Monday, September 30th, 2013—Rachel Hirsch-Goldstein-Blum
The last three days had been the most stressful in my entire life. While Jacob and I had huddled in the the bolthole—a decommissioned missile silo our Gods bought in the middle of nowhere, Kansas—our wife had been fighting for her very life. That bastard, Brandon Fitzsimmons, had attacked Mark and Leah had been chauffeuring him. We were helpless, trapped before the TV looking for sign that Leah even still lived, praying desperately that she had survived the wrecked limo.
"Leah is alive, Leah is alive," I kept telling myself over and over. I couldn't lose my brunette love. For one glorious weekend—my honeymoon—she transformed me into the slut from my darkest fantasies. It had been a wild adventure before I settled into my marriage with Jacob. We made passionate love and she took me to this club where I had sex in public and then was gangbanged. I fell in love with her. When the weekend was over and I had to go back to my husband, I convinced Leah to come with me; I could not stand to be parted from either of my loves.
To my eternal relief, Jacob and Leah hit off, and soon we were a happy, loving threesome, fulfilling Jacob's wildest fantasy—two sexy women ready to please him. He deserved it for letting me have a wild, uninhibited time during our honeymoon. Soon after, we came to Washington State to be nearer to the Living Gods and so Jacob and I could marry Leah. Then our Gods graciously offered us jobs. Leah chauffeured for them, while Jacob and I put our CPA's to use. It was all going amazingly well Saturday.
It was only in the aftermath of Brandon's execution this afternoon that we found out our wife lived. The Goddess had succeed in defeating Brandon and saving our Lord. Like a botanist carefully tending to her shoots, Jacob and I had carefully nurtured our hope over the weekend, and learning that Leah lived allowed our hope to blossom into joy—a euphoric high that wiped away all the fatigue and stress of the last three days.
The euphoria continued on the plane ride back to Washington State and the SUV drive to Tacoma. The closer we got, the more my excitement grew, until it became too much and I started crying and giggling in Jacob's arms. Leah was alive; we were going to be reunited with her. My skin felt stretched, the excited energy inside me threatening to violently explode out of me. The huge mob that had gathered before the hotel—our Gods were staying here, along with Leah—slowed our convoy to a crawl. There were just so many people for blocks crowding the streets in worship of Mark and Mary. The snails pace reduced me to frustrated shouts. I didn't care that all these people were worshiping my Gods; I just wanted to see my wife. No. I needed to see my wife and to hold her and make sure she was alright.
"C'mon!" I screamed. "Just run them over!"
The bodyguard driving—a sultry, Latina whose silver choker named her 43—gave me a peculiar look, but ignored my command.
"It'll just be a few more minutes," Jacob soothed, pulling me closer to him.
"How can you be so calm!" I snapped. "Don't you care about her!"
Anger flashed across his face, but he relaxed it away. Jacob rarely showed his passion outside of the bedroom. "You know I care. I want to see her just as badly as you do."
"Then show it, dammit!"
"That's not fair, Rach!" He stared fixedly at me. "I've been by your side this entire damned weekend glued to the fucking TV, hoping for news that she lived."
Guilt flooded me. "Sorry," I muttered, then let out a frustrated scream and pounded on the side of the SUV.
He kissed my forehead. "I know."
Finally the convoy fought through the crowd and we pulled up at the Hotel Murano. I almost tripped and fell on my face in my haste to escape the SUV. I didn't pause to admire the fires that danced before the beige, stone walls of the hotel's exterior; I only had eyes for my brunette wife standing awkwardly in the hotel lobby. She wore a tan, terrycloth robe wrapped about her figure and a timid smile on her angelic face.
"Leah!" I shouted, throwing my arms around her and kissing her lush lips. Leah stood frozen for a moment, then her arms wrapped around me and she returned my kiss with passion.
"You look like hell, Rachel" Leah giggled when I broke the kiss.
I probably did. I had barely slept in three days, and hadn't taken a shower once or even ran a comb through my bushy, brown hair. Leah looked tired, dark bags beneath her eyes, but she smelled of rose soap and lavender shampoo, and her skin was white and lustrous.
"You had us worried," I told her.
Jacob swept the both of us up in a hug, his thick glasses askew as he kissed Leah just as passionately and lovingly as I had. "Are you okay?" he gently asked, caressing her cheek.
"I'm fine," Leah answered; her tone was a little flat, her hazel eyes shifting. Before I could press her, she gushed, "You have got to see our rooms. Our Gods gave us a beautiful suite." Her smile turned arched. "And a huge bed."
