Fifty Shades of Lexi Maxxwell

by Lexi Maxxwell

Sasha’s anger at finding out that Jake had hired a whore was quickly overshadowed by a surprising, yet undeniable relief. Hiring a whore was an empty exchange, well to the left of actually cheating. Sasha wouldn’t share it with her friends, because she would be humiliated that Jake was cheating, and paying women to fuck him. It would show as a poor reflection on her. But Sasha knew Jake well enough to know it wasn’t.

  Yes, he was being dishonest, but he wasn’t using his heart, which was what Sasha really cared about. Besides, he was only doing what he always did when trying to get great at something fast. He hired a professional. And she had to admit, Jake had gotten pretty damned good, remarkably fast. And he’d definitely brought the best of what he paid for back home to her. And wasn’t that what life was all about? Getting the best that you could? Jake liked the best, for both of them. Even though she knew none of her friends would buy it, Jake was doing it for her.

  But that didn’t make it okay.

  Their history would be written by the way she handled whatever happened next. She and Jake were going to spend the rest of their lives together, so she couldn't afford to throw it all away on childish anger or impulsive reaction. She was raised to be a good, proper girl. Her upbringing worked. Maybe too well. When it came to the bedroom, Sasha was hungry for more, but didn’t know how to get it. Not even from herself. But if she had a constant but undefined craving, it made sense that Jake did, too.

  The difference between Jake and Sasha, like usual, was that he was willing to go out and get what she wasn’t.

  Most of it was culture, something she hadn’t really realized until spending a summer swooning over Jake’s perfect Italian while staying in Venice for a month where sex was on display, like it was around much of Europe. The opposite of America, where sex stayed buried beneath its thin veneer of repression. American porn was mostly cheaply lit debauchery because Americans didn’t know a thing about sensuality.

  Europe had opened something inside her, and let her know she wanted more, even though she didn’t know how to ask. Jake had, and that was fine. But it had to end. The question was how to best make that happen.

  Jake got out of bed and pulled his pants on, and headed toward the giant steel fridge. “Thirsty?” he said, opening the door.

  “Sure,” Sasha said, rolling to her side. “I’ll take anything.”

  He handed her a cold Black Vanilla Splash, a case FedExed each week from the small mom and pop soda market they’d found in Jersey, and the only place they’d seen it since. They were Sasha’s favorite. “Thanks,” she said.

  Jake asked her about her plans for the day, along with a dozen or so additional questions, all designed to get her out the door. It was Monday, not Tuesday, which was Jake’s usual day with the whore. So the whore had better not be what was on his mind and driving her toward the door. She was tolerant of the prostitute, hell, would even join the fun if given permission and promised a good time, but the lies ended. Today.

  Sasha finished her Black Vanilla Splash and placed the empty can on the nightstand. She wanted to curl over, pull up the sheet and fall asleep. Or pet herself to another orgasm, she could have easily gone either way. But she definitely didn’t want to get dressed, or leave the apartment. But if that was the game, she’d play it. The sooner she did, the sooner she could drop the pieces in the box, then fold the board and put the whole thing back in the closet where she belonged.

  “I think I’m going to get going,” Sasha said, pulling on her panties and stepping into her skirt.

  “Oh?” Jake raised his eyebrows.

  “Yeah, you reminded me of a bunch of stuff I have to do, and I really should get started.”

  “Okay,” Jake shrugged, retrieving her bra from the floor.

  Sasha said her goodbyes, then left the apartment, lost in thought. Halfway to the first floor, she thought about going back upstairs, but couldn't think of a good enough reason, and the worst thing she could do was let Jake know she was onto his traitorous scent. She wanted to see if he was in the shower. If he was, she’d know he was on his way out. Jake always showered before leaving the house.

  Sasha stepped from the elevator and approached the doorman. “Hey Teddy Bear,” she said to the guard.

  “How are you doing today, Miss Middleton?”

  “Good,” she said. “Going home to watch something trashy and think about nothing.”

  “Anything trashy in particular?”

  “I was thinking about Cut Off, those girls are such bitches. It’s actually hysterical.”

  “You’d do just fine without the money, Miss Middleton. You’ve got it right here.” He pounded his chest twice.

