Chapter 1

Caution: This True Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Reluctant, Drunk/Drugged, Heterosexual, True Story, Cheating, Wimp Husband, Cuckold, DomSub, MaleDom, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, .

Desc: True Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Chloe is a newly-wed young wife discovering her sexuality and her intense need for submission. This is a long, character-driven story that develops over five chapters.

The Dilemma

As the tattooist's needle pierced the delicate skin above my vagina and the painful process of inscribing the company logo above my bare pussy proceeded, I began to think again of all the chaos I'd recently caused. Derrick's bankruptcy and impending incarceration, the rapes of Carla and Amber, and the anguish that awaits my husband. I thought too of what I know awaits me, the same fate that Belinda, my predecessor met. She would be sold, she was informed, but Mr. Stanford also gave her permission to take her own life, an option she accepted gratefully. But how had I come to this? How had I, a young and innocent bride until just eighteen months ago, come to be lying naked on a table about to be indelibly marked as "company property"? How had I, a unworldly, naïve, Christian girl, agreed to have my ass branded with Mr. Damon's and Mr. Compton's initials and how had I so readily accepted my status.

I don't know how I managed to get myself in this terrible fix. A mere year ago, I was an eighteen-year-old, newly-wed and faithful wife. And it was only yesterday that, while sitting nude on the couch in Mr. Damon's office listening distractedly to him describing my present condition when suddenly, I heard him abruptly stop talking and point suddenly at me. Looking down, I realize that I'd unconsciously crossed my legs. I instantly uncrossed them. I've been told many times that in Mr. Damon's or Mr. Compton's presence my legs are always to be open and accessible. Mr. Damon just shook his head in frustration at my stupidity, and continued on. I hadn't been listening, but I paid attention now. He was spelling out my present situation.

"As you know, Chloe," Mr. Damon resumed, "Chuck and I have been discussing how we want you marked now for some time, and we've decided to move ahead. Tomorrow, a tattooist I've hired will come here and mark the area directly above your cunt with our logo, and just above that he'll inscribe 'Exclusive property of First Capital Investments, Inc.' On the following weekend, we'll both brand our initials into your ass. Do you have any questions?"

Though I knew this was coming, I couldn't really comprehend it. My attention was oddly captured by a tiny drop of cum glistening on my breast. It must have fallen there while I was cleaning Mr. Damon's cock. I absentmindedly wiped it and placed it dutifully in my mouth.

So I'm to be permanently marked as private property. I thought. How will I ever explain that to my husband? Maybe I never will. I know I'm going to be told to leave him, anyway, so what does it ultimately matter.

"No, sir," I answered. "I don't have any questions. I suppose it will hurt a lot, won't it."

"Yes, I suppose it will," Mr. Damon answered sympathetically, "especially the branding. But you need to be marked, Chloe. Both Mr. Compton and I agree on that, as does Mr. Stanford. I assume we have your consent."

"Yes," I haltingly said. "It's just that it will be hard to explain."

The pain of the needle beginning to ink my tender pussy tugged me back to my present situation and suddenly brought back to me in a rush of memories that had led me to this tattoo parlor and the end of what little freedom I had left and the beginning of my enslavement.

The Beginning of Something

Joey and I had been together since I was a freshman in high school and he a junior. We were never an "item." Neither of us was popular enough for that designation, but that's probably why we were always so close. I had been raised in a very strict and very Christian family, so I never was allowed to dress in any way that was fashionable. In my family, everything fashionable was "sinful," anything that would show any hint of my burgeoning body was "moral turpitude." I was frightened of sex, and the natural inclinations of a budding young woman that emerged at night in erotic dreams and longings paralyzed me the next morning. The pull of hormones tugging at my protective veil of Christian piety turned me into a reclusive young girl terrified of the changes her body and mind were going through.

Joey, though smart, was simply skinny and awkward and attracted no attention whatsoever. But I liked him. He was shy enough to never press me for sex and observant enough to notice the changes going on. We sort of became our own society and built a pretty strong bond. He was my only boyfriend, and I assumed that would always be the case, so upon my graduation, marriage seemed an easy and seamless step. We married shortly after I graduated. I was barely seventeen. Joey was twenty.

Joey had gotten a job at a garage downtown shortly after his own graduation. He'd always been very good with his hands and automobile mechanics seemed to come naturally to him, so he did very well very early on. Unfortunately, he didn't make enough money for me to pursue my dream of a college degree in English literature, so when I graduated two years later, I found work as a receptionist at a stock brokerage firm in town with hours flexible enough for me to take some early afternoon and evening classes at the local college.

I'd always done well in high school, especially in my English classes, where the romance of books could shield me from the drabness of the real world I lived in, and my English teachers, most notably Mr. Barnes, all took an avid interest in my education. I say Mr. Barnes most notably because he alone also seemed to take notice of me as a woman, a "blossoming" woman, as he would sometimes put it. It was terribly flattering, exhilarating actually, to be noticed the way he noticed my changes.

I truly was blossoming. My body began to change most dramatically in my sophomore year of high school when Mr. Barnes first met me, and by my senior year, when I enrolled in his honors lit class, I knew, even if no one else did, that I had a fabulous body. It embarrasses me now to think of the hours I spent in front of the mirror admiring the new fullness of my breasts, the waspish size of my waist, and the full and erotic curve of my hips or the hours afterwards when I would reprimand myself for my hideous depravity. My breasts were probably a little too large for my frame, but it really didn't matter because I was also painfully shy from early years of being "plain" and so intrinsically fearful of "damnation" as well, that in public, I took pains to cover up all of this "blossom" that only Mr. Barnes appeared to see.

After graduation, life began to change pretty remarkably. More and more people began to take notice of me and to remark on my appearance, some of it nice, some of it creepy. On countless occasions, I noticed men following me around the supermarket and not infrequently at the local mall, too. I was still quite shy about all this obvious attention and quite certain that the temptation I felt to flaunt my body was the work of the devil, but I was also oddly flattered and exhilarated at the same time. I even found myself occasionally giving in to the devil's temptation and "posing" for some of the guys I knew were checking me out, and then feeling ashamed moments later when I'd remind myself that I was now a newly married woman. But I had to admit more and more that I enjoyed being looked at.

Later that summer, I had my hair cut into the more flattering shape my hair dresser had been recommending and let him colored it a much lighter shade of blonde than my natural ash. The hair style and color proved perfect, complementing my face, drawing attention to the fullness of my lips, and emphasizing what I'd always thought to be one of my better features, the deep hazel hue my eyes. With Joey's encouragement, I bought a new and more flattering wardrobe. Skirts a little shorter and tighter, sweaters a bit clingier and lower cut, and an attitude a little less meek and retiring, but by no means arrogant or showy. A different woman was emerging from her chrysalis.

A Trip to the Mall

It's interesting, now that I think back on it, how important to our future one afternoon and one outfit became to the new me. And to the new "us." It was the seed that produced the girl having her pussy tattooed, the girl whose ass would soon wear her masters' brand.

It was a warm early spring afternoon the following year. I was lounging around the apartment in sheer tights and a light sweater when Joey asked me to run over to Sears at the mall with him to get some tool he needed for work. I said, sure, but I needed to change first.

"Nah, come on. You look fine. It's only Sears," he said distractedly.

"I don't have anything on under this, Joey. Don't you think I should at least put on a bra?"

"Nobody will know. Come on," he said, seemingly exacerbated at my reluctance.

"Okay," I said, suddenly feeling a very unfamiliar but erotic sensation. I'd never been out of the house without a bra. Regardless of what Joey might think, sans bra, my boobs were going to be noticed in any circumstance, and were most certainly going to be noticed in this outfit! And for some sudden and inexplicable reason the whole idea seemed exciting! I wanted my boobs to be noticed! "Let me grab my shoes," I said, trying to tamp down my rising excitement.

The first shoes I came to were totally inappropriate—four inch, black stiletto pumps I'd bought for the senior prom last year. And that's what I picked.

I threw on a little wind breaker and ran out to the car where Joey was waiting. He gave me the strangest stare, and his "Ready to go?" had an odd excitement to it. A sort of sexual tension that I immediately got caught up in as well. Maybe he wasn't so "distracted" as I thought. We rode to the mall in a strange silence, tinged with what I could only sense was sexual stimulation mixed with anxiety.

As we got out of the car at the mall, Joey suggested I leave the jacket in the car. I hesitated a second, afraid that Joey would be embarrassed by what he would now clearly see was my almost blatant nakedness beneath my tights and sweater, but I did as he asked. Neither of us said a word as we walked to the mall entrance, but I could see Joey stealing surreptitious glances at my boobs bouncing tantalizingly under the tight sweater as I walked in those totally inappropriate but sexy little pumps. I should have blushed, but instead I was as keyed up as I'd ever been.

In the mall, it was apparent that not only Joey was watching and admiring the body walking beside him. I thought he'd surely see the commotion I was causing and be uncomfortable or self-conscious, but he didn't seem to be. In fact, he seemed to be suddenly quite possessive, as if he wanted everyone to see that the little "sexpot" next to him belonged to him. I could sense his heart beating faster. I was puzzled, but interested, too. This seemed so unlike him.

I began to be a little more overt, just to see what happened. I deliberately paraded my body, transparently expressing my sexuality in the most obvious manner. It excited me to see my breasts bouncing tantalizingly beneath my thin little top. I could feel my nipples stiffening. The more obvious I became, the more energized Joey became. And the more sexually provocative I became.

For the next month or so, every time we'd go somewhere, at Joey's implicit suggestion, I'd dress in some similar fashion. He never asked outright, he was still too shy for that, but I could see by his reaction that he wanted this to continue. So I accommodated him ... and me! I showed more and more flesh in what I wore. More leg, and definitely more boob. Each time we went out, I'd ratchet it up just a teeny bit, so by midsummer, when we went out, Joey had a very sexy young "slut" hanging all over him.

Joey grew increasingly happy with the new me. He'd never been much noticed in high school, but now he was getting noticed for his "bitch," as he put it one night. And he loved it! More and more! And so did I!

I don't deny that I did, too. No, I loved the attention and most of the comments I'd overhear murmured under a guy's' breath. Our sex life got better when Joey began to encourage me to tell him about the guys who'd look at me and at what I'd overhear them say. I learned early on that, if I embellished the stories, our sex was even better.

