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Excerpt for Hotwife Training: Hidden Hotwife Desires - Prologue by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

Hotwife Training - Prologue

Hidden Hotwife Desires

A Wife Sharing Romance

All Right Reserved © Karly Violet 2018


All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.


Individuals on the cover are models and are used for illustrative purposes only.


Author's note: All character in this story are 18 years of age and older. This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to real live name or events are purely coincidental.


Be aware: This story is written for, and should only be enjoyed by, ADULTS. It includes explicit descriptions of intense sexual activity between consenting adults.


Note that this work of fiction resembles a fantasy world, all events taking place are a result of a role play amongst all parties and all parties are fully consenting adults.


This ebook should be purchased/borrowed by and read by adults only.






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Table of Contents


Chapter One: Xander’s Needs


Chapter Two: Camilla’s Wants






Chapter One: Xander’s Needs


“So, do you have a wonderful weekend planned with the wife?” Mr. Garland asks as I get the last cup of coffee from a coffeemaker at a table along my office wall. I’ve worked for the middle-aged manager for the better part of eight years at the company.


“Not really,” I reply with a shrug. “Camilla’s in one of her funks right now and she’s also neck-deep in work.”


“The internet thing?”


“Yep.” I nod my head as I take a sip of the dark concoction in my cup. Though I’m happy with my wife’s decision to work out of the home, I’m also a little put out with the way our marriage has been going lately. Though I’ve never allowed the idea of divorce to settle into my mind, I have come to realize that it’s certainly an option for a man in my current marital obfuscation.


“It must make things easier for the two of you though, right? I know times can get tough with a wife, but I’ve been married to Darlene for almost thirty years now and I can tell you that it’s nice to have a woman already at home when I get there.” He smiles at me, which is not my employer’s general way to relate to those who work beneath him. The sudden gesture causes my stomach to wretch just a little.


“Things, sir?”


“You know,” he replies with a wicked smile as he shoves his arm and fist back horizontally. The meaning is obvious as again I feel my stomach turn.


“Well, that sort of thing is not usually something I talk about, but thanks for asking.” Though I want to tell Mr. Garland to mind his own fucking business, I know that doing so could be career suicide. He is my direct supervisor and anything that he decides to do with me will pretty much stand with upper management at the company.


“Cheer up, Xander,” he says as he turns to walk out of my office. “Things will get better with time. I’m sure your wife will again recall her reasons for marrying you in the first place.” With that final sentiment, Mr. Garland leaves my office and closes the door behind him.


“Fuck me,” I groan as I put my face into my hands after sitting down at my desk. Looking at the clock on my computer, I see that it’s only five minutes until I’m finished for the day. Being Friday afternoon, the train home will be packed with those racing to get to wherever they are going, so I consider the consequences of doing something different this time around. Picking up my cellphone, I send a quick text message to Camilla. “Hey, I will be a little late tonight.”


I wait for one minute, then two; my wife is normally so quick about giving a reply. She carries her cellphone with her no matter where she goes or what she does. As the minute hand edges closer to five o’clock, I finally see a reply from Camilla. “You will?” I respond in the affirmative. “Okay, then what time will you be home?”


“Maybe ten or eleven,” I lie. “Mr. Garland has a project that needs to be completed before I start the weekend.” My heart thumps as I wait for my wife to respond again. The fact of the matter is, Mr. Garland is often handing me extra work to do with an impending deadline attached. Sometimes it’s things that others in the office were supposed to do but they dropped the ball. My boss has come to rely on me and I never fail him. Every single project that he’s ever given me has been finished and turned in before the deadline he has attached. Though I would have hoped that my efforts have been logged with appreciation, I doubt that’s the case. In all likelihood, Mr. Garland takes all of the credit for my finishing things for him with the upper management of the company.


“I’ll see you then,” Camilla texts back to me. I continue to watch the screen and my heart sinks as I don’t see any other reply from my wife. In the not so distant past, I would text her and at the end of our conversation she would tell me that she loved me and missed me. Over the last couple of years, though, such words have failed to find their way to me from her phone.


