A Day In A Life 2

His back and chest, covered with dark hair wasn't something that she found attractive, he also needed to shave, the bristles around his mouth scratched her neck as he lay, grunting, on top of her. He was uncouth, almost brutal in the way he used her: concerned only with his own satisfaction, to him she was merely a soft body to use.

She winced as his callused hands pawed roughly at her breasts and his wet lips covered her mouth. But she sucked greedily upon his tongue and met his every urgent thrust with enthusiasm, trying hard to draw him deeper, to fill her totally, her own desperate need for release matching his.

"Oh God yes baby, fuck me, fill me," she gasped, driving her long fingernails into his shoulders. But then she groaned in frustration when he suddenly withdrew. She tried in vain to cling to him, desperate to keep that irresistible feeling building, but he was too big, too strong.

"Not yet bitch, I want your slutty arse first," he growled.

She wanted, needed him to continue inside her, and each insult he spat in her face sent a jolt of excitement to her very centre, but he was the one in control, she nothing but his bitch, his slut. And when he grabbed her ankles and raised her legs high she spread herself willingly for him, wanting him to violate her, possess her, empty himself into her, and make her truly nothing more than his own filthy whore.

He entered her again, splitting her, and the pain in her rectum was at once excruciating, but his weight trapped her, forcing her to accept, she tensed and squeezed her eyes shut, trying hard to relax, and gradually the burning lessened as he held himself motionless deep within her.

Then he began with slow steady thrusts against her upraised bottom. She gasped again, feeling her tight ring squeezing him, massaging every inch of his shaft. But just as the discomfort vanished and she was beginning to enjoy this new sensation his body tensed, his movements became shorter, faster, and a low growl escaped his lips. She felt him grow inside her, his cock pulsing as his hot seed flooded her, her own need demanded fulfilment but he was past caring, and with her knees pressed against her chest she was barred from even touching her aching clitoris to gain some release. Then with a final deep thrust and a strangled moan he collapsed upon her.

When at last he rolled off of her she lay gasping and groaned as she slowly straightened her cramped legs. He was finished, though she was yet unfulfilled. And so in frustration she used her fingers in an attempt to reach the high that had been denied her, but just one look from him as he climbed from the bed made her feel shamed and dirty, and tears of humiliation welled in her eyes.

.....

Hannah woke with a start, the fingers of one hand buried deep between her thighs. She stilled her movements as she realized where she was: in her own bed, her husband snoring softly beside her. She slumped back with a sigh, it had all been just a dream, but unlike any other, so real, more like a memory. She was sure the man was real, someone she knew. She tried but she couldn't recall his name or even his face, but he was no stranger, of that she was certain. But then John, her husband, shifted slightly in his sleep and a wave of guilt enveloped her. She knew how ridiculous it was: she hadn't really cheated, it was a dream and nobody could control their dreams. But if it was so innocent why was she so aroused?

Hannah was far from being a prude, she loved sex as much as the next woman, but she had standards: The way she behaved, her dress sense. She liked to look attractive and some of her clothes were quite sexy, but the more private parts of her body were strictly for the eyes of her husband and her doctor. She rarely, if ever swore, and never in company, and the very idea of infidelity was abhorrent to her. So, dreaming of another man, especially dreaming of having sex with him made her feel terribly guilty. But stronger still was the incredible arousal she felt, especially because of the sluttish way she had acted and the dirty things she had done.

Making love to John had always been fulfilling and satisfying but deep down she wondered how much better it might be. Could she dare to be the slut she dreamed about? Moving in close she snuggled up to John, pressing herself against his back, and her crotch against his buttocks as she allowed her hand to drift down to his penis. But he groaned in his sleep and turned away.

Undaunted, Hannah moved down under the sheet and managed to coax him onto his back. She slid her hand into his shorts and wrapping her fingers around his semi erect penis she was rewarded with a small moan of pleasure. Encouraged now she freed his cock, and lowering her head she took him fully into her mouth, holding him there, unmoving but sucking gently, feeling him grow erect and expanding until he was pressed against the back of her throat, until finally only the fear of choking made her ease back.

