Chapter 2

There was that same avoidance after our second amazing night of perverse debauchery. By the time I woke up, stiff and sore, on the living room carpet, Helen had cleaned herself up and was her normal old self again and acted like nothing had happened.

To tell the truth, I was thankful. I’d done and said things to her I was deeply ashamed of. I’d treated a smart, beautiful woman I really loved like she was nothing more important than three holes made to be fucked. Sure, she’d loved every moment and every way I abused her, and had even suggested things for me to do, but that was no excuse for having done it.

That’s not to say I regretted any of it. Maybe that sounds weird, but it’s true. I didn’t want to be reminded that it’d happened, but I wouldn’t have taken any of it back, even if there’d been a way. After the first hour or two, the worst of our mutual embarrassment was over and we went about our Sunday chores - including church - like it was just another day. The only visible reminder of what we’d done was that Helen waddled a little when she walked. Her much abused asshole was raw, and her pussy wasn’t in much better shape.

As before though, there were side-effects. We made passionate love at least once a day, sometimes more. We added a little more variety to our coupling, but nothing really outrageous. Helen liked to be on top sometimes, and we developed a habit of extended foreplay, including energetically eating one another’s sex. And we privately fantasized, remembering the things we’d done, the wild lust we’d both experienced.

All the while, we went about planning our upcoming wedding. It was going to be the big church affair our families wanted and had pretty much given up on, since we were both in our mid- twenties. Needless to say, we acted like the perfect couple. Not even our best friends had any idea that beneath our handsome, normal appearances there lurked dark secrets.

It was after the next-to-last wedding rehearsal, three days before the real thing, half-tanked on champagne, that Helen and I loosened up our lust again. It’d been almost four months since that wild Saturday night, and the pressure to get dirty had been building and building in both of us.

I’d secretly, shamefully indulged in more masturabtory fantasies inspired by that mind-blowing event than I could count. When I discovered the trashy makeup I’d bought her had vanished from her bathroom drawer, I slyly got more. In fact, about once a month I broke out into a sweat and whacked off and couldn’t stop myself from making a trip to some cosmetic counter to pick up a little something for “next time.” I knew there’d be a “next time,” I just didn’t know when.

The day of the practice wedding had been one of those times. I’d had to go to the men’s room at the plant and jack of to mental pictures of Helen wearing her virginal white wedding gown and a complete whore’s face, dominated by slick, fat red lips begging to be fucked. On the way to the rehearsal, I’d been compelled to stop at a huge drugstore and by still more lewd fantasy cosmetics. I was worried and excited by the contents of the little shopping bag in the back seat of the car. I half- hoped Helen would notice it and discover what was inside, but I couldn’t make myself say anything.

So, when we finally made it home after the Friday evening rehearsal party, and Helen glued herself to me before we even got the door closed and pushed her tongue down my throat, grinding her fantastic tits against my chest, the plastic bag in my hand felt very obvious. When the hot kiss finally ended, I guess I must have looked at it.

“What’s that, Ron?” she asked, still rubbing me with her hips.

“Oh. Nothing.”

“It’s got to be something, hon.” She lifted it from my limp fingers and peeked inside. Her “Oh!” was surprised, but not at all displeased. Her eyes sought mine, and the bump of her hips picked up a little more urgency. I saw her swallow a lump in her throat, try to say something, and decide she needed another kiss.

I only thought the first one was passionate. Compared to the way she attacked my mouth that time, it’d been a polite peck. Her fingers dug into my ass like she was trying to force my whole body between her legs. When she finally broke the embrace, she was gasping.

“Should I ... do you want me to...”

I watched her try to get the words out and felt the lust expand to fill me. “Yeah. That’s what I want.”

She wrapped one long leg around my waist and dove in for another kiss. “Say it,” she murmured hotly into my ear, nibbling my lobe. “Tell me what you want me to be.”

I squeezed her ass, pulling her still closer. I made sure one finger was hard against her shit hole. “My nasty little slut,” I told her. “My dirty little whore.”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed, the crotch of her jeans riding up my erection, her ass wiggling, trying to force my finger in her back door. “I want that. I want it so fucking bad, Ron. I want to do it like last time, with you fucking me while I paint my face.”

“No, cunt. I want it to be better than last time.”

“Oh, baby, it will be. I’ve got some surprises for you.”

“I’ve got some for you, too, bitch.”

“So take me upstairs, stud. Let’s do it. I’m so fucking hot just thinking about it that I’m ready to cum right now.”

