Wine and Sex

Naughty Erotic Stories


The Champagne Room Sex Adventure
Sleazy strip club, naughty stripper and a horny wife.  The best birthday ever.

A Dirty Confession
Did it just this morning.  Did it in an office building full of people and did it with the person I thought I despised.  Scariest thing?  I enjoyed it way too much.

The Buttery Had Job
Lisa realizes that in order to live out her numerous erotic fantasies she has no choice but to cheat on her husband.  Joe's just too old and tired to satisfy all her sexual needs.  First thing on her naughty to-do list?  A sensual hand job.

Dirty Laundry
It's just a regular morning of another day and Michelle is doing laundry.  But after a surprise phone call from her hubby...dirty laundry turns into dirty sex.

Naughty Confessions of a Stripper
Innocent beginning to a naughty series of an ex-stripper re-living her dirtiest strip club adventures.

Therapeutic Cum Extraction Session with Claudia
Claudia, the sexy new masseuse at John's Total Health and Wellness, firmly believes that the most effective way to cure a man's aches and pains is to completely empty his balls.

True Sex Confessions
Dirty sex confessions by readers of Wine and Sex.  Adultery, masturbation, sexual fantasy and more.

naughty stories, erotic fastasy,sex confessions

I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that the naughty sexual experience I’m about describe to you actually happened, but believe me, it really did.

It was kind of a special day -- my birthday -- and my wife was taking me out for dinner.  The two of us were in a desperate need of a night out together, both working long hours at our jobs lately and not spending nearly as much time together as we used to.

It also happened to be a Friday, our favorite day of the week, and we were both in the best of moods.  Laughing and chatting like we haven’t in a while, we opened a bottle of wine and drank most of its contents before we even left the house.

I somehow knew this night was going to be extra special.  I just felt it in my bones.

The steak house my wife picked for our special night out together was a very cool place, cozy and romantic; our steaks cooked to perfection.  The Californian red our waiter recommended was one of the best tasting wines we had in quite some time, so we ordered a second bottle as soon as the first one was all gone.  We were slowly getting drunk.

Before I go on with my story, I have to tell you a little secret about my wife and her unusual relationship with wine.  A little bit of it makes her happy and fun, but a lot of it turns her into a shameless whore.  This wonderful wife-to-whore transformation does not take place very often as my wife tries to be a responsible drinker but when it does -- believe me -- I am the luckiest man on the planet.

The last time was at her best friend’s wedding reception, a couple of years ago.  She definitely had too much to drink on that particular night.  Snaked her hand under the table and used the long table cloth draped over top of it to conceal the fact that she was massaging my horny cock right through dinner.

After main course, we were served a chocolate mousse for dessert.  Pink raspberry on top, the mousse looked and smelled divine.  But my wife didn't seem pleased with her dessert and kept poking at the soft chocolate pile with her fork.  "What's wrong?" I kept asking her but she wouldn't say.

Few minutes later, pouty expression on her face, she finally turned to me and quietly whispered into my ear: “I think this dessert needs a little more cream.”  She reached under the table and squeezed my cock real hard to make sure that I knew exactly what type of cream she was talking about.

“Watch this,” she said.

She spread her lips, and using her dessert fork, stuffed a large blob of the chocolate mousse inside of her mouth.  Barely able to speak through the soft mass filling the cavity of her mouth, she quietly mumbled into my ear, “I’m not swallowing any of my dessert until you make it nice and creamy for me.”

I was in a bit of a shock to hear my wife say a thing like that.  She was normally so proper and well behaved.  I was confused too.  Did she really mean what I thought she meant?

Before I got the chance to analyze the meaning behind my wife's naughty words, she suddenly grabbed me by the hand, and with surprising strength, pulled me away from our table and led me out the door of the reception hall.  I guess I was just about to find out what she had in store for me.  Her cheeks looked so awkward as she walked in front of me -- round and puffy from the chocolate mousse she refused to swallow until I creamed it for her.

Just a few minutes later, we were in a secluded area of the reception hall's parking lot, standing behind an enormous SUV.  I leaned against the side of the vehicle and dropped my pants to the ground, my penis hard as a rod, anxious to satisfy my wife's desires and abundantly spray my cream into her mouth.

She needed to work for it though.  And she did.  Down on her knees -- her pantyhose ripping against the rough asphalt beneath us -- my wife proceeded to suck on my cock like there was no tomorrow, little bits of half-melted chocolate mousse spilling out of the corners of her mouth as she did it.  This, by far, was the best blow job of my entire life -- the inside of my wife’s messy mouth feeling so wonderfully warm and sticky to my cock...

When I was close to my orgasm, I steadied her head with my hands and proceeded to fuck her mouth hard and fast, my ass rhythmically banging against the passenger's door of the SUV just behind me.  The big moment arrived at last.  “Here’s your cream baby,” I screamed in pleasure as my cum massively squirted into my wife's mouth.  And that's when she finally swallowed her dessert.

But that happened such a long time ago though with nothing even close in its erotic intensity to occur between us since.  I was slowly losing hope in seeing the dirty-whore version of my wife ever again.  But sitting across the table from her now, I could see that familiar sparkle in her eyes once again.  Happy Birthday to me!  I could tell that my wife was slowly turning into the very slut that had me cream her chocolate-filled mouth in a public parking lot during her best friend’s wedding reception.  Hello there baby, long time no see…

I believe the large amount of wine she consumed throughout the evening was the main reason behind the naughty transformation about to take place, but other likely contributing factor was the fact that the two of us have not had sex in over a month.  Just busy with our jobs and always too tired.

