Chapter 4

Go ahead. Tell me you could be perfectly blasé coming home to your television/movie-star-clone wife every day, as if it were the most normal routine on earth. Tell me having sex every night with an out-and-out goddess – an insatiable screamer of a goddess - is “ho-hum, same old, same old”. Tell me you wouldn’t be tripping over your own tongue and doing your very best to keep saliva spots off your shoes. Tell me seeing the rings on her finger and hearing this woman tell you she loves you with all her heart for making her dream life come true isn’t the most humbling experience you have had in your life.

Tell me you wouldn’t do, give her anything she asked for with a snap of those elegantly-manicured fingers and a rich, gentle purr in that crisp, alluring British accent.

It’s not like she had to go to court to legally change her name. Alexis Morrell was her name. If she had to sign legal documents, it was “D. Alexis Morrell”. Otherwise, the metamorphosis was complete. She embraced her new identity with serene confidence. Other than me, Mama was her biggest fan. The other girls and clients at the salon were not far behind. People came up to her and asked for her autograph.

“Wow, you are even more stunning in person. I swear, you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

Alexis was beyond exquisite as she left that Friday evening to join Mama and their friends. The black crepe dress hugged her curves like wet tissue. The right arm was bare. The left shoulder strap featured a big, fluffy bow. It wasn’t low-cut, but the thrust of her F-cup breasts through the clingy material was not to be denied. The hem demurely covered the welts of her stockings, unless she moved suddenly or bent over. Add a pair of Christian Louboutin platform pumps with seven-inch stiletto heels, jewelry, perfume, makeup and hair and my lover was hot. So was the embrace she gave me before she went out the door, complete with grinding her pussy into my crotch.

“No other boy I ever dated would have let me walk out the door looking like this unless he was attached to my side like a remora,” she posited. “You are the ‘real man’ in my life. Don’t think for a moment I don’t recognize that – and appreciate it.”

She paused for a moment, her eyes fixed on a point over my shoulder as her mind wandered. A coy smile tugged at the corners of her glossy lips as her attention returned.

“Just think of all those boys who will be there tonight,” she continued in her saucy, accented ‘Alexis’ voice, reinforcing her words with the pressure of her pussy rubbing back and forth against my clothed flesh. “They will see me and want me so bad. They will take me out on the dance floor and dance real close, pressing their sex against mine just the way I am doing to you right now. Their hands will be all over my body, too; touching, feeling, caressing, trying to get me as hot for them as I am getting you for me...”

Her words were getting me hot and bothered. She had slipped into our hotwife role-playing fantasy so smoothly, effortlessly, knowing full well the erotic effect it had on my libido as well as hers.

“You had better be ready to perform for me when I get home, Prettyboy,” she cooed, gently scraping the sharp tips of her fingernails down the tender flesh of my cheek. “I’m going to need good loving and lots of it after the evening I’m going to have. If you can’t give me what I need, I might have to go elsewhere to find it.”

She punctuated her threat/promise with the lightest, sweetest buss on my lips, adding a stroke of my cheek with the palm of her hand. Then she was gone.

It must have been close to 3AM when I was awakened by a shifting of the mattress. It was dark, but I felt myself being straddled, pinning my arms to my sides. A looming presence hovered above my head. My nose detected a pungent, complex bouquet of hairspray, perfume, liquor, raging sexual arousal.

“Do me,” her voice hissed in the night as she jammed her sex into my face. My mouth was immediately flooded with a gush of thick, ropy, pungent cum. She had really done it!

“Clean my cunt, you bastard,” she commanded. “You have no clue how much I need a good, hard fucking. Those pricks were all over me all night, teasing me, enticing me, feeling me up, dry-humping me on the dance floor, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, telling me no real man would allow a girl like me to go out without him, looking as fine as I do, unless he wanted me to get laid by any man who had the stones to take me. Your mama got laid. Gayle got laid. Jennifer got laid. Even Elizabeth got laid.

“There was this one guy who walked up and introduced himself as pretty as you please. Even in my high heels, I had to look up to him. He was so ripped, even his muscles had muscles. He took me out on the dance floor and danced real close. I could feel him, Michael; right through his pants. His cock was huge; the biggest I have ever felt in my life. He was hard, throbbing and wanted me so bad. God help me, I wanted him, too! What was I to do, Michael? What was I to do?”

She had hold of my head with both hands, jamming my face into her hot, steamy snatch. Her well-toned muscles were expelling her juices and his into my mouth in waves. I could easily envision this faceless, well-hung stud having his way with her, filling her cunt to overflowing with his demon seed. That, plus her vile, stream-of-consciousness invective of how she had been defiled these past few hours was like a drug, binding me to her, compelling me to do her bidding. I wanted to please her, worship at her temple, give her any and all she required of me. As I lapped furiously at her love canal, she screamed through one climax after another; still she wasn’t satisfied.