My husband would be coming home soon after an extended trip abroad that promises to vastly increase his financial worth. I'll be frank. I love his bank account, but I hate being left alone so often. Damn, that sounded wrong. I honestly like Billy; I wouldn't stick around if I didn't. I'd just do the divorce thing and take him for every penny I can get my hands on.
Yes, I hit the jackpot when I married William Boyd right out of high school. (No relation to the Hopalong Cassidy actor!) While the other girls on my cheer squad went after promising jocks, hoping they would eventually go pro, I set my sights much higher. As captain of the Wolverton Wolverines Cheer Squad, I just had to crook my little finger and the geeks and nerds would come running.
I was Billy's first. Well, I was a lot of nerd's first, but that let me be choosy. Billy is cute, comes from old money, and is so smart he's like Elon Musk and Steve Job's love child. Add to that one more detail. My Billy Boy is HUNG! His ten inches suits me perfectly. He's just the right thickness, too. On special occasions I give him a thrill and let him bop my ass with it. I've actually grown to like that. Sometimes I even masturbate with a dildo up my butt when he's away from home.
Once I let Billy think he talked his way into my panties to pop a "cherry" that was popped three years previously when I talked my lezzy cousin Liz into test driving her new strap-on during a sleepover, I knew I had a winner. Thank goodness he was so awkward around girls. None of my classmates saw a true diamond in the rough like I had. If any had discovered what my special nerd friend had in his pants, I would have spent my entire senior year scratching bitch's eyes out to keep them away from my meal ticket!
I enjoy having practically unlimited free time. I do some volunteer work, I travel, and I do a lot of shopping at thrift stores. Having money doesn't mean I waste it! I love going out on "the hunt" for bargains. Aside from these more open pleasures, I do have a passion. I write a little. Well, maybe I write a lot. Perhaps I do a little too much writing. Ever hear of that book "Fifty Shades of Grey"? What I write makes Grey look like pure straight up vanilla ice cream served at a church social!
There's a slight problem though. My husband thinks I write Doctor Who fanfics, and the occasional original science fiction short story. I do. I even let him read them. He doesn't know that for the past twelve years I've been writing some really twisted erotica. I somehow don't think he would approve. I know his uptight mother wouldn't.
Name a fetish and odds are I might have touched on it. I'll write anything from innocent first times, to magical orgies ending in vore fueled snuff. If you don't know what vore is, look it up. Yeah, well written vore is just as erotic to me as a passionate sex scene! About the only fetish I won't write about is scat. Look that up too. YUCK!
I take a certain amount of pride knowing that men (and women) all around the world masturbate while reading my little erotic tales. That may sound disgusting to some, but I don't give a damn. I kind of get off imagining how my stories are used. No, I'll be honest. I'm thrilled knowing how much "use" my stories are put to! How many women can truthfully claim that they get thousands of guys they never actually met to pop a load, or have women from all walks of life moaning while they read with one hand down their panties? Damn, the thought always makes me wet!
I'm beginning to digress here. Okay, here's a quick recap. I like my husband, He is a very good provider, who isn't home as much as I would like. I, let's face it, write filth. Embarrassing as it is to admit, I get turned on by writing filth. Depraved as it seems, I'm sometimes the moaning woman with a hand down my panties because of my stories. There, now I think I'm back on course.
I was out shopping at a thrift store, after a morning of writing a serious sex scene between an older woman, and a bi curious under age high school girl. I was more than a little edgy, but intentionally walked away from my computer and let myself drop down to a low simmer. I get some of my best writing done if I avoid the temptation to pet kitty.
I found a daringly short black leather skirt. It was just the thing to wear to the airport when I went to pick up Billy when he came home the following week. I took my find down the short corridor to the dressing room to try on. I slipped into an available booth and closed the door.
I hung my bag on the hook and placed the skirt carefully on the bench provided. I rummaged through my hanging bag and pulled out a few paper towels. I always come prepared. I placed the towels on the rather questionably clean floor. Kicking off my vintage Hush Puppies, I stood on the towels and unbuttoned my snug fitting jeans. With a happy sigh, I slipped out of them.