There was no doubt in my mind that my wife was very, very horny.  Looking at her flashed cheeks, I could also tell that our regular bedroom routine(start with a little doggy, turn over for some missionary and finally jerk off and cum on her stomach) just wasn't what she had in mind for tonight.  Tonight was going to be special.

I knew that my wife had something naughty on her mind, something very dirty and very specific, but had no idea what it was until she steered our conversation toward the topic of one of her girlfriends -- and more precisely -- an interesting sexual adventure that the girlfriend has recently experienced.

My wife went on to tell me that in an attempt to spice up their boring sex life, the girlfriend’s husband had taken her to a strip club where an attractive stripper lap danced for the two of them together as a couple.  Apparently, the girlfriend has rated this to be the most erotic experience of her entire life.

That’s all I needed to hear.  Before anything could possibly change the state of my wife’s mind at this wonderful moment in time, I quickly took care of our bill, and called us a taxi.

A short cab drive later, my wife and I arrived at Diamonds -- a popular strip club in a quiet part of our town.  I knew this place from my younger days, when a visit here was the easiest way for a single guy (or a married one for that matter) to get a quality blow job for bargain of a price.  Yes, it was that type of a place.

The two of us walked into the strip club holding hands, jokingly hiding our faces behind our scarves, all of a sudden feeling little awkward and weird.  But as soon as we sat at a cozy table near the stage, the uneasy feeling dissipated quickly.  My wife was simply infatuated with the place, mesmerized by its erotically charged ambiance.  We drank wine and watched the stage, where song after song, attractive girls seductively took their clothes off to sounds of sexy music.

We liked all the strippers -- liked them a lot -- but couldn’t decide which one best suited my wife's naughty plans for the evening.  But then, seemed like out of nowhere, a striking blonde materialized on stage, and as soon as we saw her, we both knew that she was the girl for us.  Her name was Carmela.

There was something very different about Carmela.  Pure, almost animal-like sexuality just emanated from this girl.  Curvy in all the right places, Carmela also had a pair of the most spectacular breasts.  A mental picture of my cock wedged in between those beautiful tits popped into my head out of nowhere and instantly perked my penis up into a half-erection.

My wife was quite impressed with Carmela too.  She always said that a little lesbian lived inside of her and there she was now -- I could see her clear as day.  My wife looked at Carmela with passion and sexual desire I have not seen in her eyes in years.

It wasn’t just Carmela’s sexy body, or her exquisite tits for that matter.  Like I said, there was something animal-like about this girl and it definitely showed in the style of her stage performance which went well beyond sexy and erotic.  Put simply, the way Carmela performed on stage was dirty and slutty to the point of almost being profane.  Not that we didn’t enjoy what we saw.

She got our sex juices flowing when she stuffed her breasts inside of her mouth and sensually sucked on her nipples, both of them at the same time.  At some point during her performance she got down on all her fours.  Crawling backwards toward us, she backed into a dance pole positioned in the middle of stage -- her spread out pussy so close to it that it was almost touching it.  Slowly rocking her hips to music, Carmela insinuated a doggy style position, the dance pole serving as a giant penis fucking her from behind.

I looked to my side and noticed a young guy sitting just a couple of tables down from us.  His cock out of his pants, the guy was jerking off under the table while watching Carmela’s suggestive performance.  I wasn’t surprised or shocked at all, and almost felt like doing the same thing.  This was too much for any man to take.

Toward the end of her performance Carmela noticed my wife, the only female in the audience, and approached part of the stage nearing our table.  She was performing just for the two of us now.  Completely naked by now, she sat on the stage and spread her legs as far as they would go.  This exposed the moist flesh in between her plump pussy lips.  I pictured myself fucking that juicy flesh and felt my cock getting harder and stiffer the longer I thought about it.

Carmela reached toward her pussy, and using her middle finger, started to slowly massage around her clit in little circles.  Then, quickly and unexpectedly, moved her finger toward the opening of her juicy cunt and stuck it deeply inside of it.  Looking directly at my wife, she slid her finger in and out of her moist vagina until she experienced -- what appeared like -- a very intense orgasm.

She threw her head back and silently mouthed “Oh my god” while her body twitched and jerked with waves of her climax.  Fake or real, I could not tell you…  All I know, it had quite the effect on the guy masturbating nearby, who suddenly started ejaculating into a Kleenex.  It did quite a number on my horny wife as well, who just sat there, her mouth wide open, watching Carmela’s orgasmic performance with pure sex and desire in her eyes.

As soon as her show was over, Carmela came to sit with us at our table.  Drank wine with us and told us how much she enjoyed dancing for married couples.  In fact, she loved all types of three-way erotic encounters because nothing made her hotter than an extra set of horny sex organs thrown into a sexual mix.

As if on cue, the three of us got up from our table all at the same time.  We knew it was time for a more private setting now.

Carmela led the way till we arrived at a secluded, curtained off area of so-called Champagne Room located on the upper level of the club.  My wife and I sat in a big, rich-looking leather chair that comfortably fit the both us.  My wife sat to my left.  “It’s my husband’s birthday,” she whispered into Carmela’s ear.  “You need to be extra nice to him today.”