“Love you,” I text to her and then wait another minute or so, now past five in the afternoon. Nothing comes back. She’s too busy to even tell me that she loves me. Wow.


“Well, fuck you, Camilla,” I growl under my breath as I stand up from my desk chair. “I don’t even care if you love me or not. I’m going to have a good time tonight before I go home, one way or another.” Shaking my head, I say to the empty space in the office surrounding me, “I’ll probably just wait until one or two in the morning, or hell, maybe I’ll just get a room and stay out all night.” My wife gets pissed easily when I go get a hotel room without her knowing. I’ve only done it twice in our marriage, and both times were because Mr. Garland sent me unexpectedly to a conference when someone could not go. She can be a jealous woman, if prodded in some way by my actions.


It takes less than a minute to turn off my computer and get things together to leave. I leave the building, wishing the security guard on the bottom floor a good weekend, and then find a taxi that is waiting near the corner. “Where to, friend?” the driver says in a thick accent. I find it a little odd that some people feel so free to respond to others this way even though they are not, in fact, even acquaintances.


“Do you know where Kitty’s Cabaret is?” I ask as I look up and see the man’s eyes in the mirror.


“Yeah, I know it,” he replies with a grin. “They are only just open, though. I don’t think they even have all the girls in until after nine or so.”


“That’s fine,” I say as I sit back in the seat. “There’s one or two there by now that I don’t mind watching dance until then.” The driver nods and we are soon off to the other side of the city where several gentlemen’s clubs line two city blocks along one particular street. It’s not the sort of place Camilla would approve of for my visit, but sometimes when I need to blow a little steam off I go.


It takes almost an hour in the heavy rush hour traffic to travel to Layton Street where Kitty’s Cabaret is found. It’s a seedy place, the front of the building in need of a better paint job than the light grey that has adorned it since the late eighties. All the windows around the small establishment are either painted over with black paint or covered with some sort of makeshift plywood sheathing, I would guess to keep peeping toms from getting any free shows. The smell of the neighborhood is different from what I’m used to as well as I step out of the taxi cab and pay the driver what I owe. I hand him an extra ten dollars for knowing his way around so well. The address, though not all that difficult to remember, is not one I commit to memory whenever I come here. It’s not as if I visit Kitty’s on a weekly basis. In two years, I’ve been here maybe six times total, but each time is an adventure I’m not soon to forget.


“Ten dollars,” the guy at the counter just inside the door says without looking up at me. The cover charge is the smallest of any establishment in the city, which is why I come here. It’s probably also the reason the place looks so run down. As I lay the money down, I walk through some privacy beads hanging over the door into a large room that has a pool table to one side and a large stage with two vertical poles on the other. Some guys come in to have a drink and play a game or two of snooker, but I can’t for the life of me understand why. The girls will often come onto the stage one at a time and the guys at the pool table act as if they don’t even see them. Isn’t the idea of a gentlemen’s club to feature strippers and for the guys to gawk at them?


“Hey, honey,” one of the girls says to me as I have a seat near the stage. The dancers make a little extra money with private lap dances and even selling some of the adult drinks the place offers. “Can I get you anything?” The young woman is no more than five-four and probably weighs less than one-hundred-twenty pounds. She’s a petite stunner with her shoulder length brown hair and dark eyes, her lips are pouty and soft, painted dark red. The shear outfit she has on covers a two-piece bikini that is barely hiding her assets as she smiles at me.


“Um, not right now,” I reply with a smile on my face. My heart beats hard as I think about what is just underneath her outfit.


“Oh, this,” she says with a wicked grin before pulling the shear gown off. Underneath, the dancer’s bikini is much smaller than I had originally seen through the gown. Without asking, she straddles my leg and has a seat right on top of my thigh. Reaching out, she takes hold of my necktie and begins to loosen it. “Some of you guys come in here way too serious.” The young dancer giggles a little as she loosens it and then unbuttons the top button of my dress shirt.