“Un uh. First you put on the lipstick in the bag and get on your fucking knees right here and suck my cum down your slutty little throat.”

I let her use the hall mirror to spread the deepest creamy red color I could find over her mouth while I unbuttoned her blouse and attacked her already long nipples. She hissed and purred and thrust her tight ass against my swollen prick until I was satisfied with her lips.

When she took my cock in her mouth it was with all the skill I imagined a professional hooker had, and a hell of a lot more real desire for what she was doing.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” she groaned as she took a break and used her hands to stroke my rod. “Look what I’m doing! I’m smearing my nasty fucking lipstick all over your cock. I’m taking your lovely fuck-meat all the way down my throat.” She shuddered wildly. “God, I love it!” She dove back onto me, sucking noisily.

I took her hair in my fists and held her head still and fucked myself in and out of her head. Through tightly gritted teeth, I told her what I had hidden away in the back of my closet. “I bought you tons of makeup, cunt, so you can look every bit the slut you are. I got you two real dildos that look just like cocks. They’re long and fat and hard, ready for your holes, baby. Before the night’s over, your cunt and ass are going to be so fucking stretched out you could fuck a telephone pole.”

She was whining around my prick. She’d opened her jeans and her hand was digging noisily in her sloppy wet pussy while she bounced on the floor. She was trying to speak, but the way I was forcing my dick into her made it impossible. I tried to hold myself back, but the sight of her smeared lips and the color she left on my meat drove me over the edge. I pushed as far in as possible and stayed there. Her lips were buried in my public hair, nuzzling the base of my shaft, and I could see the end of my dick bulging her graceful neck. My cum erupted like lava. Helen choked and swallowed, swallowed and choked. The white goo oozed around her lips as I eased back out of her head a little, my knees turning to jelly.

When I turned loose of her hair, she grabbed my cock and jacked it, opening her mouth for air, showing me the pool of cum on her tongue. She aimed my spurting prick between her smeared lips and hungrily took every wad I gave her. When I was merely dribbling sperm, she cooed and rubbed my shrinking member over her cheeks, chin and eyes, never giving up her pumping grip, until I was totally limp. She bathed my soft flesh in tender kisses and loving licks, making sure she’d gotten every last trace of cum.

I helped her to her feet, make her kick the jeans and panties off her ankles. I told her to leave her blouse on and her bra open because it made her look so trashy. She smiled at herself in the mirror, admiring her blurred lips and the smears of cum shining on her fair skin.

I led her to the stairs and pushed her up, my thumb digging into her asshole and my first two fingers slipped into her saturated cunt. She had to lean on the bannister and slowly climb the steps with her legs parted. When my thumb popped past her ass-ring and plunged into her, she missed a step and nearly fell. She leaned back against me and came, wailing loudly.

I pushed her forward, made her walk and cum at the same time. She had to lean against the wall all the way down the hall, and I thought her legs were going to give out and dump her on the floor, but she made it somehow. Her cum was trickling down her thighs like she’d pissed all over herself.

When we got in the bedroom, I jerked my hand out of her. She looked stunned, gasped. She just stood there with a haunted expression while I got the overnight case from my closet shelf. I flipped it open and showed her what was inside. Her shock dis- sipated as her eyes danced over all the eyeshadow and lipsticks, foundations, powders, nail enamels and false fingernails I’d accumulated.

“Oh, Ron,” she whimpered, taking the case from my hands. “Oh, fuck, honey. Can I use it now? I can’t wait!”

“Not yet, slut. You said you had some surprises, too. Show me.”

She dropped her eyes, looked embarrassed and hesitated. Her expression changed when I pinched her nipples. She grunted at the pain and pleasure pulsing through her and smiled. When I dropped my hands, she set the case on the bed and scurried to her much larger closet. She grabbed a black garment bag from the bar and laid it out on the bed like it was fragile. Her hands opened and closed near the zipper. Her eyes speared me with a pleading look.

I stroked her fine ass, played with her shit hole. “Open it, whore.”

She bent forward from the waist, her tits hanging straight down and opened the bag. The first thing she took out, handling it like it was a baby, was what I thought at first was the black cocktail dress she’d borrowed from her friend Doreen that first time. I saw I was wrong as she spread it on the bedspread. The neckline was cut even deeper, the hem even shorter, and it buttoned up the front.

“Where’d you get it?” I asked, still toying with her asshole.

She thrust into my touch. “I bought it at the mall. I bought all this nasty shit with money from my savings.”