Using her tongue and lips to massage his cock from the tip down to his balls she sucked each one softly into her mouth. She had one hand on his cock stroking his erection and the other surreptitiously massaging her clitoris. Once more she took him deep into her mouth and he at last reacted by holding her head, guiding her, using her as a form of masturbation. Soon he succumbed to her soft lips and busy tongue and began lifting his hips to meet her bobbing head, and without warning sperm erupted and filled her mouth. Most of it she swallowed but some ran down his shaft followed by her lips as she hungrily sought the last drop.

......

"What brought that on?" John asked with a grin. He lay on his back, his arm around Hannah's shoulder so that he could cup her breast. He couldn't remember his wife ever waking him in such a pleasant manner.

"Was it nice?" she asked in turn.

"More than nice," he said and flapped out his free hand to silence the alarm clock which suddenly activated. "It sure beats that thing.

Perhaps I should book an early morning blow job every day."

Hannah was still aroused, she had satisfied her dream lover and now her husband, but still she hadn't cum. She leaned over to kiss John but he quickly pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I'd better get moving, I've a busy day today," he announced climbing from the bed.

Hannah quietly sighed, she could drink her husband's cum by the bucket load, he didn't mind that, but trying to get him to kiss her after having his cock in her mouth was like getting blood from a stone. So she slumped back onto the pillow and watched him walk naked to the bathroom.

She thought again about the man in her dream, how he treated her like a slut, using her how he liked regardless of her feelings, making her feel worthless and dirty but so very horny. She again had her hand on her pussy, her thumb circling her clit and was once more overwhelmed with guilt, guilt that it was the thought of her mystery man who was turning her on and not her husband. She snatched her hand away: being caught pleasuring herself would be just too embarrassing, besides she had all morning once John had left for work, and feeling quite depraved she remembered that there was a large cucumber in the fridge just waiting to make her feel deliciously dirty.

.....

Even for June it was warm, the tarmac melted on the roads, and the obligatory hosepipe ban was in force. The same people who complained about the rain and cold now griped about the sun and endless drought. But in truth it had been only two weeks since the last rains, and it's ever been a British trait to complain about the weather. Hannah didn't complain though, she loved the sun and having her own swimming pool helped of course. Contentedly she dropped the diced fruits into the jug of punch and added ice, lots of ice.

"Do you need a hand? Anything I can help with?"

Hannah turned to see Bernice, the newest member of their little group standing by the door.

"Oh thanks, but everything's under control," she said as she fetched glasses from a cupboard. Hearing laughter she looked up through the window to see Tanya skipping away from Carmen after dropping cold water upon the reclining woman.

"They're nice, you're all nice. I'm glad we moved here," Bernice said as she joined Hannah at the window.

"Yes they are. And I'm glad you're here too. I think we'll have a lot of fun between us," Hannah said as she watched her friends.

She was the eldest one there and considered herself a little like a big sister, looking after them. It was also part of the reason she had organized this little get together: she wanted to welcome Bernice to the Close, to help her feel at home and get to know everyone.

Placing the pitcher on a tray she smiled pleasantly at her new friend and spoke "you can bring the glasses if you like," then she carried the punch out onto the patio.

It was a small development, just five properties, each uniquely individual but equally desirable, and Hannah had felt so lucky to become a part of it, a lovely home and good neighbours, more than good: over the past year they had all become firm friends, as though they had all known one another for years.

Hannah poured the drink and handed the first to Tanya, she was thirty years old, married to Jeff, an engineering designer. Next was Andrea, or Andi, thirty three, unmarried but with her partner Ryan of ten years, he worked in insurance. And then there was Carmen, the only singleton in the group and also the youngest, twenty five and beautiful, a bit of a mystery woman with a slight French accent that the men seemed to find so alluring. She claimed to be part Gypsy.

Hannah herself was thirty eight, tall with fiery red hair, married to John, her first love, and the only ones blessed with a child: Emma, who was now nearing the end of her first year at university. The women had become a close knit group, all financially secure, though where Carmen's money came from was a mystery, but she did hint at being left a sizable inheritance. And now Bernice, she had moved in just two days ago, along with her partner Peter.

