Chapter 1

In '85 I was a young man, but I had already learned that, while 18-year old girls had, ah, "higher quality assets", older women were generally warmer, more pleasant, and more skilled in the things I value, both in and out of bed.

I was seeing a lady who was significantly older than me. She was tall, attractive, graceful, very outgoing, both intelligent and educated, and -certainly just as important as any of those to this young man- well endowed (read that as "having an awe-inspiring bust"). She also had a husband and children; I hadn't yet learned my lesson about married women.

We met at a club I had recently joined, got to know each other, and it wasn't long before we were sharing a bed. And I won her loyalty completely by accident, the first time we slept together. After our first time, we were laying in the hotel bed doing the small-talk thing when I mentioned that I had trouble believing that she had actually given birth to three children, because her, uh, anatomy had done a remarkable job of recovering from that trauma. To be blunt, she had been really, really good; far better than I had expected, and once was not going to be enough. She gave me a please-fuck-me-right-now-dammit hug, and thanked me profusely for that compliment.

What I said was true, but I had only been trying to be polite. I had thought that as an older woman she might appreciate being told that her pussy was still tight, but apparently she had read something much deeper into it. I found out what a couple of minutes later when she admitted that one of her children was adopted (and, apparently, she thought that I had figured that out, simply by noticing how tight she was!). Now, I already knew that she was sensitive about her appearance, because before she had gotten undressed she had asked me to turn the lights out. Apparently, she had also been worried about her ability to please me, and my comments had convinced her that I was, in fact, very happy with both her appearance and her performance.

This was all new to me, as I'd never really looked at it from her point of view before. From then on, I made a point of complimenting her on her appearance whenever I was with her. I guess she was pretty hungry for a kind word, because she always ate it up. For her part, after that first time she never again acted shy about letting me see her, or touch her in any way I wanted, as long as we were in private. In public, of course, we still had to act like good friends who had met at a club.

I got the strong impression that she was pretty much starved for affection and sex, and I tried my best to play the part of being hopelessly in love, wanting only to make her happy. It wasn't hard. There wasn't much acting involved at all. I'm fairly self-centered, but she was an easy person to love. Have I mentioned that she was pleasant company, had a beautiful body, and was incredible in bed? I willingly gave her everything she wanted, only occasionally wondering why she wasn't getting any of it from her husband.

She had told me that she hated her husband, and only slept with him when she had to, about twice a week. It seemed to be true, because whenever I could find a place to sleep (off the ship, that is), she would come spend most of the night with me. I say "most", because she would get up around 2 or 3 every morning and leave. That kinda bothered me, but since she had a husband and children I couldn't very well object. After all, they would certainly be upset if she hadn't made it home by the time they got up the next morning.

It wasn't really as bad as it sounds, because I could have her for the whole evening every couple of days, and every so often, whenever we could find an excuse to get away, we got to spend a whole weekend together.

I had been living on my ship and in the barracks to save some money, but when she finally said she was leaving her husband soon, I bought her a house to live in. Well, it was in my name, but I really got it for her, since I was about to go to sea for half a year or so, and I certainly didn't need it while I was out of the country.

I set the place up as well as I could, gave her a set of keys to the place (and my car), gave her my checkbook so she could pay the bills, and, after a couple of weeks of making sure that the new waterbed really worked, went to sea. Before long, I was getting letters saying that she was living in my house now, waiting for me.

I called my house every so often, whenever my ship got close enough to a telephone, and she was always there, happy to hear from me. After I had been gone about five months, though, with one more to go before we came back home, I sensed something wrong. What made me worry the most was a guy's voice in the background once, and her getting evasive when I asked who was there.

