Chapter 1

The next Friday, Dan left the office early. He had to get to the dry cleaners before they closed to retrieve his tuxedo. He was attending a charity event being held at the Chicago Cultural Center and was supposed to meet some co-workers and clients there. After retrieving his tuxedo, he went home, showered, and got dressed, before calling for an Uber back down to the Loop.

The consulting company Dan worked for was actively philanthropic and sponsored many events throughout the year in Chicago, and this was one of the bigger ones. He guessed that four or five hundred people would be present. As the Uber made its way down LaSalle Street toward the Loop, he wondered briefly if Kelly MacGuire would be there, given that Mike’s employer, too, was a co-sponsor of this event. It might prove awkward if she was, he mused.

Once he got to the Cultural Center, Dan grabbed a drink from the bar and found some guys from his office. Over the next few hours, he mingled with them and some of the clients they had invited to the event. As the evening passed, he kept an occasional eye out for the woman he’d met the week before but didn’t see her. As 11:00 approached, he and some friends milled through the crowd, trying to decide whether it was worth staying or if they should bail and find somewhere else to go. The opportunity to hook up with someone would likely be the deciding factor. But half the women were with boyfriends or husbands. The other half were flighty party girls, consumed with taking selfies with their friends, duck lips and all. That made the decision for the boys.

On their way back to the bar for a final drink, he saw her. At first, it was just a flash of blonde hair. Then she turned her head, enough for Dan to see most of her face. Just as he remembered, Kelly looked magnificent, wearing a red crepe evening dress that clung to the pronounced curves of her lush body. Her dirty blonde hair was done up in a bun, leaving her shoulders bare and accentuating the simple diamond solitaire pendant that draped from her graceful neck. Her nails were painted a bright red, and she wore a pair of strappy Jimmy Choo open-toed heels.

Kelly stood as part of a group of six or seven people, holding what appeared to be a glass of champagne in her delicate fingers. Dan watched as her head tipped back in laughter at something that one of the people in her group said, exposing that slender neck. As she put the glass to her red-painted lips to take another sip, her bright blue eyes quickly scanned the crowd around her and almost passed right over Dan. But they quickly came back to rest on him, and his heart skip a beat.

Kelly was surprised to see him. Her beautiful blue eyes went large for a moment, but she quickly recovered and looked away. Almost as an afterthought – or a warning sign – her free arm slid around the waist of the man standing to her left. Mike, her husband. And the message was clear: “Not here, not now.” He turned and walked away, avoiding any awkwardness. What he did not see, after turning away, was the surreptitious glance that Kelly leveled at him over her shoulder.

Having been left behind by his friends when he stopped to stare at Kelly, he made his way back through the crowd and rejoined them at the bar. About twenty minutes later, as the boys were getting ready to leave, he spotted Kelly over a client’s shoulder, making her way toward him, graceful as ever, clearly comfortable in the four-inch heels. However, as she approached the bar, she cut left through an entranceway and out into the grand hallway. She glanced toward him just as she passed through the doorway, a trimmed eyebrow raised.

Dan took the hint, excused himself for a moment, and followed Kelly into the hallway, quickly finding her in the throngs of people that were just then leaving the event. “Hi, Dan,” she said, in a feigned old-friend-you-haven’t-seen-in-a-while tone of voice. “What are you doing here?”

Dan played along for the benefit of anyone that might be listening. “My firm’s one of the sponsors of this thing. How about you?”

“Same thing. Mike’s company is one of the sponsors.” She glanced around her, and then her gaze slowly returned to Dan. “Look, I can’t talk, but are you going to be here a while?”

Dan paused a moment. “A little bit.” A harmless white lie. “Why?”

“We were just going to leave; Mike’s tired. But maybe I’ll tell him I want to stay out with some of my old co-workers. Want to meet me somewhere?”

Dan nodded, slowly, not wanting to appear too eager. “Sure ... of course. Where?”

Kelly considered for a moment. “Mike’ll order an Uber. Give me ... mmm ... half an hour, then meet me at the corner of Wabash and Randolph, under the El. We can figure out where to go from there,” she said, then quickly walked off, presumably returning to the side of her husband.

Dan watched as the clingy fabric of the elegant dress stretched across the tight curves of her ass, before returning to his co-workers and clients. He engaged in light banter for a while, and when they began to move out in search of greener pastures, he made excuses about a long week and begged off, telling everyone he was going to head home and get some rest.

Instead, he made his way out of the Cultural Center and walked down the block to the El tracks. Kelly was waiting there for him, looking absolutely stunning. Dan reached for her hand, but she quickly pulled back. “Not here. Someone might see. Just get us a car, okay?”

Dan took out his phone and put the order in, randomly entering his local bar as the destination. “Monkey’s Paw,” he said. “We, uh, might be a bit overdressed, though.”

