Once a Slut...

by LargerThanTheAverageBear

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Cheating, Slut Wife, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Prostitution, Porn Theatre, .

Desc: Sex Story: Husband suspects former porn star wife of falling back into her wayward ways.

Nothing could have adequately prepared me for what I saw. I watched as the sexy woman on the screen was undressed by one of three men within the camera's view. The men all wore gold chains around their necks.

The woman stood naked and smiling, breasts jutting out, as the first man began to paw at her body. The other two men circled in closely and began touching and rubbing her while the intro music played. The words "Workin' on the Chain Gang Bang" flitted across the screen.

The startling realization hit me that the beautiful actress in this cheesy porn flick was indeed Jennifer – my lovely wife of just over seven years. A strange mix of fear and anger welled up within me, threatening to explode my calm demeanor.

"See – what'd I tell you, bro?" said Neil, my lifelong buddy who had delivered the offending video for me to watch.

He seemed like such a tattletale. Neil had a knack for seeking praise for distasteful events, as if he'd cooked them up deliberately and was proud of it. I was beginning to wonder why I chose to have a friend who finds joy in the misery of others.

My eyes remained fixed on the video display. Though the woman's hair was longer and darker than Jen keeps hers now, I would have known her anywhere. I noticed that the ends of her long hair curled around her nipples, occasionally obscuring them from the camera's searching view. Jen's hair nowadays was just barely shoulder length.

The actors were no longer just circling and groping Jen. They had moved her over to the bed and were stroking their erect cocks in front of her face. She quickly grabbed one in each hand and began giving them hand jobs.

The third actor awaited something more. Jen looked into the camera and then up at him. She stuck out her tongue and playfully took tentative licks at his massive pole. She then opened her mouth and took half his length down her throat. Her head began lurching back and forth, pulling his cock deeper and then shallower in her mouth.

Jen's face and body seemed gaunt as the camera captured her giving a blow job. Her skin didn't exhibit the healthy glow of our marital years. The film seemed to give her a sickly look, despite her youthful beauty.

As I watched numbly, it became obvious to me that this video had been made some time ago. Now, at age thirty-one, Jen was still lovely, but in a different way than before. Her figure had matured, with feminine curves where there had been angular breasts, skinny ass, bony hips, and a flat pelvis on the video.

The pubic region immediately below that pelvis was in the process of being violated onscreen. The men had switched positions, and Jen was giving a blow job to one of the hand job guys while the other one slurped at her pussy. The third guy, the one with the massive cock, was watching and waiting for Jen's vagina to be vacated. He stroked his cock with one hand and pinched her nipple with the other.

As the cunning linguist (in James Bond terminology) brought Jen to a writhing and screaming orgasm (or at least a simulated one), the guy with the big prick brushed him aside. He stroked his cock one more time, then pressed it against the moist flesh of Jen's labia. The camera zoomed in and caught the first penetration in slow motion, then stayed fixed on their juncture as the stud began pumping furiously in and out of Jen's snatch.

I thought I was going to throw up.

"Turn that fuckin' thing off," I said gruffly to Neil, "you've proven your point!"

Neil used the remote to switch the DVD player and television screen off. He popped the video out of the player, stuck it in its box, and handed it to me.

"I don't want it – burn the damned thing!" I shouted.

"Sorry, man – I know this must be hard," he replied.

My temples were throbbing. My teeth and hands were clenched. I felt like hitting something. I was tempted to make Neil the target, but I knew he was only trying to look after me. Or at least I thought so.

"It's okay, Neil," I said. "It's not as if I didn't know this sort of thing exists."

"You KNEW? What the FUCK, dude?" There was no disguising Neil's shock and horror. He was always as easy to read as a John Grisham novel.

"Yeah, I knew. Jen told me about her past before we were married. She said she had made some porn flicks when she was younger," I confessed.

"Then why in the hell would you have MARRIED her?" Neil demanded, the disbelief plainly displayed on his face. "Why didn't you just pork her as much as you wanted, and then move on?"

"She wasn't like that when I met her," I answered, "she had changed from the girl in that video."

"If you say so, dude," Neil offered weakly.

