I was so distracted by Harriet and her client behind me, I almost walked into another guy. Tanned, with close-cropped blond hair and gum in his mouth. He was wearing a suit, but he didn’t seem like a businessman. “You okay, pal?” he asked. Somehow, he managed to make the question sound like a threat.
I stumbled to a stop. “Sure. Just, uh, heading up to my room.”
He slapped me on my arm in a false-friendly way. “You do that, pal.”
I felt his eyes watching me all the way across the lobby to the elevators. I’d heard that tone of voice and that macho, sneering tone somewhere before, but I couldn’t place where. It wasn’t until I was hurrying along the corridor to our room that I figured it out.
A cop. He’d sounded like a particularly pushy, arrogant cop.
My heart leapt into my mouth. Could the police be running some sort of sting operation? Could Harriet’s new client be a cop as well? But that didn’t make any sense. If he had been, why would he have talked to me so openly about hiring her?
Then I got it. Hotel security. That was something we hadn’t considered, that the place might have its own security people, but it made sense. My stomach tightened. Were they onto us? Was he stopping Harriet, right now? Asking her questions?
I opened the door to our room, but hesitated there until I heard the chime of the elevator arriving on our floor—my wife and her client, arriving safely. I quickly stepped inside the room and closed the door, then shut myself inside the closet.
Probably, the security guy had just been reacting to me nearly walking into him. It was nothing to worry about. I’d warn Harriet about him and we’d just watch out for him, from now on.
I held my breath as the door unlocked and Harriet led her client in by the hand.
Seeing the two of them together, I got a better sense of the guy’s size. He wasn’t all that much taller than her, especially in her heeled boots, but he was stocky and wide-shouldered, as if he’d played football in college.
He turned to face her and put his hands on her waist. He wasn’t shy about touching her, running his hands up and down her hips and then over the ripe curves of her ass. “You’re a knockout,” he murmured. He said it almost to himself, but I saw Harriet smile.
To my surprise, he sat down in the leather armchair near the end of the bed. “How about a drink?” he asked.
That threw me a little—and Harriet, too, from the expression on her face.
“Come on,” he said, giving her a winning smile. “I’m paying a grand for you. You can at least fix me a drink.”
She smiled again, either at the thought of the money or—more likely—the reminder he was buying her. The room’s minibar was built into the desk, down near the floor. She turned from him and bent over to open it. “What would you like, Matt?” she asked.
Matt. He was called Matt. I knew she’d used his name just for my benefit, just so I’d know the name of the guy who fucked my wife, and I loved her for that.
As I watched Matt watching her, I suddenly knew why he’d asked for a drink. She was bent over right in front of him, her legs straight, her ass high in the air. She was side-on to me, so I couldn’t see much, but he probably had a view right up her dress—hell, he might even be able to see her panties, given how short the dress was. I saw him smirk and, again, the anger flared inside me. That was my wife he was gawping at and ordering around! And yet, as before, the anger twisted together with the lust, forming something stronger than either.
“Scotch. Straight up,” Matt told her.
She rooted around in the minibar for the correct bottle. I saw her ass sway and bob alluringly as she moved around. Her long legs looked amazing, too, with those creamy thighs emerging from her black boots, but it was her ass he seemed to have his eye on. I wished I could see it from his angle. Harriet seemed to take a long time to find the bottle and I wondered if she was aware of the show she was giving him, and was stretching it out deliberately.
At last, she brought out the bottle and a glass and set them on the desk. But instead of straightening up, she stayed like that while she closed the bar and then poured the drink. That’s when I knew it was deliberate. My wife was parading herself in front of him. I remembered how she’d stood on the bed for the first client. She was discovering a whole new exhibitionist streak.
She finally stood up and handed him the finished drink and he took it and thanked her. He sat there sipping it without telling her to do anything else so she just stood there and smiled. As he kept watching her, she started to pose for him, leaning against the desk and then playing with her hair, giving him little sideways smiles. He sat there, sipping Scotch and enjoying the view. The sexual tension between the two of them built and built. He was toying with her and she knew it.