“So, what’s your name?” I ask while trying to make conversation.


“Sasha,” she says as she looks into my eyes. I know her name isn’t what she was born with, that it’s a stage name, but it still helps to connect with another person if you know what to call them.


“I’m Xander,” I tell her with my own smile. There’s something about being honest with the stripper that makes me feel a little dirty. I like the feeling and my cock does as well as it begins to grow inside my trousers.


“Cool name,” she says as she brushes her hair back to behind her shoulders. “You don’t come here very often, do you?”


“Not really. I’ve been just a few times over the past couple or three years.”


“Oh, really?” Sasha runs her hand along my necktie. “You started coming here before I was even out of high school.”


I gulp a little before asking, “How old are you?”


“Nineteen.” Sasha answers me just as my eyes venture toward her chest. “Do you want to see them?” I don’t answer as she reaches back and unties her top. The young woman’s breasts spring free from the bikini top as she says, “You’re a breast guy, right?”


“I guess,” I say with a nervous chuckle. “Isn’t every guy?”


“Probably,” she admits. “They’re pierced.” Sasha picks one of her C-cup breasts up with a hand and uses her other hand to push the long rod piercing her nipple around. “They glow in the dark.”


“Green?” Of course, they are, but it just surprises me to see them look this way in the dimly-lit room.


“Neon green,” she corrects me. “I got them last month. Do you like them?” I nod as I look over both of her medium-sized, puffy nipples. “Go ahead, you can touch them.” This is not at all in keeping with how things are normally done in a gentlemen’s club. I rarely touch a woman’s chest during the dances, let alone when she’s just hustling to get a private lap dance paid for. The house rules are against touching and the local ordinance in the city strictly prohibits touching the girls or having sexual contact of any other sort. They aren’t even allowed to have their bottoms off, though I’ve seen a couple who would accidentally drop their bottoms during a dance on stage to get some kind of better tip for their performance. It’s an inherent risk that could get them arrested by the local police for indecent exposure.


I gently grip Sasha’s two perky breasts. “These are nice,” I tell her as I play with the piercings in her nipples.


“The guy who did it said they will last for years. I don’t have to worry about tarnishing or anything like that because they are made of medical grade plastic.” The young dancer seems genuinely pleased with her purchase. She looks around as I continue to massage her mammaries before saying, “A private dance is thirty dollars for one song.”


“One?” I look at her with disappointment as I release her breasts. I know very well that the songs they play only last four minutes or so. Spending almost ten dollars per minute to see a naked girl is not as economical as watching one for free on the stage, with a dollar or two in tips.


“Well, we could talk about longer if you decide you want something else. I can go two songs for fifty.”


I shake my head. “I like you, I really do, but that’s still pretty steep.” Though I sound like a cheap-ass guy, I don’t have but a hundred dollars left in my wallet. I still need to get home, and cab fare isn’t exactly cheap from here to the train station, and I don’t want to take the bus. “When are you going up on stage?”


The look on Sasha’s face plainly shows her disappointment. “Well, I won’t be on stage for another hour, but I think Jennie is going to be up soon.” She begins to stand up from my lap and as she does her knee bumps into my erect penis. “Oh, wow. Thank you.” She smiles as she taps my cock again with her leg while standing with her perky tits just inches from my face.


Embarrassed, I look away as I answer her, “I never said you don’t turn me on. You really do get to me, Sasha.”


The young woman bends down and kisses me on my cheek. Then, into my ear, she whispers, “I can help you with that if you buy a dance.” Sasha stands back up and holds her hand out. At this point, I don’t care that it could mean every last penny that I have to get my way with such a beautiful woman, so I stand to my feet as I take her hand. We walk over to the front counter and I give the same man I saw as I came in enough money for two lap dance songs. Then Sasha leads me through a dark hallway to one of the private rooms that are set up for the lap dances.


