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Archive name: greed.txt (M+F, FF, intr, wife)
Authors name: Nuj Baf (nujbaf@yahoo.com)
Story title : Jesse's Greed
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This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 2003. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your
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Jesse's Greed (M+F, FF, intr, wife)
by Nuj Baf (nujbaf@yahoo.com)
***
WARNING: This story is fiction, and should be treated as
such. The following story is for the entertainment of
ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex.
If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset
you, DO NOT read any further. If it is illegal in your
geographical location, DO NOT read it.
***
Today I am a single mom staying in a dirty one-bedroom
apartment in an impoverished drug infested neighborhood.
Everyday I worry about my seven-year-old daughter
growing up in this environment. I am also a recovering
alcoholic.
I am not a whore or at least I don't consider myself one
but to supplement my income, I allowed a sleazy crude
married taxi driver to come over Thursdays during his
night shift to take my body for his sexual
gratification. He hands me $250 every month, which
covers most of my rent.
"My wife is so fat and ugly, I can't look at her
anymore," Amit would say usually after my clothes were
removed and he would want me to prance around naked.
Being from India just like Amit, I felt particularly
humiliated being in this predicament. The shame that an
Indian woman from a good background would feel is
immeasurable. It is funny that I still felt this shame
even after what I had been through.
The way his paws were all over my breasts and my slim
body made me cringe inside. Then when he entered me, I
lost my self-respect. At the end I become depressed
knowing that my body did get aroused and that I felt
that wonderful feeling deep within my legs.
Rent was due by the third of the month and there were no
exceptions. For the last eight months I managed until
yesterday. Amit said he wouldn't have my money till next
week. Hermina, my only friend, who was always ready to
loan me in emergencies went to San Diego for the week
and my checking account balance was critically low. So
for the third time in the last two years, I had to
perform a most deplorable act to get myself a reprieve
of three days.
George, the disgusting Armenian landlord, was gleaming
through his yellow crooked teeth. "Geeta, you don't know
how much I dream about this," he said.
"Is it necessary for me to remove all my clothes?" I
asked knowing that it wouldn't change anything.
Nonetheless my clothes were shed so that he could
totally humiliate me as I sucked his cock. I was on my
knees in my bedroom while his pants were crumpled at his
ankles as he sat on my bed. So for being late on my
rent, I took his erection into my mouth. I was good with
my mouth and knew well how to use my fingers, so that it
wasn't long before George came. I swallowed it all.
Lastly he would watch me put back my clothes with a sad
look not knowing when his next opportunity would happen.
It was only seven years ago that I first came to Los
Angeles from India with my husband and my infant
daughter. We came with full of hope and ambition to
start a new life. Jesse was in computers and had a good
job immediately and I studied to be a lab technician.
Within a few months upon our arrival, Jesse discovered
the all American scheme of being successful. "All I have
to do is find a way to be on top of a pyramid scheme,"
he said.
"But you always have to start at the bottom," I
retorted.
"Not necessarily," he replied.
I was happy the way things were. Everything was going
well and we were well ahead of schedule to get into our
first home. But Jesse dreamt of making easy money
without working for it.
"Do you remember Patrick?" my husband asked me.
"No," I replied. I had my daughter on my lap hungrily
sucking on a bottle of milk.
"Anyway, he is the guy who is the number two man at
Goldmax. The guy gets a check of a hundred thousand
dollars every month for practically doing nothing. I
have been pushing him for a month with my proposition
and he called me yesterday," Jesse said.
"And what was your proposition?" I asked.
"You see he has ten guys under him and each of those ten
guys have another ten guys under them and so forth. The
thing goes down more than fifty levels and a percentage
of sales gets filtered up all the way," Jesse said.
"Anyway, one of the ten guys under Patrick died a few
months ago and the guy didn't have any family so the
spot was left vacant."
My husband walked back and forth as he continued
explaining. "Patrick was offering a hundred fifty
thousand dollars for that spot but I proposed that I
would give him half of all my take forever instead of
giving the seed money."
"Forever sounds dangerous," I said.