A sensual song came on and Carmela started dancing in front of us, slowly removing pieces of her sexy stripper outfit and throwing it on the floor.  She had an amazing body and I enjoyed watching her graceful performance.  But my wife was getting a little impatient.  Wanting something more physical already, she started pushing Carmela's body toward me.  Gently at first, but was getting a little aggressive as time went on finally to the point of causing the stripper to loose her balance and almost fall on top of me.

Carmela wedged one of her knees in between my legs and against my cock, and leaned her hands against the wall for support.  With this sudden shift of her positioning, her body came in close proximity to mine.

Her breasts were in front of my face now and when she shook them for me, I became fully erect down below in an instant.  I glanced over at my wife to make sure that she was all right with the physical changes taking place inside of my pants.  After all, it was another woman’s tits that my penis was getting hard and excited about.

As if she knew what I was thinking…she brought her lips to my ear and quietly whispered: “Don’t you worry about anything baby, this is your special birthday treat.”  Her eyes were cloudy and her breathing was heavy.  She was aroused beyond sanity now and evidently wanted a little peep show.

To encourage  me, she reached out to touch Carmela’s right breast and gently squeezed it.  This switched on something wild inside the horny stripper, who suddenly started moaning in delight.  Carmela arched her back, and breathing heavily, rocked her hips in an erotic back-and-forth as if she needed to get fucked real soon.

As her body shifted, Carmela’s left nipple perfectly aligned with my anxious mouth, its tip almost brushing against my lips.  I well knew what I wanted to do with that nipple but hesitated, once again waiting for my wife's reassuring words.

This time my wife didn't say anything though.  Instead, she brought Carmela’s right breast toward her mouth, and while looking straight into my eyes, started to sensually suck on the stripper's nipple.  The message could not have been any clearer.  I took a deep breath and stuffed Carmela's left nipple inside of my mouth where I could finally taste it.

This simply was the best moment of my entire life.  Just imagine a pair of beautiful tits simultaneously pleasured by two hungry mouths, one belonging to you, and the other one -- to your own wife.  My wife and I passionately sucked on Carmela’s nipples while looking into each other's eyes and slowly losing touch with reality.

My dick felt so large and hard inside of my pants that I had to undo my zipper and let it spring into freedom.  The moment I did that, Carmela pulled away from us allowing her breasts slip out of our mouths, her nipples deliciously wet and pink.  Evidently, she had another activity on her mind at the moment.  She looked down at my exposed crotch and bit her lower lip at the sight of the large rod of my erect penis and my obscenely massive balls glistening in the red lighting of a nearby table lamp.

Carmela wrapped her hand around my cock and with a discrete gesture of her head invited my wife to join in.  My wife eagerly followed her lead.  Placed her fisted hand around my hard cock right on top of Carmela's and, by doing so, created the most wonderful two-fisted tunnel of masturbation joy.

As if on cue, the two fists started moving up and down the shaft of my cock -- squeezing, rubbing and massaging -- and providing me with the most exquisite double-fisted hand job ever performed.

When the girls French kissed in front of me, their tongues wet and anxious with desire, I thought the time has come for me to ejaculate.  But the ladies shook their heads no.  I swear there was a telepathic connection between them.

Carmela reached into her purse, and from inside of it, swiftly produced a shiny package.  It was a condom.  She handed it to my wife who ripped the package open and unrolled the condom onto my penis.  Guided by my wife gentle push, Carmela planted herself onto my hard cock and begun to rhythmically ride it up and down its shaft.  Deeper, faster and harder the longer she did it -- pure ecstasy in her eyes -- while my wife watched from her side of the chair and masturbated to the live porno scene unfolding right before of her eyes.



My name is Jessica.

I’m in a vulnerable state of mind right now and I might regret it later, but I would like to make a confession.  A dirty confession.  Because what I did today was dirty.  Dirty, improper and risqué...yet it felt so good.

Why do I feel the need to confess?  Because thinking about it, mentally replaying details of the dirty deed, is simply making my head spin in crazy circles.  I might be silly, desperate perhaps, but I’m hoping that sharing my naughty secret will somehow make the spinning go away.

I did it just this morning.  Did it at work, and did it during regular office hours, just before lunch time in fact.  Did it in a bright light of a sunny day, and in an office building full of people.  And I did it with the person I thought I despised.  The scariest part?  I enjoyed it way too much.

I’m still quite confused about the whole affair; still trying to make sense of what happened.  Did I really do…that?  With him?  I’m at home, in my cozy bed right now.  I feel safe and comfortable here.  Like this is the only place the mystery of this morning could be solved.  The T.V. is on, but I’m not really watching.  A bottle of my favorite wine sits on a bedside table to my right.  I’m ready for my third glass.  Just poured it.  Maybe little more alcohol will make it easier for me talk.  Perhaps it will prevent me from gagging on the indecent words that I will need to utter in order to describe what happened.

I need a minute to work myself up to confession time; wine hasn’t numbed my senses sufficiently just yet.  Perhaps, instead of jumping right into it then, I will start things slow and easy, and tell you a little about myself first.  Go back in time a bit and describe the chain of strange events that lead to the indecent encounter of this morning.

I’m a thirty-something former exotic dancer.  Stripper if you prefer.

If you are wondering how I got into stripping, this is how.  Dissatisfied with a life style that included used clothing and discounted produce, my college roommate and I decided one day that enough was enough.  Living broke wasn’t the “adventure” that we imagined it would be, and the two of us saw exotic dancing as quick way out of our miserable state of poverty.  It was just supposed to be a short term venture, only until we've gotten ourselves out of the hole.  But we both fell in love with the stripping world from the very beginning, from day one in fact, and our short term anti-poverty venture turned into years of wild party and easy money.