I began to wear sexier clothes at work, too, shedding the drab, loose-fitting blouses and sweaters and the long granny skirts for a more modern look that highlighted my figure a little more and drew attention to the body beneath. Nothing was inappropriate, but fortunately for me, since contemporary style the last few seasons so emphasized the breast, I could be quite innocently sexy and provocative. And naturally, the looks and compliments I got at work were translated into much more flirtatious and more tantalizing remarks about what was said and done later in the bedroom to Joey. Our sex got better and better.

We even discovered porn, which at first embarrassed both of us, but soon became another part of our weekend love making. Joey became quite intrigued that nearly all the porn stars kept themselves totally shaved, and I agreed that it was a very sleek and sexy look. At Joey's urging, I soon did the same, and loved the feel of Joey's touch on the silky smooth skin of my tight young pussy. Joey came almost to depend both on our occasional porn movies and even more on the stories I'd embellish for our sex life.

At first, he'd want to know who "liked" me at work and who "wanted" me the most. Later, he'd ask me who I was most attracted to, and though I was reluctant to say anything at first, when I discovered that even an innocent preference for one of the guys increased his performance, I subtly began to admit to certain preferences. If my stories required considerable variance from the truth, they were also extraordinarily hot ... for both of us!

As things progressed, I began to give Joey little fashion shows, shows that always turned into sexy little strip teases. Joey would name all the guys he knew who would "die to see this," guys at work who had made comments about his "hot wife." He suggest that maybe we should tease them that way sometime, and I'd go along with it, shaking my boobs and wiggling my ass, pretending I was in front of them. It was all harmless fun.

We began to take fun "risks," making our sex life a little more dangerous. I had this cute mask that I got at a party shop for Halloween last year, and one night I became the "mysterious lady" who seduced my husband in our bed. Joey loved it! Then one weekend afternoon, I walked out onto our patio completely nude with the mask on and Joey again just went wild.

The next day, we drove out to his mother's house to water her plants while she was away, and Joey surprised me with the mask. He wanted to take pictures of me. Outside! Totally nude! I probably too readily agreed. The idea was exciting and dangerous, the great aphrodisiacs of our sex life.

We went out into his mother's backyard, where I sexily stripped for him. I was so excited because it seemed so perilous. Though trees surrounded the yard, I was certain we were clearly visible from the street. But I posed nonetheless, my heart pounding and my excitement peaking. Later, we made love right there on the little love seat we had dragged out for the pictures! That was truly risky and terribly thrilling.

That night, Joey drove me home nude, which was a bit more frightening than I wished at the time, but we ended up doing it again on two other occasions, one time stopping off to neck in the park. We were just two kids, discovering the sex life we never had in school.

We had a party one Saturday night and invited some of Joey's friends from work. Joey dressed me in something totally inappropriate, a teeny, tiny little Lycra micro mini, fishnet stockings and a bustier! I looked like a hooker, but Joey told me the next day that his friends at work couldn't stop talking about how hot his wife is. I got really icy stares from the wives all night though, and I'll bet they were talking about me in a very different fashion the next day. But I didn't like any of them anyway, so no loss.

This sort of thing went on for the better part of the year, and for a time, it was enough. We were still experimenting with sex and with what we'd become. That was especially true for me. I became increasingly proud, maybe even a little conceited about my appearance, which led me more and more to encourage Joey to show me off. I don't think I was really sluttish, but I knew I was becoming somewhat of an exhibitionist. And it was fun!

I would still have occasional devastating attacks of guilt and remorse, thinking I was becoming a terrible harlot, but they grew less frequent in time, until eventually I quit beating myself up morally and eventually even stopped attending church altogether. Maybe that was a mistake.

The Club

Early the next summer, a package arrived in the mail for me. It was from an online dress store, some place called "Wicked Temptations." I hadn't ordered anything online, and even though it was addressed to me, I decided not to open it. I showed the package to Joey when he came home, and he laughed and said he'd ordered a dress for me as a kind of joke.

"Here, take a look," he laughed, opening the package and passing the dress to me. "Try it on."

"Try it on?" I said. "There's hardly anything to try on," I laughed, holding up this little fluff of material. "What were you thinking?"

Of course I did know what he was thinking. Our latest adventures had shown me that. But the closer I looked the more intrigued I became both by the dress and by the fact that Joey had purchased it "for fun." It looked extremely revealing, to put it mildly, and really, really sexy. And I did want to try it on, maybe more than he knew, though I pretended not to.

"Oh come on, Chloe. Try it on. It's no big deal. It might be fun."

"You are so silly, Joey," I laughed. "Okay, you wait right there and I'll give you a fashion show!"

I went into the bedroom, quickly stripped off my work clothes, and held the little dress up against my naked body. There wasn't much of it there. It was completely backless and short, and appeared to have a deeply plunging cowl-neck front. An eye-grabbing red, it was composed of a synthetic silk fiber of some sort that was slippery smooth and luxurious to touch. It excited me merely to look at it, and I actually trembled when I slipped it on. I was astonished when I turned to look in the mirror.

Stunned and excited, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and blood rushing to my face as I glanced again at the girl in the red dress. The dress was not only tight, it was impossibly tight, and clingy, adhering itself to every curve and crevice of my body. And it was not only short, it was exceedingly short, falling only a few inches below my bottom and hugging it provocatively. It dipped so low in the back that a good part of my butt was clearly visible, as was the sides of my boobs.

But it was the front that was most shocking. It was a simple cowl neck, but it plunged well below my navel and was wide enough to display almost the entirety of my breasts. No matter which way I'd turn, more would be displayed than covered. Walking, it was almost impossible to keep myself from spilling out with any step whatsoever, especially given the size of my boobs. It was like wearing water. At every step, some part of my body spilled out. Leaving me literally on complete display. I looked desirable and available ... very available!

I could never wear it in public, unless I were to stand immobile, but how I wished I could, because I had never, ever looked or felt so sexy. I just couldn't wear it in public ... I was determined, though, to let Joey persuade me otherwise!

I walked back toward the front room trying my best to stay in the dress. Entering the room and standing provocatively in the doorway I said, "If you want me to wear this, I must have better shoes!" trying to sound sexy and sultry but bursting almost immediately into a giggling fit.

"Goddamn it, Chloe! You look freakin' hot. You could wear it at some of the clubs over in Bayside," he said, after some hesitation, his voice cracking just a bit.

"You're not serious, I hope. I could never wear this in public," I said, hoping he was serious. I really wanted to be seen in this stunningly sexy excuse for a dress.

"Well, why not?" Joey answered, looking me up and down. "You really do look outrageously hot, Baby. It could be fun if you would. I'll help you pick shoes," he laughed

"I'd be arrested if I wore this!" I smiled. "But it would be fun, wouldn't it... ?"

We were in bed within minutes and had terrific sex fantasizing about me in that outrageous little dress. I was a little vixen in bed, and our sex fantasy that night was very persuasive. I wanted to be seen in public in that tantalizingly sexy little dress!

Nothing further was said about the dress for a week or so, but the next day, I bought the perfect pair of shoes for our little fantasy dress, red six inch sling-back heels, but I never said anything to Joey about it.

On Friday, a week later, Joey suggested we go out to one of the clubs in Bayside, The Blues Baby, one we'd heard about but never visited. It had a reputation as a pick-up club, and though both of us knew that, neither of us mentioned it. An odd choice, I thought, but a curiously exciting one, too.

"Maybe I'll wear the dress you bought me," I joked.

"Well, maybe you should," Joey replied, not looking directly at me.

"Do you have sufficient bail money?" I grinned.

"Oh come on, Chloe. It's not that bad," he answered, apparently seriously. "You see lots of that in the clubs around here. I mean we're not in the Midwest."

"Do you really want me to?" I asked, hoping so much that he did.

"Sure, why not. You have the body for it."

"I couldn't wear a thing underneath it, you know," I said, my voice betraying my excitement at the erotic danger.

"We're young and we've never done anything like this before. The guys at work all do this sort of thing all the time, you know, go out, drink, dance, show off their wives or girlfriends on the dance floor. None of them have what I've got, so I'd like to show mine off too."

"You don't dance, Joey. You hate it, as you've told me countless times."

"But you do, and I wouldn't mind watching. Watch guys eat their hearts out wanting what I have. Come on what do you say? We've always talked about being 'bad.' Let's just do it once."

"Are you really sure, Honey? Do you remember what I look like in that dress? I'm practically nude!"

"I do remember, Baby. That's why I think it would be like totally hot, let the jerks at work see how hot my wife is."

That remark surprised me a bit. He wants to show me off to his coworkers because it reflects well on him, I thought. I'm not a complete feminist, but enough of one to know objectification when I hear it. I was about to say that that was maybe a teeny bit offensive, when it occurred to me, that perhaps, for once in my life, I wouldn't mind being an "object," something for guys to stare at and ogle. Not at all!

"Are guys from work going to be there?" I asked.

"I don't know. Maybe, maybe not. Let's just do it regardless, okay."

"Okay, Joey, if you're really, really sure. But this is kinda more than we did last summer. I really cannot stay inside the dress you bought, you know. Every time I move something spills out," I said seriously.

"I'll be right there. It'll be okay. You really do look hot, Babe," he answered bravely.

I had serious doubts about Joey's ability to rescue me from any serious trouble, but I just let it go.

"Okay," I said. "If you're really okay with this, I guess I could try to be your little sexpot this weekend," I went on, trying to be less of a cold blanket. "You can have fun showing me off. I'll be happy to have you display me, okay. I think it could be lots of fun, too! You're right; maybe we're too conservative sometimes."

I took Friday afternoon off from work to have my hair and nails done, and spent the later part of the day on my makeup. Joey had counter duty at work that Friday, so he wouldn't be home until 9:00, so I had plenty of time to muse over the evening ahead. Unfortunately, the more I mused, the more nervously excited I became, so to calm myself down I made myself a vodka tonic.

I tried the dress on a half dozen times, posing in various positions. I soon knew what every single movement and angle would reveal. None were modest! Dancing, if I decided to, would be particularly precarious, because there was hardly a step, especially in these six inch stilettos, that didn't almost instantly expose me totally. There would be very little left to the imagination of Joey's coworkers, if what I expected to happen did happen.

