex, and a reference to fraternal incest.

All characters in this story are over 30 years of age.

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This story follows Isabelle Goes to College (in Incest/Taboo), but it takes place fifteen years after her freshman year. Isabelle is now married to her heartthrob Sam of her freshman year. This story can be read without having to read Isabelle Goes to College, but it might be more enjoyable if one reads the college story first.

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I married Sam when I was young. I was twenty-four. After the great Halloween fiasco of my freshman year, Sam and I broke up, rather brutally in fact. I went through a series of lovers, including Kevin who was my favorite, but I was never able to get Sam out of my mind. My brother Mathew convinced me to start up with Sam again. Mathew had always been my ballast, keeping me sane and sexually satisfied through it all.

I went after Sam, who had a girlfriend he was living with at the time, but Sam and I had always had a magical connection and it wasn't hard to relight the fire in Sam's belly that once burned brightly and exclusively for me. I had thought I had permanently blown it with Sam when just before Halloween I had a meaningless little fling with a handsome upperclassman Duane who had gotten me drunk and seduced me into his bed. Repeatedly, as it turned out.

Sam discovered my infidelity in the worst possible way, to wit by finding me with Duane

in flagrante delicto

with Duane's much too large cock buried deep inside my pussy. It also didn't help that Duane was black. I didn't see why him being black really mattered, but I did understand how a guy doesn't like it when his girlfriend is fucking another guy right in front of his nose. It's not rocket science.

If I had confessed my infidelity to him his reaction might not have been so extreme, but somehow the visual effect of watching me fucking Duane sitting up on his cock and moaning out my pleasure turned out to be rather brutal. He grabbed me and pulled me off Duane's cock just as it was erupting. He got some of Duane's cum on his clothes and socked him in the jaw so hard he broke one of Duane's teeth. It was a huge mess, and I was naked, dripping cum from the first time we had fucked, cowering in a corner. One doesn't easily forget these things.

I should have been loyal, or at the very least, more careful. I cried my heart out when Sam dumped me. Everybody, all but one of our friends, sided with Sam. My brother Mathew stood by me, and he comforted me the way only he can, and with Mathew nobody walked in on us while we were doing the nasty. Mathew was always super careful about that.

Only one of my friends, Claire, had some sympathy for me. "College is a time for sexual experimentation. You have to live a little. Sam should know that you love him, not Duane," Claire had said, but it was small comfort as Duane soon lost interest in me, too.

When you're a teenager, six years is a very long time, and winning Sam back took all of my cleverness and feminine wiles. I think what won him was that I was the ultimate sexual submissive with him, and he had free reign to use my body however he wanted. He took full advantage of my submissive attitude.

At first, he just wanted to humiliate me to exact some long-delayed revenge. It was surprising even to myself that his humiliations of me turned me on. He was fairly brutal sexually and rather unkind.

For example, he had a friend take pictures of him fucking me in all three of my holes, and while he didn't post them on the Internet thank goodness, he did print them out and let his friends pass them around.

He also fucked me outside, enjoying the risk of exposure. He remained dressed but I had to be naked and we were discovered by passers by more than once. I was so ashamed, but I did it all anyway. My orgasms were especially intense when we were discovered.

His revenge fantasies exhausted, we simply began to enjoy being together and as his anger ebbed his love for me returned. It took some time, but eventually Sam realized I was more than just a hot submissive slut to humiliate, and he began to see me as a woman, and one who was kind and loving.

I was so happy when Sam finally realized we were meant for each other and he dumped his girlfriend for me. You gotta love a guy like that. I do, in fact.

Sam's a great guy. Once his blind rage was spent and he got back in touch with his feeling for me, he realized the depth of my love for him and more importantly his own love for me. We married ten years ago. Sam gave me two beautiful children, Anna and Colin, now respectively ages eight and six. They're my hope for the future of the world.

Into every paradise however some problems arise. Ours was that money was tight and getting tighter. Even if Sam got a small raise (2% seemed to be the best possible and he hadn't gotten it yet anyway), we'd still slowly be sinking into a financial quicksand of debt.