"I DO say so." I struggled to make myself sound believable. "She had only done the porn to earn money to save her mother's life. Her mom had leukemia and needed a bone marrow transplant, but didn't have health care insurance that would cover it. Jen was only nineteen and didn't have any marketable skills to earn the kind of money that takes. At least, not more than one marketable skill..."

Neil shifted in his seat. It was obvious he was still uncomfortable. He knew exactly what skill I meant. He'd just seen it displayed onscreen.

"She made porn flicks until she was twenty-one. She'd earned enough money to pay for the transplant and was ready to quit. But more importantly, she met a woman at her mom's hospital who reached out to her day-by-day throughout the ordeal."

"So what?" asked Neil.

"So, this woman had a story to tell," I said. "She knew a lot about pain and suffering – some of it physical, some of it emotional and mental. And she talked about the need for forgiveness. It resonated with Jen. She became a born-again Christian and walked out on the porn industry."

"So did you meet her at church, or what?" queried Neil.

"No, I haven't been into the church thing or any sort of organized religious crap ever since I was a kid. I haven't really seen the need," I answered.

"So how'd you hook up with her?"

"We met at work. I was in private legal practice before I joined the bank, and she came to work as a receptionist in the law firm. I was impressed with her smile, the way she positively glowed. So I started talking to her every time I got a chance, and eventually asked her out. But we didn't 'hook up.' We never had sex until after we were married."

"What the FUCK, dude? Why buy the freakin' cow when you can get the milk free?" Neil asked with an annoying laugh. "Especially with a hot babe who knows the ropes like SHE does?"

I counted to ten to keep myself from bitch-slapping Neil. He truly didn't know what he was saying, I was sure. He didn't realize how he was twisting the knife in my gut.

I spoke slowly and deliberately enunciated each word. "She was SERIOUS about her new-found faith. Despite her past, she wasn't 'giving the milk away free.'" I wanted to add the words "you stupid mother fucker" at the end, but I resisted the temptation.

"But you said she told you about her porn background BEFORE you were married. You could have pushed the issue, gotten her in the sack for a trial run," Neil chortled, obviously convinced of his own hilarity.

"Neil, she didn't tell me until we were pretty serious," I recounted. "In fact, she waited until I proposed to her. She wouldn't accept my proposal until she told me EVERYTHING, and gave me as much time as I needed to make sure I still wanted to marry her. I think she expected me to bail on her."

"So what'd you do?" Neil asked, standing up to take a stroll around the room. He'd been a bit hyperactive ever since we were kids.

"I knew she didn't need to dangle in the wind. She needed assurance. I told her that I loved her no matter what, and that what she'd done before we met meant nothing to me. I really thought I believed it, but I guess it's always been niggling in the back of my mind."

"For good reason," asserted Neil.

I really wanted to punch him. "For more than seven years, she's given me no reason to doubt her," I said.

"But NOW you have good reason – if not from the video, surely from what I told you about where I saw her on Friday night," Neil chided.

"The video means nothing," I stated emotionlessly, although it indeed troubled me greatly, "it only confirms what Jen already told me when we were engaged eight years ago. But your story about the Pink Kitty – that's totally disturbing..."

"Yeah, like I was saying," Neil fairly chirped, a gleam in his eye, "I saw her car parked behind the Pink Kitty last night. Only girls who work there park in the back."

The Pink Kitty was one of several notorious massage parlors on our side of town. These parlors had begun to dot the shopping plazas, much to the chagrin of homeowners and school board members alike.

But they must do a booming business, I thought to myself, in order to sustain the rapid growth trajectory they've been on over the past couple of years. Exactly what their business WAS seemed shrouded in mystery. At a minimum, they provided some form of sexual release for clients, flaunting their message of "Maximum Pleasure" on their gaudy and bawdy signs. I strongly suspected they were havens for hookers, with some form of controls in place to avoid police intervention.

I couldn't imagine what Jen was doing there – or, unfortunately, perhaps I COULD imagine it. It didn't take much imagination after witnessing the video.

"You're SURE it was Jen's car, and not just one that LOOKED like it?" I asked hopefully.