“These really aren’t private, are they?” I say as I walk through some hanging beads and have a seat in a chair.


“They keep an eye on things,” Sasha says as she turns toward a small stereo near the doorway. “We’re not supposed to do certain things.” She points at a sign above the doorway that expressly forbids sexual contact. “They have to do this to keep cops out of here. But let’s be honest,” she says as the music begins, “The rooms are out of the way for a reason, even if you can look through the doorway.” The dancer begins to gyrate to the beat of the song she has selected, her breasts bobbing a little as she dances around my legs. It takes only moments into the beginning of the music before her panties are in the floor and I am able to behold her shaven muff.


“Oh, wow,” I grunt as Sasha drops her head past my cock and draws it back up along my hard cock. Though behind the wall of trouser material and my underwear, it’s obvious how excited I am with what she’s doing. “Dammit.”


“You’re getting big,” she says with a smile as she turns and grinds her ass into my bulge. “Try not to come into your pants.” I lean back as I grip the seat with my hands. “Touch me,” she says as she continues to wiggle on top of me, her head falling back onto my shoulder as she leans back. The smell of Sasha’s perfume is overwhelming as I feel her soft back slide against my shirt. I cup her breasts and rub them as she acts like she’s riding my hardon. “Here,” she says as she lifts up off of me just a little. I hear my zipper come down and before I can say anything back to the nineteen-year-old I feel her hand around my cock. She pulls it out and allows it to slide just on the outside of her soft pussy.


“Holy fuck,” I groan as I realize she’s rubbing me directly.


“Fifty,” she says as she plays with me. “No penetration and I get you off, okay?”


“Yeah,” I say into her ear as she pulls at me. Having gotten my consent to the bargain, Sasha leans forward a bit more and slides around on my cock, once or twice my hardness almost piercing her soft labia. She’s good at what she does, though, as she allows me to feel her wetness without allowing me inside of her fully. “Shit, it won’t take long,” I moan as she rocks on top of me.


“Not too loud,” Sasha implores as she leans back against me again. “Come on me, but don’t yell or anything like that, okay?” Again, I agree, and she continues to rub her soft hands and cunt over my cock.


“Oh, fuck.” I can feel the contents of my balls moving forward. “Oh, Sasha.”


“Shhhh,” she whispers as she leans back on me again, her free hand moving to the side of my neck and face. “Come and then I’ll get something to cover you with before I get up.” We both look up and I can see the camera on the wall. “They watch,” she says with a grin. “They can’t hear us, and as long as they don’t see your penis we’re good.”


“Oh, Sasha.” My body tenses as she grips me hard and works me over her swelling clitoris. “Oh…uhhhhh!” I press my face into the back of her soft shoulder as I come. Sasha’s soft hand works to guide my spurting semen along the edge of her soft cooter so that I don’t ejaculate directly into her vagina. It feels so good regardless of the fact that I’m not inside her, every drop of my jism spurting onto the young woman’s pussy lips. This night has gone in a direction I had not thought possible as I finally find some welcome relief from somewhere besides my own hands. “Sasha, fuck…ohhh.” As I finish, she reaches for a roll of paper towels. She pulls some off and hands them to me and as she hovers over me I clean myself up. After my cock is back inside of my pants, she moves to allow the camera to see me better. No cock on video, no problem. This is something good to know for a future visit. I hand the young woman the money I have promised her, realizing that the second song is only just ending.


“Thank you, sweetie.” Sasha hugs me tightly as I get one last whiff of her perfume. The lap dance is finished and I’m stuck with no cash left in my wallet. It’s going to be a bit of a walk to the bus stop where I can spend a couple of tokens to get to the train station, but it’s worth it. I don’t mind the inconvenience all that much at all considering that my balls are empty now.


“I’ll see you again sometime,” I tell her as we walk back down the hallway.


“You be sure to,” Sasha replies as she pats me on the shoulder and smiles at me. I turn and immediately leave Kitty’s Cabaret as I no longer care to sit and look at naked women dancing.