By the time Joey got home, I was a little bit tipsy, but also much calmer and braver. I wasn't dressed yet, but I had only to slip out of my robe and into that excuse for a dress to be ready.

Joey showered and dressed and by a little after 10:00 we were ready to go. I slipped on the dress, wearing only very, very sheer red thigh high stockings beneath, and with the help of four vodka tonics, said sexily, "What do you think?" thrusting my boobs in his face.

"Wow, Chloe. I guess you look a little more on display than I thought."

"Too much," I asked hesitantly, terribly afraid he was about to back out. I'd do anything I could to prevent that. "Will it bother you for the guys at work to see your wife like this?" I asked, hoping the idea of showing me off would make him determined to let me wear the dress.

"No, I guess not," he replied a bit uneasily. "None of the guys at work are going to be there anyway, far as I know. You do look good. You have a beautiful body. The dress looks a little different tonight though than it did when you first tried it on."

He was right that the dress looked slightly different. I was nearing that time of month, and my boobs were easily a full cup size larger than when I had first modeled the dress for him, so the dress covered even less now than it did when it stunned him with its brevity before. I was, shall we say, utterly and totally on display!

A great surge of relief went through me when I heard him agree that I looked good and he was, if not completely comfortable with the way I was dressed, at least willing to go along with it. I desperately wanted to be seen in this hot little outfit, for once, to be the object of desire. It was truly like a coming out for me.

The club turned out to be great! It was dimly lit and "bluesy," the bar was filled but not cramped, and the crowd was a good mix of young and old. We found a couple of great seats at the bar near the dance floor and ordered drinks. I was only nineteen at the time, and afraid I'd get carded, but apparently the body on display in that teeny, slinky red dress proved identification enough.

Feeling sexy and sophisticated, I ordered my first martini. It turned out to be way strong! I was feeling the effects before I finished the first one, especially after all I'd had to drink while getting dressed. I knew my inhibitions were slipping away when I noticed the cowl neck on my dress had shifted dramatically to the left exposing my boob to just beyond the edge of my nipple. I saw that Joey noticed, too. But I didn't do anything about it except grow progressively more excited. The same was true for him.

Across the bar I could see guys checking me out and one guy in particular who was openly staring. I liked the way he looked and his boldness was exciting as well. I shifted slightly in my seat to give him a better view, hoping he'd know what I was doing. I'd become an exhibitionist, I realized, but it was harmless I thought. The guy enjoyed looking and I enjoyed being seen. In fact, I thought to myself, I'd like to show him more.

"I'd really like to dance, Joey. I wish you would," I pleaded in his ear, bending over to expose that same breast entirely to him and anyone else who cared to look. Hopefully the man across from us!

"I suck. I look totally stupid trying to dance. You know that. Believe me, somebody will ask you."

"Not with you sitting there," I pouted.

"What, you want me to leave?"

"Not leave, but maybe like just go to the bathroom for a little bit and see what happens, okay? I really, really feel like dancing. And you said you want me to, right?"

"Yeah, I do. Okay, but don't get too crazy," he said. "But maybe a little crazy," he grinned.

"Okay, but like don't come back right away. Give somebody a chance to pick me up. Wait 'til you see someone with me. Then you can 'rescue' me, k?" I said more keyed up and eager than I should have been.

I smiled back at him wickedly and winked as he left for the bathroom.

The second he was out of sight, I sat back in my chair and let the dress do what it wanted, and what it wanted was to exhibit me to the world ... and one particular guy. The dress and I were in complete accord!

The bartender brought me another martini. "From the guy over there," he said, eyeing my exposed breasts while pointing to an older guy, maybe late thirties early forties, who was nodding at me. It was the guy I had noticed earlier. My heart began to beat madly.

I smiled back at him, turning slightly to let the dress gape open again.

He seemed content to just stare at me, so with another slight shift on the bar stool, I made sure he had an awful lot of flesh to please his eye. I let the dress fall open entirely. I was sitting so that from his angle, nothing whatsoever covered my breast. I smile temptingly.

As he rose from his seat and walked over to me, I turned slightly in my chair to greet him, and with a little tug, helped the hem of my skirt steal to the very top of my thigh. It didn't have far to go!

As he neared me, I crossed and uncrossed my legs enough to let the skirt ride up to the very middle of my hip, briefly expose the nothing I had on beneath. I smiled enticingly. I was being terribly bad, I know, but I was also in such a sexy mood. Blame the dress, what little there was of it.

Instead of asking me to dance, however, he sat down beside me.

"You are the most compellingly attractive woman I've ever seen," he said sincerely. "I'm glad I came here tonight."

"Well, thank you," I said, demurely but not excessively so. The hem of my dress was at the very edge of my vagina now. I subtly inched the dress up just slightly beyond the edge, almost unable to breathe now. "I'm Chloe," I said with bated breath.

"I'm Brad. Who's the guy with you?"

'Oh, that's just a guy I know," I lied.

"Is he going to be upset I took his seat?"

"Maybe a little," I smiled, watching his eyes bathe my body. "Wouldn't you be?"

"I'd be devastated," he laughed.

"You from around here?" I asked, moving enough to let the dress slip just that fraction of an inch needed to demonstrate clearly what lay at the very top of my thighs. My perfectly shaved pussy was there for him to see ... and to take.

He put his hand on my knee and I smiled at him and sat back in my chair. My left breast was totally exposed. I waited a bit before I bothered to "notice" it and fix myself. His hand moved to mid thigh.

"No, I'm from out of town. Here on business," he answered. "Hot little club," he added glancing around the room, "but there's nothing hotter than you tonight."

I took a large sip of the martini. "Thanks for the drink," I said. "It's very strong, but I like it."

"It impressed me when the bartender told me you were drinking straight up martinis. Not really a girl drink," he went on. "I had him make you a double."

"It's just right for my mood tonight," I laughed, opening my legs enough to invite his hand further up my thigh.

The back of his hand was brushing against my slightly exposed labia when we both noticed Joey slowly coming back to the bar. If he came up and spoiled this, I would just die. I shook my head quickly at him.

"Well, why don't you dance with me before he gets back?" I said, nodding at what we were both watching. "Then he can have his set back and you can have me," I said sexily, pushing my vagina hard into his hand.

"Love to," he said, not moving his hand. "Finish up the drink."

I gulped the drink down, nearly choking in the process, especially when I felt Brad's fingers briefly caress the inside of my vagina and gently brush my clit. The little moan that escaped my lips was a perfect expression of how I was feeling.

I managed to purposely drag the bottom of my dress nearly to my waist as I arose from my seat. Standing I struggled to pull the dress back down, entirely exposing my very wet, silky smooth vagina while untangling myself from the chair. I wanted him to see clearly what he had so brazenly touched. It was quite a show! And I'm certain Brad knew it was deliberate!

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Joey watch me as I flounced to the dance floor.

The dance floor was crammed, which kept me from being the frenzied slut I felt inside, but not so crowded that I couldn't continue to show Brad all there was to see. When the tempo slowed, I shamelessly collapsed into his arms. The double martini had put Joey far from my thoughts. I knew I was getting myself in trouble, but I just didn't want to stop.

There was an absolute crush on the dance floor, which I hoped was shielding my behavior from Joey. As I pushed myself into Brad's body as the music slowed, Brad effortlessly moved his hands from my shoulders to my bare breasts, and as he began lightly to pinch my stiffening nipples, I knew I was in trouble, trouble I was going to have a hard time getting out of. I didn't really care. Not at that moment.

"You have an unbelievably sexy body," he said, staring into my eyes, "and a face to match. It would be a real pleasure to take you home."

I had opened for him entirely, let him assume I was his for the taking. I hadn't made one move to stop his enjoyment of my body. And I was in deep, deep trouble.

I realized the only way out of this dilemma was some semblance of truth. I told him that the "guy I knew" was actually my husband and that he insisted on taking me out to show me off and that he encouraged this kind of behavior. Brad asked me if I didn't think that was cruel teasing, and I admitted it was, apologizing and telling him that if I had my way, I would deliver what I promised.

He just left it at that and took me back to the bar where Joey was waiting, but whispered in my ear as he was leaving, "you're a little cock tease." That hurt. I was so terribly frustrated and so embarrassed that I told Joey I wanted to leave. I stole a look over at Brad as we left and the look he returned told me how pathetic he must think the two of us. And he was right!

In the car, I recovered myself somewhat and told Joey a made up story about what happened, something about the guy wanting me and me telling him how hot my husband was. Something like that. Anyway, it worked and we had a good night in bed, though the man who was fucking me in my fantasy was not Joey!

First High School Reunion

Joey's first high school reunion was coming later the next month, and though he had initially not planned on attending, he was now suddenly quite eager to go. I had a feeling I knew why. He wanted to be noticed for his "arm candy," a phrase he'd used a couple of times in the last few weeks. I was okay with it. I liked a lot of the people in his class, and in truth didn't at all mind having a few of the people who snubbed Joey see what his old girlfriend looks like now. Vain, I know, but I think understandable, too, if you've ever been to high school. I thought this could be a very fun night for both of us.

When I told Joey I wanted to find a really special dress for the reunion, he surprised me by insisting on coming along. And it pleased me, too. I liked the idea of the two of us sort of planning our "revenge." Silly, I know, but kind of fun, too. We visited half a dozen stores before we found just the kind of dress that I had in mind and that I knew would fit Joey's new image of me.

I liked the dress the moment I saw it hanging on the rack. I was a simple white knit long-sleeve dress with a vee neckline with hook-and-eye buttons all the way down the front. It was demure (a modest top) but sexy (mid thigh length), just exactly what I had in mind. Joey was not at all impressed at first, but I wanted to at least try it on. In the dressing room, I was pretty sure Joey would change his mind when he saw it.

The knit material was delightfully sheer and clingy and hugged my body flawlessly. Because I'm a teeny bit top-heavy, the dress was even tighter across my bosom than my hips, and tugged precariously at the buttons. Unbuttoning the top two loosened the dress perfectly and allowed just enough boob to spill out to make the whole ensemble charmingly tantalizing without being vulgar. Three unbuttoning buttons would be clearly inviting, and loosening a fourth would expose me almost completely.