Matt drank a little more of his Scotch. “How about a blow job?” he asked.
He’d mentioned it downstairs, so it wasn’t a surprise to me. But it caught Harriet off guard—I guess she’d presumed that her first client would be the norm—just sex and nothing else. I saw her blink a few times before she nodded.
I watched Harriet very carefully to check she was okay with it. I was getting good at reading her body language, now. I could see the way she unconsciously licked her lips as she knelt down, the slight hitch in her breathing. She was turned on as hell.
She got to her knees and I caught my breath. The knee boots had looked classy when she was standing up, but as she knelt in front of him they took on a much sluttier look. Now, I was the one who got to look at her upraised ass, and I had a great view of her face as she bent low over his lap to unfasten his belt. I was going to be able to see everything!
My wife seemed to be trying to look calm and collected as she pulled the belt out of its buckle and unfastened his pants. But when she eased down his jockey shorts and his cock sprang out, she flinched back. He gave a dark chuckle at that.
His cock was big, and it looked like it wasn’t completely hard, yet. Long and bulging with veins, the head a deep red-purple, I could actually see it swelling and stiffening in front of my eyes. Harriet looked a little scared as she saw the same thing from just a few inches away. Then she steeled herself and wrapped a slender, pale hand around the base. She’d had her nails done in her lunch break and the sight of her immaculate hand around that thick, brutish cock was incredible.
The client gave a grunt of approval. “Now suck it,” he said.
She blinked up at him for a second, taken aback by the crudity of the request. With me, blowjobs weren’t something I asked for—they just happened as part of foreplay. And I’d never have demanded one like that.
But then I wasn’t a client. I hadn’t bought the right to use her. My cock throbbed at the thought. He’s bought my wife. And I remembered what Harriet had said, about liking the submissive aspect. Her eyes had widened a little, I saw, but not with fear—with lust. She’s getting off on being ordered around.
Harriet licked her lips again, getting ready. Then she opened her mouth and slowly lowered her head. I could see her hesitation and realized what it was: with the first guy, he’d worn a condom. But a blowjob was done naked. She’d actually be touching a stranger’s cock with her lips, her tongue. He’d be naked inside her mouth.
Sticking out her soft, pink tongue, she began to lick at the head of his cock, steadying it with her hand as it jerked from her touch. He let out another pleased grunt and she did it again, a little more boldly, bathing him with her tongue. I could see his cock begin to glisten. Then she opened her lips and slowly took the head into her mouth, sealing around him. I could see her cheeks move as she tongued him and then they hollowed as she began to suck.
I could barely resist the urge to stroke myself. My wife was down on her knees, right in front of me, licking another guy’s cock for money.
“Good,” said the guy, his voice tight. “Deeper.”
Harriet moved her mouth a little further down his cock, sliding him in until he filled her mouth. I imagined how good it must feel, to hav
e your cock sliding across the tongue of a woman as beautiful as my wife.
Matt leaned back, sucking air in through his nostrils., then placed his hands lightly on her head. “Deeper,” he said.
I could only see my wife from the back, but I could sense her internal reaction from the way she tensed. When she gave me blowjobs, she didn’t go deep. She’d stop when my cock was nestled at the back of her mouth...my groin tightened at the memory. But now this guy wanted something more. I waited for her to tell him no. But instead, she lifted her head off him completely and said, her voice husky, “Deeper?”
He looked down at her and, again, I sensed that he liked the idea that she didn’t just do it —that she needed direction. Needed a little firmness, even. “Yeah. Deeper. A girl like you’s done that before, right?”
A girl like you. He could have meant experienced or even high quality—a compliment. But I could tell he didn’t mean it that way at all.
And I could see from the way Harriet squirmed that she sort of liked it.
