My father never cheated on my mother. So he told me just before my marriage, and I believed him. He knew all about the codes in my little black book and of my successes with members of the opposite sex. (If he had known about me and my sister, I think he would have killed me.) He was also aware, from me, of how hot my bride to be could be. But, he said, "Ric, a woman will forgive anything except infidelity." So far I've been faithful. But it hasn't been easy.
I love my wife. I guess. She's barely five feet tall. When we got married, she was the hottest animal in the forest. She would do anything in bed – or anyplace else. She would take it wherever she had an opening, and come back for more. She was insatiable and I was exhausted trying to keep up with her. But despite that, or maybe I should say because of that, I was the happiest guy on earth. To be crude, I was as happy as a pig in shit.
But time changes things. Now that ten years have passed and she's delivered me two great little kiddies, all she wants to do is sleep. Our sex life is virtually past history. I call her, but never to her face, the Frigid Midget. I've never cheated on her, not that I haven't had enough opportunities, and yes, temptations, but let's just say that my right arm has become stronger, much stronger, than my left arm. Unfortunately!
And so it was, when the game was finally over and the ten o'clock news had told me all about the latest collection of murders and rapes in the area, I stuck my nose into our bedroom. Sure enough, she was sound asleep. I knew that I could wake her up for a quick fuck, but after her pissing and moaning, she'd just lie there like a dead fish while I got my rocks off. Shit, I might just as well have been jerking off.
Which unfortunately has become my preference!
I don't do dirty magazines for my inspiration, and we don't subscribe to any of those late night porn channels. But fortunately there are enough free websites on the computer to give me a great choice of erotica.
I booted up, logged on and hooked up my earphones, so that the sound wouldn't wake my wife. In milliseconds I had in front of me dozens of thumbnails and an option box in case I wanted something specific. That night I entered 'straight' and then chose one that offered a twenty minute clip. That would be enough. If I couldn't make myself cum in twenty minutes, I'd give up and go wake the Frigid Midget. I definitely didn't plan to go to sleep with my balls full.
"I'm here for the receptionist interview, Mr. Collins."
And that was the extent of the dialogue for the entire flick. Yes, there was some pounding noise that calls itself music, together with grunts, moans, slurps and the like. The heroine – forget that she was being paid to fuck – knew from the look on Mr. Collins' face and eyes that the job was hers if she performed as required on his casting couch.
She never gave a name, though the blurb under the thumbnail called her Kate Something, as if the name was supposed to impress me. She looked like a barely legal 18 year old while the man looked like a horny 40. If the scene had been from an earlier era, he would have had a black handlebar mustache. Kate looked to be about five foot six while Collins was a good six feet tall. She had long, reddish brown hair that hung down to her waist. Collins was the typical bald lecher. She wore a loose scoop neck blouse.
Her ring could have been an engagement ring or just a gaudy piece of junk. But everyone knew that whatever vows she might have exchanged for that ring would soon be broken.
Collins and I stared together as she pulled the blouse off over her head and threw it on his desk. He did nothing but watch, but I stood up and slid off my pajama bottoms. I sat back, my bathrobe protecting my computer chair from my ass. She reached behind her back, the classic movement of a woman removing her bra as the first step of seduction. Her tits were no more than a 32, with hard nipples sticking out it seemed even more than the breasts themselves.
I let my bathrobe drop open and my hand gripped my cock, feeling it harden, feeling it grow warmer. Much as I wanted to jerk off immediately, I was determined, as always, to hold back until the screen delivered that all-important money shot, pearly cum spurting out onto her body to prove that Collins' orgasm was not faked.
She stepped out of her skirt and flipped it onto the desk, joining her blouse. All she had left in the way of clothing was a bright red g-string and a whore's four inch stiletto heels. Those heels would eventually stay on throughout the film. As she moved around the desk to get Collins' naked, he decided to help her by removing his shirt and shoes.