As I guessed, Joey was more than pleased. That night in bed, he couldn't stop talking about how hot I looked in our new reunion dress and what a spectacular sight I'd make. Early in the night, he wanted me to promise I'd flirt, but by the time he'd "warmed up," he wanted me to go a bit further. The point was to make all the guys who'd snubbed him be jealous of him now. I agreed to everything he said, knowing I wouldn't actually follow through. It seemed harmless fun at the moment.

I spent virtually all of the day of the reunion doing girl stuff—getting my hair and nails done and shoe shopping. By the time I got home, Joey had already had a drink or two and had one waiting for me. He was very excited and his excitement was infectious.

Dressing was exhilarating. I had bought a pretty lace push-up bra and matching panties. I was going to wear white pantyhose, but decided last minute on white thigh highs with an elegant lace top band instead.

When I came out to present myself to Joey, he was even more excited than I expected. He looked me over carefully, turning me around slowly. And then he said with a distinct quaver in his voice, "You'd look better without the panties. You can kinda see the panty line."

"You want me to take them off," I said. "Won't it be obvious that I don't have anything on?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. Why don't you just try it and see? Maybe try it without anything, like maybe no bra either?"

I looked at him strangely. He was obviously very keyed up and maybe a little tipsy, but somehow the danger of the suggestion excited me, too. I'd try it.

In the bedroom looking at myself in the mirror without bra or panties, I knew Joey was both right and wrong. The dress was much sleeker, more form fitting, and infinitely more alluring with nothing underneath. But he was wrong about it not being obvious. It was devastatingly obvious that there was nothing beneath the dress but flesh! Especially if I unbuttoned a third button! With a fourth, I would spill out completely.

The more I looked and posed, the more I fiddled with the buttons, the more I wanted to wear it exactly this way nonetheless. I have never looked so captivating or felt so tempting. Or been so brazen! I unbuttoned the three top buttons and thee on the bottom, and walked into the room. This is the way I was going to Joey's reunion. I just hoped he'd agree.

The second I stepped out of the bedroom, I knew this look might be too much, and I think if Joey had been completely sober, he might have objected. But a couple of vodka tonics had made him more courageous than he might have been otherwise, and though he hesitated a bit, he said that I looked really hot and sexy. I noticed his hands were shaking when he said it, however. I sensed he might be a little apprehensive about this in-your-face sexuality, but by that time, I was so into this new me, that I chose to ignore it.

As we checked in at the reunion desk, I suffered a little loss of courage and rebuttoned the third top button. Still, I clearly heard a guy behind us say, "Is that Chloe Wills? Man, what a change! She is smokin' hot!" I saw that Joey had heard it, too. My confidence soared, as you might imagine. And so did Joey's ego! I fingered that third button, but let it be for the time.

As we walked to the open bar, I got so many openly admiring stares and not a few murmured guy-type compliments ("Jesus, what a babe," "Goddamn, that bitch is hot," that sort of thing). We were going to find a table, but decided instead just to hang around the bar for a while. After another vodka, Joey whispered shakily, "Why did you button up again?" It was what I really wanted to do so desperately. I smiled coyly at him and slowly opened the third button. I put my finger on the fourth and stared at him, but he gave me no clear sign, so I let it go for the moment. Still, That one more button put a lot of bosom on display. Joey couldn't keep his eyes off my chest. I liked that.

Sitting on the bar stool with the bottom three buttons loosened also put a lot of sleek leg on show. The flesh above the lace thigh highs looked deliciously inviting, as I turned my chair away from the bar and towards the reunion crowd. Sitting so temptingly on display, with Joey puffing up like a peacock, I saw Derrick carter, a guy I had a major crush on in high school, walk up to the bar.

Derrick was big, a three sport letterman, stupid and a bully. But oh my god was he handsome! He still made my heart quiver.

Joey hated him, and for good reason. In an English class in Joey's senior year, Derrick had given a totally stupid answer to some question, and Joey had corrected him. Right after class, Derrick had grabbed him, and right in front of everyone, including the teacher, had "bitch slapped him." Then to make his humiliation complete, he had his girlfriend, Teri Bales, slap him too, which made everyone, including the teacher, Miss Martin, laugh! Though Joey doesn't know this, I was walking down the hall at the time and saw it too. I felt so sorry for Joey. It was just so totally degrading and demeaning, but to my shame, I also felt this intense desire for Derrick right then. To do something like that right in front of the teacher was pretty gutsy. He didn't seem at all bothered by authority, and at that time, I found that really appealing. Maybe I did now, too.

"Hey, Joey," Derrick smirked, walking brashly up to the bar and putting his hand on my shoulder. "Your date looks great," he added, openly looking up and down my body. "Didn't you go to Central High, too?" he asked, turning to me.

"Yes, I did. I was three years behind you guys. I'm Chloe, Joey's wife." I was so happy I'd popped that third button. Derrick's eyes were glued to my chest.

"His wife, huh? You got yourself a hottie, Joey. Funny I never noticed her at school. Good seeing you again," he said, looking at me and not Joey.

"Asshole," Joey said under his breath. I could see he was visibly relieved when Derrick left. We could both see him checking us out from his table just across the room.

"You blew him away, babe," Joey said. "He couldn't believe I've got such a hot babe. Look at that thing he's with."

Derrick was with his girlfriend, Teri, who had put on a little weight since high school. She was still very attractive, but she'd been sensational in school, and now was moving pretty quickly toward fat. Conceited of me to say, I know, but she was certainly no longer any competition. I saw Derrick stealing long glances at me. I liked it! A lot! I saw that Joey had noticed Derrick staring as well. I wasn't sure how he felt.

A few couples had started to dance, and more were moving toward the dance floor, when Joey turned to me and said, "If Derrick asks you to dance, do it, okay. I want him to see how much hotter you are than that bimbo he's with."

It all abruptly came clear. Teri was the girl every guy in school was so hot for when we were in school and the girl who had completely humiliated Joey in the hall that day when Derrick held him while she slapped him to the amusement of everyone watching. He desperately wanted to show Derrick up. And maybe Teri, too.

"You sure?" I asked. I was more than willing, but didn't want to show it.

"Yeah, do it. Like turn him on and then just like walk away from him!" he said, his speech slurring slightly.

Very weird on Joey's part, I knew, but I really wouldn't mind dancing with Derrick, though it didn't seem likely to happen, not with his girlfriend right there.

"Do you want me to try and make that happen, like get Derrick to dance with me?" I asked.

Joey hesitated long enough to let me know he wasn't too sure about that, but instead said, "Sure, why not, the asshole. He's been staring over here ever since he left."

I was sure Joey was right. Having seen the way he ogled me, I had a pretty good idea that I could help it along.

"You're absolutely sure you want him to dance with me?" I asked again. He simply nodded yes.

So a few minutes later, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Walking by Derrick's table, I looked him directly in the eye, and very slowly and deliberately but coyly, licked my lower lip, and then bent over as if to check my shoe, showing Derrick the treats available if he asked. That's all, but I had no doubt he got the message. Whether he would act on it was another matter.

Back at the bar with Joey, I kept looking over at Derrick, making him aware that I knew he was there and that I was "interested." I put my hand on the fourth button and looked over at Joey. "Yes?" I asked. This time he nodded, and as I turned toward Derrick and the fourth button slid open, all the tit that Joey had wanted displayed spilled out dramatically. It was meant to entice, and a few twists in the chair helped clearly send the message I wanted Derrick to see.

A few moments later, I saw his girlfriend along with two other girls at the table get up to go to the bathroom. They weren't gone a minute before Derrick walked over and said to Joey, "Mind if I dance with your wife?"

Joey just shrugged his shoulders, trying to act nonchalant, but visibly nervous ... to me at least. Derrick seemed oblivious, and simply ignored Joey. "Care to?" he asked extending his hand.

"Sure, why not," I said, smiling. As I slid off the bar stool, I let my dress creep high enough up my thigh to reveal a glimpse of shimmering and wet pussy. I saw Derrick glance down, smile and just brazenly put his arm around my shoulder as he led me to the dance floor

I'm a good dancer and the disc the DJ was playing was really good dance music. I did exactly what Joey wanted. I showed Derrick everything he'd ignored in high school! I danced with what I guess you could call controlled frenzy, enough so that at times, I thought I might spill entirely out of the top of my dress. And at times I did. And Derrick's eyes rarely left my chest.

And then trouble came.

After a series of really hot dance tunes, the DJ shifted tempo to a slow and erotic Beyonce hit, and as I turned to go back to the bar, thinking Joey would not want me dancing a slow number with Derrick, he quickly grabbed me and pulled me right up next to him. He wasn't letting me go, and I confess I wasn't at all unhappy with that.

One slow tune turned into another. I worried about what Joey would think, but when I felt Derrick growing tense and excited as he pushed himself harder against me, I couldn't stop myself from responding. When his hand slipped inside my dress and cupped my breast, I surprised myself by just melting into him. A second later he was caressing my swelling breast and stiffening nipple. Though I was suddenly terrified of the consequences, I didn't resist at all.

As the dance ended and we parted, I realized in alarm, that Derrick had managed to unfasten the entire top of my dress.

"What have you done," I asked, stupidly, giggling and quickly buttoning back up. "You've almost totally undressed me!"

"If we'd had one more dance, I would have opened it totally," he grinned. "Maybe next time. You have terrific tits, by the way."

I just smiled at him, said "thanks," and then, hesitating slightly, added "I hope there is a next time," and buttoning up, walked back to Joey, glancing at Derrick over my shoulder and winking at him once.

Back with Joey, I made up some terrible lies tailored to make him feel that he got his "revenge" and that Derrick was now extremely jealous of him. Joey was dunk enough to buy it all. In fact, he was immensely pleased with me and told me so. As I was puffing up Joey, I noticed that Derrick and Teri seemed in the middle of a spat of some sort, and maybe a half hour later I noticed that she had left and didn't seem to be coming back.