The five women chatted, drank juice, swam and chatted some more. Men seemed to be a popular topic today, whether it was nitpicking their partners or maybe drooling over the latest hottie it always came back to men and sex. Hannah wondered what John would think if he could listen in on them? Men are generally regarded as the most sexist gender but surely there was nothing as smutty as a group of women together alone.

Andi was relating her latest adventure with Ryan. "He kept saying he was tired! So what" I said. You've only got to lay there, I'm not expecting you to move much, and to be honest he couldn't anyway because I had him tied to the bed."

"I bet that stopped him complaining," Carmen said midst the giggling.

"Oh he couldn't do that either because I was sitting on his face," and the giggling erupted into full blown laughter. Then she added. "You should try it, there's really nothing quite like having a man beneath you with his tongue squirming to get into your arse," and the laughter just grew louder.

"Don't take too much notice of them Bernice, they're quite harmless really," Hannah said.

"Oh its okay, in fact I tied Pete up once," Bernice announced. The others quickly turned their attention to her, eager to hear this fresh piece of news "as it happens it was his idea. We were getting a bit passionate one day, you know how you do? And he suddenly stopped and went all quiet. Then he asked me if I would dominate him, he said he'd always wanted to be dominated, to be tied down and used as a sex toy. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah we know, so what happened, come on, dish the dirt," Tanya said.

"Well, I couldn't see any harm in trying so we made our way upstairs. He already had everything ready; ropes, a gag, even a blindfold. I was a bit unsure of myself but he said to just tie him down and do whatever I wanted."

"So don't leave it there, we want details? What did you do?" Andi demanded.

"I trussed him up like a chicken. Then I took his wallet and went shopping," and all five women burst out into hysterical laughter.

Hannah got to her feet and refilled the glasses, Carmen nodded her thanks before asking "what about you Hannah?, I bet this house has seen a few wild times."

Hannah was usually the most reserved of the group, but she felt emboldened by all the candid talk and truth be told she was still somewhat aroused from her early morning experiences. Trying to appear cool she said casually "oh I don't know, we're quite normal really...but I did wake John up with a blow job this morning."

"Woohoo, dirty old Hannah, I knew you were a dark one. But the big question is: did you swallow?" Andi, as crude as ever asked.

"But of course, it makes such a mess otherwise and I didn't want to change the sheets today."

"So everybody, hands up who swallows?" Carmen asked amid the giggles. Andi had her arm in the air within a heartbeat, Hannah and Tanya just a little way behind with Bernice following suit hesitantly.

"So Carmen, and what about you?" Tanya pressed.

"Oh no. I wouldn't dream of it. What I do is hold it in my mouth, and then I give him a big snog, with lots of tongue and pass it on. As long as you keep in tight contact he doesn't really have a choice but to swallow his own cum. I tell you, there's no better way to show a man who's really in control."

"Ughh!" Tanya groaned.

"Oh yeah, you go girl." Andi squealed clapping her hands.

"Marcus!" Hannah suddenly said out of the blue.

"What?" Tanya asked.

Not realizing she had spoken aloud Hannah tried to brush it off, but Tanya was having none of it

"you said Marcus, so who's Marcus?"

"Oh it's nothing really, I mean he's nobody, or at least I don't really know who he is," It was clear that she was floundering and from the way the others were staring and waiting they weren't about to let her drop the subject. So at the risk of digging herself into a hole of embarrassment she reluctantly explained "actually it was just a dream, some guy that I'm sure I knew but I can't remember who he is. I didn't see his face or know his name, but it just flashed into my head, just now. His name was Marcus, but I still don't know who he is."

"Was it a wet dream? I bet it was. I always thought you could be a bit of a slut on the quiet," Andi said leaning forward as though she was scared of missing something.

Hannah didn't want to say too much but she knew they wouldn't be satisfied until they had every detail, so she described her dream, all of it, leaving out nothing. She even began to feel slightly proud that her sleep fuelled fantasies interested them so much. And it was with not a little relish that she told how she had spread herself to let him fuck her arse. There was no laughter this time, no ribald comments. They seemed to look at her with a new found respect; it appeared that she had elevated her standing within the group with just a dream.

"And you say you don't know who he was? A mystery man hey? Oh Hannah, you haven't been playing around have you?" Tanya queried with a knowing grin.

