Previously in The Thin End of the Wedge: Sally, a mature housewife has fucked her husband's mate, at his request. Her sexuality awoken after ten years of boring marriage, she visited the Manor House and witnessed the defloration of Mindy, a teenage bride. Returning home, excited that she has been promised her own 'greedy girl' party tomorrow, she discovers her husband is going to be fucking two escorts on his business trip. After she complains she is missing out, her husband's mate, George, arranges for her to get a visit from his friend Sven. Now read on ...
Sally showered and slipped into her dressing gown then went down and sat in the living room. About twenty minutes later she heard a vehicle stop outside the house, briefly, and then drive away. 'Ah, a taxi.', she thought. A moment later there was a firm rap on the door. She opened it and took a good look at the man standing there. His bulk filled the doorway. He was broad shouldered, about as tall as George, with a swarthy complexion and a well-trimmed beard. He was dressed in a well used black leather jacket. Jeans, boots, and a broad-brimmed leather hat completed the look which Sally would have put down as East End gangster, if she didn't already know this man was from the east of Europe. But, perhaps, all the big East End gangsters were from the east of Europe nowadays.
"Sally.", he said in a broad accent. It sounded like Sal-lay.
"Sven. Please come in."
He stepped inside and, when Sally turned back from closing the door, he gave her a single kiss on the cheek.
"Overnight?", he asked.
Sally worked out he was asking if he could stay until breakfast. She didn't object to this idea, so nodded.
"Yes, Sven."
"Good.", he grunted, and pulled a roll of notes out of his pocket which he pushed into her hand.
Sally was stunned for a moment. 'Bloody hell!', she thought. George had obviously told his friend that she was a prostitute. And before she could recover from the shock Sven spoke again.
"All extras?"
Sally nodded again, cementing her status as a whore.
"Good. And what for bareback?"
"Sorry?"
"Bareback ... er ... what is words? ... no condom ... how much extra?"
Sally said the first number that came into her head.
"Er ... fifty ... okay."
"Hmmm ... cheap ... you must like ... yes?"
Sven smiled a wicked grin, pulled out a thick wallet and counted the notes into her hand.
"I shower, yes?"
Sally closed her hand over the roll of cash and the loose notes, then took Sven by the hand and showed him up to the bathroom and shower. She gave him a towel and he thanked her. She turned away to give him some space.
"You help shower, yes?", said Sven, undressing. His black hair and short black beard were not the only hairy parts of him. As he stripped Sally discovered he was hairy all over. And he was heavily muscled with a massive chest and powerful thighs. His arms looked capable of lifting her into the air with little difficulty. He stripped down to his underpants, which covered a considerable bulge, then slipped them down to reveal the thickest cock Sally had ever seen. Flaccid, it was about the length of Tom's but so thick it shocked her. The head, partly covered by his foreskin, was fat, very rounded, and purple coloured.
Sven pulled Sally towards him and kissed her on the lips, his tongue probing her mouth. Then he pulled her dressing gown open and pushed it to the floor. He gestured at the shower. Sally started it up checking the temperature and Sven stepped in, drawing her after him. He stood under the warm water and lifted his arms. The message was clear and Sally poured a handful of shower gel and proceeded to soap Sven's chest. His thick black hair lathered up well and Sally watched the overspill trickle down his abdomen and into his crotch. She lathered his chest and his hips but deliberately kept clear of his cock, rather scared of what might ensue. Sven turned his back on her and she poured another handful of gel. His back was hairier than his chest and Sally found herself thinking 'George has sent me a gorilla, not a man.'
She soaped his back and followed the trails of suds down to his buttocks. As she applied the lather lower down she discovered his buttocks were pert, solid, and with little evidence of excess fat. Sven was washing his cock but then reached round and pulled her to his front. He pressed his body up against her running his hands up and down her back as he crushed her against his chest. Soap transferred to her chest and her breasts slipped around as she rubbed up against him. She found her nipples were engorging despite the nervousness that Sven's huge physique engendered.
"Bed now!", Sven stepped out of the shower and started to towel himself. "Go. Be ready."
Sally left him to it and retreated to the bedroom. How did a whore get herself ready? She had no idea. She turned down the bedclothes, not even sure if a whore fucked on top of, or under, the sheets. Perhaps she should ring Tom and get the girl he was currently fucking to give her some advice? On the other hand it was probably not a good idea to disturb them. She looked at the roll of money, opened it, and found there was five hundred there in crisp new notes. She added the fifty she'd got for forgoing condoms and stuffed the roll into her dressing table drawer. I've crossed a line here, she thought, I'm now officially a whore.
As she mused over her new status, slut and whore, Sven arrived. The fact that he was wearing just the little white towel she'd provided made him look bigger, and hairier, than ever. He looked a little bemused by the way she had arranged the sheets. He flicked the towel from around his hips, like a male stripper doing the big reveal, and Sally could not suppress a gasp. The warmth of the shower had had a positive effect on Sven's semi-erection, his organ had lengthened and fattened.
Then he took the towel, laid it on the bed, and lay down on it, face down. Sally thought hard. What did he want? Then it came to her, he wanted a massage, like the one he would - most likely - get in a brothel. The sort of establishment that wanted to be more upmarket and call itself a massage parlour. She went to her bedside cabinet and hoped what she was looking for would still be there. It was. A bottle of massage oil, in date despite it being many years since Sally and Tom had given each other a massage. She decanted some to her hand, waited for it to warm, then applied it to Sven's back. She straddled him and started to knead his shoulders, slowly working her way down his back until she came to his bottom. The twin globes shone with the oil and she allowed her fingers to stray between the crack and down to stroke Sven's substantial scrotum. He had the largest set of balls she had ever seen and when her fingers ran over them he groaned with pleasure.
"Good ... ah good ... turn over now?", he asked.
Sally gave the scrotum a few more strokes then pulled her hand away.
"Yes Sven ... please turn over."
He did so, moving his bulk with remarkable dexterity, then lay with his hands behind his head smiling up at her. There had been another engorgement of his cock which lay across his six-pack. Sally oiled up his chest and again worked her way down. She felt she wasn't doing very well, certainly a professional sports masseuse would, she felt, have found much to criticise in her technique, but Sven seemed happy with what she was doing and he was the customer. 'Oh God', she thought, '... the customer.' As she ran her hands up and down his body her breasts swung under her and he was probably also getting tantalising glimpses of cunt.