“Not even six,” I say with a laugh to myself. Camilla has always accused me of not being able to hold my load long enough, and maybe she’s right. But tonight, I’ve gotten something that I can’t seem to get from my dear wife anymore. A sense of dirtiness and adventure with a sexually explosive finality to cap it all off.



Chapter Two: Camilla’s Wants


Xander is a wonderful husband. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself every day as he leaves for work. Not too long ago I would leave around the same time as he would for work, but my company supervisor has decided that my talents for online website design can be utilized from home as well as they could be at the office. My staying home has decreased the costs for my company as well as for myself, and I’m thankful to be able to roll out of bed, get a cup of coffee, and set right to work on my computer. No more daily commutes or office drama to be had by me. Most people would be thankful for the opportunity to avoid some of the human elements of office work, but I miss some of the personal interactions I enjoyed while working there. Some of those personal relationships were probably a bit too involved for what my dear husband would have liked.


“Shit,” I growl as I pick up my coffee cup. Not paying close attention to what I’m doing, I’ve sloshed a little of the hot liquid over my keyboard. I lift it from my desktop and turn it over to try to try to shake out as much coffee as I can. “Dammit, Camilla,” I whimper as I realize a couple of the keys are not working. This is not the first keyboard I’ve ruined with coffee or some other kind of liquid refreshment. I need to buy a mug of some kind to keep my workspace from suffering from such mishaps.


“Fuck me!” I slam the keyboard down a couple of times as I become frustrated with the loss of this important tool. Knowing that I’m accident-prone, Xander has warned me that I should keep a spare computer keyboard in the closet for just such an emergency, but I’ve put off doing so over the past few months as I’ve gotten used to this one. Realizing that continuing to cry over spilled coffee will not be very effective this morning in getting my work completed, I stand to my feet and go to the closet to pull out some clothes for a trip into the city. I need a new keyboard today since I have an important project due to be completed by sometime tomorrow. There are at least ten more hours of work to be done on a client’s website, and if it’s not finished they might balk at using us again in the future. The company cannot afford to lose any more business to offshore website designers in the Philippines or Vietnam.


“Where are you?” Once again, I find myself having to look for the car keys. I don’t drive much, so I rarely need to look for my keys. Xander has his own car and I keep my older Honda Accord parked in the garage and out of the driveway. “There,” I say with a sigh of relief as I pick them up from a nightstand beside the bed. “Shit, I’ve got to get a new keyboard.” Grabbing my cellphone on the way out the door, I hop into my car and back out of the garage. It’s ten miles to the nearest electronics store where I hope I can find the same sort of keyboard that I’ve just fucked up with my morning coffee. Over the past few months I’ve gotten used to its ergonomic design, and this one store was where I found it to begin with. Whether they have another could be a crap shoot.


The drive takes a while in the early morning traffic as cars merge and exit along the interstate. Though for several years I made this same commute to work, I never really got used to having to drive through the throngs of other workers and shoppers entering the city. Xander grew tired of the traffic himself and instead of doing that he now opts to ride the train to work. That was a smart move on his part, but not something that was an option for me. My workplace is nowhere near a train terminal, so driving was my only way of getting there. “Fucking cocksucker!” I put on my brakes as a guy pulls into my lane just ahead of me, almost cutting me off and causing another car to nearly sideswipe other cars in the lane beside me.


I shake my head as I take a deep breath, more troubling things beginning to occupy my thoughts. The keyboard is only an inconvenience compared to the problems my husband and I are having in our marriage. We’ve grown apart, at least in some ways, and Xander is no longer the package deal that I thought I was getting when I married him almost a decade ago. Sure, he’s still a nice guy and I don’t think he’s screwing around with other women, but things have gotten too bland. When we were first married, we would fuck the hell out of each other several times a week. My husband would roll me over at night and jerk my panties down forcefully to eat me out and then shove his dick into me to complete his mission with a hard fuck. Though it would frighten the hell out of me at times as I came out of a deep sleep, it also gave me an incredible rush. The feeling of his cock pushing past my labia hard and fast without me so much as whimpering my approval was just what I needed to feel sexually needed and wanted. Unfortunately, it’s been a long time since Xander has gone at me like that.


