Spouse for Sale

by Ben Boswell

  “Oh God,” I sighed. “Yeah?”

  She kissed my neck again and ran her fingers through my hair. Her body moved up and down on my shaft.

  “I fantasize about a man paying money, and then ordering me to….”

  “To what?” I gasped.

  She moaned as she rode me. “To strip for him. To… suck him. To… fuck him. Whatever he wants.”

  “Did you… did you ever?”

  She laughed. “God no. It’s just the idea of it.”

  I didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t speak either for a while. She rose and fell on me slowly. I caressed her body.

  “Do you hate me?” she asked.

  “God no,” I said. “I think…. I think it is hot.”

  “Yeah? You think it is hot that your fiancée… that is what I am now, right?”

  I nodded.

  “That you’re fiancée fantasizes about being a whore?”

  “I do.”

  She kissed me and then stood. I again wondered if I’d done something wrong. Instead, she reached out and took my hand.

  “Come on, Baby. Come into the bedroom and let your little whore really give you your money’s worth.”

  Chapter Five: New Shoes

  2:00am. So, I had stopped staring at the door and instead took to pacing in between increasingly frantic phone calls and texts to Ally’s cell.

  : Hey Babe, did I do something wrong? Where are you?

  : So… I guess you’re pissed, but at least let me know you’re okay.

  : Ally? Please.

  By 3:00am, I was beside myself, and starting to practice the speech I’d make to… the hotel management? The police?

  So, my wife and I play this game. This sex game. Where she, like, pretends to be a hooker, and you know, like picks up… well, not really picks up… I mean, she… anyway, I did something wrong, and I don’t know where she is, and….

  It was mortifying, and in any case, as anxiety-provoking as the situation was, I remained convinced that she was just messing with me, teaching me a lesson or something.

  I thought about how the game had progressed.

  * * *

  She didn’t quit law right away. That took another six months. She decided she wanted to be a teacher, so she began applying for a master’s program to get her teaching certificate. In the meantime, she began substitute teaching.

  We moved into a bigger place, and I supported us. Common expenses were not an issue -- rent, food, even vacations. But….

  “I saw a new pair of shoes I’d like,” she said one day.

  I was sitting at the dining room table trying to make sense of a derivatives contract, so not really paying attention. “Go ahead.”

  She walked behind me and began rubbing my shoulders.

  “They’re $350.”

  “Wow. That’s expensive.”

  “Hmmm. I know.”

  She leaned down, and I felt her breath against my ear. She slipped a hand inside my shirt. “Maybe I should get a second job.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” I said, still trying to focus on distinction in the contract between partner shares and distribution shares.

  “Maybe I want to.”

  I chuckled. “Between school and teaching, aren’t you a little tight already?”

  She licked my ear. “That’s what I’m counting on, actually.”

  “Huh?”

  “No one is going to pay for loose.” She pinched my nipple.

  “I think we may be talking about different things,” I said.

  She straightened and walked around the table, trailing her hand on the surface. Her fingernails were long and dark red. She sat down across from me and leaned forward, giving me a peek down her scoop neck tee shirt into her cleavage.

  “You look busy. Maybe I should go find someone else to buy me those shoes?”

  “Do you have someone in mind?” I said, cottoning on to the game. “Or just as long as it is someone with a big… wallet?”

  She smiled. “How about you, Big Boy?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t pay for sex.”

  “I’ll do things your fiancée won’t.”

  I gulped. “Like what?”

  She slid from her chair under the table, and a moment later appeared between my legs. She caressed my thighs. She peered up at and me and batted her eyelashes. She unbuckled my belt and pulled down my zipper. She fished out my hard prick.

  “Does she suck your cock?” she asked, as she licked the head.

  “Of course.”

  “Does she swallow?”

  “Oh God,” I gasped as she took me deep into her mouth, so deep that I could feel the back of her throat. Her tongue flicked at my balls. She slowly pulled back, nibbling her way up my shaft.