"Man, I even checked the license plate. It was hers. I wouldn't steer you wrong, dude," Neil answered gleefully.

My heart sank. I didn't bother to ask Neil why he happened to be at the Pink Kitty, or how he knew where the girls who worked there parked. His past pattern of irresponsible behavior with women made the question unnecessary.

I still felt stunned and stung. Jen did not seem like the type of woman to do this to me. I wasn't sure I was convinced about the truth of Christianity, but I had seen serious faith in Jen and a life consistent with that faith. Now, after watching the video and hearing Neil's tale, I had reason to doubt.

And there was another reason to doubt. Jen's mom was experiencing a relapse of her leukemia. The bills were mounting, and her treatment wasn't covered completely by Medicaid. She needed salvage therapy, and I had been worried about how we were going to be able to afford it.

Maybe Jen had the same worries, and was trying to earn some extra money on the side. She'd worked her way up from receptionist to legal assistant, but her job still didn't pay all that well. I could see her taking a second job, especially since we were unable to have kids, so she wasn't subject to the time demands of motherhood. But I hadn't pictured her taking a job at the PINK KITTY...

Neil interrupted my contemplative reflections by clearing his throat. "You know the old saying, Bill," Neil quoted to me, "once a slut, always a slut."

I nearly decked him right then and there. But the onscreen sight of my beautiful Jennifer getting fucked by a group of three studly men had left me reeling, as if I'd been punched in the gut. Neil's revelation that Jennifer was now working at the Pink Kitty took the fight completely out of me. My body felt like it belonged to someone else, as if I were just a ghost haunting its empty shell.

Neil grabbed his DVD and his jacket. He was ready to take off and leave me to my thoughts. He was apparently satisfied to have had the last word, no matter how spiteful it sounded. "Once a slut, always a slut" resonated in the recesses of my mind.


I decided I needed a stronger validation of Jen's infidelity than fuck-wad Neil's simple word. I made plans to follow Jennifer on one of her many evening excursions to various places around town. Her jaunts were always under the guise of going to the gym or to some church activity or other. Until now, I'd had no reason to doubt or ask questions.

On Tuesday night, I followed her to the gym. I stayed outside in a distant part of the parking lot when she went inside. I figured that with a workout and shower, she'd take at least an hour. I considered leaving to go pick up a drive-thru burger while I waited.

Just as I had made up my mind and was putting the car into gear, Jen came back out the front door of the fitness center. She was carrying a DIFFERENT gym bag than the one she had carried when she entered. This one was pink; the one she had brought from home was black.

"What the fuck?" I thought. She had only been in there for five minutes, and she had switched gym bags and was now leaving. I was baffled.

I continued the pursuit and followed her car at a safe distance. My heart began to sink as I realized what was in the plaza up ahead. As Jen turned on her right blinker, I saw the gaudy sign up ahead on the right: "THE PINK KITTY MASSAGE PARLOR – Experience Feline Frivolity: Maximize Your Pleasure, Feel the Snug Tug of One of Our Cute Pussies." The sign was adorned with a drawing of a well-endowed girl wearing a Catgirl mask and little else, ready to rub down the next client.

Oh, my God! I thought as Jen whipped her car into the back parking lot. I circled around the side lot, where I could see her car but wasn't likely to be seen by her.

She parked her car, looked around, and grabbed the pink gym bag out of the back seat. "She must have her skimpy working outfits in the bag," I thought to myself. "She doesn't want me to find them at home, so she keeps them in her locker at the gym."

She went over to the building and knocked on the back door. Momentarily, the door opened and she disappeared inside.

I was coming completely unhinged. I needed to scream, to punch something, to hurt somebody the way I was being hurt. But I kept it bottled up inside.

I picked up a six-pack at the convenience store on the way home. I drank myself to sleep.


All the next day, I was seething inside. Jen was still asleep when I left for work. I decided that since Jen would be at Wednesday night prayer service for the evening, I would check out the goings-on at the Pink Kitty myself. I needed to know just exactly what Jen had gotten herself into.

As I drove to the Pink Kitty, I thought about my plan. I didn't want to raise suspicions by asking a bunch of overt questions. I decided to pose as a prospective client and discover what I could find out on my own about Jen's new job.