“Show me the rest, cunt. Let me see it all.”

She took out a garter belt and three pair of patterned hose. There was a wicked, lacy red teddy that had garter straps, too, and two sets of sexy bras and panties. The final items were two pairs of stiletto heels taller than anything I’d ever seen, one red, one black. She ran loving hands over everything until I pushed my teasing finger into her puckered, sweaty brown hole. It was slick with pussy juice and went in easily. She gasped and stiffened and wiggled her ass.

“Have you worn any of it?”

“No,” she groaned. “I didn’t even try it on when I bought it. I wanted to but I couldn’t. I take it all out and look at it this way sometimes, but the first time had to be because you made me do it.”

“Do you finger your slick pussy and play with your tits when you look at it?”

“Yes,” she hissed, humping back at my hand as I poked her with it.

“How many times?”

“Three. But I wanted to do it more. I diddled my big, fat clit and pinched my nipples real hard and made myself cum like a bitch. Sometimes at work I have to go to the bathroom and finger myself, just dreaming about how slutty I’ll look and feel. Make me do it now, honey. Make me be your fucking whore, right now.”

Instead, I picked up one of the shiny red shoes. The sole wasn’t even scuffed. I put the metal tipped heel between her legs and rubbed it up and down her weeping slit.

She jerked, whined. “It’s cold.”

“I’ll warm it up for you.” I pointed the tip at her asshole as slowly pushed it in. “I’ll fuck you with your own fuck-me shoes, slut.” I wanted to really pound her with it, but was afraid the sharp tip would injure her.

She put both hands on the bed and spread her legs wider. “Yes,” she muttered. “Oh, yes. Fuck your cunty whore any way you want to. I love it all. I’ll do anything you want.”

I grabbed the other red shoe and slid the second heel in her ass above the first one. She shrieked and dropped her face onto the bed, on top of the black dress. Her hand scrabbled for a black shoe and she started licking it, then sucking on the six inch long spike like it was a cock. She was frenzied.

“So fucking nasty,” she groaned around the high heel. “Sucking off a fucking shoe. Two more splitting my ass, all the way in my guts. Slut. What a fucking slut. I’ll fuck anything. Anywhere. Make me cum, baby. Make me cum. Don’t let me ever stop cumming. I’m your fuck toy, the nastiest whore there ever was.”

I jerked the shoes out of her, slapped her ass hard. “Then make yourself look like one, cunt. Here. Put on the shoes I fucked you with and get your hot ass into the bathroom and paint your cheap fucking face.”

Nodding drunkenly, she sat on the bed and strapped the heels on her ankles. She wobbled in them when she stood, leaned on me for support.

I straightened her and stepped away. “Strut for me, cunt. Wiggle your ass. I want to see the way your big tits bounce in your fuck-me shoes.”

Her first few strides were awkward and ungainly in the stilt-like shoes.

“That sucks, bitch. Get your shit together. Make me want to fuck you.”

Her second pass around the room was better. She kind of fucked the air as she walked. She stared at the way I rubbed my crotch. She wet her mouth and pulled her blouse and bra under her tits, lifting them for me. Her nipples were long and red from being pinched. She squeezed them like bread dough.

“Look at yourself in the mirror, you sleazy cunt. Look how high and hard your ass is in those shoes. Look at how you’re playing with your fucking tits. Look how you’re begging to be fucked.”

She was fascinated by her reflection. “Yes. So fucking sleazy. Oh, God, baby, let me finger my pussy. I want to watch me finger-fuck myself. I want to watch myself cum. Please.”

“No fucking way, bitch. You’ve got to earn it.” I pushed her toward the bathroom and followed, carrying the little suitcase. She was already bent at the hips with her legs spread, looking expectantly at me. I set the case down beside her and rested a hand on her ass cheek, my fingers at the top of her thigh. “Do it.”

She talked to herself under her breath while she attacked the makeup. I kept squeezing her ass and tickling her between the legs. She was amazingly wet, her pussy lips hanging open a little, her hair matted and soft and curly.

“You kept your cunt trimmed, slut. I bet every time you shaved your legs you remembered last time and got turned on. Right?”

“Umm,” she purred, curling her long black eyelashes with a clamp. “I felt so dirty, honey. I touched myself every time, rolled my clit and fingered my pussy almost every time I took a bath.”

“What a fucking cunt,” I told her, going for her asshole with two wet fingers. “Did you ever put things in your ass, whore?”

“Noooo,” she groaned, pushing against my hand with quick thrusts.