One of my friends was coming back early, so I asked him to check up on things and make sure she was okay. He went by my house, then went to squadron headquarters and told them that my house was deserted; hadn't been lived in for months. They sent a message to my ship saying that she had skipped out on me, and I should do whatever I could to protect myself. Well, I really couldn't do anything from the Med, but since we were coming home in another couple of weeks anyway, the ship let me take leave and fly home early. My route was pretty roundabout and the trip took almost four whole days. Can't complain too much, though, as I got a peasant's view tour of Sardinia and the La Maddalena islands, and my two days layover between flights was in Rome so I saw all the sights I could.

It was a lousy day back at Norfolk- warm but drizzling, and it looked like it would rain for the next week. I took a cab home. My friend was right; the lawn hadn't been mowed in weeks, and the grass was green where we used to park. I let myself in. It was clear that no one had lived in the place since I had left half a year before. In fact, everything was exactly the same. The dirty clothes I had left in a pile in the bedroom (when I changed on the day I left) hadn't been touched. Not that I remembered, but I recognized the pile when I saw it. Oh, yeah, I did that.

I cleaned up some, straightened the house, took a shower, talked to my neighbors, wondered where in hell Shirley was. It took me a while to figure out what had happened. The lady next door said that Shirley had never moved in. But she had always answered when I called home! The clue was that I could call out, but my phone didn't get incoming calls. I called my neighbor and asked her to call me back.

She never did, so I walked next door again to see what was wrong. She said that she had called, and talked to some lady. I called the phone company to report a problem with my number, and then called my own number, intending to apologize to the poor lady, whoever she was, for bothering her, and to tell her that the phone company would be fixing the problem soon.

It took me a second to recognize Shirley's voice, and suddenly I knew what she had done. The phone company had recently started to offer that newfangled call forwarding, and when she had left her husband she had moved somewhere else, and had Ma Bell forward all calls from my house to her, wherever she was. As long as she always answered the phone herself, everyone would think she was at my house, waiting for me.

I changed gears and introduced myself, and asked where she was. "At home, waiting for you."

"Shirley, I'm standing in my kitchen right now, and I don't see you. As a matter of fact, it doesn't look like you have ever been here. How strange that you answer my telephone, but you're not here."

For some reason, there was an awkward silence. I don't know why.

I asked if she still had my car, and if I could have it back. She said that she still had it, it was running fine, and she'd deliver it tonight. I asked if she would need a ride back to wherever she was, and after a muffled discussion in the background, she said that she had a ride.

I asked if I knew who she was with, and she pointed out that it was none of my business. Well, that may be true. Another muffled discussion, and a man came on the phone, saying that he was glad that this was finally out in the open, and that he would bring my car, my checkbook and anything else she had, to me just as soon as I told him where I was.

"She didn't even tell you where I live?"

"No, I don't think she's been honest with either of us." I could hear her getting upset with him. He told her to shut up, the two of us were going to settle this face to face, since we certainly couldn't trust her to go between us.

"How long has she been living with you?" Ever since she left her husband, a couple of months after I went to sea. Great. I feel sick.

We talked for a little while longer, and agreed to meet at an all-night restaurant in the middle of Norfolk, since they were all the way up in Newport News and I was 'way out at the Beach. He promised that he would bring Shirley and everything she had of mine, and meet me as soon as he could get there.

It had stopped raining for the time being, and my neighbor volunteered her husband to drive me out there. The pancake place was closed; apparently it wasn't an all-nighter any more. After ten minutes or so Shirley drove up in my Datsun, followed by a strange pickup with a man in it, and I waved Tim off.

We walked across the street to another restaurant and talked while I had breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We sat at the most isolated booth we could find. I sat alone on one side, and they sat together on the other- he on the outside so she would have to stay and listen to the abuse. Shirley stayed close to him, but he seemed really mad at her. Every time she touched him, he would shrug away from her. She was really trying to be nice to him, and he just wasn't having any.

I recognized Fred (Frederick, I don't remember his last name). He was an older man who had joined the club where I met Shirley about three months before I left, and apparently she had been screwing him the whole time. In fact, she had introduced him to the club as one of her friends, and I realized now that they were already screwing when she brought him.

