Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Coercion, Heterosexual, Wimp Husband, Wife Watching, Humiliation, Black Male, Oral Sex, .
Desc: Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Jenny and her husband are out of work and about to be foreclosed on. She has sold everything in anticipation of being homless when a stranger offers her and her husband a proposition that leaves her in a humiliation position. What else can she do?
It was over and Jenny knew it. There was nothing more she could do, she thought as she unloaded the pickup for the umpteenth time. She had gotten there late today. Normally she tried to get to the flea market early on the Friday evening before the flea market opened. She would have her pickup piled with what she wanted to sell; tried to be the first in line and slept in the pickup that night in order to get the best spot in the drive in theatre for the best spot when it opened on Saturday morning.
Jenny liked to get in the second row open to vendors. It was close to the concessions and bathrooms, but not too close. Once in, she could set up the racks, tables and tents to display what she had for sale.
She and her husband had lost their jobs when the junior college had to cut back. Even though they both had tenure, the decision had been made to cut her husband's job teaching metal fabrication and hers of teaching home economics. Both were vanishing skills that were being replaced by animation, marketing, Photoshop and even Spanish.
They had been advised by their lawyer to just quit paying the mortgage and stay there until they were forced out. Jenny had been taking everything they had to the flea market to get what she could for it. There were all kinds of furniture, china, silverware, electronics and many family heirlooms and treasures. They still had the one full size pickup and a camper. This may have to be their home and there was no room for much more. With what they had saved from the sale of their belongings, they could get some kind of mobile home, but there was no way to tell how long their savings would have to last.
Jenny hung the last of her and her husband's best clothes on a rod, and pinned her grandmother's huge silk tablecloth with gold lace embroidery on it. It had come from Austria with her great grandparents. She had no place for it.
A tall black man came by. He had been buying a number of things from her each week. He had been polite but distant. She had recognized him but decided not to make an issue of it. She knew he was Sam Conrad, who had retired a few years ago from the local NFL team. He had several restaurants now, but lived a good portion of time somewhere else.
"That is one of the nicest tablecloths I have ever seen" he said as he squinted and shielded his eyes as he looked into the sun trying to get a good view of the embroidery along the edges.
"It's from Austria. It's at least a hundred fifty years old." She told him, trying not to sound too attached to it. If she talked too much, she knew she couldn't sell it.
"Why would you sell something like this?" he asked.
"My husband and I have lost our jobs and our home is being foreclosed." She said, trying to sound as unemotional as she could. "Nobody gives a fuck about their life. Nobody wants to hear your problems." She thought."
Jenny was startled when he gave her twice as much as she had posted on the price tag. "Here's the money and here's my card. If you and your husband need a job, let me know. You may have to move, but that's all I can do." He said as he took the clothes pins off of the tent that held the tablecloth to it.
Jenny was stunned. She had asked less than half of what she thought it was worth, because everybody was such a vicious bargainer. "What kind of jobs do you have?" she asked.
"You are a fantastic looking woman for somebody your age. I don't care what your skills are. You have taken the initiative to make the best you can of your situation. Personally I would like to fuck you. I don't expect you will take me up on it, but I have nothing to lose by being honest with you. If you want the job, I am sure we can come up with something you can do."
Jenny was stunned by the avalanche of words she was not ready for. There were so many ideas she had been hit with, she couldn't speak. "Thanks for the card." Was the most she could come up with. Jenny was crushed by the thought she was even rolling the idea around in her mind. How could she even think of such a thing?
When she got home that evening, her husband Joe was still on the computer. He had applied to everything he could think of on Craigslist and the government website. Jenny had been on it the night before. It seemed useless. Their unemployment had run out. It was killing her for the two of them to be raiding their retirement accounts, but with their two girls in college, they needed money.
"You meet some of the vilest creatures at the flea market. The one I met today topped them all." She said as she put the meat loaf and scalloped potatoes on the table. "What happened?" Joe asked, thinking somebody tried to pinch her on the butt or breast.