“Harry’s,” I say as I see the sign along the interstate and pull off at the next exit ramp. Harry’s Electronics has been in the city for twenty years and they are my local one-stop for everything having to do with a computer. Their deals are great and they do their best to keep a customer’s business. They are the kind of people I like having to do business with when things go wrong with my computer, as they too often do. As I pull into the parking lot, I notice, however, that it is unusually empty for a weekday. Only a couple of other cars are here.


As I walk into the store, a young woman comes up to me and says, “Good morning. May I help you find something?”


“Well,” I say as I look around, “Where is everyone?”


The store employee looks back at me and replies, “We’re closing down in a few days.” She hands me a flyer and I look it over as I allow what she has told me to sink in.


“Closing? Why?”


“Business is down recently and I guess money is getting tight for the owners.” I can tell by the look on the woman’s face that there is real concern about her own future, not just the store’s. “That new store, which shall remain nameless,” she says jokingly, “It’s putting us out of business.”


“Oh, I’m sorry.” A new name-brand store just opened last month a block away, so I would guess that this is the store she is referring to. “Um, do you have any computer keyboards left in stock?”


“Sure, we have a few,” she says with a smile. “Tod, can you help this lady with a keyboard today?” A young man, maybe twenty-one years old or so, walks up with a smile on his face. My heart patters a little faster as I look into his bright blue eyes and soft face. He has a look that puts me at ease on one hand while making me wet in the pants on the other. Were it not for the fact that I’m married, I’d let Tod eat me out.


“Thank you,” I say nervously as he turns to guide me to the proper aisle.


“What kind of keyboard would you prefer? Wireless or wired?”


“Wired,” I say quickly. “I find that if there’s a direct connection it works better.” I can barely get the words from my mouth as I study the muscular physique of the young man.


“You like to have something to plug in, huh?” He smiles at me in a way that causes a tingling sensation to run the length of my back. Is that a sexual reference? Is he signaling that he’s open to any other services I might require?


“I like to plug it in, yes.” How sophomoric I must sound in my reply. “I think that if it’s plugged in there’s less of a chance of a mistake. The wireless keyboards sometimes skip when I type or they get behind as I move faster with my keystrokes. So, a wired one, please.”


“How fast are your keystrokes?” Tod asks as he picks up a couple of keyboards from their shelves.


“Fast,” I say with a nervous giggle. “Fast enough to get the job done.” Oh, shit. Did I just signal him sexually? My mind becomes muddied with the thoughts of getting a new keyboard along with that of a six-foot-tall hunk taking me as he wishes.


“Okay,” he says with a charming smile, “These are the last two wired ones we have.”


I look at the two and reply, “I like the ergonomic type, with the curved keyboard.”


“Oh,” he says with a slight frown. “Well, we don’t have any that plug in directly that are ergonomic, but we do have one that is wireless.” Tod turns and after putting the other keyboards back down he picks up a wireless one. “This one is ready to go after you plug in the dongle. Just push it into your USB slot and things will work great.” He smiles again, and this time I am pretty fucking certain that he’s flirting with me.


“Shit,” I say out load. I cover my mouth as I realize my tongue has gotten the best of me. “Sorry.”


“No, it’s fine.” Tod pats me on the shoulder, his hand stopping for a moment to rub it back and forth. “We all do things we probably shouldn’t. It doesn’t mean we don’t fuck each other.”


“What?” I shake my head. “Did you just say what I think you said?”


Tod gets close to me and replies, “I’m out of a job in a week, so I don’t really care that you could get me fired.” His eyes look me up and down. “But before you do, you should know that I would throw you down and fuck the shit out of you.” I shiver as I hear the words come out of his mouth. I can’t remember ever hearing a stranger talk to me like this and it offends me just a little. However, it also causes me to feel a strong sexual attraction to the muscular young man in front of me. I’ve not been taken in so long. I want him to fuck me. I need it.