Now, she had been climbing into my bed two or three times a week (whenever I could find a bed!), then leaving in the middle of the night to go home to her husband so that he could screw her, for about a year before I left, but Fred hadn't known that until tonight, when he asked some questions about me after we hung up. He had thought that she was faithful to her husband until she met him, until I called that afternoon and he realized that we had been doing the affair thing before I left. She had confessed everything to him earlier in the evening, including about half a dozen other guys in the same club before she met me.

The whole sordid story came out over coffee that night, and we were both pretty disgusted. She had been literally hopping from bed to bed- her husband, me, Fred, and a couple other people too, for more than three months, until I left. She moved in with Fred after that, and claimed to have been faithful to him, but he just wasn't going to believe her. He seemed to be a nice guy, and would probably be a good husband, but he was in his fifties. He just would not believe that he was keeping her satisfied, now that he knew her appetite.

We got everything settled very easily, since Shirley was embarrassed and wanted to get it over with, and Fred apparently wanted to have a clean conscience about 'stealing' my girl. There wasn't much. Shirley had been paying my phone bill, to try to hide the statements from me so I wouldn't find out what was up, since Newport News was a long distance call from my house. Every goddam time someone dialed my number, I got billed a dollar or so while Shirley pretended to be my faithful true love. Fred insisted on paying my current phone bill, just to clean all the loose ends up. I couldn't very well refuse, since she had the bills anyway. I didn't even know how much it was.

Fred was really pissed, and when we were done he came up with a surprise. "You want to take Shirley home for the night? I used to be a sailor, and I know how lonely it gets. You need to relieve some tension, and you may as well take Shirley. You can have her all night. I'm too mad to look at her, anyway."

Of course Shirley objected, and got even more upset. I declined, as I just wanted to wash my hands of the whole affair. "Fred, I'm not in a very loving mood right now."

Fred kept offering her to me, and every time Shirley would say she wouldn't go, Fred would tell her "We didn't ask you. You fucked him before; you'll fuck him again. You don't care; you'll fuck anybody," and make the offer again.

I kept refusing, though, because I didn't wish any ill of her, and the more I looked at her the less attractive she was. A lot of that is emotional, you know. When she was my girlfriend she was beautiful, and I couldn't get enough of her. Now she was just someone else's worn-out old slut, and I didn't want her.

Still ... Fred was willing. Hell, it was his idea. Shirley wasn't willing, but she didn't have much say in the matter. She was going to do whatever he said, or else walk out of the restaurant and find another man to live with at one o'clock in the morning.

And I knew what to do; I had 'owned' a slave in high school (Beth, a girl who wasn't a genius, knew it, and was perfectly happy doing what someone she trusted told her to do. She worshipped the ground I walked on, and would literally do anything I told her to do. I tried pretty hard to find something too humiliating for her. It wasn't easy. D/s is a lot of fun).

And here I was with six months of blue balls, being handed a woman who had displeased both myself and the man who supported her, and being told I could do whatever I wanted with her. I stopped arguing with him.

"You really ought to take Shirley home for the night."

"Fred! I'm not going with him. I'm staying with you!"

I looked at Shirley. "Shut up. When you acted like a lady, we treated you like a lady. When you act like a whore, we treat you like a whore. You'll do as you're told, and right now you'll shut up. We're not talking to you."

Shirley started to answer me, but Fred pulled her face around and made her look at him, and repeated what I had said: "Shut up. We're not talking to you." After a few seconds, he let go of her. She didn't say anything.

I asked, "How much do you want for her? I can give you twenty; thirty if you pay the tab here."

Fred smiled and said "I think ten will be enough." He turned back to Shirley, gently stroked her face, and asked "Do you think you're worth ten dollars?"

She had leaned into his caress, but when she heard his question she drew back and said "I'm not going with him. That's final."

He was ready for that. "You're not going home with me. That's final. You'll go home with Mike, and you'll spread your legs for him as many times as he wants. Or you can find a new pimp. I don't want to see you tonight."