She nodded, even though she’d never done it before. And lowered her head onto him. This time, she kept going down until he was pushing at the dark, slippery entrance at the back of her mouth. The guy gave an mmm of approval and sat back, watching, like a king on his throne.
Harriet took a deep, shuddering breath and pushed her head down and I saw her jerk, heard her gag. It hit me that she’d forgotten to put any music on, this time, so I could hear every sound. It meant I was going to have to be extra quiet in the closet. Right now, though, I was more concerned with what he was doing to her—she pushed down on him again and gagged again, and I bristled with rage. He couldn’t treat my wife this way!
And yet...she was enjoying it. I could tell by the way she gently ground her hips as she knelt there. She was getting off on being directed like this, being pushed look this. Being used.
“Come on, Kimberley,” said Matt. “You can do better than that.”
She glanced up at him and I would have loved to see the look in her eyes. Innocent and pleading? Or angry and lustful? Either way, Matt grinned when he saw it.
My wife pushed her head down a third time...and this time, she swallowed him. I saw her pale throat flex as his thick cock was squeezed tight by it, the head sliding deep into her. My eyes bulged. God, was she really doing this?! Her lips slid lower, lower...until they were squashed around the base of his cock, right up against his groin. She was breathing through her nostrils—they quivered as she took breaths. And meanwhile, Matt sat there panting, his mouth twisting as he looked down at her. His hand smoothed her hair. “Good, Kimberley”
She started to move and I gasped as his cock emerged from her mouth, shining with her spit - God, I could even see a trace of lipstick on it. She moved back until he was in her mouth, almost letting him slip from her lips, the purple head spreading her mouth wide. Then she plunged back down, swallowing him again, and began to stroke her head up and down his length. She still gagged each time she went down but that only seemed to inflame Matt more. His pants became quicker, his hand in her hair more insistent. But he wasn’t holding her head or forcing her down on him. His words were enough to keep her going. “Yeah...Oh man, yeah, Kimberley. Just like that. Use your tongue. Yeah! Just like that! Faster. Use your hand.”
She did it, curling her hand around his shaft and stroking him as she sucked. He was breathing so fast and the whole thing looked so damn hot, I thought he was going to come in her mouth. I was practically coming myself, without even touching myself.
But suddenly, he said, “Stop,” in a ragged voice and she lifted off him, giving his twitching cock one last lick that I suspect almost sent him over the edge. She was looking up at him with a strange expression on her face, her eyes gleaming, her breasts heaving. She was turned on, but more than that. She was proud that he liked it so much.
“You’re incredible,” he said, looking at her with half-lidded eyes. “Now stand up and get that dress off. The boots, too. Take everything off.”
I gulped as my wife slowly stripped off her dress, then her carefully-selected lingerie. Tonight’s ensemble was made of gauzy black panels held together by shiny black ribbons, and it all tied together rather than using normal bra clips. She let it fall to the floor and her breasts spilled out, her nipples already beginning to harden. Then she untied the bows at her hips and the panties fell to the floor. He gazed at her and then told her to turn around with a quick circling of his finger. “Get on your knees,” he told her thickly. “Right at the edge of the bed.”
She did as he asked, her movements slow and graceful. God, the sight of her upraised ass with that delicate pink opening between her thighs, soft lips meeting in a beautiful, soft-edged line. Matt fisted his cock a few times as he stepped towards her, his cock still naked.
Shit! Should I come out and warn her? I couldn’t let him fuck her without a condom! Or would she realize on her own?
He stepped closer. God, his cock was almost at her pussy lips! I put my hands against the closet door—
“Wait,” she said suddenly. “Are you wearing a condom?”
“I prefer it without,” he said. “I’m clean. “
She looked round at him in panic. “No!”
“I’ll pay extra,” he said. “A hundred bucks.”