It wasn't just the problem of paying the interest on our debt, or the college education of our two kids, or the monthly expenses of car payments, mortgage, real estate taxes, insurance, utilities, etc. It was also the repairs needed on the roof of our house, fixing the basement that flooded during every bad storm, replacing the refrigerator that sounded like a small war in the middle east whenever the compressor kicked in, etc. The house needed to be painted, too.

Even if Sam got a small raise (2% seemed to be the best possible), we'd still slowly be sinking into more and more debt and having to pay the exorbitant interest Visa cards charged on the debt. We decided that not only might it be a good idea for me to go back to work, it wasn't even an option. It was a necessity: I really had to do so. Since the kids were both in school and in after school programs, going to work was feasible and we desperately needed the money to maintain our lifestyle.

I was trained in marketing and so naturally I went into sales. I started at the bottom like everyone else, despite my ten-year-old degree from Wharton Business School. The Wharton degree did secure me a decent starting salary, but I had to produce. I had to earn my pay and then some. The pressure was intense.

I did everything right, but I was only closing a pathetic amount of sales. I couldn't seem to catch a break. My boss gave me some advice, but before taking it I thought it best to discuss it with my loving husband Sam.

"I don't see what the problem is. You of all people must know that sex sells. What's the harm in giving the men something to look at? You may be 29 for what, the fifth time? But you've still got your pretty face and you've still got a dynamite body. You're sexy as hell. Your boss is right. Dress sexy and act sexy and you'll make more sales," my loving husband said.

"Really? You're really okay with that?" I asked. I kept thinking of my time with Duane, so many years ago, and in particular how Sam reacted to it. I remembered how he took sexual revenge on me even six years later. I remembered everything. Did ten years of marriage and two kids and financial responsibilities change him that much?

My mother always said that leopards don't change their spots. Were Sam's spots really moving around?

"Isabelle, we need you to be a success. We need the money. Our family needs the money. Think of little Colin and Anna; you'd be doing it for them. In ten years Anna will be going to college. We need to start a 529. Our friends started 529s for their kids at their births. We have zero savings; indeed, we've got too much credit card debt. Anyway, it's just a sartorial change. A little change in your dress. It's no big thing, really," Sam said. "Looking sexy will attract the customers and your talent at selling will do the rest."

I was a bit surprised. I think Sam was being just a wee bit naïve. He's really quite innocent to the ways of the world, even if he is four years older and wiser than I am. Maybe he's not that much wiser, actually. Sometimes perhaps he's not wiser at all. He didn't seem to understand the risks. Still, to be careful, the next morning I modeled my outfit for him.

I showed him my outfit, turning around so he could see how my super short dress tightly hugged my firm bubble ass. My dress, which has a zipper down the front, showed off my cleavage to great effect if I let the zipper down far enough, which of course I had done. The dress was cut so that it came in dramatically to emphasize my tiny waist, in effect underlining my slightly exaggerated feminine hourglass figure. I was giving Sam full disclosure over how I would look to all those older, lecherous, male prospective customers I would meet that day. I had bought the dress for this very occasion, and Sam had not seen me in it before.

Sam gave me a wolf whistle. He gives a great wolf whistle. "Jesus, Isabelle, you look hot to trot! What are you selling? Yourself?"

"You know what I'm selling: Boring software packages to a boring industry, and to amazingly boring men. But of course, you're right in some sense. I am in fact really selling myself. My company prides itself on service after the sale. Personal service. You have a problem, call me. Day or night, I'll be there," I said, pulling no punches. This was my sales pitch. Male potential customers could imagine what my "being there day or night" actually meant.

"Might they get the wrong idea?" Sam asked. Good, apparently Sam could also imagine the not-so-hidden meaning.

"We hope they do! We want them lost in a state of sexual delusion, and in the midst of the haze of their sexual fantasies over me, they'll sign the papers. I'll get a big commission, and when they need help we'll send Henry over. He's our software expert," I said, giggling a little.

"Might not they get angry when they see Henry and not their expected sexpot?" Sam asked.

"I don't think so. They might get embarrassed for having had the thoughts they did, and disappointed, yes, but really Sam, what they would have been thinking is disgusting and doubtless they'll be ashamed of themselves," I replied. I believed that, too. Now who's being a little too naïve, I thought to myself?