It was getting late in the evening now. Joey was drunk but still reasonably aware, and I was preening like mad for him. I'd again unbuttoned that fourth button, showing enough cleavage now to make me the decidedly fine arm candy he coveted, and draping myself all over him to reinforce his sense of ego. But all the while I was stealing glances at Derrick and he at me. A half dozen of Joey's old "friends" dropped by to check us out. I danced with a few of them and flirted with all of them. Joey was on top of the world.

Around 1:00 a.m., the DJ announced last dance, and I saw Derrick get up and start walking over toward us. I was frozen in anticipation, frantic at the thought of what Joey would say if he'd ask me to dance and distraught at the thought that Joey might refuse.

"Joey," I said. "Derrick's walking this way. I know he's going to ask me to last dance. What should I do?"

"Tell the jerk, no," he said petulantly.

"You sure you don't want me to make him super jealous this time?" I cooed. "I think his girlfriend got all upset he danced with me last time and just left. Isn't that cool? I could really seal the deal this time, just make him so, so envious," I added, rubbing myself up against him.

He hesitated a second, but said shakily, "Jesus Christ! Okay, do it! Really make him jealous this time!"

"Okay, Joey, but are you sure?" I asked, afraid he might change his mind. "I'll make him really jealous for us, okay?! And you're sure, right?"

"Yeah, sure, do it!"

"Hey, you mind if I borrow your wife one more time?" Derrick asked coolly as he leaned against the bar. I could see he was more than a bit drunk.

Joey just nodded his head as if to say go ahead, not looking directly at him, and Derrick escorted me to the dance floor.

Joey had likely forgotten, but I hadn't, how long these last slow dances went on. I was tipsy and thrilled in Derrick's arms, and it became increasingly obvious that Derrick was more than tipsy and way more than thrilled to have me there. We staggered more than danced.

"Did Teri go somewhere?" I asked innocently.

"Yeah. She went home pissed off!" he slurred.

"Oh, really? What was the matter?"

"You were the matter," he said, pulling me tighter against him. "I kept telling her how hot you were and what a great body you had. She got pissed off."

"Oh, God, Derrick. That was not a very nice thing to say to your girlfriend!"

"You upset that I did?" I felt his hand snake under my dress to once again enfold my breast.

"No, not really, I guess," I said seductively. "Maybe I like it. Did you know I had just the most outrageous crush on you in school?" I whispered in his ear and pushing my body hard against his.

I had no idea why I said such a thing. It was totally improper, and a stupid invitation to trouble. I can only say that the alcohol and the mood and Derrick's hand again on my bare breast provoked inappropriate emotions. When he lifted my chin and pressed his lips to mine, I knew that I should resist but also knew I would not. His tongue explored the inside of my mouth and all I could do in response as press my body more tightly to his. If Joey was watching, I was likely in trouble, but I could not tell Derrick to stop.

"So you had a crush on me," he mumbled into my open mouth. "Wish I'd known. If you had the body you have now, I would have known!"

"I did have. Maybe even better. I just kept it covered is all."

"Your husband is a fucking fool to let you out of his sight, you know. You're way too hot for that wimp."

"Don't be mean," I said.

"Did he ever tell you about the time I bitch slapped him in the hall?" he smirked.

"No, but I saw it. You made Teri slap him, too. Everybody thought that was so funny. I guess it was. But it was like so, so mean, too," I giggled. "He looked so terrified when little Teri was slapping him over and over that you just couldn't help laughing. I should never ever admit this, but I was laughing too. It was just so ludicrous to see this little girl slapping this guy while he cried. Even Mrs. Martin was laughing!"

"Yeah, I saw that. Your little bitch boyfriend was crying, and every time Teri slapped him all the guys would go 'boo hoo!' It was very fucking funny. Mrs. Martin was cracking up. I fucked her, you know," he added casually.

"Yeah, I guess everybody heard about you doing her. You got her pregnant, too, right? That's what everybody said anyway."

"Yeah, I did. Her husband knew I was fucking her but still thinks the kid is his. What a dork. Might do that to you, too. I'm sure you'd want my kid before your wimp husband's."

"Well you are a dangerous guy, Derrick," I laughed. "And I know you're going to be very dangerous for me, aren't you. You know why Joey wants me to dance with you?" I added.

"No, why? He must be fucking crazy is all I can think."

"He wants me to make you jealous that he has a hot wife. He thinks that's how he can get back at you and Teri for what you guys did to him. I guess it worked on Teri!" I smirked, grinding my body against Derrick's. "She must be really upset," I said as invitingly as I could. I could feel Derrick's cock hardening against my thigh.

I know I shouldn't have told Derrick any of that. It was such a betrayal of Joey and made him seem just utterly pathetic, but I was just totally into Derrick at that moment and wanted to make him know it.

"What a dumb fuck. You're right it was fucking hilarious when I bitch slapped your little pussy husband and maybe I should do it again tonight," he snorted. "What do think?"

"Well, if you really wanted to, I guess it would excite me. You know I wouldn't do anything to stop you, that's for sure, but don't you think holding his wife's bare tit in your hand is worse than a bitch slapping?" I moaned into his ear. "Or undressing her right here on the dance floor?" I added, taking his hand from my breast and putting it on the next button of my dress. "Isn't that what you said you were going to do? That's so much better than just bitch slapping him, isn't it? I'm totally naked under this dress, you know."

"Yeah, maybe it is, and I did say I intended to undress you right out here on the dance floor."

"Yes, you did," I moaned into his ear.

A moment later, I felt my dress come apart and Derrick's hands cupping my bare ass. "I'm going to fuck you, too," he said.

"Yes, I know you are. And soon, too. Oh, God, Derrick," I whispered in his ear. "You have no idea how I used to dream about something like this." I could feel his hardness pushing against my naked belly now. I reached down to touch it. It was impressively large. "I want you inside me!" I whispered in his ear.

I could hold the dress together somewhat with the inside of my arms so that I didn't appear publicly nude, but I was bare naked to Derrick. And I could see that a few of the couples around us were aware of that. I didn't care. I could feel the heat of his body on trembling my exposed skin.

"I need to fuck you tonight," he gasped, reaching down to stroke the silky smooth softness of my bare, exposed and willing sex.

I pulled his head down to my anxious lips and kiss him, moaning as I flicked my tongue in and out of his mouth, "Yes, I want you, too," I sighed heavily. "I want you to fuck me, Derrick. Desperately!"

"Lose the wimp! Let me fuck you tonight!" he demanded, moving his hand to cup my velvety smooth vagina. I wanted frantically to obey.

"Oh, Derrick, I can't," I gasped as his finger slipped deftly inside me, expertly stroking my quivering clit. "I'm with my husband. You know that. How can I?"

"Lose the wimp!" he repeated even more insistently, his entire finger inside me now.

"Derrick, I can't. You know that. But we will. Soon. I promise."

"Do you want me?" Two of his fingers were now deep inside me, fondling my trembling clit.

"Oh God, yes, Derrick, I do. Really do. Can't you tell?"

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

My answer was to kiss him hard while I mumbled into his mouth, "Yes, I want you to fuck me, Derrick. You know I do!"

"Call me," he said.

"I don't have your number," I whispered.

"Do you have something to write on?" he asked, taking a pen from his jacket pocket.

I shook my head no.

And then he did the most outrageous, sexiest thing I've ever heard of. He took my breast in his hand and wrote his number on it! There was no doubt at all now that the couples around us were aware of what Derrick had done. I stood there totally exposed as Derrick wrote his cell number on my breast while I swayed in front of him.

The dance was coming to an end, and I had to now contend with the fact that my dress was completely open and people were openly gawking. A friend of Derrick's walked by with his date, laughed and said, "Same old Derrick!" Turning to his date, he added that I was another guy's date and that this was how Derrick operated. A second later we had drawn a small crowd. Derrick was preening and holding my hand behind my back, making it impossible for me to close my dress. He wanted to display his conquest, informing all that asked that I was Joey's wife.

I managed to finally wiggle lose. "Hold me while I try to get buttoned up again," I laughed nervously.

"Why not just let me walk you out of here naked?" he grinned. "You'd knock 'em dead!. Then I'll fuck you!"

"Oh God, Derrick, I wish you could. I really want you. I promise next time you will," I answered breathlessly, hastily buttoning up again, this time clear to the top. Derrick's number on my tit isn't something I wanted anyone to see.

Joey was a teeny bit peeved when I got back, but a little too drunk for it to last. Rubbing up against him lasciviously and telling ego inflating stories did the trick. We were soon again acting the hot shot and his arm candy.

At home, after rubbing Derrick's number off of my tit and into my address book, I gave myself totally to Joey, while in my fantasy I gave myself to Derrick. But it would be a fantasy, I promised myself. Though there was no question of my desire, I hoped fervently that I wouldn't call him. I pledge myself that I wouldn't. I couldn't fall that low.

Work Days

In the weeks prior to all of this, work had been hectic. The firm was preparing to make a bond offering for a water works company and there was considerable anxiety and consternation about it that I frankly did not totally understand. What I did understand was that I was expected to stay late and join in the frantic pace of the coming weeks.

I really didn't mind. There was something fun and exciting about the chaos and the strong camaraderie that ensued. Having never been through one of these events, I was attracted to the strong bonding that grew stronger as the issue date approached.

All this frenetic energy all around me happened to coalesce with what was happening to me at home. Joey's obsessive interest in exhibiting me, his growing attention to my clothes, and new found insistence on my public sexuality, had come to produce profound (and welcomed) changes in me and how I felt about myself.

I was so much more confident about my overall appearance, but especially about my body. It was such a strange transition. I had become a chrysalis, exchanging my old drab, figure-obscuring wardrobe for the clothes Joey approved of now. And I felt a corresponding change deep inside of me. A new and much more confident woman was emerging, one who could admit to the growing sexual nature inside her that Joey had, intentionally or not, released. And sadly, a sexual tension Joey was less and less able to satisfy wholly.

So maybe a more shameless woman was emerging, too. In the past few weeks, two different men had not only seen my naked breasts, but fondled them. One man had undressed me in public and written his cell number on my breast! Worse, I had no regrets, none at all. Quite the reverse, in fact. I liked being looked at. I liked being the object of men's fantasies. I could never go back to the old me.