She said "I'm not going home with him" again, but it was a lot softer, and a lot less definite than before.

Fred kept pushing. I stayed out of it. "You'll go wherever he wants to take you, and you'll do whatever he wants you to do. You used to spread your legs for him whenever he wanted you to, and you can do it one more time."

"Frederick, please take me home now. I don't like the way you are talking."

"Shirley Anne, when Mike is done with you he'll take you to my house -unless you decide to stay with him. In that case, I'll bring all your stuff to his house, and what you do when his back is turned will be his problem. But, if he decides that he doesn't want you, he'll bring you to my house, and if he says that you were a good whore and gave him what he wanted, I'll take you back. For tonight though, you belong to him."

He looked at me. "Got a ten on you?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Let me have it."

I pulled my wallet out, and handed him a ten.

Fred said thanks, and took Shirley's arm and pushed it at me. "Take his hand!"

I held my hand out, and she reached across the table and took it.

"Now kiss it."

"Fred!"

"Do it, you slut! I've taken money for you, and you're going to do it."

She slowly raised my hand and touched her lips to it. Fred wasn't satisfied, and asked me if she ever sucked my dick. "Sometimes." Was she any good? "Well, she tried hard."

He turned back to her. "Open your mouth, whore." She did it. I pushed my index finger in. "Do you remember what his dick tasted like? Would you like to taste it again?"

She shook her head, and pulled away from me. "Please, Fred. I don't want anyone but you. Don't make me do this."

He put his hand behind her head and pushed it forward, and made her suck on my finger again. "You made your bed, you lay in it."

I butted in. "Fred, I'm getting kinda excited, and it's late, anyway. I promise I'll bring her back in the morning."

"Good. You can humiliate her, but don't hurt her. You do whatever you want with her for the night, and maybe she'll learn something about being a real whore, and keep her legs closed next time."

"No problem. Humiliation is fun. How far can I go?"

"Well, you know she has too much pride for a whore. See if you can take some away."

"I'll try."

"I guess I'm saying you do whatever you want, and make her do whatever you want. As long as you have a good time, it doesn't matter if she does or not. Don't worry about hurting her feelings; she doesn't worry about anyone else's."

"Well, I'm sure that she'll learn to worry about my feelings, at least. She'll appreciate you a lot more when I give her back."

We, well, Fred paid the bill and we walked back to the cars. It wasn't really raining, but it had rained while we were talking, and was still misting a little. As soon as we got out of the lights, Fred made her stop and give me a good hug.

He made Shirley snuggle up to me, press her tits against me and rub her crotch against my leg, and kiss me and say that she would do anything I wanted her to. I know she could feel me growing and getting hard. I pulled her skirt up and fondled her ass just like I used to -although I never had right out in a parking lot- and then pushed her away and said "It's getting late, and I'm tired. Let's go home."

Fred said "Say 'I'd love to, Mike, ' and hold his hand. You're his whore, and you're in love with him for the night." Now, that's cold.

Shirley hesitated, but she knew she was trapped, and she did it. "I'd love to, Mike," and she took my hand.

When we got back to the cars, Fred made Shirley bend over and put her hands on my car. He told her to stay there, and flipped her skirt up onto her back, exposing her panties. He rubbed her butt for a few seconds, and then slapped it. "Spread your legs, dammit. You've opened them for every man in Norfolk, why get modest now?"

"Fred, please! Don't make me do this! Let me go home with you! I promise I won't cheat on you! Please!"

He spanked her again, much harder. "That's a worthless promise. Now, shut up and spread your legs." He waited a few more seconds, and then spanked her several more times, very hard.

When he was done, she opened her legs a little, and he rubbed her ass and told her that she could obey when she wanted, but a whore needed to do these things without being told. Then he reached between her legs and started rubbing her twat thru her panties. "Are you ready for a dick? Of course you are- you're always ready."