I parked in the far section of the plaza parking lot. I didn't want anyone who might know me to realize I was visiting the Pink Kitty.

The door chime sounded as I entered. The front desk was empty, but momentarily a young woman emerged from an interior office. She was a platinum blonde, in her early twenties, and built like the proverbial brick house. She was busty and wore a nurse's uniform, complete with white hose and a red cross on her white nurse's cap. She wasn't just hot – she was on FIRE! It was obvious that her costume was intended to engender fantasy. I wondered whether Jen had a similar costume in her pink gym bag.

"Um – I've never been to one of these," I said haltingly.

She smiled and batted her eyelashes, then looked down demurely. "What were you looking for?" she asked.

"Um – I was just wondering, are your services limited to therapeutic massage? I mean, is this kind of like going to the chiropractor, but just a very pretty chiropractor?"

She smiled again, this time with warmth in her eyes. I was pleased that she seemed to appreciate my humor. "Well, it's not quite like that," she teased, "the experience here is a little more – sensual..."

If Jen was working there, I wanted to know just EXACTLY what the girls there did and how far they'd go. "So, HOW sensual?"

"It depends," she replied, "on how much you're willing to spend."

I decided to push the envelope. "Suppose money is no object – the sky's the limit," I said.

A spark came into her eyes. "You a cop?" she asked.

"No."

"Prove it," she commanded.

"How can you expect me to prove a negative like that?" I queried.

"Show me your penis."

My jaw dropped. "WHAT?" I asked with genuine incredulity.

"You heard me," she said, "show me your dick. No cop is going to show me his dick, or he's up shit creek for entrapment, among other things. You said the sky's the limit, so it's obvious you're looking to go as far as I'll let you. Show me your dick and I'll tell you."

I hadn't intended for things to get out of control. I had just wanted information. I thought I'd pose as a client, ask a few questions about what the girls generally did, and then pretend to get cold feet and leave. But now I was going to have to show her my penis if I wanted the answers to my questions.

I hesitated, then unfastened my belt. Pretend like she's a real nurse and it's a medical exam, I told myself.

I pulled my pants to my knees and hesitated again. She was watching me carefully. I saw her tongue trace a path around her lips. It seemed so erotic, as if she were telegraphing to me that I need only show her my cock and she'd take it joyfully in her mouth.

I should have heard the alarm bells going off in my head and stopped things right there. The growing erection in my boxer shorts was all I needed to tell me that I had lost control. But somehow, I couldn't back down from her challenge.

"Don't do it right here," she said. "Come to the room at the back, just in case somebody comes in the front door."

I followed her to a poorly lit room at the end of a narrow hallway. It had an easy chair in the center, a table in the corner, and a mini-stage area at the front.

She shut and locked the door behind me. "Now, show me your dick and I'll tell you what I'll do for you," she commanded.

I was mesmerized, hypnotized, unable to resist. I hooked my thumbs around the waistband of my boxers, and pulled downward. My rigid, throbbing cock sprang forward and upward.

The girl smiled and reached out to give it a tug. "Nice to meet you," she laughed, shaking my love tool up and down as if in a handshake, "I see you're not a cop. My name's Amber. And I'm here to do whatever you want, however you want it – no boundaries. It's a sliding scale that starts at fifty for a hand job, a hundred dollars for oral, another two hundred for straight sex, another two hundred for anal. I might give you a discount on the whole shooting match, IF you're willing to go down on me before you stick your cock inside my pussy. You know, just for lubrication..."

HOLY SHIT! Is this how Jen greets her customers? I wondered silently.

She could see my eyebrow go up, I'm sure. She also could feel my cock stiffen in her hand as she spoke of such erotic matters. She hadn't bothered to let go after the initial greeting.

"Oh, and you'll have to wear THIS," she said, holding up a foil-clad condom. She moved over to the corner of the room and turned a switch. The room filled with dance-beat music.

She turned back to me. "So – what's your pleasure?"

I was thinking with my cock instead of my brain. I was also blinded by my rage at Jen's unfaithfulness. "No boundaries?" I asked disbelievingly.