“No!” But—God, had there actually been an edge to her voice, then. An excited edge? Had she actually sounded a little thrilled, just for a second, at the idea of a guy fucking her bareback? Something about the idea shocked me to the core—it was so risky and dirty, the opposite of all our careful precautions. And yet something about it wormed down deep into my psyche, twisting darkly there. I didn’t want to admit it, but...just as she’d been turned on by the idea, a part of me was, too.
I blinked and focused. The guy was putting on a condom, thank God, rolling it down his thick shaft. Now he was running one hand over her naked back, then down over her ass, stroking her again and again. She writhed and rolled her hips, tossing her hair. When she glanced towards the closet, I could see the lust in her eyes. She wasn’t putting it on for his benefit; she was really turned on by all this, by his slightly pushy, arrogant demands.
Maybe that’s what appealed to her about the whole escort fantasy—being out of control. That sort of made sense to me, but it also scared me. I hadn’t known she had this submissive side. We were rapidly getting into unexplored territory.
Matt reached forward with his other hand and began to rub her with two thick fingers, running them up and down her soft lips. It wasn’t so different from what Ben, her first client, had done. But then she’d been on her back. Now, with her on her hands and knees like this and him still standing, it had a very different feel. It was as if he was inspecting her before sampling the goods. The fact that he was still almost fully dressed and she was completely naked added to the effect.
He started to whisper in her ear, too quietly for me to hear, and I wanted to groan with frustration. I’d have to get her to tell me everything he said—because, from the way she ground her hips, it was having an incredible effect on her. As I watched, she arched her back and tilted her pelvis back to meet his hand, presenting herself for penetration. His fingers rubbed and rubbed, but didn’t venture inside. They started to slide lower on each stroke, teasing her clit, and she groaned. When he finally stepped back from her, I gasped. Her lips were shining with moisture and so were his fingers. As I watched, he walked around to her head and put his fingers against her lips.
I held my breath.
She opened her mouth and took them in, licking them clean. I felt my cock throb against my thigh. The room was so quiet, I could hear her labored breathing.
He walked around behind her and pushed his pants further down around his thighs. His cock was engorged and rock hard inside the condom, standing straight out like a flagpole. He stroked his hands over her back once more, savoring the violin shape of her. Then he suddenly thrust deep inside her.
Her head came up and she let out a
sharp cry. I nearly burst out of the closet...but at the last moment, her cry changed to a guttural moan. He’d shocked her, even stretched her with his sudden entry, but she was still loving it.
My eyes locked on where they joined, her lips a tight pink band around his shaft. He was almost all the way into her and, with her in this position, I had a perfect view of it. My mind rebelled as I took it in. Another man was sinking his cock into my wife, pushing all...the...way...into...her...God! His wiry pubic hair brushed her lips. He was rooted in her and he stayed there for a moment, their bodies as closely connected as it’s possible to be. My breathing became panting. This is wrong! I shouldn’t be letting her— And yet I was loving it as much as she was.
He put his hands on her hips and began to pump into her—long, slow strokes. He leaned back as he did it, watching the way her breasts swayed and bounced. If anything, I swore his cock actually swelled more as he fucked her. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to speed up. In fact, it seemed like he was just getting started.
He fucked her like that for long minutes and I watched as she got wetter and wetter, her slickness visible on her lips as he emerged from her each time. She was swirling her hips as he pushed into her, almost humping back against him. I could tell she wanted him to go faster, to pound her so that she could come. But he clearly wasn’t interested in that, unlike her first client. He was focused on his own pleasure, at least for now.
And then he leaned over and said, “Got any lube?”
I felt the blood drain from my face. I remembered all the times he’d stared at her ass, downstairs. God, he wanted that?! We hadn’t talked about that. I’d meant to, after Ben, but we’d never gotten around to it. And now, suddenly, I wondered if that had been deliberate. Had Harriet subtly steered me away from the subject, because she was afraid that, if we talked about it, I’d say I didn’t want her to do it?
My Wife, The Escort 3 (My Wife, The Escort Season 1) Page 2