  “You didn’t answer.” She suckled tenderly on my glans. “I asked, does your prim, little school teacher fiancée swallow your come?”

  “Oh God,” I said again.

  She laughed. “I’ll take that as a no. Would that be worth it to you? Would you pay a whore $350 to suck your dick and swallow your load?”

  I gasped. My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but I couldn’t speak.

  “This time,” she said. “I’ll take it as a yes.”

  She devoured me again, gagging herself on my shaft. She bobbed up and down, giving me the sloppiest, dirtiest blowjob of my life. Her spit dripped onto my balls. She kissed, licked, and slurped me like my cock was the greatest prize in the world. Then she looked up, and holding my gaze, she took me almost to the root.

  “Oh God, Ally, I’m close.”

  She hummed on my shaft. I felt her throat throb.

  “You don’t have to,” I said.

  She took me even deeper. I gasped and felt myself going over the edge.

  She rose up, and keeping the head of my cock in her mouth, began to stroke my shaft. I came, shuddering and gasping, and she swallowed every last drop.

  “Oh God, Ally, that was amazing.”

  She continued to stroke me, licking each additional drop of come as it appeared. And when I was done, she tucked me back into my pants.

  “You probably shouldn’t tell your fiancée about this. Now, you should probably get back to work if you want to continue affording treats like that.”

  I nodded.

  “Don’t be a stranger,” she said with a wink. She backed up and a moment later reappeared across from me at the table. She didn’t say another word, although she did lick one last drop of come from her lip.

  Chapter Six: Going Public

  I jolted awake. My neck ached from sleeping in a chair. The alarm clock by the bed read 4:46. Was that AM or PM? I was disoriented, dizzy. Our bed was empty, disheveled. I peeled back the blackout curtains. The sky was still dark. So morning. Early morning, even if the Vegas neon tried to claim otherwise.

  I remembered our game. Ally and I coming back to the room. Her riding me. Then leaving. And not returning. Nearly four hours now, from the middle of the night to the pre-dawn, a time when the only people still out were degenerate gamblers, tripping ravers, and… prostitutes.

  * * *

  The arrival of Becky interrupted Ally’s master’s degree, and Callie put a nail in it. We moved to a house in the suburbs. Ally still did some substitute teaching, but it was more to get to know the teachers at the local elementary school than to make money.

  I was still at the firm, working long hours, though I’d gotten enough seniority to schedule at least some evenings off. Well… usually at least.

  “Sorry, Babe, I need to work late.”

  She didn’t answer. I imagined her tapping her foot in annoyance. Finally, she said, “Fine. Whatever. I’ve got a sitter. I’m going out anyway.”

  I glanced at my watch. It was just past seven o’clock. “I can probably make it by 8:30,” I said, knowing that would be tight.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m sure I can find someone to talk to.”

  “Ally….”

&nb
sp; “Yes?”

  “Don’t be angry. Please.”

  “I’m not angry. Just hungry and thirsty.”

  “Okay, so I’ll see you at Andre’s?”

  “Unless a better offer comes up.”

  I sighed. “Okay, see you.”

  I hung up and got back to my work. If I hurried….

  I arrived at 8:45pm, but it took me a while to park, so it was closer to 9:00pm when I finally got inside. Andre’s was styled like an old speakeasy. The entrance was decorated like a living room, with crimson red sofas, walnut furniture, and gild-framed landscapes on the walls. The restaurant itself was accessible through a pair of heavy curtains, and was divided between a bar and the dining room. The lighting was dim, creating a mood of romance and mystery.

  I approached the hostess desk. A young blonde woman in a slinky black dress awaited me.

  “Hi, I’m George Waters. I had a reservation. I think my wife got here already.”

  She looked down at the register. “For 8:00?”

  I nodded. “Sorry.”

  “You’re the first of your party. Let me see if I can still seat you.”