"Five hundred, and we can do anything and everything you want, at least until you wear down. I'll forget the taxes if you'll promise to use your tongue to help me get wet."

Five hundred for EVERYTHING? I'd long wanted to try anal sex with Jen, but I had never been willing to request it of her. I was afraid it would remind her too much of her checkered porn flick history. This could be my chance to fuck a girl's ass without dredging up Jen's past.

It was twisted reasoning, but it seemed to work for me at the moment.

"If I put it on my credit card, what will show up on the bill?" I asked hesitantly.

She displayed another broad smile, and her nose scrunched endearingly. "Not to worry, sweetie. It just shows up as PKL Communications. You can tell your wife it's for a new wireless device or something." She looked directly at the gold band on my left ring finger.

"PKL?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Pink Kitty Limited, I believe," said Amber, "but don't worry about it. Wives don't ever check, not unless you get addicted and keep on doing it over and over. Hopefully she can please you at home and it won't become a problem."

Or maybe she can please me HERE, on one of her late shifts at the Pink Kitty, I thought cynically. My cock-driven brain was grasping at any and every reason to forge ahead, and self-righteous spite readily fit the bill.

I pulled my credit card from my wallet and gave it to Amber. She looked it over, studying my name as if it rang a bell, and then left for a couple of minutes. I finished getting undressed as I waited.

She returned with receipt and credit card in hand, wearing only a robe. The nurse's uniform was gone.

"Abandoned the fantasy?" I asked, tongue-in-cheek.

"Do you want fantasy, or do you want REALITY?" she murmured, a genuine feline quality to her voice. I half-expected her to meow. Here, kitty-kitty, I wanted to say.

She seemed to read my mind. Perhaps she was just reading my eyes, which were scanning the curves and peaks of her robe-covered body.

My naked cock was straining upward, threatening to spew a load of spunk up toward the ceiling, a visible testament to my molten lust for this incredibly erotic woman. She got the message and grasped my wand once again, stroking it a time or two before leaning down and taking it in her mouth.

She was a champion fellatio artist. She knelt in front of me and tenderly rubbed two fingers at the base of my balls while she sucked and slurped my rod. As her head bobbed up and down on my shaft, I reached down and grabbed the lapel of her robe. I tugged on it until the sash of the robe came loose, gaping open to expose her luscious tits.

I had to touch them. Despite the ecstasy of having her expertly suck my cock, I needed contact with the fleshy melons of her large and exquisite breasts. I could finally SEE her sexual arousal for me, in the form of the turgid nipples standing erect at the ends of her beautiful tits. But I needed to FEEL them, to TASTE them. And she was too far down, resting on her knees with my prick in her mouth.

"Up you go, Amber," I said, "I don't want to cum in your mouth – at least not YET. And I really need to feel those sexy tits of yours."

She smiled at the compliment, and stood in front of me. She was a tall woman, but still about four inches shorter than me. She closed the gap between us, and pushed her breasts into my chest.

At the same time, I could feel the scruff of her muff scratching against my upper leg. It was warm, and I pushed my leg more solidly against it. She started to hump my leg, and soon I felt the slick juices of her vagina coating the top of my leg.

I was euphoric. I could never have imagined I'd be doing this today when I came in earlier to investigate Jen's workplace. The investigation had turned down a different path. An investigator is sometimes known as a private dick, but in my case, the "private dick" status had nothing to do with investigating. I wasn't discovering what Jen did – I was enjoying myself. And I was enjoying Amber.

Somehow, deep in my spirit, despite my erotic haze, I knew this was wrong. I just had come too far to back out now.

I pulled her to me and turned toward the easy chair. I laid Amber back into it, and watched her watch me as I pulled the side handle to raise the foot rest.

My hands went to her breasts, and my lips went to her knees. I kissed along the inner part of her thighs. She immediately spread her legs in blatant invitation. I couldn't stop myself or pretend to be in control. My mouth went straight for her vagina, spitting and licking, my mind spinning out of control.

My hands continued to knead the fleshy mounds of her breasts while my lips kissed the mound of her pubic region. I began furiously tongue-fucking her, lapping at her labia and suckling her clit. She'd only asked me to get her moist for penetration, but we were both in heat and I was intent on making her cum.

