Robert Mills - Slut wife

"You didn't sleep here, did you, Martin? There weren't any blankets on the sofa."

He said he hadn't. "I drove around all night. I went out to the club this morning and took a nap in a big chair before the fellows came in to play."

She accepted the answer, but she didn't believe him. His pants weren't wrinkled and his shirt was still clean. "I was hoping you would come to bed," she pouted. "I missed you terribly." She put her arms around his neck and snuggled up to him. "Please don't do it again," she whispered. "I don't care about the money. I can get some if you need it. I want you home with me. I wanted a good fuck last night and you weren't here."

"No problem," Martin said. He kissed her on an ear. "Sandino said he would trust me for anything I lost."

"I'm sure he did," Melissa said, smiling. She snuggled up to him again, pushed her groin up against his. A lump was beginning to form there and that pleased her.

"I'll model for him again, if he wants me to," she whispered. "Now can we have a good fuck so my cunt will quit hurting?"

She thought about Sandino while she undressed and waited for Martin to get his pants off He was an arrogant, forceful man and she debated what she should say when he did call.

It was two o'clock Monday afternoon when the call came and Melissa answered, still undecided as to what to tell Mr. Sandino.

"We're making up a party," his voice drawled. "A few choice friends. We would like you to come over. One of the guests is a buyer and wants to see how the line looks on a model."

"Sounds interesting."

"After you show the things, then we can have our own little party."

"You mean without clothes."

He laughed. "Of course," he said.

She shook her head. "I don't think so," she said.

"Five hundred dollars?"

"To do what?"

"Be nice, baby. Just be nice."

"I'll think about it," Melissa said.

There was a pause as if Sandino was thinking of another means of making the idea more tempting. He sounded more businesslike when he spoke again.

"It's easy money, baby. There will be a lot of influential people here and you can make some good friends. Can you make it?"

Melissa said yes, then bit her lip for saying it. The thought of making another five hundred dollars was very tempting. It might not be so bad. She could lie down, close her eyes and pretend it was Martin fucking her. When it was over, she could take the money and tell Mr. Sandino she was through. That she wouldn't be his call girl any more.

It was after three o'clock when she arrived at the address she had been given. It turned out to be a large one-story house, set back behind a curtain of trees. A young woman in a white apron opened the door and showed her into the family room to meet the other guests.

It was a small party. Three men and two womensitting on a large sofa and, already, the men were engaged in the process of feeling up the women. A fat man with a bald head and puffy eyes had his hand inside the loose blouse of his partner, busily nibbling her tits. The other, a younger man with sandy hair and a small mustache, had an arm thrust up under his partner's dress and it was evident that he already had at least one finger knuckle deep in her cunt.

No one appeared interested in watching her model clothing. Sandino greeted her with an outstretched hand and a martini. She accepted the drink, followed him to a love seat and settled down to wait. The two men gave her a glance and a grin, then returned to their probing. Both women looked extremely bored.

Conversation.

Sandino talked, she listened. He was telling her what an opportunity this was going to be. If the fellows liked her, she could come every Monday afternoon, then later, they would start an evening game of some kind. As his voice droned on, she suddenly realized that he was talking about Martin and the game he mentioned would be poker. He was planning on having evening poker games so that Martin would be occupied and she could be free to attend his parties.

"We have a horny group here," he was explaining. "They love to play games and go all out with games of sex. With your face and your figure, you could make a bundle. These guys all want to fuck and they will pay a good price to a woman they like."

He was offering her a job entertaining men. He was offering money, lots of money, for doing nothing but letting a man fuck her once in a while. It was an offer that most women wouldn't even consider, but she found herself wanting to say yes. Martin needed the money and this was a way of earning some of it for him.

"Sex therapists do it," he was saying. "They have nurses called surrogates who permit men to fuck them to prove they aren't impotent. What's the difference between a woman who fucks a patient and a woman who fucks a tired businessman?"

Sandino sensed her reluctance.

"Think about it," he said, giving her a friendly pat on the knee. "Let's have another drink."

Fe brought her another drink, then offered her a cigarette. While she puffed on it, she noted that more men were arriving, some with women, others alone. She tried to count them, got up to ten, then gave up. They were moving around too much.

Sandino was still talking and there had been no mention of modeling clothing.

She was beginning to feel a little giddy which she attributed to the drink. But she was also feeling a rising sense of pleasure. She wanted to enjoy herself.

Music was swelling forth from a record player which drowned out the hum of conversation and it was so good that the women turned their attention to the beat. Two of them bounced out on the floor and began to dance. Everyone appeared to be extremely happy.

Melissa was having a marvelous time.

She sipped her drink, smoked the cigarette, casually followed the movements of the dancers. They appeared to be having so much fun that she wanted to join them, but there was still the matter of her modeling commitment.

When she turned to speak to Sandino, he wasn't there and another, younger man was sitting beside her. He was good looking, almost handsome, she told herself and was a bit perplexed because she didn't remember when the exchange had taken place. She attempted to get a closer look and leaned forward, to find that she, was staring at the fly of his pants, instead.

He grasped her hand and squeezed it.

"You can have a real good look after while," he told her. She was experiencing a burning desire to fuck and this nice young man was just the kind of person she wanted to do it with.

She glanced at him coyly.

He squeezed her hand again.

"I wanna dansh," she confided. "Mr. Shandino wone care."

The young man was amused by her state of drunkenness. He shook his head. "You're with me now," he said in a whisper. "We can do anything you want."

"Wanna dansh," she said again. She climbed to her feet, teetered on the heels of her shoes.

"Can't dansh in theesh." She kicked them from her feet, then shuffled across the rug. The young man followed her.

It was more like a struggle than a dance, with the young man holding her close, pushing his body up against hers so that she was restrained from doing the bouncing she wanted to do. She pulled away from him.

"Wanna dansh free," she mumbled. She backed out of his gasp, twisted, laughing, then began to prance about, bouncing, keeping time with the music.

Nude figures were crossing her line of vision and she paused in order to focus her eyes on them. A brunette with long hair and bronze skin, flitted past her. She was naked. A man shuffled behind her in pursuit.

The women were shedding their clothing, tossing them aside with abandon. Melissa watched them for a minute then gleefully began to shed her own. Clothing was confining and restrictive. She wanted to do her dance naked. The men in the room watched with pleasure and applauded.