Jacob grinned, his glasses slipping more, and I was afraid they were about to fall off his nose. So I reached up and pushed them into place. My reward was wonderful kiss—strong lips, rough stubble; a man's kiss—and I felt my knees grow weak. I loved my husband as much as my wife.
"Let's go check out this bed," he smiled, an arm around each of his pretty wives.
There was something I wanted to ask Leah, but Jacob's kiss drove it right out of my mind. I'm sure I'll remember it before too long."Okay, let's," I answered, leaning on my husband's shoulder. I smiled, Leah leaned against his other shoulder and seductively licked her tongue at me.
We entered an elevator and Leah pounced on Jacob, fumbling for his belt. "Fuck me!" she moaned.
"In the elevator," Jacob flushed.
"Yes," purred Leah. "I need your cock! Take me! Use me for your pleasure!"
The robe slipped off Leah's body and Jacob's cock bulged his pants. Her large breasts were full and round, topped with fat nipples and areolas larger than a silver dollar. She turned around, waggling her fine ass at Jacob. He was a man; his pants were undone in a flash, his cock out, and he buried himself into her pussy.
"What floor?" I asked as I watched my husband's ass flex as he pounded my wife's cunt. He had a cute butt.
"17th," she moaned. "Fuck me! Pound my nasty cunt!"
I frowned; Leah was sounding like a slutty party-girl, like she was a bottled blonde again. "Because blonde's have all the fun," she had explained that adventuresome weekend. But we gave up being blondes, allowing our original, boring, brown hair to come back, and promised to be Jacob's loving wives not his sluts. I grabbed Leah's hand; something was wrong with her, so I gave her a comforting squeeze.
"Give me kiss, Rachel," Leah purred at me. "Umm, let me finger you and make you cum like a whore while Jacob makes me scream!"
She jerked her hand from mine, and shoved it beneath my skirt. I wore no panties since the Church taught that a women should be ready to be fucked at all times, even if I only slept with Jacob and Leah—and sometimes with Mark and Mary, but they were my Gods. She shoved a finger roughly inside me, her thumb pressing hard on my clit. I moaned, and Leah leaned in and kissed me, shoving her tongue inside my mouth. Her fingers felt so good in my pussy that I melted into her kiss, losing myself to my wife's pleasure.
Jacob fucked her hard. Her heavy breasts bounced and jiggled as she braced her arms against the elevator's wall. The slap of flesh echoed throughout the metal box and the smell of pussy filled my nose; the spicy, tart musk of our arousals. Her fingers built a fire inside me, burning hot and fast. The elevator doors dinged, sliding open, and the fire consumed me; my knees buckled beneath the pleasure, and I fell to the floor.
Leah licked her fingers. "Umm, you taste wonderful, slut." She held her fingers over her shoulder and Jacob sucked them into her mouth.
"You do taste amazing, Rach!" Jacob panted. "Keep squeezing your cunt, Leah. I'm gonna cum!"
"Do it!" Leah purred. "Cum in my dirty snatch." Her hazel eyes—lidded with lust—found mine. "I'm going to make you clean my pussy afterwards, Rachel. You're a little slut that just loves the taste of cum and pussy, aren't you?"
"Gods, I love watching my wives eating creampie!" grunted Jacob. His face contorted like he was in pain, and he buried himself into Leah's pussy, pumping her full of seed. "Gods, that was great, Leah." He kissed he neck. "I love you so much."
"Thanks, stud," Leah said. "You gave me a good fucking."
I was holding the elevator doors open at this point, and Leah sauntered past me, white cum running thick down her thighs. She leaned against the hallway's wall, spread her legs, and smiled invitingly at me. I licked my lips; I wanted to talk to Leah about what was wrong with her, but the sight of my husband's sperm running out of my wife's snatch was too much to resist.
"Oh fuck! Eat me slut!" Leah moaned.
My tongue swept through her pussy and gathered thick clumps of cum mixed with her spicy and tart juices. I feasted on her, pushing my tongue deep into her hole; eager to find as much jizz as I could. Her hands gripped my hair as her hips writhed, smearing her pussy across my face. I savored her taste and her wonderful, tart scent, leaving me feeling heady with lust; my own pussy felt on fire.
"Fucking slut! Eat me!" she gasped. "Yes, yes! Fuck! Fuck! I love to be eaten by a slut! A nasty, cum-eating slut!"
.... There is more of this story ...