  “Oh. Wait then. She might be at the bar. Let me check.”

  The hostess shrugged and I turned away from the dining room. The bar area was even darker than the dining room. The bar itself was dark wood, and u-shaped, and ringed by high-backed booths that seemed designed for covert assignations. I circled around, my gaze sweeping between the bar and the booths, trying to respect the privacy of the patrons.

  I heard Ally before I saw her, her laugh specifically, coming from behind me. I turned in her direction and realized why I’d missed her initially. She was huddled in close with a dark-haired man in a pinstripe suit. His shoes gleamed and he wore gold-rimmed glasses. He had feminine lips and a couple of days of stubble. It was an intriguing, vaguely European look, and he definitely had my wife’s full attention. She had her hair longer at the time, down past her shoulders in casual waves, and she was wearing a snug, black and white polka dot wrap dress. She was drinking a Cosmo and he a Martini.

  Instead of going to her, I took a step backward, and slipped into an empty booth. A waitress came around, and I ordered an Old Fashioned. At the bar, Ally and her new friend were engaged in an animated conversation, punctuated with laughter, and a surprising degree of intimacy. She responded to one comment with a playful slap on the shoulder. His hand grazed her forearm as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. Sitting on the edge of their barstools, her bare knee pressed against his leg.

  They finished their drinks and he ordered another round. She shook her head, but changed her mind after a quick one-liner that made her grin and nod happily. I wondered if that would be her second, in which case she’d be getting a little silly, or her third, in which case she’d be heading toward tipsy and who knows what else.

  Their drinks arrived and they toasted. Hers spilled a little onto her hand, and she licked her fingers clean while gazing into his eyes. He placed his hand casually on her knee, and she didn’t swat it away.

  I couldn’t pretend this was just an innocent conversation. He was putting the moves on my wife, and she was responding. Whatever her initial intentions, now that booze and laughter were in the mix, this had the potential to turn into something that she and I had never discussed or agreed to. I should have been angry or jealous, but I wasn’t. Instead, I was curious and more than a little aroused, and it was that excitement more than anything that got me moving. As much as I was intrigued about what she was up to, I was more interested in getting my hands on her myself.

  Fortified with a big gulp of my drink, I rose and approached them. I cleared my throat.

  The man looked at me with some annoyance at the interruption. Ally bit her lip to keep from laughing. She took a sip of her Cosmo.

  “Hey, Honey,” she said. “This is my new friend, Max.” Then after a small pause, she added, “Max, this is my husband, George.”

  “Your husband?” From his accent, he wasn’t European, but rather from the West Coast.

  She shrugged and wiggled the fingers on her left hand. She wasn’t wearing her wedding band. “I guess I forgot to put it back on after my shower.”

  “Forgot, eh?” I said.

  She shrugged.

  Max was nonplussed. “Um, hey, look, I’m all for married couples spicing things up, but I’m feeling a little used here.”

  Ally smiled at him and leaned forward. “How so?”

  “Bought you some drinks. And, you know, wasting my time.”

  She laughed. “And what do you think I owe you for two drinks and your time?”

  “It was three drinks,” he corrected.

  “Look, I’ll pay for the drinks,” I said.

  “No, Honey,” she said to me, “this is my debt. And I’ll pay it off.” Then back to Max. “But sadly, I don’t have any money with me.”

  Ally gave me a quick wink. I felt a surge of heat in my chest.

  He raised an eyebrow and shot me a quick glance. I looked away in embarrassment. He took that as encouragement.

  “What did you have in mind?” he asked her.

  She shrugged. “Whatever it takes, I guess. I don’t want you to feel taken advantage of.”

  He peeked at me. I was still mute. Mortified mostly, but also turned on.

  “Maybe we should find someplace private to conclude our negotiations,” he suggested.

  She gave him a small nod, and I could tell that despite the bravado, she was scared as well. He took her hand. She shivered slightly.

  “I need to borrow your wife for a bit,” he said simply.