  “Ted?”

  “Yeah, Miss Middleton?”

  “Can I ask you for a favor?”

  “Sure thing,” he nodded. “Anything. Just say the word.”

  “Can you keep an eye out today?”

  “Of course, Miss Middleton. You don’t even have to ask.”

  “I’m really sorry to ask,” she shook her head. “I mean, I really shouldn't. I do feel bad.”

  “It’s okay, Miss Middleton. No trouble at all. Really.”

  “No,” she said. “I’m embarrassed.”

  “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said. “Truth today RSVP’s a better tomorrow, right? That’s the way my Aunt Sylvie used to say it, anyway. And she was the happiest person I ever knew.”

  “Was?”

  “Yeah, died of breast cancer six years ago. Died smiling, though.”

  Sasha told Ted that that’s how Jake’s grandparents were. Happiest people she ever met, was sure they’d go smiling. Then she said her goodbye, thankful for her dose of Ted. Jake had lived in the King’s Point building for 18 months, Sasha been friends with Ted for 17 and a half.

  Sasha got in her white Cayenne and headed for home, fighting the temptation to wait and see if she could follow Jake and beat the shit out of the whore like she was Taylor Brandi, that bitch with two first names who had cheated on her brother, Michael, by fucking his best friend Noah. Taylor Brandi was the only person Sasha had ever actually fought, but she’d pulled a fist full of hair out by the root, and barely flinched when she did it.

  No, she would go home and hope she was wrong. Watch Cut Off, or maybe Jersey Shore. Ted would call if there was something worth knowing. Sasha figured if Jake was leaving he’d be leaving soon, and she would get a call from Ted that he was out the door before she even turned on the DVR. But she didn’t. She finished two episodes of Cut Off and was on the first Jersey Shore when the phone finally rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Miss Middleton. It’s Ted.”

  “Hey Ted, what’s up? Calling to read to me from Reader’s Digest?”

  “No, Miss Middleton. I was calling to tell you Jake just left.”

  Three seconds of silence, then, “What was he wearing?”

  “Nice, not too nice. Dark jeans and a button up. No cologne, far as I could tell. Looked, I don’t know, preoccupied maybe? I’ll let you know when he gets back.”

  “Please do,” she said. “He’s going to bring her back tonight.”

  “What makes you sure?”

  “We’ve been going out since I was 10.” Sasha couldn't help but laugh, then said, “Thanks Ted. I really do appreciate it.”

  “Nothing to it, Miss Middleton. My pleasure.”

  She hung up, finished Jersey Shore, then watched another few hours of crap until Ted called again. “You were right,” he said. “He’s up there with her right now.”

  Sasha had shoes on her feet and her ass in the Cayenne two minutes later. Thirty seconds after that she was a full minute into the seven minute drive to King’s Point.

  Seven minutes must be just long enough to contemplate the end of a lifelong relationship, because that’s exactly what Sasha spent the trip doing, start to finish. What had seemed almost reasonable that morning was downright bullshit right then. Jake had lied, cheated, and flaunted the fact in front of neighbors and who knew who els
e. He violated her trust and desecrated their relationship. She had gladly given him her virginity and was proud that she had never been, and would likely never be with anyone else.

  But he didn’t care. And had used self-improvement and a better love life as an excuse to go whoring, keeping his dick dripping with pussy he paid for. He couldn't really care about her if he would do a thing like that.

  Could she really live with it?

  What if her friends were found out?

  What would they think of her? What would her parents think?

  But then again, what would everyone think if Jake and Sasha, the most perfect couple ever split up.

  Fuck you for doing this to us Jake, Sasha thought as she pulled the Cayenne into King’s Point and parked in one of Jake’s four reserved spots.

  Ted nodded as Sasha passed Ted on her way to the elevator. She hit Jake’s floor, then leaned into the mirrored wall as the door closed and the elevator climbed.

  Fuck you for doing this to us Jake.

  The elevator doors opened. Sasha marched to the end of the hall, then opened the door at the end to a deafening scream: “Just like that Jake, fuck my sloppy cake. Fill it with cream so you can suck it out later.”