With all the groping of forbidden tits and licking of forbidden pussy, I felt like a heroin junkie ready to fly off a building. Amber grasped my head and pushed it into her crotch to increase the pressure. "Keep it up - PLEASE. Keep licking my pussy! Make me CUM, William!" she cried out.

I was momentarily struck with the question of how she knew my legal name, William, but then I remembered her studious look at my credit card. I guess she wanted to know who it was that was going to fuck her.

Nobody called me William – it was Bill. But I was honored she was calling out my name in ecstasy. And I was glad that it wasn't a name that was likely to get me nailed if it ever came up in conversation with Jen. I was all too aware that Amber and Jen worked together.

I had three fingers in Amber's pussy, pumping in and out, as I continued to suckle her clit. With my other hand, I was tweaking her nipples, first one and then the other, then back and around again.

I felt her pussy begin to tighten against my tongue. I frigged even harder with my fingers, suckled even harder on her clit. Her pussy lips constricted, then clenched violently around my fingers and mouth. "Oh! Oh! OOOOOHHHH!" she wailed.

It felt so wanton, so good, to make this total stranger cum in my mouth. She was lovely, she was sexy – and now she was primed and ready to fuck me. I could see the look in her eye as she came down off her euphoric orgasm. It was a total "fuck me" look.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

She smiled a warm smile. "Ready and willing," she answered huskily. "But here, I need you to wear this." She held out the condom. "Not that I WANT you to – I NEED you to. We need to be safe, for both our sakes."

"Can you help me put it on – with your mouth?"

She smiled again. "I haven't been doing this long enough to completely master that trick," she replied, "but I'll try."

She was a trooper. She got the condom in her mouth and managed to spread it over my glans with her tongue. She struggled beyond that point, and finally looked up at me with an "I'm sorry" expression and shrugged her shoulders.

"It's okay," I laughed. She unrolled it the rest of the way with her fingers, being careful not to let it snap against my cock and hurt me.

"I might have a little trouble – accommodating you," she said quietly.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean you're pretty big. You're about as long as I've ever had, and certainly thicker," she said.

I felt a swell of pride, as well as a swell of my prick. I don't think I'd ever been so hard and so big. It must have been the forbidden nature of the encounter.

"We'll find a way to get you into my pussy," she continued, "but I'm not sure that thing's going into my ass without splitting it wide open. But a deal's a deal – just promise me you'll be gentle."

"I promise," I responded truthfully. I wasn't sure I'd be able to ejaculate twice in one encounter anyway, especially if it turned out to be as massive an explosion as I expected I'd have the first time. We'd have to see where things stood, so to speak, after I'd fucked her pussy. Maybe I'd be smaller and could fit in her ass while maintaining an erection.

Amber grasped my slick fingers and pulled me toward her. She spread her legs wide in the chair, and guided my cock toward her waiting snatch. I saw her eyes dart back and forth between my looming penis and my adoring eyes.

Considering she was a complete stranger, I sure felt a strong emotional connection to her. I think she felt it too. Either that, or she just really enjoyed her job.

Neil's words came floating back into my mind: "Once a slut, always a slut..." Did Jen enjoy her job as much as Amber enjoyed hers?

In addition to the emotional connection, I was about to feel a strong PHYSICAL connection to Amber. My rigid boner found its target as she guided me into her soaking slit. I found no real resistance, though the fit was snug. Her pussy stretched around my cock and began to throb around it as I thrust in and out.

Amber was obviously multi-orgasmic. Her breathing became ragged. "Fuck me, William, baby – please FUCK ME!!!"

I pumped harder but not too fast. Deep is better than fast, or at least that's what the sex surveys in the women's magazines say.

"William – William! Cum with me, baby!" Amber's pussy began clenching around my thrusting prick. I tried to hold back, but it was to no avail. Every wanton sensation was pushing me toward climax, pulling my seed from the depths of my scrotum. My balls unleashed a torrent of cum, spurting over and over as my testicles proclaimed their rapture. They would have filled Amber's womb, but their little emissaries were trapped by the latex sheath that she had sexily unrolled with her mouth on my cock...