"This guy gave me a bunch of money for our tablecloth, but he more or less said he would give us a job if he could fuck me for it." Joe was quiet. Jenny expected something soothing; some way he would imply he would have killed the man if he had been there. Still more silence.
"What kind of job was it?" he asked without looking up. Jenny was stunned. "What was he saying?" she wondered. Was he implying the offer should be considered? They finished their supper in silence. "What the fuck's going on Joe? Are you saying we should consider it?"
"Well what are our choices? Do you want to spend the rest of the year sleeping on the back of that pickup? How are we going to pay for the girls' college? Do we want to take them out of school? What kind of job did he say it was and how much is the pay?"
Jenny felt she had been slapped in the face with a leather barber's razor strap. He was actually considering it. She almost vomited.
Her husband held the business card in his hand. "Well I'm curious what this is all about anyway." He said. Jenny was awake all night. Joe went to bed, but she couldn't sleep and watched the news all night. In the morning, she changed into her sweat clothes and took a long walk. She thought it might clear her head. "I'm not going to think about it. I'm just going to call him before I have time to think about it." She said as she dialed the number.
"Sam, I'm making this call to see what you really meant at the flea market the other day. Yes I can come down to your office. I'm taking a walk right now. Can you text me the address? Yes I'll be there in a couple of hours. Yes; I can bring my husband. O.K. thanks. Bye." And she hung up. She texted her husband that they had to go see Sam in a couple of hours and for him to get ready.
When she got home, Joe was dressed in a business suit and had some clothes laid out for her. She took a shower; wrapped a towel around her hair and another around her torso. The clothes were laid out on the bed. Joe had left, and not given her any directions.
When she came downstairs, Joe was sitting in front of the television watching the news. Jenny had her curly long red hair combed down her back. She had two small braids started at her temples that had been pulled around behind her head and clipped with a jeweled butterfly. Her dark chocolate suede boots that zipped up the sides stopped just below her knees. The hem of her dark silk button front dress hit her about the bottom of her fingertips. The dress fit like a glove; no wrinkles anywhere. Several buttons had been removed at the top so that there were none from just below her breasts to her neck. The fabric was stiff and reinforced and did not gap open, although there was a thin line of skin exposed along the unbuttoned area.
Jenny's tan defied the perception that redheads don't tan. Faintly speckled, her arms, neck and legs had the soft sheen of a Bantam chicken egg. The faint spots were hardly noticeable within her light mocha complexion. The body lotion she had just put on left her with an almost oil sheen. Her wire rimmed spectacles gave her a studious look that contrasted with her child-like expression of uncertainty about her appearance. "You look fucking incredible, honey." Her husband said as he stood up.
Jenny took little solace in his compliment. "We're going to a job interview where this guy has already said he wants to fuck me." She thought to herself. How can my husband have anything but indignation or outrage on his mind?" she thought as her mind raced trying to absorb what was happening.
When they got there, Joe let her out at the front door while he circled the block trying to find a parking spot. Although she was forty five years old, she still got plenty of glances as she stood there. Men turned as they went by, trying to check out both sides of her. When her husband got there, he put one arm around her waist as he used the other to open the front door. Both were tense as her high heels clicked across the marble floor and the stainless steel elevator doors opened. Jenny wobbled a little as the elevator started up.
Sam's office was surprisingly tasteful. The Pilkington glass curtain walls with Planar fittings at the corners were almost invisible. The only thing that kept them from accidentally walking into it was the sand-blasted lace patterns across the top and bottom to indicate its presence. From the hall, Jenny could see Seated in the conference room behind the reception desk.
A beautiful black woman sat in front of a clear glass reception desk centered on the curved Pilkington glass wall that defined the conference room. There were no doors to the conference room. There were two openings; one at each end. The gentle curve of the glass effectively shielded any conversation in the room from escaping into the reception area.
When the couple stepped into the reception area, Sam saw them and waved them in. Sam was sitting in the middle of the conference desk facing them. Jenny and her husband came in; shook hands and sat down opposite him.
"I'm so glad that you came and brought your husband, Mrs. Jenkins. I had been to the flea market many times and saw your organization skills, wonderful taste in furniture, fabrics and clothes. I can see you have had a lifetime of sophistication. I feel I could offer a job for both of you if you are interested. What do you say?