Kelly shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of those lush lips. They stood somewhat awkwardly in the shadows as they waited. Thankfully, the car arrived just a few minutes later and Dan held the rear door open for the woman. As soon as she was settled, she informed the driver, “Change in plans. Just take us to Fullerton and Southport, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” came the reply of the driver. His voice was heavily accented, and sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, or perhaps from the Subcontinent.

“What, you don’t want to go for a drink first?” Dan teased her as she pulled her long, dirty blonde locks from the confining bun and shook her hair out.

“No. I want to go back to your place and fuck,” she lilted, noticing that the driver gave her a long look in the rearview mirror. She reached her right hand out and dragged those nails lightly over Dan’s thigh as the car began its journey to the western part of Lincoln Park. Leaning a bit closer to him, she put her soft lips to his ear and whispered, “I want your cock inside me.” When she pulled back, her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the cab’s backseat.

Dan moaned under Kelly’s touch, the heat of her breath at his ear. “Glad there’s no traffic, then.”

“Mmm. Me, too.” It wasn’t lost on Kelly that she’d put her husband in one car, only to climb into another one with another man. Her pussy started to weep at the thought. The driver was again staring at her in the rearview mirror.

Fifteen minutes later, when the Uber pulled up in front of Dan’s building, they climbed out. “That driver was freaking me out,” she said as Dan shut the door. “He wouldn’t stop staring at me,” she finished, with a sour look on her face.

“You’re gorgeous, that’s probably why he was staring. Or maybe it was that foul mouth. Maybe he wanted to be the one to take you home and fuck you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she responded, under her breath, as Dan keyed open the outer door to his building. He held the door for her as she breezed by, the scent of her perfume floating in the air.

“What’s that mean?” he asked, following her across the lobby to the elevator. As the doors closed, Kelly pushed Dan against the elevator wall and stroked his cock through his tuxedo pants. She went to her tiptoes, and her warm, pink tongue snaked out to play with his lips. She heard a sharp intake of Dan’s breath as her tongue worked its way into his mouth.

She still hadn’t answered his question when the elevator doors opened on his floor, and they exited the elevator and approached the entry to his condominium. “‘Wouldn’t be the first time’? What does that mean, Kelly?” he asked as they entered his condo.

“It means, idiot, that he was not the first driver that has wanted to fuck me,” she said, dropping her clutch on a side chair. “And if he had fucked me, he would not have been the first to do so. Clear now?” she taunted, pulling the straps of her gown off her shoulders. She pushed it down her body, wiggling her hips, and then stepped out of it, clad only in a bra and her Jimmy Choo’s.

“Oh, God,” Dan breathed, taking in the sight of the woman’s lush body, of her bald cunt. Kelly pushed him back on his couch, unbuckled his tuxedo pants, and fished his growing cock from them. Her manicured hand encircled the thickening rod and began tugging it gently up and down.

“Sorry,” she said with a smirk, dropping her right hand from his cock and replacing it with her left. She continued to stroke his cock, feeling the heat coming from the head on her upstroke. Without warning, she tucked her chin and spit on his cock to add lubrication. After a few more strokes, she dropped her red-painted lips to the thick shaft and engulfed it in the silky heat of her mouth, causing Dan to shudder and gasp.

Something inside Kelly triggered the slut, and the blowjob went from slow and gentle to sloppy and rough. Saliva dripped from between her plump lips and Dan’s cock, and flowed down the length of his shaft, further lubricating the hand that stroked up and down. She forced the cock into the back of her throat, gagging softly and her pretty blue eyes teared up. “You gonna cum?” she inquired after a minute or so of slurping.

“Soon,” Dan breathed.

“Un-uh,” Kelly said around his cock, removing it from her mouth and giving a playful squeeze at the root. A thin rope of spit and pre-cum hung from her lip before snapping, draping itself down his length. “Not yet, you don’t. I think you need an answer first,” she continued, her breath a little short, her tone a bit raspy.

“An answer?” Dan said, his breath slowly returning to normal.

“You wanna know how a seemingly prim and proper housewife ended up getting fucked by an Indian cab driver,” she whispered as her mouth once again moved to cover the stiff shaft that was smeared in spit and lipgloss.

About a year after her daughter was born, Kelly joined her girlfriends for a night out. She needed a break, and Mike offered to stay home for the night with their daughter. The girls met for sushi at Dee’s on Armitage, then hopped around to a few bars in the area, McGee’s, Kincade’s, then finally Marquee lounge. Nothing special, no big scenes, but just a nice night out with friends, with no child in tow.