She knelt before him as he remained seated, he fingers deftly working his belt and zipper. Then he lifted his ass off the chair so that she could pull down his slacks and shorts. Damn, eight inches if he was an inch. I was jealous. I mean, I've got the average six inch cock, and it has served me well all these years, but I still appreciate the looks of a well hung piece of meat. I began to stroke.
Kate leaned forward to lick that little wet spot at Collins' piss slit. It was then that I suddenly realized that I had selected not merely a straight fuck flick but that I was going to get full foreplay: a little cock-sucking, some pussy licking and even some anal. I won't say much about that stuff now, other than that she shook her head back and forth when she sucked his cock and that she seemed to have a very teeny asshole. It had to have hurt like a bitch when he ass-fucked her. Anyway, we'll go into that stuff in more detail later. But I must admit that it made it more difficult for me to hold back my orgasm until that final cum shot.
She stood up and Collins began to roll down her g-string off of her body. She turned to face the camera, to give us a good look at her cunt. It had been shaven, but not completely. She, or whoever had wielded the razor, had left a little coating of fuzz around her Holy Grail. Happily, in a classic example of Truth in Advertising, her carpeting matched her drapes. Her labia were shiny damp, announcing that our little whore for pay was really anxious for a good fucking.
Then she turned around, bent forward and grasped her butt cheeks, giving me a clear view of her little asshole. I couldn't imagine how I could even get a finger up there, much less my average cock, but I definitely wished that she was there alive in my den so that I could give it a try.
Collins walked across the room to the couch, reached down and pulled. The couch quickly became a queen-sized bed. Needing no instructions, the interviewee lay down, pulled both stilettos back against her ass and spread her knees. He bent, gave her a few quick licks along her slit and then slid his middle finger inside her. Even without an interior camera, I knew that his finger was reaching around to play with her g-spot.
Then the camera zoomed in for a close up of her face. With her eyes closed, she was tossing her head from side to side in feigned ecstasy. Her moans were almost drowned out by the thumping drums in the background. She had an orgasm, or maybe faked one. That's what whores mostly do, or so I've heard. It didn't matter; I was intent on pacing the arrival of my own throbbing gush of release.
The scene shifted. Collins was flat on his back; Kate was riding him, facing his feet. The camera was shooting from his chest, focused on the juncture of cock and cunt. She was doing most of the work, raising and lowering herself. I could see that he was fucking her bareback.
That part excited me. I hate to wear a rubber when I fuck, hated it even before I became monogamous. For all I know, I may have babies in every whistle stop between Eureka and San Diego, and parts East also. I love the feel of wet pussy gripping my cock, or a wet tongue doing so. I enjoy it best when I feel my cum going someplace, not just pooling at the tip of my crown. And when I'm watching a film, it's often the sight of cum spurting onto some girl's face and eyes that gets me off.
Another scene change had her again playing cowgirl but this time facing him. The camera angle was from down between her legs. Briefly I wondered how I could get a job as a cameraman for this shit. It'd be like I died and went to heaven. She was bouncing up and down as if she was riding a mechanical bull in front of an old Western saloon. When the camera pulled back for a larger scene, I could see her tossing her head to and fro, her hair flowing from side to side. Even from behind her, and knowing that she was a paid actress, I could see that she was having a great time.
The video was rapidly coming to an end and I had not yet cum. No problem, I just wasn't hurrying. Collins rolled over, finally winding up on top of Kate, missionary style. The camera zoomed in to tongue distance as he pounded and pounded. All I could see were cock in cunt, balls slapping and her asshole winking with each thrust. I could tell that it was going to be a winner, a simultaneous blast from Mr. Collins and from me.
He pulled out, grabbed his cock and began to jerk his juice all over her pussy, four or five healthy spurts. With the first one, I began to spurt myself, my full day's reserve splashing into my open palm. Once I was spent, my excitement was gone, my lust satisfied. I watched as Kate spread herself for Collins to lick her cream pie dry. As he did so, I aped him, licking my own cum from my fingers and palm. I do that about half the time, using a tissue the rest of the time.
.... There is more of this story ...