But that’s in the past.  I have been out of the strip club and living the “regular life” -- or so my husband calls it -- for almost a year now.  Things are pretty good for me so far, no complaints, but I miss my old life sometimes.  Stripping has been a big part of my life for more than a decade, so it’s only natural I guess.  I wish I could've stayed on for longer.  But getting naked for money is not the type of a job that you can continue on forever, so when Paul and I got engaged, we decided that day of our wedding would officially mark the end of my days in the “biz”.  And that is what happened indeed.

Since I didn’t really have any “regular job” experience and my resume was only a page long, I was concerned about finding a nice office position -- but to my surprise -- I landed one faster than I thought I would.  I’m proud to announce that for the past ten months I have been working as a Purchasing Assistant for a successful car part manufacturing company and doing an exemplary job.

I like my job a lot.  It’s not what I’m used to in terms of money, but it actually isn't too bad paycheck-wise at all.  And the office is only a ten minute drive from my home, which is a big convenience and a huge time saver.  But a more important reason than that is the fact that most of my co-workers are super nice people and I enjoy the easy-going atmosphere at the office.   Everybody likes and respects me here.  No one, of course, knows of my previous life as a stripper or they would not feel the same way about me, I’m sure of it.

I feel lucky to be working here and consider this to be a great job, perhaps the perfect job -- or -- so I did.  Things at the office changed for me just a couple of weeks ago when a bit of a problem suddenly developed.  The problem had to do with the President of my company who expressed a sexual interest in me and has approached me in the most unusual way.

But to be fair, I sort of brought this problem on myself.  I will explain shortly.

A guy coming on to me wouldn’t normally be much of an issue.  If not much else, years of working at the strip club have taught me the valuable skill of "Painless and Effective Rejection", a technique I had to resort to on frequent occasions while dealing with horny customers.  I was a master at this, able to deflect unwanted sexual advances from countless suitors in a way that preserved their fragile male egos, and kept their self-esteem intact.  Worked most of the time.  As an adult entertainer, you have to learn this sort of thing or you lose a tone of regulars.  Bad for business.

But my current predicament was of a slightly different nature as Mister George Panetta -- my new boss -- happened to be the most intimidating man I have ever met.  More than intimidating, George was an insensitive jerk who didn’t give a shit about anybody but himself.  My delicate "Painless and Effective Rejection" would not stand a chance with this prick, I was sure of it.

George enjoyed the power he had over people, and used it to humiliate those around him every chance he got.  It was uncomfortable to sometimes sit there in a weekly production meeting and watch him relentlessly pick on his “victim of the day”.  Interrogating, blaming and wagging his finger, he was usually successful at making the poor person stutter, blush or cry.  He just loved having that effect on people.

But insensitivity wasn't the only unfavorable trait that George was known for.  He also had a reputation of being an oversexed pig, who sadly chased after some of his female coworkers.  According to Janet, the office Know-it-All, George has had sexual relationships with a number of women working at our office.  Janet said that if George decided that he wanted to fuck you, it would become his personal goal to get in your pants no matter what and that he would be relentless in his pursuit.

Most of the time there was no problem.  Many of the women on his “to-do list” appreciated the attention from the boss and rewarded it generously.  Perhaps others thought that fucking the guy in charge would further their careers, and didn’t mind putting in the “special” overtime.  And the few that resisted his sexual advances…let’s just say would suddenly find the atmosphere at work to be a lot less pleasant than it used to be.  Most of them simply quit.

My perv-radar went off the very first time I laid my eyes on George, but I wasn’t sure if I believed all the things that Janet was saying about him.  Would a company’s President be as dumb as to sexually pursue his own employees?  That’s sexual harassment and never ends well, no matter how important you might think you are.  Yet…he was clearly giving off that “dirty-pig" vibe I was so familiar with, so maybe the idea wasn't as ridiculous as it sounded.

Janet liked telling naughty tales about George's sexual adventures.  Again, like a lot things that Janet has told me over the months I have known her, many of her stories sounded pretty far-fetched, and I often wondered if she was simply making them up.  But I didn’t really care.  I was a sucker for a dirty story and intently listened to them all, not particularly concerned about their truth vs. fiction factor.

My favorite must be the Cleaning Lady story.  Here is how it goes:

As Janet tells it, late into the evening one summer day, Mrs. Jones -- our company's cleaning lady -- happened walk by and mindlessly open the door to George’s office.  All the poor woman wanted was to do a little more vacuuming and dusting and to go home to her family.  But events that followed took a very different turn.  Mrs. Jones froze in her shoes when she looked beyond the door and saw... what she saw.

Maybe it wasn’t so much what she saw as who she saw.  And who she saw was George, this man who -- for reasons she could not clearly articulate -- scared the living lights out of her.  To ever run into him like this would be the last thing she would ever wish for but there he was now, big and tall, standing only feet from the doorway she was in.  This scared and startled the woman who didn't expect him there at all.  She looked a little closer and was shocked by the fact that this man she feared so much...was not wearing any pants.

