Owning My Image
Copyright© 2021 by INtrinSicliValud
Chapter 8
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 8 - Struggling middle-class parents, Laura and Dave need money. While working at a conference, she receives a business proposition - benefit from her looks as a website model. However, as her new career expands, she struggles to control her newfound desires, and the elastic bonds of love stretch ever tighter.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Consensual Heterosexual Rags To Riches Slut Wife Wife Watching Gang Bang Interracial Black Male Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex
Not gonna lie, even after following Dave upstairs and fucking him so hard his eyes flooded with tears as his rod pulsed into me, my mind kept spinning. Is it right what I’m doing? Not riding him, but the whole film thing. The money was pouring in. As were fan comments. Plus, both lurid and lucrative offers. What’s the harm? It’s fun? No, more than fun, it’s—refreshing. Liberating?
Over the following days, the same questions bubbled. But his shoulders lifted, and we both found ourselves smiling a lot more. And having a heck of a lot more sex. Blowjobs were no longer relegated to holidays. Nope, I enjoyed his morning wood one way or another.
“So, when you gonna call him?”
At his quiet voice from the darkness one night, I rolled my head and swept matted hair from my heated face. That time, with his pelvis slapping into my butt and hands gripping my waist, he’d taken me like a wild beast. After collapsing forward to lie on my belly, I was still struggling for air.
“Who?”
“Derrin.”
Alright, so we’re still in this together. Slut wife—Rochelle or Laura—and kinky husband.
When I giggled, his palms slid down my spine to press on my shoulders. That got a groan from me. As he massaged my knotted muscles, much louder groans followed.
“Mmm, tomorrow, baby,” I murmured when his fingers dug deep.
After going back and forth, Derrin and I hammered out the details of the next episodes. Yes, episodes. His brilliant plan was to add a narrative dimension.
“Laura, sweetie.” At him calling me that—both not Rochelle and “sweetie”—my gaze flicked to Dave watching from the other end of the couch. “What you do ... Well, we add a little story—nothing fancy—and those followers of yours will keep tuning in just to see what happens next.”
He went on to describe a small remote beachside cottage that would be perfect.
All of which meant, once my husband stood up to his asshole boss and received a week off, we grabbed the earliest flight. By the time we arrived, Derrin said he’d already rigged it for video and audio. But there were no obvious cameras. Dave and I exchanged curious glances.
“What do you mean?” I asked, while following Derrin through the quaint home into a small but bright kitchen.
“Well, for tomorrow, there and there.” He pointed to glittery circles amid utensils on the shelves. “Cameras. Several remote mikes are also scattered around.”
“Wow, um, impressive.” And expensive. The smacking of my lips was loud as I scanned the room, trying to spot tiny lenses.
“Oh, and I’ve got a surprise for you.” He winked.
After his other surprises, my pulse ratcheted higher. But even as my mouth opened to ask, he flashed me that brilliant smile. I sealed my lips; his previous surprises had turned out just fine.
The next day, as my shiny heels clacked on the white tile around a large man lying on his back on the floor, I struggled to breathe. His massive head and broad shoulders were wedged under the sink in the cottage’s brightly lit, ultra-modern kitchen.
Every other second, I flung nervous glances towards the slatted laundry room door. Although I couldn’t make out his eyes, from behind it, Dave was watching. As my nipples rubbed the lacy bra under a thin sundress, they throbbed. The aroma of a nearby vase of fresh flowers—courtesy of Derrin—was overpowered by the scent wafting from my panties.
My gaze drifted downward to Derrin’s surprise. Though the nametape on the plumber said “Carl,” it was Rio. The same Rio I’d ridden with Dan and Ben. When he had stepped through the front door “to fix the sink,” he’d flashed a broad, knowing smile. My skin had flared with heat as I tried to act like a calm little housewife. But there was nothing calm about being that close to him again.
Another pair of descending trickles made me shiver. He’d been banging around under there for ... I spared a quick glance at the clock on the stovetop.
Only fifteen minutes!
Oh, God!
While swallowing a moan, I scanned the impressive bulge trapped in his gray uniform. Unzip him! Ride him right then and there.
Nope, not in the script, such as it was. To take my mind off the fluttering and tingling inside me, I glanced out the window. Tall stalks of sea grass waved atop sand dunes. A line of sparkling blue tinted with frothy white, shimmering surf beyond. The place was gorgeous, and a winding stone path to the shore beckoned. When Rio groaned, I rocked back in surprise as he slid from under the cabinet. His hungry eyes glided along my bare, shaking legs, then up my quivering body before twinkling as he smiled at me.
“Well, that should do it, little lady.”
After pulling himself to his feet, he towered over me and turned on the faucet. As the water ran, the breath froze in my throat; his broad back swelled under the tight gray overalls. When I’d ridden him before, I hadn’t realized how tall he was. Vertical, he was massive. As another pair of dribbles left my soaked lace, I gulped air at last.
“Alrighty. Lemme write this up and I’ll be on my way.” Once he replaced his tools, he began scratching on a notepad with a pen. While handing me the note, he flashed me a smile.
I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’re gonna beg me to take you home and keep you all week.
As I flicked to his amused eyes, my chest thumped. That little message was definitely not in the script. His lips moved, but no sounds came to my ears over the sudden rush of roaring blood. After swaying backwards to clamp a fist on the counter, my hearing returned.
“ ... hear me, ma’am? Cash or credit?”
My gaze whipped to the prop checkbook on the counter beside me.
“Sorry, the boss won’t let us take checks from out-of-towners.” Rio smiled.
Once I pried the sweaty palm from the countertop, I pulled a credit card from a stylish pink leather wallet. After taking the opportunity to caress my wrist with his long fingers, he tugged it away and ran it through a device on his phone. It buzzed, and a red light flashed. He scowled at the machine and swiped it again. After a third try, he looked at me, eyebrow raised.
“Hmm, have another card?”
In my role, as my legs trembled, I shook my head. The silken hair of the ponytail swished along my bare back. He handed me the card, but my hands trembled so much it took me several tries to slide it into the wallet.
“Cash?”
“No.” My voice could barely enunciate the single word before cracking. My mouth was so dry. While again shaking my head, I licked my lips and swallowed.
“Well. Seems we’ve a bit of a problem then, don’t we?”
I nodded, cleared my throat, and muttered, “Yes.”
“I did honest work and deserve compensation, right?”
Rio stepped closer. My nails beat a staccato rhythm on the counter edge as my shaky hands clenched it.
“Yes.”
“So, little lady. How you planning to pay me?”
My eyes flicked to his crotch. Taut, gray material strained over a throbbing bulge that lurched under my feverish gaze. When I returned to his face, “Carl” smiled. With a quick glance towards the laundry room door, I swallowed and bent my knees, ready to lower myself before him.
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