  She heard Jake scream, and though she couldn't see either of them, their fucking was loud enough for Sasha to hear its sopping slosh as Jake pounded himself into his prostitute. She moved slowly toward the open bedroom door.

  Sasha suddenly felt the last thing she expected to feel, a soaking wet pussy, growling for attention. The low growl went to a raging roar when she heard Jake yell, “You filthy fucking whore, you’ll take my cock because I paid you to, and like it because I’m great at fucking you.”

  “Oh Jake,” the whore was screaming like he paid her to. “No one’s better at fucking me than you! Fuck me harder and stop making me wait. When are you gonna cum in my cake?”

  Sasha couldn't believe they’d been having sex for two years and she’d never thought to rhyme Jake with cake, or assign her pie an adorable name.

  “Keep moving your ass like that so I can cream it!”

  Sasha should have been mad. She should have been furious. She should have stormed into the room and started screaming.

  But she was shockingly, impossibly turned on. The whore screamed, “Don’t let me down now, Jakey, I’ve been waiting for you to fill me up all night. I want your juice dripping from me when you’re done!! Fuck me like I taught you to fuck. Fuck me harder so you can fuck your bitch better. Shove your cock inside like Sasha deserves.”

  A wild moan escaped from Jake. Sasha was now close enough to see them, standing just a few feet away, but neither of them could see her standing there. The whore was staring straight ahead, as Jake plowed her from behind, definitely harder than she’d ever been fucked, and probably harder than most girls ever were. From the angle, Sasha couldn't tell if Jake was fucking her like a dog, or fucking her in the ass, but either way, she felt a shot of electricity that went from her twat to the tiny hole in her ass.

  Sasha had been plenty horny before, but had never felt such a sudden or bottomless need, not in her entire life. She wanted to be the one Jake was plowing into, even if that meant it was in her ass. She didn’t care.

  Sasha wanted what Jake wanted to give, and wanted it wherever he wanted to give it to her, and as hard as he wanted to give it. Truth was, the whore looked like King-Sized fun, too. And Sasha was sure she sucked a good cunt.

  She wondered how many orgasms $500 would buy, and figured it was probably the best money she could spend, judging by the way the whore was moving, and the noises she made.

  The whore is temporary, I am forever, Sasha thought, stripping to her milky skin.

  She stepped forward, so wet she looked fresh from the bath. Jake was just pulling his cock from the whore, and it looked like she was about to get down in a gobble, when he noticed Sasha standing there. He screamed and fell back against the wall. The whore’s expression stayed exactly the same.

  “I thought we could make it a threesome,” Sasha said. “Now who wants to eat my pussy first?”

  XXX

  Brooke Singer: Parking in the Rear

  Brooke stood smiling as her new client continued to ramble, if the woman flapping a mile a minute was actually her client.

  Mrs. Camden was the one who contacted her on Twitter, and would probably be the one to pay when Brooke was finished, but the two of them wouldn’t be fucking. The guy who would be putting his dick in Brooke’s ass was Mrs. Camden’s husband, Seth.

  “I mean don’t get me wrong,” Mrs. Camden continued, hands in the air. “Seth and I have a great sex life. I love his cock. Just don’t want it in my ass, you know. Never have, never will. This hole is exit only, thank you.”

  Brooke nodded.

  “I mean, it’s gotta hurt, right?” She walked to the counter and put a bottle opener on top of a bottle of Clos Du Bois. Brooke wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical or if Mrs. Camden was looking for an answer, teasing with the notion, despite her protests otherwise.

  Brooke nodded. “It hurts a little, at first. But after a while it feels really, really good.”

  Mrs. Camden poured three glasses of wine, handed one to Brooke, then took a sip from hers and shook her head. “You’re just saying that, right? Because you kinda have to, makes it better for the guy if he thinks you enjoy it and all?”

  Mrs. Camden looked reasonably young, early 40’s probably, but Brooke thought she must be living in a different decade. Brooke couldn't imagine outsourcing a butt fuck for her husband’s birthday, or any other time of the year.

  “Do you really wanna know what I think?” Brooke asked.

  Mrs. Camden nodded.