George’s dress pants -- a messy pile -- lay on the floor beside him.  Without them, his most intimate area was completely exposed and out there for Mrs. Jones to see.  And that’s when she saw IT -- George’s erect penis.  It was large and hard, and to her horror, pointing straight in her direction.  Due to sudden shock and surprise, all the muscles of the woman’s body tensed and stiffened, and she was suddenly unable to move.  Her brain was telling her to turn around and run, but her legs -- limp as jelly -- just wouldn’t follow the command.  She fell into a weird state of a short-term-paralysis and had no choice but to stand there and gape, her eyes wide from shock, soon registering the fact that another person was there in the office with George.  The other person was Martha, the Polish girl from accounting.

Martha was in an awkward half-squat, half-kneel position, down on the floor and between George's spread-out legs.  She was holding onto his thighs for support and appeared to be in a process of eating his testicles as his “sack” was entirely engulfed by her mouth.  Just under the shaft of his stiff penis -- turned upward and cocked to one side -- Martha’s head was bobbing in a rhythmic back-and-forth as moist suckling noises filled the quiet room with the naughty sounds of oral sex.

Martha was an attractive lady but not the brightest Accounting Clerk the world had seen, and many wondered how she managed to keep her job for as long as she did.  Mrs. Jones had just figured out the answer to that question.  Evidently, Martha had a set of very special skills that more than made up for what she was lacking talent-wise on the accounting front.

Sucking her boss’s balls to perfection was definitely one of Martha’s special skills.  Still frozen with shock, and still unable to move, Mrs. Jones had no choice but to watch the pornographic scene unfolding only feet away from where she stood.  Mildly intrigued by it though, she was full of admiration for Martha, who was doing an excellent job on her oral task -- working in a meticulous manner to ensure that George’s testicles were pleasured to his absolute satisfaction.

Martha was playful and creative too.  She surprised George (Mrs. Jones too) by suddenly pulling a naughty trick.  This is what she did: Giving no warning at all, Martha paused.  Went completely still, as if frozen, George’s balls still inside of her mouth; sudden lack of moment making the two of them look like a lifeless statue depicting a naughty sexual act.  Few long seconds passed and Mrs. Jones was beginning to worry.  Was everything all right?

But everything was just fine.  This was simply a strategic move on the part of Martha, one of her playful erotic tricks.  This girl was a real pro, who knew intricacies of the sexual pleasure game very well.  She gave the excruciating pause just the right amount of time and the moment Al expressed his first sign impatience, she resumed her naughty activity…with an added a twist.

Martha sucked George’s testicles even deeper and tighter into her mouth, and then slowly, very slowly, started pulling her head away from his crotch, bringing his testicles with her, and stretching them them away from the man's intimate area where they belonged.  Mrs. Jones worried once again; was Martha planning to hurt the poor man?

The man was, in fact, starting to show subtle signs of physical discomfort.  His face twitched and grimaced, and he was quietly squealing under his breath.  But despite all that, he did absolutely nothing to make Martha stop her torturous play.  So she continued to pull and stretch with no mercy, turning George's squeals into full-fetched screams.  And just as Mrs. Jones thought that Martha had gone too far, she suddenly stopped what she was doing.  Slowly retracting her head, the girl returned her boss's balls to their original position, which brought ease to his facial expressions and silenced his cries.

Despite the evident discomfort, George did not seem to mind the mild erotic torture inflicted on him by Martha.  "Good girl,” he said to her as he reached for his dick.  “Keep on sucking my balls as I’m whacking off,” he whispered and started to vigorously stroke the length of his penis, occasionally brushing the side of Martha's head in the process.

Facing the opposite way and engrossed in her sexual task, Martha didn’t notice Mrs. Jones standing in the door.  But George saw her the second she appeared in his field of vision.  Startled?  Surprised?  Embarrassed?  He was none of that.  In fact, George didn’t react to the woman’s presence there in any way other than to give her a little smile.  The little smile said: “Keep on watching for a surprise."  So she did.

Having a spectator there seemed to have awoken a little of the performer inside of George who suddenly started playing things up for her benefit.  Looking straight into her eyes, George increased the speed with which he was stroking his penis.  He was getting louder too, uttering incoherent half-sentences as if trying to tell Mrs. Jones how much he enjoyed her company.  His balls were still inside of Martha’s mouth but he was masturbating much faster now -- his body violently jerking from the impact -- and it was becoming more difficult for the girl to maintain her balance the way she was positioned in between his legs.

It soon became clear to Mrs. Jones that George was nearing his orgasm.  His face tensed in that “I’m almost there expression” that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.  Just seconds away from it now, George was jerking off with so much vigor that Martha wasn't able to suck on his balls any longer and they fell out of her mouth with a sudden bounce.  Moist and deliciously pink, they kept bouncing about as George masturbated on.

George maintained an intense eye contact with Mrs. Jones right up to the big moment.  But then, the intense pleasure of his pre-climax took him away from the here-and-now and he was not able to focus on her face any longer.  His eyes rolled back in his head and his body stiffened, a definite sign that he was there.  Mrs. Jones watched as thick ribbons of creamy ejaculate flu across the room…straight in her direction, and with a good amount of it landing right on her arm.  And that’s what did it.  The moment the blob of George's cum glazed the skin of her arm, was the very moment that brought the woman out of her temporary state of freeze.  She was finally able to move!  She turned around and sprinted from the live porno scene she had unwillingly endured.

So there you have it, my favorite "George" dirty story by Janet.  She swears that it's true, but I have my doubts.  Doesn’t really matter.  If not much else, a fun thing to picture in your head.  But getting back to my own situation now...

As I've already mentioned, I have a husband.  Paul and I have not been married very long and until just recently, I still had that “newlywed” status around the office that made my co-workers ask stupid questions like: "How is married life treating you?" or "Are you pregnant yet?"