The clothes I chose to wear to work more and more began purposely to evidenced the body beneath. I wore thin lacy bras when I wore one at all, and thongs or more often, nothing at all under my short tight skirts and dresses. I grew to love the feeling of being utterly naked beneath my clothes, and the less I wore underneath, the more guys stared, and the more guys stared the more I liked it. So like in classical psychological conditioning, I tended more and more to wear less and less. In short order, I not only became comfortable with but actually came to crave guys staring at me. I especially liked it when my two bosses noticed and complimented me on my "fashion sense!"

The week after Joey's reunion was the week the bond issue was due, and to put it simply, it was utter chaos and frenzy. And it was terribly exciting. Everyone was working to near exhaustion, especially my two bosses, Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton, and me. We'd work well past 6:00, go for a quick dinner, come back and work until 10:00 or 11:00 many nights, and then just collapse in the conference room amid the mess of brochures and prospectives. Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton would then pour themselves brandy and we'd all just relax and compliment ourselves on how hard we work. The first time they offered me a glass, I refused, but at their insistence I later accepted. In the days following it became a sort of ritual, and one I looked forward to.

The day of the bond sale was the most hectic of my life, and it was sometime near midnight when all the work was finished. I was truly grateful when the day ended and the three of us gathered in the conference room to celebrate. We were drinking and laughing and enjoying the success of the weeks of hard work, and I was in an ebullient mood, made even better by Mr. Compton's telling me how proud they were of my dedication and work ethic and that there would be a significant bonus for me as a result.

I was totally relaxed and extremely happy. The brandy had never tasted so rich and smooth. I felt wonderfully close to Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton right then, and I could sense they felt the same way. We finally could relax openly and celebrate the success of the bond sale.

I was growing just a teeny bit inebriated when Mr. Damon asked me if I'd ever tried cocaine.

"No," I said. "Never."

"Care to? Matt and I are going to do a little. It's sort of an energy boost. And God knows we could all use that right now!"

"I don't know," I said apprehensively. Isn't it illegal?"

They both just laughed. "Come on, Chloe, give it a try with us. We're all partners here."

I didn't know how I could actually refuse being a "partner," so I said, okay, I'd try it.

Mr. Damon laid out three lines and showed me how to snuff it up my nose without sneezing. It burned at first, and I couldn't really see any great effect, so they had me do it two more times. About ten minutes later I just felt this burst of energy and this general sense of euphoria. I was happy with them, with myself, with the world!

"Like to dance, Chloe?" Mr. Damon said casually.

"I do," I said, "and I'm quite good at it too," I added immodestly.

"I'll bet you are. Why don't you show us a few of your dance moves. I'd find it relaxing to watch a pretty girl dancing right now. How about you, Matt?"

"It would be just what the doctor ordered," Mr. Compton replied.

I knew this invitation was not exactly proper, but the brandy and the cocaine had affected me enough to make the idea exciting, nonetheless. The office has "soft jazz" piped into the conference room, and though that's certainly not dancing music, at the moment I thought it would do just fine, and I stood up and began to sway slowly, trying to get into the beat of the music. I desperately wanted to please my bosses and see them relax. They deserved it! I was soaring.

I could see myself in the large mirror behind the conference table, and from my vantage point, I looked extremely seductive. The way my body seemed to move almost without any conscious decision on my part seemed intensely erotic. Mr. Damon walked over to me and offered me some more cocaine from a tiny silver spoon. The effect this time was instantaneous.

I felt this great surge of erotic energy and an intense emotional attachment to our "team." Dancing to please these men seemed the most natural thing in the world. I could hear both Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton praising my body as I swayed enticingly before them. I was in another world.

In the mirror, I saw Mr. Damon coming up behind me and watched him take the bottom of my sweater and slowly begin to pull it up. I raised my arms to accommodate him, and there I was, dancing in my sheer lace bra with my sweater in Mr. Damon's hands. It was like being at home, doing an innocent little striptease for my husband. It seemed the perfect and natural thing to do. Looking at myself in the mirror, I realized how much better I looked out of my sweater, how much more erotic and tantalizing my dancing seemed. I thought I would look even better out of my skirt.

Mr. Damon brought me more cocaine, telling me how incredibly beautiful I looked and how magnificent my body was and how pleased they both were that I would dance for them. The cocaine made everything around me glow with an inner beauty.

In a sort of haze, I saw Mr. Damon pull the down the straps on my bra, and again, I thought nothing of it. Again, it seemed perfect. The swell of my breasts moved much more alluringly and my body seemed to respond to this enticement. And then he reached behind my back and unsnapped my bra, dropping it to the floor at my feet.

Now, I was suddenly nervous. I covered my breasts with my hands, but Mr. Damon pulled them down again.

"Keep dancing, Chloe," Mr. Compton intoned from afar. "You look stunningly beautiful."

In the mirror, the half naked girl agreed and continued to dance. My sense of innocent euphoria returned.

"Take your skirt off, Chloe," Mr. Compton said in a husky voice.

It never occurred to me not to obey. I slid the zipper down and seductively danced out of my tight little skirt. The body of the woman in the mirror continued to sway seductively, clad now only in sexy little thong. Her breasts swung enticingly, luring the men to confiscate them for their own pleasure.

Suddenly, Mr. Damon just picked me up, carried me to the conference table, and in one quick tug, broke my thong from my body.

I was now lying naked and motionless on the conference table. As if in slow motion, I saw Mr. Damon lower his pants, pull my legs up onto his shoulders. He was preparing to enter me.

I quickly threw my hands down to cover myself.

"No, please, Mr. Damon. Don't do that," I begged. "I'm not that kind of girl," I pleaded lamely. "I've never been with anyone but my husband." Even in the haze of cocaine, I knew that things had now gone too far, and that I probably would not escape this. I wasn't totally sure I wanted to.

Mr. Compton walked over to me and calmly pulled my hands away from my vagina and pulled them above my head. Even in this haze of drugs, I knew how erotic my body looked stretched out like this. A second later, I felt the head of Mr. Damon's sex begin slowly to part my labia.

"No, Mr. Damon. Please, please. Please don't do this," I sobbed, now nearing panic. I did not want to be raped but I knew I was about to be.

Neither Mr. Damon nor Mr. Compton said a single word. Mr. Compton continued to hold my hands above my head, and Mr. Damon continued to push himself deeper into my vagina. And deeper and deeper and deeper. I thought he would never insert himself fully. And then he pulled out, and the next long, deep stroke began.

"This is exceptionally good pussy, Matt. Tight and smooth," Mr. Damon said, breaking the strange silence that accompanied my rape.

"Don't make a mess in it," Mr. Compton observed. "I'll want some of it, too. Finish up in her mouth. Let me turn her so her head drops over the edge of the table and I can get her mouth ready for us," he continued.

Mr. Damon never withdrew or really even changed his rhythmic assault of my body as Mr. Compton rotated me sidewise on the table. I felt my head drop off the edge of the table and was instantly aware that Mr. Compton was preparing to enter my mouth. I had never done that before. But then I had never been raped before, either!

"Open your mouth, Chloe."

I had stopped sobbing, but Mr. Compton's abrupt command started me all over again. But I did open my mouth, and Mr. Compton took immediate advantage, pushing his cock fully into my mouth. And suddenly, my head was ringing and there were stars before my eyes. Mr. Compton had viciously slapped me twice across the face. "Jesus Christ, Chloe, haven't you ever sucked cock before?" Mr. Compton snapped.

"No," I sobbed tearfully. "Never."

"Well, for God's sake woman, keep your teeth off of a man's cock! Suck it like a lollipop. Now open up again and for Christ's sake be careful."

I dutifully opened and accepted his erection again, this time being careful to do as he instructed.

He seemed satisfied this time, and began to rhythmically push himself deeper into my mouth. I gagged as he hit the back of my throat, and Mr. Compton and Mr. Damon both laughed.

"A newbie," Mr. Compton noted in amusement.

Ironically, the slap had actually calmed me down and concentrated my focus. I was now intensely aware of the tempo of Mr. Damon's cock as he stroked himself deeper and deeper inside me and the tactile sense of Mr. Compton's slippery sex pulsing in and out of my wet mouth. And more and more I was conscious of a growing warmth spreading from my vagina up through my belly and figuratively engulfing me in ecstasy.

I was on the verge of climax, but I knew this would be like nothing else I had ever experienced. I had climaxed with Joey, or thought I had, but this would be different. Very different! Mr. Compton had pulled out of my mouth, and all of my attention was now focused on Mr. Damon's sleek cock pulsing rhythmically in and out of me. I felt myself sliding into a deep abyss of sexual pleasure, when with a deep groan, he suddenly pulled out of me.

I was in a panic. I was on the verge of the most electrifying sensation of my life and the cock that was producing it was abandoning me. I was about to beg him, to plead, to pray for him to inset himself again, when simultaneously I felt Mr. Compton's sex slip inside me and Mr. Damon's cock pushing deep into my mouth. Almost at once, a warm gush of semen hit the back of my throat and Mr. Damon's cock began to convulse violently in my mouth.

I had no idea what to do with the seeming gallons of Mr. Damon's cum filling my mouth, until Mr. Damon told me exactly what to do.

"Swallow, bitch!" he said, stroking the last of his cum onto my lips.

I nearly gagged, but managed to swallow it all in two gulps, and then turned my attention to the astonishing sensation reemerging from my clitoris.

Mr. Compton's strokes were quicker and harder than Mr. Damon's, and if they were designed to drive me into utter sexual abandon, they worked to perfection. The sensation that Mr. Damon had launched was now soaring into unexplored realms of sexual enchantment. Every nerve was attuned to his stroke, the very fiber of my being was concentrated solely on Mr. Compton's beautiful cock penetrating my open body. I could sense something happening that had never happened before.

A moment later it exploded! I began to moan and whimper like some whore in heat and that growing sensation inside me now completely overwhelmed me. I had no choice but to given in to it wholly and entirely.

"Oh God, Mr. Compton!" I shrieked. "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!" And then I fell over the edge into utter and total abandon. Through lust glazed eyes I saw Mr. Damon's face contort and his cock begin to shudder, and through a veil of lust and desire I heard myself sobbing in reckless and wanton wildness, "Fuck me, Mr. Compton! Oh God, please, Mr. Compton fuck me hard!"