This seemed almost all too easy for the couple who had been spending months looking for work. "How do you know we're qualified? How do you know we can do the job? You haven't even discussed pay." Jenny asked, knowing they would have to take the work regardless.
"Well, Mrs. Jenkins, I've already told you what I think your skills are. You heard me say at the flea market that I want sex with you. I don't give a fuck what your husband's skills are. I have a large property near Seattle, on an island in the inside passage. He can work as the caretaker and take care of everything outside the house; lawns, flowers, and cars. You will be the inside person. I have two boys and custody of them on the weekends. You can be a part-time teacher with them and help with their homework.
When I am there, you will be my hostess since I am not married. I entertain often. You will be in charge of entertainment and running the house when I am gone."
There was no discussion of what do you think about it. There was no implication or acknowledgement from him about any uncertainty on their part.
"You didn't mention anything about money" Jenny almost whispered timidly.
"O.K. I guess we aren't done. Your husband will get whatever would have been his regular pay where he worked before. At the end of each year he will get a 10% bonus and a 5% raise. You will get twice what he gets. You will all get paid in cash. You will not have to have any taxes deducted. That in itself puts you about 28% higher for what you get to take home. The food here is free and you have the maid's quarters at the end of the hall. It has a living, kitchen, dining, two bedrooms and a two car garage. I will let you use the black corvette. I will issue each of you a credit card with a $ 2,000.00 limit each month. When I am not here or there are no guests, you are free to go where you want. There is a 40 foot Scarab in the boathouse. Of course when I am gone, if we have any guests, you are the captain, Jenny. For your safety, I expect your husband to be along too. You can't be too cautious with some of these ex-football players around a beautiful woman out alone on a boat. I don't mind you fucking them, but I don't want you to get hurt."
There it was out; the "F" word. There was silence. Her husband was silent.
"How are you going to feel about that Joe? Your wife is going to be here as my hostess when I have parties. Her primary job is to entertain me while I am here. When we have guests, she is here to entertain all of us. The two of you may be out on a boat with some of my friends. How are you going to feel watching her having sex with some or all of them?" Joe was silent with his head bowed. He looked up at Jenny. Their eyes met. Joe didn't know how to express his anguish. On the one hand, they had no options other than being indignant and walking out and living in their truck.
Jenny looked into his eyes, searching for signs of indignation. She could see some hurt, but no rage. What if he walked out? What was she prepared to do? Would she walk out with him or try to talk him into staying. Nobody moved. This was a "No Objection" form of compliance. Jenny was stunned. How could her husband of so many years not be indignant or at least offer some form of resistance?
"How do you feel Mrs. Jenkins? Are you willing to fuck somebody else in return for a place to stay? Are you prepared to have sex in return for a good chance to replenish your savings and keep your girls in school?" Jenny looked again over to her husband for any sign of support. Seeing none, she knew she was on her own.
"I ... I ... I ... guess we don't really have a choice. I would rather die than go through this, but I will do it for my children and husband." The tears welled in the corners of her eyes.
"Well you're going to show me some sign of commitment. Stand up and take your clothes off." He said as he pushed his chair back. He reached into his pocket and pulled out several hundred dollar bills.
Jenny flushed. Her heart was in her throat. Up until now, it was all an abstract intellectual struggle of "what would you do" concepts. It was like watching Woody Harrelson and Demi Moore struggling with Robert Redford. The difference was she could not hit the "Off" button on the remote. She was Demi Moore on the yacht. It was now "Fuck or Walk" time.
Jenny tried not to look at her husband or at the money on the table as she put her hands on the edge of the table and shoved back slowly with her knees on her chair. She couldn't help but look over at her husband as she stood. "Stop me, honey" her mind screamed.
Jenny stood and tried to focus her eyes on a spot on the wall above Sam as she reached for her first button. She turned to look at the secretary just a few feet from her and then turned with a look of terror towards Sam. Sam picked up his cell phone and hit a button. The glass curtain wall turned to a cloudy opaque white.