He pulled her panties down to her thighs, and ran a finger along her whole crack, from the small of her back all the way to her bush, before he pushed it into her snatch. "Are you looking forward to having Mike in your pussy tonight?" "Fred, I don't want him. All I want is you."

He pulled his finger out of her slot, and shoved it up her ass. She grunted. "Well, then, would you rather take him up your butt?"

"Fred, please. I'll do anything you want. Please don't give me to him."

"Come on. You drove all the way to his house and climbed in his bed every night for years, and you're saying you don't want his dick?" He pulled his finger out of her ass and told me to play with my whore, then stepped back and leaned against the car to watch.

I did the same thing he had done, rubbing her butt and then her bush before I started stroking her pussy. I knew what she liked, and I played with her clit until she was wet and squirming. I asked "Can you say that you love me?"

She shook her head, so I stopped playing with her and spanked her a couple of times. "I love you, Mike. Please don't hit me."

I went back to tickling her clit, and asked "I'm glad to hear that, and I'm sure Fred is too. Now, can you say that you need me, and you'll do anything for my dick?" No answer, so I stopped playing with her again and rested my hand on her butt.

"I need your dick, Mike. I'll do anything you want."

I rubbed her butt for a second, and then went back to playing with her pussy. "Where do you want my dick, Shirley? Does your pussy need it?" No answer, so I shoved my finger up her asshole the way Fred had. "Or would you rather take me up your ass? It's a lot tighter, and I'm sure I'd like it better than your worn-out old pussy."

She tried to get away from my finger, and stammered "Please use my vagina, Mike." I kept my finger in her ass, and wiggled it around some. "Your asshole sure feels tight, Shirley. Can you say 'My pussy needs you, Mike. Please fuck me!'?"

She said it. "My pussy needs you, Mike. Please fuck me!"

I pulled my finger out of her ass, and told her to turn around and face me. Of course her skirt fell back down, so I asked "What do you want me to do?" "Please fuck me, Mike."

"Where do you want me?" "Please fuck my pussy, Mike."

I looked down at her skirt. "I don't see it. Show it to me." So, she had to lift up her skirt and show me her crotch, her panties still pushed down.

I used my left hand to stroke her bush. "I paid for that pussy, and until I give it back to Fred, it's mine. You will not hide it from me again. You will keep it in my sight at all times. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mike."

"Good. That means you'll have to hold your skirt up like that until I let you take it off. You will also not close your legs. Your pussy will be available to me at all times. Do you understand me?" "Yes, Mike. I understand you."

"Good. Do you like being spanked?" "No, Mike."

"Hmm. Are you going to disobey me?" "No, Mike."

I showed her my right index finger. "Where was this last?" "In my ... rear."

"Say 'asshole, ' whore." "In my asshole."

"Do you want me to play with your pussy with it?" "No."

"Why not?" "It's dirty!"

"So? Your pussy has had half the dicks in Norfolk, and you worry about dirty? But you're right, I don't want you to get sick. We'll clean it off first." I rubbed her lips with it, saying "Lick my finger clean."

Shirley started to say something, and I shoved it in her mouth. "Lick it clean, whore." I held her head with my other hand, and made her lick it off before I pulled it out of her mouth.

I went back to playing with her pussy again. "Is it clean enough for your pussy now?" She nodded, her mouth closed.

"Did it taste good?" She shook her head no.

"Do you want more?" No.

"Do you think that you can please me with your pussy?" Yes.

"How about with your mouth? Would you like to suck my dick?" No.

I reached out and nodded her head for her. "Of course you would. You're a whore, and you know that men love blowjobs. Besides, you love me and would do anything to please me. For that matter, you can address me as 'Master' from now on, since you belong to me. Got that, slut?" "Yes, Master."

"Good girl. Now, I'm going to fuck you tonight until I can't fuck any more, and you're going to please me, one way or another. I really don't care if you enjoy it or not, but the harder you try to please me, the easier you'll have it. The more you fight, the more miserable you'll be. Understand?"