"Considering that getting half the take, he would cover
his hundred fifty thousand in six months, but yet he
wouldn't accept my proposition," Jesse said. "So I asked
him what more would he like?"
"What did he say?" I asked.
"I'm not sure exactly but it has something to do with
you," my husband said.
"With me?" I asked.
"He told me that he had met you at Gary's house for the
Goldmax meeting," Jesse said.
"That was a month ago," I said.
"Yes. He has invited you and me to his house tonight at
7:30. He wants to see if we can finalize the
arrangement."
"I don't like the sound of this," I said.
"Let's see at least. We have the final word anyway," my
husband said.
I was certain that my husband knew what Patrick wanted
but he never admitted it even up till the day he died
three years ago in a car accident.
I kept pestering Jesse as we drove to Patrick's palatial
residence that evening in our dirty red Nissan Stanza.
"What do I have to do with your arrangement?" I asked
but my husband's responses were suspiciously vague.
Being greeted by your host at the grand French doors
wearing silk pajamas made me feel awkward. I definitely
was not familiar with such casualness.
"Welcome, Jesse and Geeta," proclaimed Patrick as he
showed us inside knowing our mouths would drop as we saw
the exquisite grandeur of his living arrangement. Jesse,
being twenty-five, looked like a kid next to the older
more sophisticated Patrick.
I was surprised to see two other couples seated in the
room. Introductions were made and we shook hands with
Danny, Laura, Michael and Pam. Jesse and I immediately
noticed that both the wives were dresses like sluts. Pam
had on a black spandex mini dress that just stopped at
the bottom of her ass.
She didn't need any nylons as she had smooth milky white
thighs. She wore knee length black vinyl boots with very
high heels. Laura had on a tight brown top that
accentuated her breasts with an off-white velour mini-
skirt and black fishnet stockings. Strangely, I felt out
of place wearing a conservative pinstripe pantsuit.
"I have asked Danny, Michael, Laura and Pam to join us
tonight," Patrick said. He stood facing us, the outline
of his dangling member somewhat visible beneath the soft
fabric of his pajamas. "They are the recipients of
unimaginable wealth by joining me in a win-win
proposition. We are here to find out if you are brave
enough to accept wealth."
We were seated in what seemed like a sunken room with
tasteful modern furniture and paintings that I knew were
the real thing. The comfortable seat made me feel at
ease.
At that time, the most beautiful woman that I had ever
laid my eyes on walked in. She wore a typical maid's
uniform. I noticed that my husband was as entranced as I
was. She served us our drinks oblivious of her
enchanting beauty. She was a well-endowed young Hispanic
girl with light amber eyes.
"You might find that funny, but most people are cowards
when it comes to making money," Patrick continued. The
outline of his dangling penis was still a couple feet
from my face.
"We are here to take the challenge," Jesse said. He
sounded too excited. I wished he would contain himself
more.
"Exactly that is what we need," Patrick said. He now sat
down facing all three couples. "I believe in sharing. In
sharing, we work for one goal and we all win. That is
why I asked Jesse and Geeta to come here tonight. Jesse
had given a very nice proposition to me and it is based
on the principal of sharing. Let us all go into the our
pleasure room and see how Pam and Laura will share."
I immediately knew where this was going. "I think we
have a problem here," I said.
"And what problem is that?" Patrick asked.
"I'm sure we can work out any problem we have," Jesse
said. I gave my husband an exasperated look.
"Well, I certainly hope so," Patrick said. He walked
ahead while Pam and Laura, clearly excited, followed
right behind him. I was the last person to enter the
pleasure room.
The pleasure room looked like a studio. There were
different contraptions all placed randomly on top of a
wooden stage. There were stage lights, a glass incased
control room, and chairs for an audience. I knew what
these contraptions were for and I nudged my husband to
leave this house right now. Jesse stubbornly ignored me.
I would have left myself but I was afraid to leave my
husband alone in such a scenario. Something wicked was
about to happen.
Danny and Michael, the husbands, sat down on opposite
ends of the stage. There were leather straps on the arms
of the chairs as well as on the bottom at the legs. The
wives respectively tied their husbands to the chairs. I
could see that the husbands could not get out. They were
trying to free themselves for Jesse and my benefit.