"You're walking a thin line. It's a dangerous game you're playing. What if you have to cross it to make a sale? Would you do that?" Sam asked.

"Sam, No! I'm a married woman! I'm no cheater! You know that," I said. Then after a pause for a reality check, I added softly, "Don't you?" I worried he was reliving Halloween my freshman year. Once you see your girlfriend in the throes of fucking another guy, I imagine the image is hard to get out of your head.

"What if the commission is huge? Would you go the extra mile?" Sam asked.

"You mean, the extra five inches?" I said, and I giggled nervously. It had to be clear to Sam now!

"Maybe it would be the extra seven or eight inches? No way to know until you're in his hotel room with him, right?" Sam said, and he chuckled. "You used to be pretty casual about sex, back in your college days."

I knew it! He would never let that go, would he?

"That was in college, Sam. I'm now a married woman with two beautiful kids and a husband I love more than I can say. I'm not the same person I was my freshman year," I said.

"From what I heard about you from my friends, you were that same person your sophomore year, your junior year, your senior year..."

"Enough! Sam, I was trying to find someone like you, and I never could!" I almost screamed at him.

"Isabelle, you fucked over half of my friends after we broke up. They all said you were dynamite in bed. Are you sure you were not just trying to hurt me?"

"It wasn't about you. Your friends came after me. Looking for love, I did what college girls do. I never found love, I found only sex," I said. "Lots of sex, I know. At least I got some sexual pleasure out of that whole sordid period of my life."

"Really? Not even Kevin? You didn't fall in love with Kevin?" Sam asked. He had that smile he has when he's teasing me.

I smiled. "Well, Kevin came pretty close, I have to admit, ..." Sam threw his socks at me, and I ducked, giggling mischievously. We'd had these arguments before, and they always ended up in bed with Sam on top of me, or underneath me, or behind me, but in any event doing what men like to do to their women, and always have.

"Sam, is this discussion making you hard?" I asked, feigning incredulity, seeing the lump in my loving husband's pants. "Does the idea of my having sex to close a deal turn you on, you dirty old man?" I giggled again. Was this really happening? Had Sam changed since our freshman year? People grow. They evolve. The idea of whoring myself out to close a deal seemed to titillate him. That couldn't be right. It was not his personality.

"Want to help me out?" he asked.

I led him to the couch and lay him down and unzipped his pants to let my favorite part of his body out to play. I knelt down on the couch above him and took him into my mouth. I began to bob my head, slurping away in just the way he loves.

"Oh baby, I'm so glad you're mine," he said just before he lost the capacity to speak coherently.

I swallowed his cum, and then had to use mouthwash before I went to work. My boss always kissed me on the lips when I would arrive at the start of the day. I think he had the hots for me. Today when he saw me I knew he would go nuts. It would not do if my breath smelled of Sam's cum, or if my lips tasted salty for the same reason.

Sam and I talked a bit and I assured him we had only been living a fantasy in our sexy chatter just then, and in no way would I ever cheat on him, no matter the financial stakes.

"Well, if the commission is big enough..." Sam said, and I threw my shoe at him. He laughed and then slipped my shoe on for me, his hand going up my short skirt, beyond my hold up hose, and his hand stroked my panty covered pussy. "But it has to be large, Izzy. I don't want you whoring yourself out for peanuts, you know." He chuckled a little more and then let me go.

"Define large," I said, and I giggled.

"Multiple thousands of dollars, at least. Let them pay through the nose! Fifty thousand would pay off our credit card debt, you know. You're worth it, too. You're a 50k fuck if ever there was one!" Sam said.

"Well no wonder we're having money issues. You fuck me every day and you owe me over three hundred thousand dollars just for this past week! And this doesn't even count all the blowjobs, now does it?" I teased.

"Oh, I think for 50k you can throw in a free blowjob, don't you?" Sam said.

"Free kisses and boob fondles are available right now, for a limited time only. First cum, first served!" I teased again. Sam rushed over and hugged me, kissed me, and felt up my boobs.

"I sure hope your cock didn't get any residual cum on my new dress," I said, looking it over where his cock had touched it.