  I blanched and he grinned. He pulled her past me toward a set of stairs leading to the lower level. I hesitated for a moment, and then followed after.

  Below the restaurant and bar, Andre’s had a series of private dining rooms in different styles. I made it down the stairs, just in time to see the door close to the “wine cellar,” a smallish room decorated like a traditional wine cave with a stone, vaulted ceiling, lit by chandeliers designed to look like old gas lamps, with a long dining table running down the middle.

  I approached on the pads of my feet and tried to listen at the door, but it was heavy wood, and effectively muffled all sounds from inside. I almost gave up, and retreated toward the stairs, but then stopped and returned to the door. I had to know what was going on. So, even at the risk of blowing everything up, I carefully, gingerly cracked the door open.

  Luckily, they’d crossed to the other side of the room away from the entrance. He had his back to me, and she was facing him. I don’t know what had happened before I got there, but I arrived just in time to see Ally reach down and pulled on the sash of her dress. It fell open, exposing a sexy black, lace, demi-cup bra that seemed to offer up her heaving bosom.

  He reached out and traced the swell of her breasts. She thrust out her chest to meet his touch. His hands followed her bra strap upward, and with her smiling encouragement, he slipped the straps off her shoulders. Her cups loosened and then dropped down, baring her tits. Her nipples were dark and rock hard with the same arousal I could see on her face.

  “Lovely,” he said. “Can I touch them?”

  She gulped and then nodded. Her eyes were bright with excitement. He palmed her breasts from below, his thumbs circling her nipples. She moaned softly.

  “You like that?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she sighed.

  “I want to fuck you, Baby.”

  She smirked. “That’ll cost you more than three drinks.”

  He chuckled, enjoying the flirtation. He continued to fondle her breasts, her nipples looked about ready to burst. “How much?”

  She only hesitated a moment. “Five hundred.”

  He laughed. She didn’t.

  “Are you serious?”

  She nodded.

  “What about your husband?”

  “I don’t usually make him pay.”

  He started to laugh, but it trailed off quickly. H
e was confused… and horny. But horny won out.

  “Okay. I can do that.” He moved a hand downward, toward her belly, and lower.

  She stopped him. “Cash first.”

  “I don’t have it on me.”

  Ally stepped away and slipped back into her bra. She pulled her dress tightly.

  “Sorry, Babe, I’m not in the credit business.”

  “You cunt,” he hissed, incredulously.

  “The word you’re looking for is whore .”

  He remained before her, fuming, as her grin turned to a broad smile. Then when he realized nothing else was going to happen, he turned on his heels and made a beeline for the exit. I barely managed to retreat down the hall before he burst through the door. I watched as he stomped up the stairs.

  I went to the private dining room, and entered just as Ally reached the door. She startled. “I told…. Oh, it’s you.”

  “Yeah, me. Your husband. Remember me?”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, I seem to recall something about that.”

  “Yeah? To have and to hold. Forsaking all others?”

  “For better and for worse.” She grinned. “How long were you out there? I thought I saw the door crack open. Was that you?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you saw him play with my tits?”

  I nodded, red-faced.

  “And you didn’t stop it.” Her tone was flat, giving me no clue about how she felt about that.

  I changed the subject. “What would you have done if he’d had five-hundred dollars on him?”

  “I’d have fucked him.”

  I groaned. “No.”

  She loosened her sash, and her dress fell open again. She took my hand and pressed it down between her legs. Her panties were soaked.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re a whore,” I growled.

  Her eyes flashed. “Yes.”

  It was like an electric shock. I was rock hard and lightheaded. I grabbed her and kissed her hard. She didn’t so much melt into my arms as exploded against me. She was hungry, her tongue thrusting into my mouth. I pushed her backward until we bumped against the table. She hopped up and I moved between her spread legs. As we continued to kiss passionately, our hands fought an awkward, desperate battle to get my pants off. My prick was so hard it ached.