The easy chair was not a comfortable place to remain after Amber and I had both reached orgasm. Her skin stuck uncomfortably to the vinyl. My back felt like it was in a position that it was never meant to attain. I dismounted her, my cock sliding snakily out of her love tunnel.

Amber smiled at me. "You wanna try to get that thing in my ass?" she asked cheerily.

I thought for a moment. I'd started this encounter thinking what a treat it would be to finally take a woman's back door. But after the mind-blowing orgasm I'd just experienced, I wasn't sure I would be "up" for it.

I decided to cuddle with Amber and ask some questions. "Let's give it a few minutes," I replied. "If you want it and I'm up for it, we can deal. Otherwise, let's just snuggle for a little while."

Amber's face showed genuine surprise. "That's not the way most guys who come in here act," she said in a matter-of-fact tone, "but I'll take it."

I spread her robe across the recliner and lay back in it. She lay down on top of me, facing away. She rested her head on my shoulder. I kissed her cheek. My cock, should it choose to stir, was less than an inch from Amber's puckered anus. Access would not be a problem. She was keeping up her end of the deal.

After a minute or so of comfortable silence, I posed a question. It was time to renew my investigation.

I had no idea what name Jen used at the Pink Kitty, but I wanted to find out if Amber knew her. Maybe she could tell me what sorts of things my wife was up to.

"Amber, is there a somewhat older girl who works here. About thirty-one, shoulder length brown hair with blonde highlights, carries a pink gym bag..."

"I think I know who you mean," she replied, lazily bringing my hand up to massage her naked breast.

"You do?" I asked, my body stiffening slightly.

"Yeah – that's Jennifer."

My heart turned to stone.

"So she uses her real name?"

"Why shouldn't she?" Amber began wriggling her bottom, apparently trying to see if my cock would stir.

"Well, when you work in a place like this..."

Amber turned to me and frowned, not happy with the implicit insult I had launched against her. Then her face brightened and she smiled, saying, "Well, MY real name's not AMBER, so you may have a point. But Jennifer has no NEED for a stage name."

"Why not?"

"Because she doesn't work here."

"She – DOESN'T?" I let go of Amber's tit.

The ice around my heart began to melt, but at the same time a piercing guilt was creeping into my gut. What the FUCK was going on?

"Nah," said Amber, "she's a do-gooder who comes around trying to get us girls to leave this lifestyle. She always brings a gym bag full of baby gear."

I was finding it difficult to breathe. "Why?" I asked breathlessly.

"We're mostly single moms here," Amber replied. "She brings baby clothes and toys, and jars of baby food. She gives them away."

A wave of relief washed over me, knowing that I was wrong about what Jen was doing at the Pink Kitty. My relief was quickly swallowed up by an overwhelming sense of guilt and remorse. I'd just fucked another woman, thinking it was no worse than what Jen was doing in the very same place, fucking other men. But she was doing nothing of the sort. She was doing something to be proud of.

"She also brings bibles and gives them away," Amber continued. "She'll talk as long as we'll let her – about how God used 'harlots' in the Bible to do good."

"Really?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"Sure – like Rahab the harlot, who sheltered the two spies of Joshua when he sent them out to seek out the Promised Land. And then there was the daughter-in-law of Judah – I think her name was Tamar – who, as a childless widow who deserved a child, posed as a harlot and tricked her father-in-law into having sex with her and impregnating her. And then, of course, there was the prostitute who poured expensive perfume on Jesus to anoint him, and cried on his feet and wiped her tears off with her hair. Jennifer thinks that was Mary Magdalene, but says the bible isn't clear on that point."

I gulped hard, the truth hitting me squarely between the eyes. "She does all that?" I asked.

"Yeah, and she talks about how God can still use us 'harlots' to do good today."

I felt tears welling up behind my eyes. The strange blend of pride for Jen and guilt for my own actions threatened to pour forth. I buried my head against Amber's back.

"Are you trying to tell me you're ready for me to raise up?" she asked. "Is little willy wanting to find his way into my ass?" She formed air quotes with her fingers as she said "little willy." I realized that she was making a joke in reference to the name, William, that she'd attached to me. She smiled at her own humor. It was actually pretty good, but I was in no mood to laugh – or to put my cock in her ass.