"Look at this check," Patrick said as he handed me
something. I glanced at it. It was written to my
husband's name for $48,528.07. "That check can be yours.
It is last two month's earnings."
My husband snatched the check from me and said, "Wow!"
"All we need is your participation, Geeta," Patrick
said. He glanced at the two wives waiting for his
instructions.
"I will not do anything that involves pain," I said. I
could see that Jesse was now on the verge of jumping for
joy.
"I promise you that there is no pain only pleasure.
Everything will be outlined in the agreement," Patrick
said.
"Do I have to do whatever you say?" I asked.
"Yes," Patrick replied.
"Will that include orgies and gangbangs?" I asked. Jesse
listened attentively.
"I certainly hope so," Patrick replied.
"Jesse, are you sure for this kind of money, you are
willing to sell off your wife to this man? Are you ready
to throw away a happy family life and a good normal life
for our daughter?" I asked. I could see that the two
wives were impatiently waiting to shed their clothes.
Patrick was intently waiting for my husband's answer.
"Geeta, it is not as terrible as you make it sound,"
Jesse said. His mind seemed warped with greed.
"So you do not mind that I become a slut. To be used by
Patrick and probably all kinds of different men. I would
probably be handed over to several men as sexual favors.
If you can live with that, I will accept the
proposition," I said. My heart was pounding hoping that
Jesse would do the right thing. I knew I had to put him
in a corner. I had to get this preposterous idea out of
his head.
"I can accept it because I know it will be for the
better," Jesse responded.
I did not show how devastated I was at that time. I
stood stoically and said, "You have made your decision.
Now take the money and run." Patrick's face lit up.
In less than a minute, Jesse and I glanced at the
fifteen-page contract and signed away our lives. Jesse
pocketed the check and asked sheepishly as to where
should he be seated.
"You're going home," Patrick told him.
"Geeta would be dropped home in the morning."
My husband didn't argue but I could see that he didn't
expect to be left out. I knew it would make the night
much easier for me without Jesse and I felt relieved to
see the Nissan Stanza leave the driveway.
I braced myself for a long night of senseless fucking. I
was not looking forward to this. I had grown up in a
very protected and conservative family in India. I went
to an all-girls catholic school where boys were
forbidden to even enter. Then when I turned twenty, my
parents arranged my marriage. Sex was a wife's duty. I
never enjoyed it and I never learned to enjoy it.
The moment was awkward. I didn't know what to do next. I
had not been naked in front of anyone else besides my
husband. Patrick went inside the pleasure room and I was
waiting in a cozy dimly lit room with a grand view of
the city lights.
"They've left," Patrick's voice startled me from behind.
"Who?" I asked.
"The two couple, Danny, Michael, Laura and Pam. Laura
and Pam were pretty disappointed though. They really
enjoy the pleasure room," Patrick said.
"So what happens next," I asked Patrick as I stood
watching the city lights twinkling in the dark moonless
night. The glass pane that stretched from the floor to
the ceiling was cold to the touch.
"The most sensual part of a woman is her neck," Patrick
said. I felt his lips gently kissing my neck. The kisses
were tender and unhurried. This was a new experience to
me. Jesse never kissed me like this. There was no hurry
in what Patrick was doing. He wasn't grabbing me all
over.
"Sit down. I'm going to have Annabelle give you a foot
massage," Patrick said.
I took a seat on the soft leather chair and placed my
feet on the matching ottoman. I felt calm in the semi-
darkness and let my mind drift with the soft mellow
music streaming in from I don't know where. Someone was
removing my shoe. I looked to see an outline of a
woman's head. I knew it was the beauty that had served
me the drink.
"Would you stand up," she said in a sweet unaccented
voice.
I got up on my feet. She had her hands on my waist and
found the zipper on my pants. Gently she brought the
zipper down and removed my pants. I sat down again in my
conservative white cotton panties. Annabelle folded my
pants carefully and put it aside.