Looking into the salesman’s eyes, I tell him, “Sweetheart, I’m more than you can handle.”


Tod takes my shoulders and twists me around. Pushing me down to where my hands are on a lower shelf, I feel my skirt being thrown up onto my back. Before I can protest this sudden move, I feel my panties tugged down to my ankles and I hear the sound of the salesman’s zipper coming down. “I’m going to fuck you, lady.”


I quiver as I feel his hard penis rubbing along my labia. “Holy shit, you’re really going to fuck me?” I say as I look back.


The young man looks back at me and adds, “I’m going to put my junk into you, lady. I hope you’re fixed, because I don’t need to be a daddy.” Suddenly, his very large phallus pierces my small cunt. I quake in my hips as I feel Tod’s powerful hands pull me toward him. He buries deep, hitting my cervix quickly, as he says, “You’re shaved and smooth. Nice.”


His balls slap my body hard as he fucks me from behind. “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I grunt. “You’re really fucking me.” I grip the shelf hard as he picks up his pace.


“Holy shit!” I turn my head to see the young woman from the front of the store I met earlier. We have apparently made enough sound in the nearly-empty store to get her attention. “Tod, you can’t do that here!” Her wide eyes look at me and she adds, “I’m so sorry, I’ll call a manager.”


“No!” I say with a growl. “Let him finish!” Tod fucks me hard and I can feel his rod flex as he gets closer.


“Oh, lady,” he moans as he slams into me over and over again. “Oh, I’m going to…poppppp!!!” The young man’s cock begins to shoot inside of me, splashing my firm cervix with his white jism. I’m not even close to having my own orgasm, but I don’t care as he comes inside me. The idea of being taken so aggressively in such a public setting without knowing my lover is enough to almost put me over the edge anyway. “Uhhh…mmmm…” Tod finishes up in me as the young woman from the door watches in horror.


“There you go,” I say as he pulls out of my hole, his semen running down the inside of my legs. I reach down and pull up my panties before picking up the wireless keyboard Tod showed me just minutes earlier. “I’ll take this one.”


“They’ll fire you,” the young female store employee says to Tod.


“Fuck ‘em,” he says defiantly with a smile.


“He was just negotiating the sale,” I add as I look at the young woman. “He’s convinced me that sometimes I need to reconsider what I’m used to. My comfort level has been changed.” I wave the keyboard box in the air with a big smile on my face. “I’ll use the dongle instead of the old plug-in type.”


“Shit,” the woman says quietly. “Did you like what he did?” Her eyes flash toward the young man as she talks to me.


“I did,” I respond before admitting, “I didn’t get off, if that’s what you’re asking.”


“Shit.” She shakes her head and looks at Tod. “Typical guy.”


“What?” The salesman turns his blue eyes toward me. “You didn’t come?”


“Sweetheart,” I say to him before continuing, “Ladies need more stimulation than just getting fucked hard from behind. I need to have a little more done to my little lady bits.” I point in a vulgar way toward my crotch. “She’s been hungry for a little more than just a poke. My husband…”


“You’re married?” The young woman looks at me as she covers her mouth.


“Married, yes. Getting fucked at home, rarely.” I shrug my shoulders. “Like I said, I think it’s time to try out some new things.”


Tod approaches me again, an obvious stain on the front of his trousers from the bit of jism he’s gotten on them. He reaches into my blouse and finds one of my perky breasts under my bra. “You want to come?” I nod as I put the keyboard back on a shelf. “I’ll get you to come, lady.” His other hand goes up under my skirt and shoots past my panties.


“Oh, fuck,” the young woman says as she watches us. “You can’t do this in the store. There are customers.”


Tod looks at her and asks, “What customers, Tiffany? This woman is the only one in here besides the two of us.”