Annoying as it was, having the “newlywed” status had a real perk around the office as it discouraged George from potentially pursuing you in a sexual way.  Not that in my case he would have in the first place; just saying.  Janet said that George didn’t bother with women in new relationships.  Too much work.  George chased after women who were either unattached, or married for long enough to appreciate a little extramarital attention.

But my situation was a little different now.  Something that happened a couple months back has changed a lot of things in my life -- one of them being a brand way that George and others perceived my "newlywed" status.

My heart breaks every time I have to say it, but there it is.  Paul fucked up.  Fucked up big time.  Cheated on me with a fat bleach-blonde that he met in a sleazy nightclub after the two of us had a fight.  Told me all about it.  Desperate and horny, the big girl let my husband take her to a cheap motel, where she did nasty things to his cock.  Dirty sexual favours I've never as much as imagined.  Acted like she hasn’t seen or tasted cock in years.  Kept urging him on: “Squirt on me big boy, squirt all over me”.  And he did.  Ended up coming all over her face.  Why he felt the need to tell me every last detail of that nasty encounter, I will never know.

No surprise, we almost divorced over the incident.  I even moved in with my mother for a few days, thinking at the time that I never wanted to see my husband again.  At the end of it though, we sort of worked things out and decided to give our marriage another try.  But things between us have not been the same since.

Everyone at work knew about my unfortunate situation with Paul.  My own fault.  I was hurting badly and found that talking about my pain to a couple of girlfriends at the office, made me hurt a little less.  I’m sure the girls didn’t mean to gossip and only told my sad story to “one other person”.  Needles to say, before I knew what hit me, I was on the receiving end of some serious pity-looks from all my co-workers.

All of my co-workers except for George that is, whose looks didn't appear to be expressing any pity-related sentiments towards me whatsoever.  Instead, his long and meaningful stares seemed to be telling me, “Fuck you soon and fuck you hard, girl.”

I believed back then that learning about my unfortunate marital situation was not what gave George the green light to come after me sexually.  I actually thought that he would've left me alone.  What I believed fueled and encouraged him was something stupid I did (or rather said) while under the influence of wine.  Let me explain.

So a couple of Fridays ago, a number of us from Purchasing decided to grab some drinks after work.  We went out as a group frequently, jokingly calling these outings “team building” retreats.  George rarely joined in.  Too important to socialize with the little guys, was always my take on it.  But this time around, for a reason I did not understand at the time, George showed up at our favorite pub, and ordered a scotch.

Let me start by saying that ever since Paul’s infidelity, I have been drinking a little more than my norm.  Just another way to try and cope with the stress of it all, I guess.  Drinking around co-workers is never a good idea, and I should never have ordered that second glass of Shiraz.  But I did.  The alcohol hit me fast, and it hit me hard.

Forgetting that nobody really cared any more, yet again, I started pouring my heart out about Paul's infidelity to a couple of girlfriends at my table.  Why did he do this to me?  How could he?  Could I ever forgive him?  And at the end of my rant something possessed me to say: “I swear that one of these days, I will get my revenge on his cheating ass; I’ll go out there and fuck, suck, deep throat, and jerk off as many guys as possible.  And I will have them come all over my face, just like the bastard came all over the face of that slutty blonde.”

This was probably the most inappropriate thing that ever came out of my mouth.  My usually open minded and easy-going girlfriends looked at me with stunned expressions on their faces, making me realize in an instant that I have crossed the line.  Worst part?  George was sitting just a short distance away, and heard every word I said.

I regretted my words immediately, but couldn’t take them back.  What on earth possessed me to say a thing like that?  I was still in a process of forgiving Paul for what he did, but cheating on him in revenge was never an option.  This profane statement was simply the case of having too much to drink on a day that was particularly tough for me in the “forgive department”; it just came out of my mouth for no reason other than that.

But George stared in my direction while slowly sipping on his scotch -- perverted little smirk on his face -- and I knew that as of that precise moment, I have made it to the very top of his "to-do" list.  I fueled his already-dirty mind with sexually explicit images and dirty thoughts.  I felt responsible for making George wanting to fuck me.

This was not a good situation to be in at all.  This man had the power to screw with my job -- the job I cared about so much.  And at this difficult time in my life, with all that’s been going on with Paul, I really didn’t need another problem.  What was I going to do?  How was I going to handle this?

As I expected, George didn’t waste any time, and called me on my phone extension first thing Monday morning.  “Can you come and see me in my office, please?"

“What about Mr. Panetta?”

"I would like to discuss the troubling results of our last month’s Overstock Report.”

Overstock Report my ass, I thought to myself, but promptly replied, “Be right over.”

I took a deep breath and started an anxiety-filled trip passed the reception desk and down the hallway until I reached his office.

“Close the door behind you and sit down,” he said in a bossy tone, which I didn’t really appreciate.

I walked towards an expensive leather chair directly facing his desk and deeply sunk into its ridiculously soft cushion.  I felt trapped the instant I sat in the chair, but desperately tried not to show my discomfort.

George clicked on his computer mouse and in an instant, a colorful chart popped up on his screen.  A blue graph-line pointing upward, indicated that the company's overstock levels were increasing at a drastic rate.  And there was nothing that upset this man more than dead stock in our warehouse.  The problem was the focus of our weekly production meetings and the subject of countless emails.  So I was ready for it.