"This will be a little warm," Annabelle warned as she
placed layers upon layer of heated moist towels over my
bare feet up to my knees.
I wondered where Patrick went. And when he would be back
and what will happen. I wondered how it would feel to
have Patrick in me. Would his cock be bigger than my
husband's? Would he be on top of me and be looking at my
face as he does it?
"You have very nice skin," the angelic beauty said.
I could now see in the dark. I looked at her pretty
features and said, "Thank you."
Back home in India I knew a few girls that slept around.
Besides disapproving their behavior, I couldn't
understand their indulgence in such activities. I
consoled myself that I am going to allow my body to be
used by other men only for my husband's sake. What I
will be doing is different. I am not doing it for my
personal gratification. I knew I would not enjoy
fornicating either. It was a shameful act that
circumstances had made me do.
"Try to relax," Annabelle said. She began removing the
warm towels. Her touch was soothing even as she pressed
her thumbs into my calf. I guessed that human touch in
itself was a relaxing experience.
"I don't enjoy sex, you know," I blurted out. Annabelle
didn't respond. She just was doing magic with her
fingers. It felt so good. I kept glancing towards her
fascinated by her beauty. I had never felt so wonderful
and loved her touch. Her fingers were giving attention
to each little toe.
"Have you ever experienced sex? Being fucked is not
having sex," Annabelle said. She stood up and I noticed
that she was wearing a black satin slip dress that
stopped just to cover her genitals. Her light fair skin
contrasted well with the dark draping fabric. She had
flawless legs that were long and shapely.
"Most of the time it is painful. I can't imagine it to
be enjoyable. I can't understand why some girls are just
crazy about sex," I said.
"Stand up. Let me rub your shoulders," she said.
Annabelle was taller than me. She removed my top and
told me to turn around. Then she unhooked my bra. It
felt awkward standing with just my panties on.
"This will make you feel good," she said as her fingers
poked into my shoulders. It was an instant release of
tension. I felt weak all over.
"Do you have sex with Patrick," I asked.
"Yes," she replied. Her hands slipped inside my arms and
grabbed both my breasts. I was surprised from my body's
urges at that moment. I had never felt a sexual urge
before in my life and I surrendered to her fondling.
"Annabelle, what are you doing to me," I moaned. I was
feeling a tingling between my legs I never felt before.
"Something you always needed," Patrick said. I tensed
like a little girl caught doing something bad. I turned
away from them hiding my breasts.
Annabelle came towards me. She took off her slip dress
and she had nothing on underneath. I marveled at how
comfortable she was with her body. I marveled at how
soft and unblemished her skin was. She had the most
perfect breasts, not too big and sculptured
magnificently. Then she hugged me and we stayed embraced
for a while as Patrick took a seat and watched on.
Part of me knew that what was going to take place
tonight and for a good time in the future was wrong. I
was a married woman with a very conservative background.
Husbands that I knew would go to the ends of the world
to uphold the dignity of their women. It was my luck to
have Jesse who sold his wife for a bag of gold.
The long journey of allowing my body to be used by
others began at this moment. Annabelle tugged down my
panties exposing my tight young buttocks and hairy bush
for Patrick to see in the thankfully dim light. I wasn't
used to be unclothed in front of others and I looked
downwards as Patrick studied my olive skin.
Annabelle held my hand to a spot under the light so that
Patrick could get a better look at me. I cringed as his
hand touched my breast. I still couldn't believe that
another man was touching me in this fashion. Annabelle
turned me around so that his hands could feel my back.
He squeezed my cheeks with both hands and I let out a
moan to my dismay.
It was surreal. The two of us walked naked with Patrick
following us. We headed to the bedroom. Annabelle held
my hand as we both got ourselves positioned on the bed.
"Now who wants me," Patrick said.
Annabelle responded, "I am always yours and willing."
I had no idea what made me say this. "I'm new, fresh and
exciting." I pressed my breasts together and spread open
my legs as wide as I could.
"Now that is a hard decision. I'll take both of you," he
said while crawling between the two of us.