"Well, are you going to or not?" The words cut the silence like a meat cleaver.
Jenny looked at Sam; looking for signs of sympathy. There were none. With her hands trembling, she slowly pushed each button through the eyelets until she had the last one at her him in her two hands. It was hard to let go when she was done. Jenny dropped the hem but used her hands to keep the sides together; frantically trying to maintain what modesty she had left.
"Come over here. I want a better view."
Jenny took the thousand steps it seemed to take to go around the glass conference table to stand in front of Sam. He held out his hand with the palm up. Jenny sighed as she shrugged the dress off. She held it in front of her, struggling with her mind about giving it up. She folded it and handed it to Sam.
Jenny stood there with her arms crossed in front of her black lace almost quarter cup bra. The bra didn't do much for hiding anything. Her choral nipples peeked over the tops of the lace like little puppies, trying to see what was going on.
Jenny reached up with one hand to hold her glasses as she used the back of her other hand to wipe the tears from the sides of her eyes. She put the glasses back on as she arched her back to reach the clasp. She used her arms against her sides to keep the garment from exploding off of her as it opened. Jenny pulled her arms up and cradled the scant material obscuring complete view of her breasts.
She let it fall into her crossed arms and folded it as she placed it in Sam's outstretched hand. Jenny stood there defiantly. She didn't need to be told as she reached her thumbs between her lace thong and slid them down her thighs. She lifted one foot and then the other to step out of the flimsy garment that clung to her boots. She bent over to pick them up and hand them to Sam. The blood rushed to her face in humiliation as she felt the air conditioning on her open cleft.
Jenny stood humiliated and in shame in front of Sam as she felt his eyes burning into her for inspection. She felt if she did not look at her husband, she could convince herself he was not there. "Try to convince yourself that you are at home with your husband in a dimly lit room." She tried to tell herself.
"Mrs. Jenkins, do you always cover yourself like that? Aren't you trying to convince me you want the job; that you want the money; that you want the wonderful housing being offered; that you want your husband to have a nice job?"
She dropped her hands to her sides. The Bantam egg colored woman tried to bring what dignity she had left out of her. She pushed her wire rim glasses up against her face. It was hard to tell whether her Lisa Bonet breasts and Bai Ling nipples; her athletic tanned legs; or her beautiful ageless face were her best assets. Her best asset, of course, was her tender loving nature; her devotion to her family and struggle to survive no matter what humiliation or shame they tried to cover her with.
Jenny almost gagged as she forced herself into automation. Sam spread his legs. Jenny stepped closer and put her outstretched hands on his shoulders. "Sam, I want this job. I need this job. My husband wants this job. I will do whatever you and my husband are in agreement with. I will do my best to be a good employee to you and your guests." She could not hide the shudder in her abdomen and shoulders. She could not avoid her involuntary reaction to use the back of her hand to wipe the flow of tears down under her glasses.
"P ... p ... please forgive me. I ... I ... I ... need some time to adjust to what you're asking me to do. My husband and I will get through this.'
"W ... w ... w ... what do you mean?" the woman asked not wanting to know the answer.
"Get down on your knees: show me and tell me and your husband how much you want this job." He said as he placed his hands over hers and laid them on his thighs.
Jenny looked in desperation over at her husband and then down at his fly. She didn't need to be told. "I need this job, Sam, she said as she reached for his belt and unbuckled it.
"My husband and I will be very grateful to you for the chance to work for you." She said as she popped the brass button on his jeans and unzipped his fly.
"My husband and I don't want to take our girls out of school. They are so close to finishing." She said as he raised himself on the arms of the chair and she tugged his briefs and jeans down. She paused to pull off his socks and western boots. She removed his jeans and folded them beside the chair. Her utter shame and humiliation did not stop her reaction to keep things neat. Actually it was another attempt to procrastinate what she knew she had to do.
The room was silent as Jenny reached out with both hands. She held her fingers out straight like she was dumping a dead spider covered in Kleenex into the trash. With her fingers straight, she used the thumb and forefinger of each hand to touch him. She rubbed her fingers slowly along the length of the semi-flaccid suede anaconda; trying to mentally measure the girth and length of it. Each brush with the back of her hand or the stroke of her outstretched fingers lengthened the creature in front of her.