But George made no mention of the blue graph-line on his screen.  Instead, he shifted in his chair and fixed an intense gaze on me, the very same way he did on Friday night.  Just stared at me like a creep, making me very, very uncomfortable.  At my face at first, but then completely surprised me by shamelessly lowering his gaze toward my chest area, and by giving my breasts a thorough once-over.  What nerve!

Knowing that morning that I might be dealing with George later on, I picked a plain-Jane outfit to wear that day.  But under his perverted gaze, I felt like the old grey sweater I had on, was getting tighter and smaller the longer he looked on.  I felt like all the curves, and all the bumps of my body were showing right through it, including my nipples which, for some unexplained reason, were getting larger and harder the longer this weird situation was going on.  What the hell was going on?

And just as I thought I couldn’t take another minute of this unusual situation, just as I was getting ready to stand up and leave, George looked deeply into my eyes and broke the awkward silence.  “Problems at home?” he asked.

So that’s how he was going to go about it.

“Oh gosh, not at all.  Everything’s great.  Really good.”

I was trying to sound convincing.  Trying way too hard.

“Didn’t sound like it Friday night," he said.

“About that Mr. Panetta.  I had way too much to drink that night and said some silly things that I didn’t mean to say.  My behaviour was inappropriate and I deeply regret it.  I'm sorry.”  I just wanted to be done with it and leave.

George slightly cocked his head to one side, and looked at me skeptically.

"Bullshit,” he said.

My jaw dropped in surprise to this unexpected statement.  Where was he going with this?

“Bullshit,” he said again.  “You were not drunk, My Dear.  Two measly glasses of red wine, is not enough alcohol to make you drunk.”

Creepy.  Was he watching me the entire night?  Close enough to know how many glasses of wine I had?  And how the hell would he know how much alcohol would, or would-not, make drunk?  Asshole.

I cleared my throat.  “Again, very sorry for my behaviour."

He snickered under his breath.

“Let me spell it out again for you, Honey -- you were not drunk.  Not even a little.  Alcohol had nothing to do with the way you acted.  You knew exactly what you were saying, and you knew that I was listening.  That’s right.  What you said was for me to hear in a little game called seduction."

What?!  What the hell was he insinuating?  Was he suggesting that I was somehow trying to encourage him sexually by uttering that inappropriate statement?  The most ridicules thing I have ever heard.  I was taken aback, and so stunned I couldn't even respond.

“There was more to it than the explicit statement too, Jessica.  Just think about the way you acted that night.  You were all sex and flirt, acting in a sexually charged manner that was unmistakably directed at me.  You were plain teasing me the entire night.  In a subtle way of course, your girlfriends didn’t pick up on it.  But you knew exactly what you were doing.  Seductively touching your hair, sensually pouting your lips, shamelessly licking the rim of your wine glass wine.  You knew very well that my eyes were fixed on you the entire time and you were loving the attention.  Every second of it!”

I was beside myself.

“That’s outrageous!  Once again -- I was drunk.  I barely knew you were even there!"

“You know you don’t get drunk that easily, Darling.”

What was with all the dears and darlings, who the hell did he think he was?  I was getting more upset by the minute.

“You then took your sweater off."

“I may have.  Is it against the law to take off a layer of clothing when you are feeling warm?”

“That little tank top you wore underneath left very little to imagination.  You didn’t waste any time either, putting those big breasts of yours to work right away.  Bouncing and squirming in your chair almost to the point of making those delicious tits fall out of your top.”

"This is ridiculous.”

“Making me hungry for you.  Making me imagine what I would do to those tits if I could only touch them.”

He narrowed his eyes.  “And your nipples--”

“My nipples what?”

“So large and hard that night.  Just like they are right now.”

I looked at my chest and was horrified to discover that my nipples were, indeed, large and hard.

"Making me hungry for you.  Making me hope that one day I could touch those nipples.  Kiss them maybe, suck and chew them, wet them with my tongue."

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  The President of the company I worked for…the big boss around here.  Was he really saying these things to me?  Unbelievable.  Again, I completely understood that his sexual interest was partly of my own doing, but this?  This was crossing all kinds of lines of inappropriate and unprofessional no matter who did what.  I couldn’t let him talk to me this way any longer.  I stood up, and quickly walked out of his office slamming the door behind me.

I ran towards the ladies room and was relieved to find that no one was in it.  I looked at the reflection of my face in a small mirror above the sink.  It was beet red from the flush of heat I experienced while listing to Gorge’s indecent sex talk.  I splashed cold water on my cheeks to cool down.  The nerve of that guy!  Suggesting that I was somehow interested in him sexually?!  No way in hell!

Appalled as I was by what just transpired in George’s office, I could not help but wonder about two very strange things.  The first was the state of my nipples, and the question of why they turned so hard and pointy during the meeting with this creep.  And the second?  The second was the issue of my pussy…and the unexplainable reason behind the warm moisture in between its lips.


I was quite shaken up by the incident with George but didn’t tell anybody about it.  I made a firm mental decision though.  I would not give this asshole the opportunity to attempt his manipulative techniques on me again.  I would avoid him as much as possible, plain ignore him, and -- if he ever tried anything funny with me again -- I would not hesitate but take the matter up with the company’s Human Resources Department.

But to my surprise, I didn't hear from George in days that followed.  Turned out he was the one ignoring me, not the other way around.  Funny.  Didn’t call me, didn’t come by my desk, didn’t request any more meetings.  Did this mean that I had won?  Did I make him realize that I wasn’t just another whore he could fuck just because he wanted to?  Success!  Looked like the jerk decided to leave me alone.  Super, wonderful, great -- I thought.