“The cameras,” she whimpers. “We’re going to lose our jobs.”


“We’re gone soon anyway.” Tod gives her a final look before finding my swelling clit. “See, I know what I’m doing.” He shoves a finger into my soiled pussy as his thumb twirls over my little nob.


“FUCK!” I grip the shelf behind me hard as I look over at Tiffany. She has one hand that has found its way into her own pants. Apparently, the store employee wants to have her own fun as well. “Tod, you’re really hitting it.”


“Yeah, I know,” he says as he curves the finger he has up in my vagina. “I’ve had a few women before.”


“Have you had her?” I say as I nod toward Tiffany. “Did you fuck her, Tod?”


“Nah,” he says as he looks at her for a moment. “She doesn’t want it.”


“I want you to fuck me, dammit,” Tiffany says as her hand works around in her crotch. “Oh, Tod…OHHHH!!!” The young woman suddenly orgasms as she plays with her pussy in the aisle close to us. “Uhhh…uhhhh…” Her squeaky voice makes a weird sound as she gets off from her own clitoral massage. It causes me to get closer to my own relief as I look into the young man’s eyes.


“Why me?” I ask as I begin to breathe harder. “Why fuck me? Why not her?”


Tod looks at my hand and says, “You’re married, that’s why. I like to fuck married women because it’s wrong. I want to know that I have spunked into another man’s wife.” His admission causes goosebumps to rise along the back of my neck as I get closer and closer to climaxing.


“Tod, that’s so fucking wrong.” I wriggle around as his hand works me over. “Oh, I’m so glad you fucked me…UHHHHH!!!” My own shriek is much louder than Tiffany’s as I almost fall to the floor. “Tod! MMMMM!!! OHHHH!!!” It’s the young man’s hand on my crotch that steadies me as he continues to stroke my G-spot while twirling his thumb over my clit. I grip his shoulders tightly as I come in front of a man that only fifteen minutes ago I had never met. He took me forcefully, coming inside of me like an animal would with its mate. Tod never asked permission verbally, though I gave him all kinds of permission in the way I let him use me. It’s something that I’ve craved with Xander and it’s a shame that it took spilling coffee on a computer keyboard to find it with another man. A stranger. “Oh, fuck.”


“Was that good?” the young man asks as he pulls his finger out of my used hole.


Nodding, I reply, “That was the best I’ve had in a long time. Thank you.” I pick the keyboard up again and turn to look at Tiffany. “Can you check me out?” She nods as she tries to tuck her shirt back into her pants. I follow her to the front where she scans the keyboard and even gives me the employee discount on the already reduced price. Without much more to say, I leave the store, get into my car, and go home.


I don’t get much done during the rest of the day as I try to wrap my head around what has happened. Xander used to show the same enthusiasm for sex as Tod, but over the past couple of years things have changed. He works longer hours and I’m left here to be bored out of my mind for lack of direct human contact. The least he could do is try to be as sexual with me as he was at one time. If he did, I wouldn’t have to find another man to fuck. As I look over at my cellphone, I realize that I’ve had it on silent mode and that a text came through a few minutes ago from my dear husband. “What, Xander? Late?” I shake my head as I text him back. “Really late,” I mumble as I text back and forth with him.


“Love you,” he finally says to me at the end of the string of messages.


“Really?” I say to myself. I wonder why I even put up with how flaky Xander can be as I consider whether to reply. The day’s events at the electronics store has given me a new view on the state of our marriage, and I don’t like what I see. “You know what, go fuck yourself,” I snarl as I put my phone back down on my desk before going to take a shower. I don’t tell my husband that I love him back for two reasons. For one, I know he’s not working late on a Friday evening. Even his asshole of a boss rarely asks that of him, and so Xander is probably going to a bar. For another, I’m spent from the day. I had a good romp this morning and all I care about now is showering and getting comfortable enough to watch a movie marathon. Fuck my client and fuck my husband. I’m done for the day, and I don’t care what anyone else might think of me.


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