"No, no I certainly haven't, I only know that his name was Marcus, and he was the polar opposite of John... But boy could he fuck," her last remark restored the laughter with all but Carmen: she sat staring at Hannah, her expression unreadable behind the large sunglasses covering her eyes.

.......

Thirty minutes later it was time for everyone to leave; they all hugged and promised to get together again soon. Tanya prompted Hannah to reveal the identity of Marcus, but was assured that she really, really couldn't recall who he was. They all remarked how lovely it had been to meet Bernice, with Carmen taking her to one side and suggesting she visit with her the next day.

An hour later Hannah was alone, humming to herself as she washed the dishes, she still wore her bikini beneath a loose cotton top and she was considering whether to have another swim before she showered. Her musings were suddenly interrupted by the shrill ringing of her phone and wiping her hands on a towel she pressed a button and said a cheery hello.

"You are my whore Shandi," a muffled voice said.

On hearing the phrase Hannah stood statue still for a couple of seconds and staring at the blank wall replied "I am your whore mistress."

"Two two seven northern avenue at three o'clock, they require a slut," the caller said before the phone went dead.

Ignoring the unfinished washing up the woman who now thought of herself as Shandi climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Glancing at the bedside clock she saw that she had just ninety minutes until her appointment, she calculated that it would take her thirty to drive across town so that left her an hour to prepare. Stripping off her shirt and bikini she stepped into the shower, she checked her legs and underarms which were still soft and smooth but shaved around her pussy even though there was really no need, then quickly washing and drying herself she sat at her dressing table wrapped in a large towel.

Looking like a slut, at least the male idea of a slut, is harder than one might think: It's not just dressing in cheap tacky clothes and chewing on a piece of gum, Yes they are an important part, but also the whole look has to be right: from the make up to the shoes and right through to the attitude and the way she walks.

So Shandi began by ruining her beautiful red hair, she backcombed and scrunched until she achieved a tight bouffant, spraying lacquer liberally until it was stiff and set. Her finger and toe nails she coloured bright pink and allowed to dry before she started on her face. She applied the makeup heavily but with care: ultra glossy, deep pink lipstick, dark mascara on false lashes and pale blue eye shadow. She would normally use a little false suntan but days spent by the pool had already done the job perfectly, so she brushed the merest hint of glitter around her eyes, neck and cleavage, and then as an afterthought applied more to her nipples and labia.

The small diamond stud in her naval was replaced by an inch long dangly representation of an erect penis, and she hung large hoops from her ears. Carefully she inserted the golden ball bar through her tongue and moistened her lips. She briefly wondered what John would say it he ever discovered that particular piercing, but the thought flew from her mind as quickly as it came.

She checked the time, not long to go, just fifteen minutes before she had to leave, but the rest was easy. She quickly stepped into the black lace thong, pulling the material tight into her crotch, and silver gray hold up stockings clothed her legs, a bra wouldn't be required with this particular costume.

Walking to the large wardrobe she scanned the contents: on the right were her every day, conservative dresses and trousers, and on the left were the special costumes. The schoolgirl outfit, the nurse's uniform, police woman, slave girl, dominatrix and many more. She thought about how John loved them, how much he enjoyed her wearing them, and how he believed she had bought each of them just for him. A ripple of guilt passed through her but she shrugged it away, she didn't have the time to dwell on such things. She had just ten minutes left and she wouldn't disappoint, obeying and pleasing her mistress was the only thing that concerned her at that moment.

She picked the hanger with the least clothes and pulled the black latex skirt over her hips, it was skin tight and short enough to show the lace tops of her stockings. The fluorescent pink boob tube just about covered but emphasized her breasts. She fumbled a little with the velvet choker before getting it positioned, "I love sex" was spelt out in small diamantes across her throat. She just had time to push three cheap garish rings onto her fingers to accompany her wedding band - for some reason her clients enjoyed knowing that she was married - and half a dozen bright plastic bangles on her wrists. One last look in the mirror: perfect!, women would hate her, but their men would want to fuck her. She flicked and pinched her nipples, satisfied that they were hard and prominent she grabbed her shoes and left.