His cock exploded inside me, and my writhing cunt rose up to meet every gush of his incomparable semen as it burst inside me. His piercing stroke now was so powerful and so penetrating that I thought he might rupture my insides. And if that had been his intent, I would have urged him on!

And then that last, beautiful, vicious thrust up hard against my cervix sent me into the most exhilarating climax I could ever imagine. My mind went blank, my body shuddered in paroxysms of pleasure, and I felt myself enfolded in a blanket of carnal obsession. I had never experienced anything remotely like this ... and I knew I would need to again.

At home that night in bed, I thought deeply about what had happened to me. I had been raped. There was no doubt about that. I had pleaded with both of them to stop. But they hadn't. They were different from Joey. They were the kind of men who simply took what they wanted. And the thought that stuck with me the most was that what they took was only what they deserved to take. They were a different breed of man from Joey. They were more successful and more dominant and commanded a kind of respect from the world that Joey would never know.

It came to me in an abrupt and brilliant blaze of illumination that in taking me the way they had, they had succeeded in taking me from Joey entirely. In a flash of insight I realized that, though I was married to Joey, I now belonged exclusively to them ... and to men like them. And though I honestly do love Joey, I knew that he could never possess me as Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton had. They had simply taken me, and I had become their property. I was finally what I was meant to be.


On the Monday after my incredible evening with Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton, Joey told me that he would have to be out of town on Tuesday to attend some sort of dealership training or something. I knew immediately that I had lied to myself earlier and that I was in fact going to call Derrick. The realization surprised me, believe it or not. I really had convinced myself that I would never do such a traitorous thing to Joey. Yet later that night, under the pretense of going to the drug story for "women's stuff," I called Derrick on my cell and arranged to meet him at an up-scale bar downtown the next night, a place where no one who knows me or Joey is likely to be. It's mostly lawyers and businessmen.

All day at work I obsessed about what to wear and tried to sublimate my guilt over what I was doing. I rationalized it by acknowledging that some men were simply superior to others and by their very nature deserved to have whatever they could take. Men like Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton. Could anyone really deny that they were higher sorts than most other men? I don't know that I can really explain it. It gets all confused in my head. But isn't it sort of like survival of the fittest? They took me because they could, because they were the strongest, and Joey, if he would really think about it, would know that he is not in the same league as these men, and would know way down deep inside, that what they did was their right. And Derrick was that kind of man, too.

I decided it would be best not to draw too much attention to myself, so I decided to wear a white flared skirt that was sexy only because it is short and a white cashmere vee-neck that I decided looked more alluring without a bra than with. Actually, I went back and forth on that, thinking that I might draw too much attention to myself sans bra, but on the other hand, wanting to be at least a little tantalizing for Derrick. Tantalizing won out. There would be no bra or panties. Sexy white ankle strap pumps and particularly sheer thigh highs completed the look I wanted. I would be a whore in white. Derrick's whore.

We'd agreed to meet at 8:00, but I wanted to be a little late so as not to look too terribly eager, though I was. I got there by taxi about 8:20 and found Derrick at the bar talking with another guy, who turned out to be some sports announcer on local television named Stan something or other. Derrick introduced me as his "date," which I liked, and after some inane sort of sports blah blah, Derrick took me to a table near the back, where we were finally alone.

"You look hot, babe," Derrick grinned. "You see the way Stan was checking you out?"

I actually had noticed, but pretended not to.

"I'm really a little nervous about being here," I said. "But I'm glad I came."

"Just relax, Baby. Let's have a couple of drinks and reminisce."

"Reminisce?" I said. "Derrick, we hardly ran in the same circles at school. You were way popular, and no one knew my name. But I do know stories about you," I giggled. "I was terribly interested in all the things I heard about you. Like I told you, I had just the most dreadful crush on you"

"Yeah, like what did you hear?"

"You really want to know? They don't speak highly of your moral character," I said grinning at him.

"Sure, what did people say? I'll tell you if they're true."

"Well, there's one story that you picked a new freshman chick to fuck every month. Is that true?" I asked coyly.

"Yep, and when I finished with her, I'd pass her on to my posse."

"Jesus, you are soooo bad! I also heard that maybe not all of the girls consented?"

"You mean said, no? Some did, but I kind of ignore that. Easier that way."

There was a time I would have been upset about such a remark, but after my experience with Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton, I understood completely. Like them, Derrick was a different breed. Like them, he could and should ignore "no"!

"You are just awful, Derrick. But I guess it's true that good girls do like bad boys," I said, smiling coyly into his eyes. "I also heard that you never use a condom and that you got at least six girls pregnant in high school, not counting Mrs. Martin."


"You have eight kids!" I exclaimed.

"I got one. The others got taken care of."


"Yeah. The other bitch was this little freshman cunt who thought abortion was a sin or some shit like that."

"Did you get Mrs. Martin pregnant on purpose? I heard that you did."

"Long, weird story. First off her little pussy professor husband walked in on us one afternoon when I was fucking her, like just as I was ready to unload in her, and says something stupid like 'what's going on here?' So I calmly get out of the bed, walk over to him, and punch the punk hard in the face. He just drops like a sack. I tell him, 'Listen, punk, don't ever disturb me when I'm about to blow my wad in your bitch's cunt, got that?' Then I kick him in the gut and walk out.

"Jeez, Derrick. Weren't you at all scared he'd do something?"

He just laughed. "Nah, he was a wimp, just like your husband. He 'forgave' her and I just kept on fucking her whenever I felt the urge. I used to make her come to school without panties and make her show a couple of buddies."

"And she did it?" I asked in amazement.

"Sure, just like you will. Anyway, about her getting knocked up. Her punk husband had some shit like low sperm count or something, so she was always taking her temperature and some other weird stuff and then scheduling sex with him. I never followed what was going on until some other cunt I was fucking put me wise. Like soon as I snapped to what was going on, I told her the second she was ready to call me. So she does, I pop a kid in her belly first time, her husband thinks it's his, everybody's happy."

"Does it feel weird to know the kid is yours?

"Nah, means nothing to me."

"How about the one who wouldn't get an abortion? Do you see that kid?"

"No. Hey, let's talk about something else, okay."

"Sure. Like what?"

"Like how I'm going to fuck you tonight!"

"How? Well, I guess you're going to fuck me anyway you want, right?" I said, breathlessly and brazenly.

"Let's finish these drinks and go out to my place. I want to check out that hot bod again."

In the car, Derrick told me a little bit about his life since high school. He'd gotten a football scholarship to the state university and made All American in his junior year there, but in his senior year, he tore his knee apart, and after three surgeries everyone agreed his playing days were over. But he was lucky to have met a very wealthy booster at college who took a liking to him, and when he left, he set him up as the general manager of a very successful car dealership in town and gave him the use of his house in a very exclusive section of town known as Deer Park manor. That's where we were heading now.

I asked him about his current relationship with Teri. He laughed and said that I had been the best thing for their relationship because after that night at the reunion she had gone on pills and a diet and took up a fitness routine at the gym and in the process had begun to rapidly shed weight. She was apparently quickly on her way to regaining her high school figure. I can't say that pleased me, because I truly did relish looking so much better than she did, but how could I complain, really, since her boyfriend was taking me off to have sex with me.

"Where is she tonight?" I asked.

"Back at her apartment." "Doesn't she live with you?" I asked, somewhat surprised.

"Most of the time, but I told her she needed to keep her own place 'cause I needed space every once in a while. I need space tonight."

"I hope you won't keep much space between us tonight!" I teased.

He laughed and said he intended to invade my space very deeply! I could feel my nipples stiffen.

"How'd a wimp like Joey get a hot body like you, Chloe," Derrick asked off handedly.

"Maybe 'cause you didn't ask," I kidded.

When we pulled into the driveway where Derrick lived, I was definitely impressed. It was a magnificent Tudor style house with a large, manicured lawn and lush gardens lit by soft yellow lighting that lent the entire landscape a soft, romantic appeal.

"God, Derrick, this is beautiful."

"So are you, babe," he said, pulling me closer to him and bending down to kiss me.

His kiss was almost exactly what I expected: urgent, demanding, aggressive. It was perfect. Bette than at the reunion. My response was instant submission. I signaled in every way possible that I was now his to do what he wanted. When he reached down to pull my sweater over my head, I felt my heart begin to beat frenetically. Tonight, I was going to be what I promised at the reunion.

"You have a fantastic rack, babe," he said holding both breasts in his hands while feeling their heft. "Fucking heavy, too! You had this rack in high school?"

"They kinda grew all of a sudden in my sophomore year," I murmured.

"Why the fuck didn't you show them? I'd been on you so fast. God damn these are fine," he said, kneading my boobs forcefully now and pinching my straining nipples. "Well, their mine now and that's all that counts," he said. "I'll want to show a couple of friends this set, you know."

I just nodded and said quietly, "Yes, of course ... Like you said, they're yours now."

Out of the car, I felt exotic and enticing, standing topless in the soft light of Derrick's enchanting yard.

"You've got a totally hot body, babe. I'm going to want to show that too. Now lose the mini"

I immediately unzipped the skirt and squirmed out of it, pleased at the way he looked at me and proud to be the source of his admiration. Standing now in nothing but thigh highs and heels, I watched him soak up my figure, running his hands over my hips onto my butt and then to my yearning clit. His touch there and his subtle penetration nearly buckled my knees. If he wanted to show me off, then I wanted him to show me off. Desperately!

"Pick your clothes up and throw them in the trash over there. You won't need them again."

"In the trash?" I asked. "Why? What will I wear home?"

"In the trash because that's what I want. And you won't be wearing anything home!"

I started to say something, but decided not to and simply did as Derrick had ordered. I suddenly wanted very much to be totally submissive.

The inside of the house was even more sensational, more awe inspiring than the outside. It was fantastic. The entire inside was engulfed in an aura of wealth and ease, the kind of taste that I imagined could only come from long acquaintance with money. In the backyard, a large cabana ran out to a stunning pool which was designed to look like an English lake.

"Like it?" Derrick asked.

"Oh my God, Derrick, it's truly dazzling. You are so lucky to live here."

"Well, I'm glad you like it, he said, cupping my breast and squeezing it tightly. "I'm ready to fuck you now, he added casually, leading me back into the house.