At that moment I wondered if I could still run away and
tear up that contract. Patrick embraced me tightly and
Annabelle removed his silk pajamas freeing his pale
white tool. I felt it touching my thighs. My hands
instinctively went down and grabbed its majestic size.
It definitely was larger than my husbands. Maybe because
I wasn't ready to have Patrick's tongue plunge into my
mouth, I sneaked down to have my first look at another
man's dick.
Like a trophy, I held it carefully and admired its
touch. Patrick was fully shaved there and his organ
looked handsome and elegant. Without trepidation, I
licked its underside slowly at first and then with some
renewed feeling of purpose, I sucked on it vigorously. I
must admit that I started to get excited despite of my
strong moral beliefs.
"That feels good, Geeta," Patrick moaned.
I was glad that my master was pleased. Now I was ready
to meet his lip with mine, to have our tongues dance
with each other. At this point, I wanted nothing more
than his strong member plunged deep into me. I crawled
back up.
Like a conqueror plundering his fallen enemy, Patrick
gazed into my eyes before our passionate kiss. Then he
slipped his cock into me, a victorious smile enveloping
his face. It was at that point I considered myself a
slut, especially since I eagerly met each of his manly
thrusts with my own. "Fuck me hard," I moaned.
That first night with Patrick and Annabelle, I was
treated very special. It made my foray to be a man's toy
much easier than I had expected. Besides tender moments
with Annabelle, Patrick took me another two times that
night. As promised, in the morning I was dropped off to
Jesse and my apartment.
We moved from our tiny apartment into a million dollar
estate home. Our friends were very envious of Jesse.
Half the time I wasn't around anyway. I was entertaining
Patrick or whomever he wished me to entertain. It was
funny that Jesse was oblivious to the fact that everyone
we were acquainted with despised us for our wealth.
Jesse would throw lavish parties at our new grand home
for our Indian acquaintances. I would wear the most
expensive and latest designed salwar kameez, our ethnic
garb. Then Patrick's call would come. He would instruct
me to wear a black leather outfit that would barely
cover my modesty and to be ready in ten-minutes as a
limo would pick me up. I excused myself from my guests,
citing some emergency, changing and rushing out in my
new outfit covered by a long overcoat.
I would never know whom I would find inside the
limousine. This time it was a large black man from
Kenya. The driver took us to a bondage club as the big
man with bright white teeth had me sit on his lap
wearing just my skimpy outfit. He slipped his hand under
the triangular leather patch that covered my pussy with
one finger buried inside my moist cunt for the duration
of the ride.
"Ah, an Indian girl, how nice," Mr. Obowe kept saying in
his heavy accent.
It was a very exclusive fetish club done in an elegant
manner. With my outfit, I was the center of attention.
Even a has-been celebrity took interest in me as Mr.
Obowe proudly strutted me around the premises. In one of
the open rooms where others can participate, the Kenyan
had me tied in chains. My buttocks were now presented
for anyone to slap or whip at. And so I felt on my naked
buttocks, the slaps and whippings from strangers. All I
did was ask for more.
When I was released, the Kenyan took me to a private
room. I was stripped of whatever scanty clothes I had
on. My wrists were handcuffed behind my back and I was
placed on my knees. His thick glistening cock was pushed
into my face. A whiff of its sickening odor seeped into
my nostrils as I eagerly open my mouth for its expected
entrance.
As the large tool stretched my smaller mouth, I
immediately gagged. His tool tasted cheesy but I
accommodated its presence as best as I could. My mind
was thinking about Jesse sitting comfortably in our
living room sipping on Merlot as the big African man
kept using my face for his pleasures.
My hands were now tied by a rope and pulled upwards. My
legs were spread and my ankles chained. I was
blindfolded and a large ball-like object was strapped
into my mouth. I don't know what was happening but I
could hear the shuffling of feet and the door to the
private room opening and closing.
Something pinched my nipple and I immediately contorted
from the sharp pain. I couldn't scream and tears flowed
down my cheek. My bladder also emptied itself as the
warm liquid crawled down my naked thighs. Then my other
nipple met the same fate. This time my body was more
ready but the pain was still excruciating.