Jenny forced a faint smile she did not have as she looked up into Sam's eyes for approval as she leaned forward and guided the tip against the front of her lips. She kissed it. It was a soft kiss like a mother pulling the blanket over her new child at night. She struggled trying to mask her shame, knowing her husband was watching. Joe watched in outrage at this act she refused to perform in an intimate setting was now being done by the woman he loved on a huge stranger.
Joe watched as her cheeks hollowed and her lips opened. He could see the hidden movements of her lips as she rolled it around the tip inside her lips. He watched in envy and outrage as Sam leaned his head back and grabbed the sides of her head as he groaned and thrashed his head slowly back and forth.
He listened as the air sucked in and out of the sides of her mouth in a gurgling and slurping sound that could not hide what was going on.
"Are you comfortable with doing this Mrs. Jenkins?" The constant reference to her as a married woman was extremely humiliating to her. It was a constant reminder that she was doing something she didn't even want to do; and doing it with somebody other than her husband.
"I'm doing this because I love my husband and children." She said as she pulled away and broke the strand of spittle and semen that joined her lips to the tip. She rested her head against his abdomen as she held the side of his shaft against his cheek while she was speaking to him. Jenny's shoulders heaved as she struggled with her breath and the words from her mouth.
"Are you O.K. with this Mr. Husband?" It was a further mocking of them; spoken to remind Joe that this was his wife he was humiliating and forcing him to give consent to the vile humiliation of her.
Jenny turned her head and opened her mouth. She used her lips to stimulate the side of his shaft; using the pose to get a glimpse of her husband's reaction to the conversation. "Give me an excuse to stop" her mind screamed as the naked woman stroked the monster with her lips. Seeing none, she turned sadly to continue.
Jenny could not get much more than the edge of his crown past her lips. Using her mouth as a guide to steady the shaft, she used her two hands to masturbate him with a slow sensual massage of her delicate fingertips.
The end couldn't come soon enough, but to Sam it came too quickly. She felt his legs stiffen. She sensed the groan because his head was flailing back and forth. She felt the grip on the back of her head. Too late, she felt the bulb in her lips spasm. Too late she tried to shut the end of him with her tongue. A geyser spewed out of the sides of her mouth as she recoiled.
"Hold your mouth open. Stick your tongue out; wider." The voice above her groaned. Jenny's head went back as the next volley went over her head and landed in her hair. The next went up her nose and into her eyes. Her shoulders shuddered and her abdomen churned as she struggled to cradle the tip on her extended tongue while it shuddered like a dying chicken and flooded her mouth. She had to swallow or drown because of the fluid also in her nose.
"You are going to have to get used to this. You are going to have to get used to swallowing." She heard him say. Jenny stopped her hand before she could use it to wipe her face. She closed her mouth and swallowed. The act of swallowing the fluid was not as bad as hearing and reacting to the command and having her husband watch.
Joe watched the beautiful woman with her head back; her hands gripping his thighs to keep from falling over backwards; her Bai Ling nipples pointing to the sky and the tears flowing down the sides of her face.
When the shuddering in the black anaconda subsided and it started to grow flaccid, Jenny turned her head away from both of the men as she struggled to clean herself. After she had cleaned and dressed, Sam thanked them for the visit and gave them tickets for the trip to Seattle.
Sam had one of the many small private islands along the inside passage. It was huge granite outcropping covered with monstrous pines. They could have gotten there either by helicopter or boat. From the shuttle they rode in, it was not very obvious where the house was. As they docked, Jenny could see the buildings. They were limestone structures that stair stepped their way up the narrow road to the top. They were built into the side of the island so that the main body of each space was hollowed out of the rock. The face of each building and sides were a reconstruction of the buildings of one of the most romantic settings she had ever been to: The Village in the French Pyrenees called La-Roque-Gageac.
But that, as they say is another story...
The scores on my stories have been going down exponentially from the first few that I wrote.