  “I love it. It's different for everyone, and I know girls who don’t like it. But most of the ones who don’t haven’t tried it, at least not the right way. It hurts at first if your butthole has never had anything as big as a penis inside it. And if the penis is big, which most of them are, it can rip you, and that hurts BAD. But you can use lube to soften the entry, and toys to stretch the opening. Once you get used to it, it doesn’t really feel like anything else.”

  “I’m sure it doesn’t!” Mrs. Camden said.

  “I mean in a good way,” Brooke said. “And if you can get your partner rubbing your clit while he’s inside your butt, you can orgasm super quick.” Brooke took her first sip of wine, then added. “Most girls have a fantasy or ten about being naughty, right? That’s one of the reasons people love schoolgirl uniforms and handcuffs and sex in public. The forbidden is usually a little tastier, and tastier is more tempting. Anal sex is something you can do in secret, and no one will ever know unless you tell them. It’s sexy to think about doing it ahead of time, and it feels naughty when you think about it later.”

  Mrs. Camden stared, unconvinced. What Brooke really wanted to say was: Are you kidding me, Mrs. Camden? A dick in the ass is like one in the cunt, but nice and nasty and totally body rocking. There are two kinds of women who don’t like anal sex, Mrs. Camden: those who haven’t tried it, and those who are doing it wrong.

  Not liking a dick in the ass wasn’t usually the woman’s fault. Brooke had been with plenty of guys who were clueless when it came to cock rocking the crapper. Of course, it was also possible that she was wrong and there were women who had done everything right and weren’t wired to like it no matter how hard they tried, but when a guy started plowing Brooke in the pout of her pucker while fucking her fast with his fingers, well, it was super fucking, titty sucking FANtastic.

  Then again, Brooke wasn’t exactly impartial.

  Mrs. Camden was still staring. “I just can’t imagine it feeling good,” she said.

  Mrs. Camden was reasonably hot. Not smoking, but the fire wasn’t gone. She had all the money in the world judging by the marble foyer, and a body bought with who knows how many hours at the gym. Brooke hadn’t met Seth, Mrs. Camden’s husband and the one with the cock, yet, but his picture was all over the house an
d he was a hunky stud’s worth of potential stuffing. If Seth knew how to use what the good lord gave him, and older guys usually did, Brooke would have happily bent over for free.

  “Well, let’s get this over with,” Mrs. Camden said. She took another sip from her glass and shouted, “Seth!”

  Brooke thought back to the first time she let a pocket rocket park in her personal dirt road, a far more vivid memory than the one where she lost her virginity, which had been over so fast there was barely anything to remember in the first place. She was still in high school and dating a guy named Drew from the debate team. They were alone in the auditorium, and Brooke had managed to lead him into the changing area, locking the door behind them. Drew had been dating Brooke for a few months already, so he was pretty sure he knew exactly what she had in mind. She still managed to surprise him.

  He was already hard when she started slowly stroking his cock. He pulled her teeshirt from her body, then dropped it to the floor and started to kiss her – messy and sloppy, like a high school kiss. He grabbed her ass with his hands. Brooke moaned and bit his lower lip. He lifted her off the floor by her cheeks, she wrapped her legs around his waist and they kept on kissing for another few minutes.

  They were fully primed when Drew lay her on the floor. She parted her legs and he kneeled, then she placed her hands on his head. Brooke wanted him badly, and had since 15 minutes before she got him alone. She whimpered his name as he licked her wet pussy. She grabbed his hair and started moaning louder as he tongue fucked her, faster and faster, nibbling on her nub.

  Brooks moans were getting loud enough to scare Drew. “Sshhh...,” he said, “We’re going to get caught.”

  Brooke didn’t care, and maybe didn’t even mind getting caught. Her pussy was pulsing and she had never felt nastier in her life. She said, “If I promise to keep quiet, will you do me in the ass?”

  Brooke pushed Drew off of her, stood up, then bent over and parted her cheeks.

  Drew gulped, then asked her if she was sure. She nodded, or maybe panted, then ordered Drew to hurry up. “Lick it first,” she said. He did, then touched her hole with the head of his cock. Brooke moaned, loudly.