"Aren't you glad that I brought you here," Mr. Obowe
said to me.
Knowing that compliance is vital to my state of affairs,
I nodded in agreement.
"How are you my darling?" my master's voice streamed
into my ears.
I tried to show that I was fine. Tears ran down my
cheeks in hearing Patrick's voice.
Mr. Obowe said to Patrick, "She is certainly a fine
gift. I will enjoy her most definitely." With that I
felt the first smacking on my thighs. It seemed there
were many who used the whip on me that evening. I could
sense five or six different people. Some teased me by
gently stroking my breasts and pussy with the leather
strips, before slapping them over my body. Others went
straight to the whipping. The fetish was turning me on
even though I still tried not to admit that to myself.
When I was finally released and everything taken off my
sore body, I collapsed on the floor. Twenty minutes
later after infusion of liquids, I was back on my feet
though barely.
Mr. Obowe was a very sexually charged man. He had
arranged exchanges with other couples on the premises.
Four men, total strangers, were ready to use my body as
their semen receptacle. In exchange, the Kenyan was to
enjoy their respective girlfriend/wives simultaneously.
I guess Mr. Obowe was into quantity rather than quality.
The four women unclothed that circled the large black
man were much older. However their pale complexion
contrasting with his dark black skin made an interesting
sight.
To tell the truth, I was too exhausted to give these men
much attention. I lay on one of the numerous mattresses
strewn on the floor. "Guys, I'm really tired tonight.
Just take my body but I really can't do much else for
you," I told the four white men quite plainly. Luckily
they seemed sympathetic and took turns plunging
themselves into my younger tighter exquisite body. I
felt like a jaded whore taking on the cavalry.
The men took their turns, lust in their eyes. I couldn't
imagine the turn of events in my life. I am right now
lying who knows where on a vinyl like covered mattress,
my body unclothed and my lower appendages spread open
for strangers to insert their weenies into my little
private hole. These moments of realization would hit me
on every episode I had on my journey as Patrick's sex
slave. Many times the shame of it all would overwhelm
me.
Mr. Obowe seemed satisfied as we finally made it to his
hotel room in the early morning hours. I crashed on the
comfortable bed and slept for hours. Mr. Obowe was soon
up and he went for a round of golf with Patrick.
I waited in the hotel till nightfall. I had my meals
brought up, checked on my husband and daughter, took a
luxuriously long bath and watched TV. This night was
comparatively much quieter. I had dinner with Mr. Obowe
and Patrick in a topnotch restaurant. Patrick brought me
a short black dress to wear sans underwear. I have been
in situations like this before. I knew all the men were
looking wondering what an exotic beauty was doing with
these men.
Back at the hotel, Mr. Obowe utilized my body for the
night. Doing one person at a time was considered easy
work. I had many such nights with many different men
that they seemed to become a blur. Episodes that were
always vivid in my memory were those that involved more
than just a simple fuck with a stranger. Those elaborate
situations that took place were imbedded in my memory
like a tape on a loop playing the same scene over and
over.
Believe it or not, even a full year after signing that
contract I was still ashamed at exposing myself to men.
I would become depressed at my degradation. Since
alcohol in all forms was always available, I started
consuming more and more of it. Soon enough, a glass with
a stiff drink seemed always to be attached to my palms.
One sunny Sunday afternoon, Patrick had an extensive
gathering for a delegation of Saudis at his home. There
were about twenty-five men that came visiting from the
Kingdom.
"Jesse, please spend some time with Nisha," I shouted to
my husband as Patrick's limousine waited in front of our
home. I wore a pale floral chiffon dress that left my
breasts and my black thong clearly visible.
I was led to Patrick's extensive ten-acre backyard lot.
There I met Pam, Laura and six others of Patrick's
contractual sluts lounging underneath the canopy. I got
my gin and tonic and relaxed next to my fellow sexually
willing wives.
"Geeta, that dress looks nice on you," remarked
Kimberly, a stunning blue-eyed blond that has been in
our circle for six months now.
"Thank you," I said gulping down the smooth chilled
drink. I quietly listened in on the girls chatting about
their worst and best experiences.