As enjoyable as the night had been, Kelly decided somewhere around midnight that it was time for her to go home. She had been out for four or five hours and had poured more alcohol down her throat than she should have. Her husband would be leaving for work early the next morning and she’d be back on duty. A long day awaited her.

But part of her wanted to stay. Being hit on all evening by the college kids that frequented those bars had left her pussy wet and yearning, her nipples aching. The alcohol had loosened what little inhibitions she had, and she really just craved having her cunt punished by a thick, energetic cock.

It was her own fault, of course. She shouldn’t have dressed as provocatively as she had. The heels and black leather pants hugging her ass were enough on their own to draw those handsome young men in her direction. But the snug, pink, cashmere sweater that did nothing to hide her substantial tits brought more attention than she was capable of dealing with, at least with her friends nearby. Unfortunately, she knew she couldn’t let a college boy take her back to his dorm room while her friends were still around; she was sober enough to realize that. Sighing internally, she resigned herself to going home and climbing into bed next to her dozing husband.

A few minutes after twelve, Kelly tried to order an Uber and was dismayed to see that she’d have to wait nearly thirty minutes for her ride. Far too long for a woman whose will was quickly weakening. If she didn’t get out of there, she was afraid she’d do something rash, so she said her goodbyes to her friends and left. She walked a few doors down Halsted and stood on the curb, waiting for a cab. The wait was thankfully not too long and as it slid to the curb, she climbed into the backseat. “Sheffield and Armitage,” she directed the driver, who immediately took off.

Kelly shifted in the back seat of the cab, trying to scratch the itch that burned between her thighs. ‘God, I need to get fucked,’ she groaned inwardly, looking at the driver in the rearview mirror, pouting. ‘Too bad I got some Hindu and not some young stud.’

The ride wasn’t long. She didn’t live too far from the Marquee, but it was too far for a woman to walk after dark, particularly after midnight. Still, the ride was punctuated. At every block, there was a stop sign and at every stop sign the driver hit the brakes. And each time he did, Kelly slid forward a little in her seat, drawing the gusset of her leather pants up, tight over her pussy, agitating her already inflamed clit.

“Take a left here,” she said a little breathlessly as they approached her intersection.

As the cab pulled up in front of Mike and Kelly’s walk-up, she decided to throw caution to the wind. “Um, I’m really sorry,” she began in a soft voice. “I don’t seem to have any cash on me.” As she said this, Kelly slipped the twenty-dollar bill back into her Louis Vuitton handbag.

The driver hit the brakes a bit abruptly, drawing a gasp from his passenger, and then turned in his seat. “I not drive you for free,” came the harsh reply. “You pay fare for ride home.”

“I know ... I’m sorry,” she pleaded, leaning forward. “I thought I had cash with me, but I don’t. What ... what can we do?”

“I will take you to ATM,” came the indignant reply. The driver turned back around in his seat and put the cab back in gear. “You get money there. I keep meter running.”

“That won’t work, either,” she responded, her head now between the seatbacks, her mouth just inches from his ear. “I don’t have my credit card with me,” she explained in a sweet voice.

The cab driver stared daggers at her in his rearview mirror, but his eyes widened as Kelly’s head bent even closer to him, and her long, pink tongue slithered out and licked his ear lobe. “How about I pay you some other way?” she whispered.

The driver shivered as her hot breath caressed his inner ear. “You pay. Please ... you pay for ride,” the driver said, nervous at the sight of the little blonde wife nibbling at his ear.

“I will pay,” she said, glancing over at the dashboard, noticing his chauffeur’s license. “I will pay, Yash. With my body. You can play with my tits. You can ... you can fuck me,” she said, leaning forward further so that her tits squeezed between the seatbacks. Her right arm crossed the threshold from the back seat to the front, and her long, manicured fingernails lightly stroked Yash’s chest while her mouth maintained its vigil at his ear. “What do you say, Yash? I’ll pay you with my body?”

After a pause, “Where?” came the barely audible reply.

“Pull down the street and turn into the alley,” Kelly answered, her voice a soft purr, dragging her red nails across the Indian’s chest. Or was he Pakistani? In the end, it didn’t really matter to her. His faith, his culture, didn’t matter to her. The only thing that mattered was that he had a cock, and she had a needy cunt.

As she sat back and Yash pulled into the alley, Kelly recalled that Mike’s Range Rover was in the shop, leaving an open spot in their carport. ‘Perfect,’ she thought, directing the cab into the vacant parking spot. “Turn your lights off. You’ll wake my husband,” she whispered, even now concerned that her voice would carry into the house. Once the driver slid into the spot, she exited the cab, sure to close the door quietly.