I have to keep Billy interested in me, so I work hard to make sure they keep on fitting. I'm 36, but I watch what I eat, and work out regularly. I get in a good run nearly every morning, and enjoy being watched, um, I mean working out at the gym. It pays off, but I do wish I could get my butt to shrink a little. Nothing seems to work, but I do keep firm back there. Billy swears that my ass is perfect. Judging by the looks I get in these jeans, he isn't alone in his opinion.
I wriggled on out of them, and carefully hung them by slipping a wall hook through a belt loop. I picked up the skirt, but stopped. "I may as well." I whispered as I put it back on the bench. I slid my panties down my legs and stuffed them in my bag before picking up the skirt again. Billy would surely love a little "Beaver Shot" at the airport. I wanted to see just how much ass would show when I bent over and looked back at the mirror. I was right about to step into the skirt when I saw a motion out of the corner of my eye.
These booths have doors that end about ten inches above the floor. I've complained about that to the manager, but he claimed it helps prevent people from stealing shoes. Yeah, right. All of my unnamed suspicions came true as I stared eye to lens at a Smart phone mounted on a selfie stick! I hadn't noticed any guys in the store, so I suspected the worst.
"You Goddamn perverted bastard!" I hissed, as I lunged at the device. I managed to get my hand on the phone and snatched it right off of the stick. "Meet me at the checkout line if you don't want me turning this over to the cops." I said quietly as I stopped the video recorder.
I heard a mumbled "Oh shit! I, I'm sorry!" and then feet running.
My anger vanished and I suddenly couldn't help smiling. I recognized the voice, and it wasn't the manager! I had noticed a very pretty young lady aimlessly drifting around the store. I seemed to keep ending up in aisles she wanted to go down. Twice she had even apologized as she squeezed past me. Now she had apologized again! I felt warm all over. She was checking me out in the store, and had come back to see even more. She even intentionally rubbed her lovely young body against mine. I had found a bi-curious girl just like in my story!
I almost drooled. I haven't been with a woman since my best friend moved back to Puerto Rico to take care of her ailing mother last year. I thought hard and fast. The sexy redhead was in highschool, I could tell by her jacket. Was she of age? If I squinted, and tried not to look directly at her, I think I could just manage to convince myself that she was, and not the fourteen that I had taken her for.
Since she was obviously interested, I wouldn't have to worry much about her telling anyone. Was I going to really do something this risky? Hell yes! Billy has been away for weeks. I haven't had a social orgasm since the night before he left! I needed something besides my own fingers to deal with my steadily building stress. Billy thinks I'm faithful, so I have to be extremely careful every time I take a new male lover. I am not about to ruin the good thing I have going!
The risk just seemed so much less if I were to try something with my new friend. Let's be honest. I've seen my husband's internet history. He has quite a "thing" for lesbian sex. If Billy ever discovered I strayed with a girl, I'm sure I could spin it right and have him popping a serious boner as I tearfully confessed my sad bisexual sin.
I had been planning on getting picked up at bar for a one night stand tonight, but if I could work it, I'd have my fun with no danger of complications. Forget diamonds. Condoms are a girl's best friend, but they do fail! That's why I always and I mean ALWAYS use the ol' double whammy. I never venture out for a one night stand without my diaphragm. Even with it properly inserted with a generous amount of spermicide, if the guy acts reluctant about condoms, he just gets a blowjob and I go home frustrated.
Mother Nature is a fuckin' whore! Why do I always have to get so damn horny on my fertile days? My stupid biological clock isn't helping either. I don't want kids, but my womb seems to have developed different ideas on the subject as I get older! I get so damn aroused on the hot days of my cycle. I just can't help taking the risk. I'd be dead meat and out on the street if a condom and my diaphragm ever failed together. God help me, but that scary thought even seems to get me hotter.
.... There is more of this story ...