He took me to a bedroom just off the pool and pushed me down on the bed. I watched him undress, feeling my breath coming in short hard pants.

Naked, Derrick was a very impressive sight. He was like an Adonis, almost impossibly perfect. His chest was tight and muscled, descending to classic six-pack abs. He obviously frequented the gym, and I could tell from the way he approached the bed that he knew how he looked and was confident that I, like most women, was an admirer. And he was right!

The more I looked the more excited I became. He truly was magnificent. He turned to me and approached the bed, his splendid, rigid shaft poised to use me. My eyes were fixated on his imposing sex. It was thick, as thick if not more so than Mr. Compton's, and longer. I could see large, throbbing veins running down both sides. In other circumstances, his size and potency might be frightening. Here it was spine-tingling, breathtaking, exhilarating. I had never wanted anything so much!

He took me roughly by the ankles, and pushed my legs to my chest, and jerked them open, hurting me in the process. I understood though. Derrick was large and knew I would have to be fully opened to accommodate his size.

A sudden chill ran down my spine. What if I couldn't accommodate him. Mr. Damon had commented on how tight I was, and Derrick was bigger than Mr. Damon. Much bigger. I could not let that happen. I resolved no matter what to take him fully and completely.

"Oh God, Derrick," I moaned as he neared the bed. "I want you in me so much."

"Shut the fuck up, cunt," he growled. "I don't do foreplay," he added matter-of-factly. His cock rested inches from my wet and yearning belly. "You got a problem with that?"

"No," I meekly whispered, "not at all," looking submissively into his pale blue eyes.

How could I have a problem, I thought to myself. I was as wet as I had even been, and all the foreplay I needed, all the foreplay any woman should need, I thought, was here in the sight of this man's exceptional body and his extraordinary self confidence and defiant assurance. All I could think was how honored I felt that Derrick was willing to share his masterful sex with me.

I felt Derrick's cock stir and dropped my eyes just in time to see the head of his incomparable shaft breach my labia and begin its long, deep journey inside a very wet and welcoming cunt. My vagina opened easily to him on his first stroke as it penetrated as deep as any man had ever gone. But looking down, I saw to my consternation that fully a quarter of his cock was still outside my body.

When he pulled back for his next stroke, I adjusted my hips as best I could to more fully accept him.

"You're fucking tight, cunt," he grimaced, spreading my legs painfully apart.

I felt his next stroke slightly tear my insides. He was now in totally virginal territory, a depth no man had yet penetrated, but still not fully inside me. I knew I would bleed a little after, but it mattered not at all.

His next deep stroke was accompanied by a snort, as he drove himself hard inside me. My body seemed to buck a bit and I felt a more violent tearing, and when he slammed brutally up hard against my cervix, I couldn't help an involuntary little yelp.

But I was now fully impaled on his glorious shaft, and each ensuing thrust embedded him deeper inside my yielding body. I rose to meet each plunge, each stabbing lunge, as that incredible knot of intense pleasure grew steadily inside my belly. I realized that I had been moaning "Derrick, fuck me," over and over in some sort of erotic incantation. I had never felt such desire, such insane yearning, such utter submission.

He shifted my legs to open me even more completely, and pulling hard on my nipples, increased his tempo, now slamming himself into me, tearing deeper and deeper inside me. I could feel that same sensation in my belly that Mr. Compton had produced as he drove me toward that concentrated passion that so engulfed me when he ejaculated inside me, only this was tenfold. It was now a little ball deep in my belly that each of Derrick's long, hard fervent thrusts into my vagina made bigger and bigger. I knew I would soon explode into that climax that M. Compton had so amazingly shown me.

Derrick's was by far the largest cock to have penetrated my body, and my consciousness of the depth of his incursion, his breach of my body as his rigid sex probed my cervix, only intensified when he began to drive harder and harder into my loosening womb.

My first climax was a preview of what I knew was to come, but even it was intense enough to produce an audible gasp of pleasure. Each ensuing mini-climax intensified the fascination, the lure of complete satisfaction. I couldn't help myself. Even though Derrick had warned me to shut up, I was moaning like a common whore, whispering, "Oh, God, fuck me, Derrick," over and over.

And then in one great burst he ejaculated his divine seed deep into my burning womb, and I felt myself utterly transported. I was helplessly in the throes of passion and in complete abandonment could only utter, "Oh God, Derrick, Oh God, Derrick" over and over again as spasms of pure lust convulsed my body.

When he pulled out of me and offered his cock for me to lick clean, I accepted it in honest gratitude, even humility. I knew I had been fucked by a god. I knew, too, that when Derrick demanded my body, it would be his to do what he wished with.

As I arose to go to the car, I asked Derrick for my clothes, forgetting what we had done with them.

"I threw them in the trash, slut" he said. "Remember?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot," I said, laughing nervously. "But I need something to wear home."

"No, babe, you don't," he said, looking me up and down. "I like looking at your body and I don't want it covered."

"You expect me to ride all the way home naked?" I asked in rising excitement. There was something about the danger and Derrick's utter disdain for it that was electrifying, again stirring an agonizing lust for him deep inside me. It was different from when I had done this with Joey. This was real! And this was by no means "innocent"! I was definitely Derrick's slut.

"Yeah, I do."

"And walk into my apartment naked?"

"That's what I want."

What if someone sees me?"

"I really don't give a shit about that," he stated. "Not my problem."

"Derrick, you are a very exciting but dangerous man. I probably should run like mad from you!"

"But you won't, will you."

"No, Derrick, I won't. I'm yours, as I'm sure you know. I'm sure you knew it when you wrote your number on my boob."

"You liked that, didn't you," he said.

"Yeah, I guess I did," I replied. "A lot, I guess."

"You see that marker on the table there?" he pointed. "Bring it to me."

I picked it up and dutifully brought it to him.

"Turn around and bend over," he said gruffly.

I bent over, holding my knees, while he steady wrote something across my ass.

"What did you write?" I asked.

"You don't need to know now," he answered, "but I want it to stay there until I take it off. Understood?"

"Yes, of course," I submissively answered, as Derrick rose and taking me by the hair, pulled me erect.

"Let's go, slut," Derrick said, and took me by the hand and led me naked to the car.

"Listen, the dealership is having a grand reopening this weekend to showcase the new work we had done," Derrick said on the way to my place. "I want you and Joey to be there, and I want you dressed in something hot, something fucking outrageous, got it?"

I nodded my head obediently.

"What I wrote on your as stays there until then."

I again nodded without protest.

"Your wimp husband is a car guy, right?"

"He's a mechanic, yes"

"Well, I'm going to play with him a bit, have some guys show him around the garage, maybe make him an offer while I'm fucking you."

"Derrick, don't be mean," I said with little conviction. I was more than excited by his obvious confidence and assurance. I could feel myself moistening again.

I was terribly nervous when we arrived at my apartment complex. Derrick had parked in the back, which would mean that I would have to walk around the side of the building and half a block down a major street totally nude. Fortunately, it was nearly 3:00 a.m., so I hoped there would be no traffic.

But of course there was! The first car honked and Derrick simply waved. He was just so sure of himself. Two other cars also honked, but Derrick ignored those and walked me into the complex. By now I was such a mixture of nerves and lust that I thought I might actually pass out, but we made it safely to my door and once in, I simply fell into Derrick's arms.

"Derrick," I whispered pleadingly, "I really need you to fuck me again. Please," I begged.

He simply grunted. "Where's your bedroom, cunt?"

I walked him quickly back to the bedroom and watched him again undress. And again the perfection of his body put chills down my spine. I would need no foreplay this time either.

"May I suck your cock, Derrick," I implored like some beseeching slut.

"This where you husband fucks you?" he answered in reply.

"Yes," I said, "but not in any way like you do."

He looked around the room slowly, and then motioned me to his cock, taking a fistful of my hair and guiding my mouth to his magnificent cock. I wished he had been the first. I sucked him with gratitude and with an intense desire to please. As he sought the back of my throat, I determined that he would have it all, and concentrating intensely to attenuate my gag reflex, I drew him completely down my throat. At least he was the first to do that.

The gasp of appreciation as his cock slipped fully down my throat was the most gratifying and fulfilling sound I have ever heard. I will never forget the deep and abiding satisfaction I felt at the pleasure he derived from my mouth there in my bedroom.

After a dozen or so deep plunges down my throat, he pulled me to my feet by my hair and jerked me toward the bed. "I want a little more of that tight cunt," he grunted, shoving me down on the bed. "It's gonna be hot fucking you in your husband's bed, you little hot fuck slut.

I know this is awful, but I wanted that, too. I wanted him to take me here in Joey's bed, wanted him to take Joey's wife because he could. Watching his cock piston in and out of my body, seeing the muscles across his chest rippling as he surged deeper and deeper, feeling his powerful thighs tighten as he drove harder and deeper into my dripping cunt only increased my sense of wonder and awe at the brilliance of his performance. Joey would never again fuck me in this bed without the enchanting memory of Derrick's cock deep inside me returning!

Though not shattering like my first climax with him, my response was more intense and more complete than any I'd experienced before him. Again, I felt proud to have produced the semen I humbly licked from his cock.

"You're a good fuck, Baby. You're a good enough fuck for me to occasionally share you with some people I need favors from," he said, caressing my tits and pinching my nipples. Another thing. I don't want you fucking that wimp husband of yours until you get my permission, understand."

I nodded that I did.

"I want you to start working on that little sissy, make him understand how important I am. I want you to get him to ask my permission to fuck you. That'll be fucking hot. I want him to watch me when I share you. I want him to know his wife is my whore!"

"Do you share Teri, too," I asked distractedly.

"Don't be stupid," he answered incredulously. "She's my girlfriend. You're my fuck bunny. You don't share your girlfriend. You understand that difference, fuck meat?"

"Yes," I nodded meekly, feeling unbelievable stupid.

"You're my fuck meat. In fact, that's your name now. Fuckmeat," he laughed. "That's your name. You tell everybody that," he said over his shoulder as he prepared to leave. And I want both of you at that open house, and I want you looking hot!"

Looking in the mirror after he left, I saw that Derrick had written in big block letters across my butt: THIS ASS AND CUNT BELONG TO DERRICK CARTER."

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