"I don't think little willy's up for it yet," I said weakly. "Tell me a little more about this Jennifer girl."

"You sure you're not a cop?" she laughed, a twinkle in her eye. "Nah, your dick says otherwise," she continued with a smile.

"Jennifer just sounds a little – unique," I answered, "I'm just curious about what drives her to do that sort of thing."

"Well, Jennifer's unique, all right. She seems to really care. She talks about the impact of this lifestyle on your life later on. Like that it will be really hard for a man to accept your past. She even said she's sure that she's unable to have children because of her work in the porn industry. She said she wasn't sure whether it was a natural consequence of being fucked so hard and in so many ways by so many men, or whether it was God's judgment on her for what she'd done."

And here I had always thought that it was because I was shooting blanks.

We'd never been tested for infertility, neither one of us wanting to find reason to blame the other, but somehow Jen and I had managed to remain childless even after we came off birth control four years earlier. Both of us wanted kids, but in recent months had begun to talk in terms of adoption rather than childbirth.

By this point, I was sure I had just wrecked my marriage by having sex with Amber. But I felt not only guilty about what I'd done to Jen. I also felt bad about using Amber, both as a source of pleasure and a source of information. She was a sweet and trusting girl, despite the fact that she fucked men for a living.

I swiveled my legs off the side of the easy chair, then turned Amber to sit beside me. We were both as naked as the day each was born, but I was no longer in the throes of sexual excitement. I hoped Amber's sexual temperature was dialing down as well.

"Amber," I started, then began to choke up. I struggled for words as her eyes searched mine. "What's your real name, Amber?"

She saw the mistiness in my eyes. I think she knew I had no ill intention in seeking to find out her real name. I truly just wanted to be able to speak to her as a real person.

"Um, okay, William – it's Beth. Short for Elizabeth. Like John the Baptist's mother in the Bible, who couldn't have children until she was very old. Only I already have a little one."

"And you're by no means an old woman," I said, weakly attempting to compliment her.

"I'm twenty," Beth replied.

"And beautiful," I responded.

She reached for my cock in reply. I'm sure she thought I wanted to start the next round of our sexual encounter. I realized too late the mistake of complimenting a naked woman's looks when I wanted to apply the brakes.

I took her hand off my cock and placed it in mine.

"Beth..." I really didn't know what to say. I wanted to somehow turn back time, to undo the damage I'd done to my marriage and to Jen's efforts to steer Beth away from this life of sexual servitude.

"Beth, I'm sorry for taking advantage of you..."

She tilted her head, somewhat confused. "Don't worry about it, William," she offered with a smile, "it's really okay."

I couldn't help but notice the way her nipples were beginning to lose their erection. But if I was going to have a serious conversation with her, I had to stop looking at her naked tits. I fixed my eyes on her face, deliberately maintaining eye contact as I spoke.

"Seriously, Beth" I said, "I didn't mean to objectify you. Or maybe I did. I'm just now waking up to the fact that I used your life situation to get you to have sex with me, when I had no right to do that."

"You paid me for it – and paid better than most," she countered. "Actually, you were pretty damned good. You're the first guy in a long time who's given the effort to make me cum. I appreciate that – I really do."

I didn't know what to say. "Thanks..." was all I could manage.

She smiled again, and seemed intent on making me feel better. "You're well-groomed, William, and not bad-looking. You obviously know how to treat a girl in the sack. There's no need to beat yourself up. I had a pretty good time."

I smiled at her. "So did I," I answered, making sure not to do more damage than good, "it's just that I had no right."

"I wouldn't say that," she insisted. "Say, you wanna take my ass now?"

I was surprised by her persistence. She must have a compulsion to earn her money, I thought. "Nah, I'd better not," I replied, "little willy's run out of steam. But thanks, Beth. You're a sweet girl. I'll bet Jennifer's right about God being able to use you to do good."

I wasn't sure where that last comment came from, but it felt right. I was sure Beth's experience with men was not generally good for her. I wanted her to feel valued by at least one person of my gender.

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