Robert Mills - Slut wife

He sighed. "I'll give you five bucks to finger your pussy."

"No!"

"Shit honey, why the big put down? It's good money."

"I'm not interested in your money," Melissa said in growing anger. "If you're looking for a tramp to treat like an animal, go to a massage parlor. They have girls who will do anything for a few bucks."

Williams was getting mad. His eyes were turning glassy.

"Well kiss my ass, you fuckin' little whore!" he bellowed. "What the hell makes you so high and mighty? Your cunt ain't no different than any other cunt. All it takes is a cock to make it happy!"

"Get lost!"

Melissa scuffled for the door. She had decided it was time to leave. As she dashed to her car, his voice screamed after her.

"Fuckin' bitch. You'll get your ass fired for this!"

She didn't stop to call Anderson and tell him what happened.

She had been home about twenty minutes when the phone rang and she knew it was Mark Anderson the moment she said hello.

"Melissa! What happened with Williams? He just called me and is mad as hell! You've lost me a client and a big fee. Why didn't you do what he wanted?"

"Because I didn't like what he wanted, that's why."

"He said you refused to fuck. I want to know why?"

"I don't fuck with creeps like him and besides,it's none of your damn business!"

The voice in her ear was becoming harsh. "My dear young woman," Anderson began. "When you sign a contract with me, you do anything the customer desires, especially fuck!"

"I'm canceling my contract."

"You can't do that."

"Yes, I can," Melissa said firmly. "I won't come in anymore."

"But why? I don't understand."

"Because I don't associate with weirdos and creeps, Mr. Anderson. I choose my friends, especially those who fuck me. Do you understand that?"

Anderson was almost sobbing into the phone. "But his money is good," he wailed. "You could have gotten two hundred dollars for just one picture if you had used your head. Now, he won't ever call me again."

"That's sad," Melissa said.

"I won't be able to use you anymore unless you promise to take care of all my clients."

"Sorry, Mr. Anderson."

Melissa put the phone back on the cradle and mixed herself a drink. She picked up a copy of Playboy.

The centerfold was dog-eared, as if Martin had opened it out often to see all there was to see. It showed a lot of cunt.

The picture was of a blonde with firm round tits, a big smile, blue eyes, a flat stomach and curly hair around her pussy. She was posed so that her cunt was open to the viewer.

That's the only kind of pictures the magazines are buying, Williams had said. She may have been a little harsh with him. She could have let him take a few shots of her. She could have posed standing by the bed, looking over at the camera as if asking if the viewer was ready to fuck her. Then one primping in front of the mirror or even on the bed with her legs spread. All of the poses would have to display her cunt but she didn't find that distasteful. It was the fucking bit that had irritated her.

Martin was unusually quiet when he arrived home and she could see that he was upset. It was obvious he hadn't received the promotion.

His answer to her greeting was a very cold hello. He settled in the living room and immediately buried himself in the afternoon paper.

He was studying the paper's X-rated entertainment page. Melissa knew that Martin liked the live performance theaters more than the porno movies. The movies showed a lot of naked women, many of them fucking or sucking but it wasn't the same, Martin insisted. What he liked was to watch the live girls fuck on stage. It would be a thrill, he had once told her, to be invited on the stage to fuck one of the gorgeous performers as part of the act.

"Sherri Layne's at the Mecca," he announced when she entered the living room. "Would you like to go after dinner?"

"Sherri who?"

"Sherri Layne. She puts on a real wild show."

"The girl who asks men in the audience to come on stage and fuck her?"

"There's nothing wrong with that. It's the in thing at the clubs."

"But they go down in the audience, naked, and let the men feel of them," Melissa said.

"What's wrong with that?" he asked peevishly. "Men like to feel naked women."

"But in front of their dates… and wives?"

"Women like it," he retorted. "If they didn't like it, they wouldn't be there."

He was staring at her, an angry, cold, stare that made her feel ill at ease.

"But do you have to watch while a man and woman fuck each other. Isn't that a little sad?"

"Sad!" he bellowed. "Sad! Sad my ass! It isn't the fucking I see that makes me mad, it's the fucking I don't see!"

Her heart sank within her and she knew he would never forgive her for losing the promotion.

"I'm sorry, Martin," she cried. "I'm sorry you didn't get the it! That's what's bugging me. You know what that means? You let Nagel fuck you so he would change his mind!"

Her world was crashing around her. He was angry and he was accusing her of something she hadn't done but wanted to do.

"Martin, I didn't!" she cried in alarm.

"Then what did you do, Melissa. Did he just suck your cunt? Did he slurp it a little before he stuck his tongue all the way in? I really don't care, Melissa. I'm glad! I'm a vice president now. Isn't that marvelous?"

She couldn't see him because of the tears that welled up into her eyes and she didn't want to listen to any more accusations. She hurried into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Sunday afternoon her other neighbor Janice Humphery came over. Janice was older than Lois, being in her late thirties or early forties. She never went to church on Sunday and could always be depended on to appear for coffee.

She burst into a tirade of pity when she entered the side door into the kitchen.

"My God, woman!" she exploded. "You look a sight! What have you been up to?"

"Nothing," Melissa said. "I just didn't sleep."

Janice was all sympathy. "That's too bad, honey," she gushed. "Ain't your man giving you enough fucking. There ain't nothing like a good piece of cock to make a woman sleep at night."

"It isn't that… " Melissa began but Janice interrupted her.

"I was the same way, honey," she confided with a wave of her hand. "Hank and I wasn't fucking at all after he came back from Europe and I was climbing the wall until Marvin came around. He showed up right when Hank was losing his peter punching." Janice peered at the coffee maker. "Making coffee, honey. I sure could use some."

Melissa put the pot on a gas burner while Janice lunged back into the explanation of Marvin.

"Hank couldn't get a hard-on and his licking my pussy wasn't doing me no favors and I told him if Marvin had a stiff cock to send him around. Now Marvin comes over every Wednesday evening and Hank goes bowling. Marvin and I take a shower, pile into bed and fuck until he is plum worn out. I've slept like a baby ever since."

Melissa met the advice with a smile. Janice's outlook on life was from the level of a beer-hall hooker. Her remedy might be all right for her own problem but not for Melissa. The problem was not one of a shortage of fucking. Right now, she had an oversupply. Everyone she came in contact with wanted her to take off her panties and bend over. She gave Janice a half hearted grin, said she would think about it, poured the coffee and changed the subject. After a few sips, Janice was satisfied she had heard all of the gossip and went home.

Martin showed up at four-twenty. He had been out at the country club, he explained. He had played cards with his friends and had lost another hundred dollars. He remained rather quiet after mentioning the loss to Melissa.

"I was nervous because you were mad at me," he stated as his reason for losing. "My mind was in a fog and I couldn't play worth a damn."