Six sweaty shabbily dressed Hispanic men were setting up
a circular fence in the middle of the yard. The girls
and myself noticed that they spent half the time ogling
the sight of us nine beauties dressed very
provocatively. I was sure they could have finished the
work in half the time.
We tried our best to ignore them and their incessant
whistling and cat calls. Things became harder for the
workers as a dozen local escorts also joined us. They
sat away from us wives and taunted the horny men by
blowing them kisses.
After a light refreshing lunch courtesy of Patrick, the
always ravishing Annabella made an appearance giving us
each a large elastic band with a round label each having
a different number written on them. Mine was three.
"Place these on your thighs about this high and your
number should be clearly visible," she said.
Annabella gave the same instructions to the high-class
prostitutes. Then all of us about twenty-five women
moved indoors for the final preparation. Our clothes
were shed and our high heels were fitted. Everyone was
helping one another on the makeup and on the trimming of
unwanted hair. Some had no hair on their pussies, some
just a little strip and a few like me had a nice little
trimmed triangle of hair.
We waited until the middle-eastern men arrived. When we
could hear the cacophony of sounds streaming in from the
backyard, I felt trepidation, as one can never predict
how the day will go. A little shame and shyness mixed in
as well. It was part of the job I guess.
When we were all ready, Laura said, "Let's go, let's
party." Each of us with our number tags strapped high up
on our thighs, high heels and nothing else filed out of
the mansion and into the backyard. We were greeted
enthusiastically by our guests as we all made our way
into the fenced in corral.
The lustful glances of the hired male servers unnerved
me as we all danced inside the fence to the upbeat
music. I knew many eyes were on me, the only darker
olive skinned female, keeping up with the dance moves.
It felt unusual to dance with just your high heels but
after a little while I thought nothing more about it and
tried to enjoy myself taunting the men.
The afternoon sun glared over our sun block protected
bodies. Two call girls and Tiffany all told me, "the men
are looking at you."
When we were finally released, I was exhausted dancing
non-stop for three hours. There was quite a stir among
the Arab men arguing among themselves deciding who got
whom for the night. We sat naked on the lounge chairs
glad to be off our feet as men kept blabbering in Arabic
as they gestured animatedly in our direction. One by one
we were getting chosen.
I was picked out pretty soon and got clothed. Once
everyone had been paired up, we were shuttled off in
groups to the hotel. I found out that this entourage
took a whole floor. Our entrance into the hotel lobby
was dramatic. The sight of about a couple women dressed
in apparent whore-like fashion each one attaching
herself to a middle-eastern man was not something one
would see everyday.
Once I was alone with my man in the room, I practically
pounced on him. I started kissing him feeling his rod
inside his pants. I had learned that being the aggressor
was the best way a whore could take control of the
situation. In this case it paid off. The guy really
thought I wanted him.
I got his pants down and hungrily sucked on his sizeable
dick. I fondled his balls and soon he arched and shot
globs and globs of cum into my mouth. I swallowed most
of it, spilling some. Now the rest of the evening would
be a lot calmer or so I thought.
"Hamid, I am going to take a shower," I said. As the hot
water hit my body, my tired body began to feel some
relief. Soon after I wrapped myself in a terry robe, got
inside the bed and switched on the TV. Hamid took a
shower next and I was just glad to have a little time to
myself.
"I'm tired, too," Hamid said as he toweled off his wet
hair. It was the best three words I heard all day. I
glanced at his flaccid penis and opened the covers of
the bed to invite him in and to snuggle next to me.
After two hours of TV, my hands found his limp dick and
I gave it a squeeze hoping for a reaction. I felt enough
of a surge that I snuggled myself to his hairy chest. I
cupped his sizeable balls and tickled his bunghole as we
continued watching TV.
It was past midnight and the rest of the entourage and
my fellow whores were still making a ruckus down the
hallway. I sensed exchanges going on and some group
action. I felt like a one-man woman today and wanted to
have intimate sex with Hamid. His manhood was alive now
and I snuck down to tongue it a little. It wasn't long
before he pulled me up, turned me around and let his
member spread open my labia for the forceful insertion.