"Nah. I'm leaving that privilege for your 50k customers today. Good luck, my little sexpot of a wife," Sam said, and we kissed again.

"So it's okay with you for me to fuck a guy to get the contract, provided he gives me fifty grand?" I joked.

"Sure. For fifty grand you can fuck him and his friend, too. Be sure to tell me the details when you get home, okay?" Sam said.

"What about 30k?" I asked. Sam nodded okay.

"Can I fuck him for 10k?" Sam nodded again.

"Can I fuck him for one thousand?" I asked.

"Maybe. You need to get a big commission for the sale in addition to the grand, and you need to come home and tell me about it. Maybe you can show me his cum in your pussy too," Sam said.

"Sam, is that really you speaking? Oh my God, you're hard again! Does the idea of your wife whoring herself out really turn you on?" I asked.

"Doesn't it turn you on?" Sam asked.

"No! I think it's gross. God forbid, but I'm worried about you!" I said.

"We need the money, Izzy. No sex is best, but if sex is what it takes to get us out of debt, and you tell me about it, maybe we can have some fun. Maybe it will spice things up. I'm just saying," Sam said.

"Isn't our sex life already okay? I sure like it," I said.

"Yes, of course, no worries, Izzy. I'm just trying to be helpful, a modern husband, you know understanding and all. I'm not like I was when I caught you fucking that asshole Duane," Sam said.

"Funny you should mention assholes," I teased. Sam knew Duane was an aficionado of anal sex.

"You going to give some anal to these creeps?" Sam teased right back.

"Sam, you're just horrible!" I said, and I giggled nervously as I waved goodbye. Did Sam mean anything he had said? Of course, nobody ever paid any woman, anywhere, ever, such a huge sum of money for a roll in the hay. However, if you add my commission for closing a mega deal, well then..."

I called my brother Mathew. I ran the whole conversation by him. "Sam is giving you permission to have sex in order to land a good contract. Hopefully you won't have to, but if you do, I want to reenact it with you!" Mathew said.

"Well, get in line, Mathew," I replied.

Mathew then added a warning. "You know, now that I think about it, given the way Sam acted when he caught you cheating with Duane back in your freshman year, I'm not sure I'd trust the permission he's giving you. He may think he'd get off on you whoring yourself out, but if you did it - and I'm sure you won't have to, and in any event wouldn't do it - when faced with the reality of it he may go berserk."

"I know," I quietly said. I also knew that the idea of 'whoring myself out' as both Sam and Mathew seemed to think of it, was making me wet. There's something wrong with me, I silently thought.

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All the men at work looked at me in such a way that I wondered if I had overdone the sexy dressing a little bit. I was going to raise the zip on my dress to display a little less cleavage, but there were always eyes on me, well more precisely on my cleavage, so I didn't have a private moment to adjust the zipper. I should never have let Sam pull it so far down to begin with!

Perhaps this is a good moment to explain that after the birth of my two children and the subsequent breast feeding, my boobs had filled out to a certain extent, and to quote my husband Sam, they had changed from 'luscious' to 'spectacular.' These new and improved boobs contributed to my 'cleavage from heaven,' to once again quote my husband.

Maybe I should have worn a less revealing bra? My boobs are fairly big, but not too big, and my bra made them look as big as possible. It covered the minimal amount of boob flesh within the bounds of decency, while still giving support.

I decided to run to the ladies and pull up the zipper but just as I was beginning to leave for the washroom down the hall, my boss walked into the room. I got my second wolf whistle of the day.

I smiled and blushed in response, and then he gave me my hello kiss. He gave me one every day, and he did it for all the other girls working there as well. The #MeToo movement had not yet reached the depths of Long Island City, I supposed. Anyway, none of us girls really minded. We knew it mattered little. Today however my boss gave me a French kiss. Open mouth, tongue action, and sustained too; I got the full treatment! I felt that I had no choice and I returned the kiss. It was embarrassing to receive such a masher-style kiss in front of my colleagues.

All my co-workers were watching the boss kiss me so passionately. I'm sure I was blushing. My boss even cupped my ass with his hands, and squeezed my right ass cheek and then my left ass cheek. He did it in full view of everyone in the room.