Kelly was now cursing the contractors that were taking so much time to finish the rehabilitation of their home. They had left the garage for the end and hadn’t even started it yet, even though the work on the house itself began the previous summer. As such, Kelly and Mike continued using the carport that was there when they bought the place. She couldn’t do anything about it; she couldn’t complain. The contractors had enough to destroy her sedate and comfortable life. But the problem was the carport had no walls. It was only a roof held aloft by a dozen or so posts. If Mike were to look out one of the windows, he might be able to see her. To see them. See his wife on her knees sucking the cock of a strange man, or bent over the hood of a car taking strange cock from behind.

Rather than give her pause, these thoughts galvanized her. As Kelly strode to the back of the cab, putting it between her and her house (and thus Mike’s eyes, should they find their way to the backyard), Yash too exited the cab and met her at its trunk. He was taller than Kelly had imagined, standing close to six feet. Not extraordinarily tall, but still, taller than her five-foot-four-inch frame. He was dressed in natty twill pants and a pullover shirt, his feet clad in worn, leather sandals. Not exactly a picture of refinement, but Kelly wasn’t looking for refinement tonight. Refinement was waiting for her in her bedroom, or perhaps on the couch in the television room, and made love to her while he called her “honey” and said, “I love you.” Tonight, she was looking only to get fucked. The only terms of endearment she wanted to hear were things like “whore,” “tramp” and “fuck toy.”

As Yash approached her from the driver’s side of the car, Kelly stood on her tiptoes and put her arms around his neck, pulling his face towards hers. Her tongue darted out again, this time parting his lips. Her tongue shoved into his mouth, and soon his tongue joined the fray.

“Mmmm,” he moaned as her hands left his neck and traveled down his chest, one hand remaining there, another continuing down to his waist. She curled her slender fingers around the growing thickness below his belt and felt a twitch underneath the twill. ‘Not huge, but it’ll do,’ she thought to herself as her manicured fingers continued to stroke the cock through the material of his pants.

For his part, Yash now began to feel a little more comfortable about this situation. He was somewhat nervous, standing here almost in this woman’s backyard, out in the open for all practical purposes, but he was no longer concerned about getting into trouble. Clearly, this woman wanted to have sex with him.

That decided, his body relaxed, and his hands began to roam her lithe little body. They first found her hips, encased in the sexy leather pants that clung to her form. They pulled her pelvis towards his own, trapping her hand there, and one hand slipped to her tight ass, massaging her butt. Kelly moaned into the cab driver’s mouth when he began to manhandle her.

As the couple continued their make-out session, with no objections from Kelly about his wandering hands, Yash let a hand slip up her rib cage, over the soft cashmere of her top, and brush the swell at the outside of her left breast. When this, too, failed to bring an objection or a slap in the face, his hand continued to fully cover a large tit, filling his palm. Yash felt the thick nipple protruding under the top and then felt it grow as he squeezed, encouraging him to continue.

Just then, headlights appeared at the end of the alley, coming from the street, and both Kelly and Yash heard the sound of tires crunching through the alley. They quickly parted and scurried to the front of the cab, away from the alley. The car, moving slowly down the alley, continued its monotonous journey toward them. Kelly, heady with lust, excited at the prospect of her cunt being penetrated, elated at the thought of getting fucked by a stranger in her own backyard while her husband was inside, pushed Yash against the hood of his taxi, and grabbed at the waist of his natty pants, pulling the button free. Her long, manicured fingers had trouble grasping the zipper, but eventually, she managed, and Yash’s pants fell to his feet.

Kelly pulled his thickening cock through the opening at the front of his boxers and tugged on it, causing blood to rush toward the head. Wanting to feel it grow in her mouth, Kelly squatted in her heels, her pants yanked up tight against her overheating pussy. She lowered her red-lipsticked mouth to the swollen cockhead, allowing her tongue to twirl around it once then again, before burying her face in his crotch, his cock now fully buried in her hot, wet mouth. The sound of the car – probably a neighbor’s – drowned out Kelly’s moan, but Yash, his bloated cockhead now planted firmly against the back of her throat, felt it reverberate into his stomach.

As Kelly sucked, Yash grew to his full length, throbbing inside the woman’s soft mouth. She bobbed her head quickly on Yash’s cock, her tongue lashing at the swollen glans along the underside of the shaft, the man’s pre-cum blossoming on her soft tongue.

The bloated head of his cock smashed into the back of her throat. Soft little gags came from inside her as she nearly choked on him. “So ... nice,” he breathed.

Removing his cock from her mouth, her lips slightly bruised, wet, and glistening in spit and pre-cum, Kelly let her displeasure be known. “Ssshhh,” she whispered, her left hand replacing her mouth on his cock, her diamond engagement ring glittering in the faint glimmer from a faraway alley light. “That’s my house. We’re thirty feet away. My husband might hear you,” she hissed, as she again placed his cock between her bright, shiny red lips.