His dick filled me up well and that always made me enjoy
the sex. I moved to his rhythm and our bodies went at
it. He expertly played with my nipples, his forefinger
and thumb twisting them incessantly. I gasped as my
insides started to get that sensation. I mumbled to him
to fuck me harder.
He went like a jackhammer and I twisted my torso in the
ultimate moment. And like a good script, moments later
he filled his goo into my womb. We lay there for a
while, silently listening to the shrills and laughter
continuing outside our door in the long hallway.
A loud knock. "Hamid, Hamid," his compatriots called for
him. Hamid reluctantly got up from his deep after-sex
sleep. He put on a robe and opened the door. Four of his
friends immediately walked in and seemed to be
chastising him for not joining in the revelry. The men
were in their shorts each with a naked whore to their
side giggling. I tried to feign sleep but one of the men
pulled off the blanket exposing my naked body.
Before I could even cover myself, one of the men jumped
on me and expertly got his thing into my sticky vagina.
There was no fun in this and I had it happen quite a few
times. Another gangbang for me. So as always I just lied
there and let them take their turns. Each of them felt
satisfaction in taking me. The look in their eyes as
they know that I had become another notch in their
conquest of women haunted me. This time an exotic Indian
women much like their Arab women.
When I got home finally to my husband and daughter, I
was so exhausted that I slept for twenty-four hours. I
took a long hot bath to hopefully dim the memories of
the last few days. I closed my eyes as I lay in the warm
bath. Lately whenever I did that, the faces of the men
that have used my bodies come at me like a slideshow,
their expressions frozen at the time of climaxing. Like
a whore I was losing my self-respect. Alcohol was my
friend. It kept me away from my feelings.
Jesse who was nothing in stature compared to Patrick,
made himself pretty obnoxious lately. Clearly Patrick
was getting tired of my husband. For two years now I
have service men for Patrick, dutifully sucked their
cocks and opened my legs for them. I sensed more and
more that I was called on for the insignificant clients
doing what I called clean up jobs.
In the beginning I was flown in jets and driven in
limousines. I met important people. Now I was an after
thought, sent to cheap motels to suck and fuck the
underlings. I looked worn out with the alcohol and all.
Strangely after two years of being a whore, I became
more depressed and humiliated offering my body to men. I
thought I would get used to it.
When Patrick clearly disclosed that he really did not
need my services any more, I didn't feel any jubilation
either. Jesse knowing that as long as my services were
required, the money would keep flowing in pestered
Patrick to keep using me. Patrick was running out of
options and ideas. He sent me for a while to be an all
purpose maid and whore for his customer's college bound
son. I was made to stay naked all the time in his small
apartment and to entertain his friends. It was no longer
a win-win situation for Patrick.
In an unusual move, Patrick sent me out to Jamaica. He
got me new clothes and fixed me up somewhat. I was with
two other girls entertaining an important client. Half
way through my stint, Patrick called me.
"I have some terrible news," he told me.
Patrick hardly ever called me, so I knew this was not
good news. My heart sank down to my stomach. "What is
it," I said.
"It's Jesse. He has been in a terrible car accident.
Geeta, I'm very sorry but he is dead," Patrick said. The
events that occurred after that were a total blur. Like
a zombie, I flew back to Long Beach Airport.
A few family members out of pity met me at the airport.
Friends, I didn't have. Jesse had a traditional funeral
with our local priest. People knew what we did and the
general consensus was that whatever happened was
deserved. Patrick helped financially as Jesse had over
extended himself. There was hardly twenty thousand
dollars left over for me and soon after the cremation,
my daughter and I were left alone, homeless and family-
less.
I drank and drank. Eventually I had the courage to seek
help and to recover from this disease. Making ends meet
was by no chance easy for my daughter and I. I still
offered my body to men in order to survive. I am hoping
that one day I will not have to that any longer.
The End.
For more of my stories, please visit
www.asstr.org/~nujbaf
Comments? E-mail me at nujbaf@yahoo.com
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It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
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Kristen's collection - Directory 24