Or did I?

A little part deep inside of me quietly wondered if he had given up on me just a little too easy.  Did he notice something unattractive about me during that disturbing meeting?  Something ugly and smelly that made him conclude I wasn’t worth his time or effort?  Self-doubt overwhelmed me.  Maybe Paul saw the same thing in me the night he decided to ejaculate all over another woman’s face?

It’s not like me to feel insecure on the “attractive and desirable” front.  I was one of the top girls at the strip club where I worked, and men simply adored me.  Did something change since I quit dancing?  Did office-Jessica lose the sex appeal of her stripper-Jessica counterpart?  Evidence was piling up.  The biggest pervert I have met since stripping days, seemed to have given up on me after only one try.  It’s what I wanted all long so was a good thing -- I tried to convince myself.  But then there was the worsening situation with Paul.

Paul and I haven’t had sex in almost six weeks.  We just argued so much.  Night after night I was going to bed horny, fantasizing about my body being nipples pussy licked.  I was in a desperate need of an orgasm that would relieve some of the physical tension I felt all over.  Masturbating could only satisfy me so much.

And this brings me to this morning.  It’s confession time.

I was in a really bad mood when I arrived at the office this morning.  It was a combination of things.  Paul and I had another big fight last night.  Needless to say, I didn’t get to ride his cock yet again and ended up sleeping alone.  Upset with my husband and sexually frustrated too, I cried most of the night and didn’t get very much sleep.  When my alarm went off, I felt so exhausted that I briefly considered calling in sick.  But I didn’t.  I didn’t want to be home alone with all my miserable thoughts.  There was also the hormonal thing.  Time of the month was only days away and I could feel it in my body.  My breasts felt heavy and my nipples hurt-and-itched -- both at the same time -- in a way that made me horny even more.  My pelvic area felt tight, and there was this intense itch inside of my pussy that only a large hard cock could scratch better.

I felt irritated and frustrated.  Sitting on the edge on my chair, I was just vibrating inside.  I was aggressively slamming on the keys of my keyboard while trying to type, which was completely freaking my co-workers out.  But they didn’t say anything and left me alone to deal with my bad day.

Something happened then.  Seemingly insignificant event that followed, pushed me over the edge of sanity and set into motion a chain of events that lead to -- not sure yet -- either the most repulsive sexual experience of my life, or, the most erotic one ever.

I was sitting at my desk, my head just fizzing with crazy range of contrasting emotions.  I was tired, upset, and horny.  Worried about my relationship with Paul and feeling uncertain about the future of my marriage.  Where did I go wrong?

I was trying to reach my husband on his cell phone, but he wasn’t picking up.  Tried a bunch of times but got his voice mail each and every time.  Paranoia started setting in and I was imagining the worst.  He was at his ex-girlfriend’s house.  The bitch recently separated from her husband and has been messaging Paul on Facebook.

I was always a little threatened by Alice.  Perhaps because Paul slipped up one time and (after a couple of beers) told me that of all the women he had slept with, his ex-girlfriend Alice had the best tits and gave the best tit fuck.  Apparently, you couldn’t get a better tit fuck from anyone else in the entire world.  What an idiot for saying a thing like that to his wife!  My tired brain imagined they were together right now.  Paul sitting on Alice's couch and she…the sexy bitch down on her knees letting him slide his cock up and down the warm fold in between her large tits.

I dialed again.  I didn’t know what I would do if Paul didn’t answer this time around.  On the third ring, his damn outgoing message again!  I wanted to scream and to kick something, to throw the phone against the wall and break it into a thousand little pieces.  I was on the verge of crazy now.  And then--

I looked up and saw George.  He was standing on the other side of my cubicle half-wall doing what he was so great at, which was staring at me like a creep.  There was a hint of an arrogant smirk on his lips that made me want to punch him in the face.

When he walked away seconds later, I just sat there for a while, confused and stunned.  My brain was not functioning properly.  It detached itself from the reality of it all and floated somewhere between Paul’s “Please leave a message after the tone,” and the smirk on George’s face.  Leave a message…smirk…leave a message…smirk.  And then I lost it.

I slammed down the phone and got up from my chair.  Not really in control of my own actions, almost as if hypnotized, I started to slowly walk towards George’s office, and before I could stop myself, I was inside it.

George was sitting behind his desk, looking down at his phone.  For the first time ever, I didn't feel intimidated by this man at all, didn’t feel a drop of fear.  It was a feeling I enjoyed a lot.

He raised his head, but didn’t seem surprised to see me.

“Hi there,” he said.  “How can I help you?”

“How you can help me?!” I yelled at him.  “You can start by not sneaking up on me, and by not listening to my private phone conversations!”

He was calm.  Cool as a cucumber.  “Close the door,” he said.

“No, I am not closing your dumb door!”

“You are making a scene, Jessica.  Please close the door.”

I looked over my shoulder and noticed that George’s secretary was curiously looking in our direction.  I knew about her from Janet.  She was one of his whores.  Blew him right in his office at least twice a week.  I never liked the woman and didn’t appreciate her attention now.  So I decided to close the door.

“What is it Jessica?”  He asked me as if he didn’t know.

“Like I said, it is rude to sneak up on people and listen to their phone conversations!"

He laughed out loud, as if I've said something amusing.

“Conversations, you say?”

“Yes, I said 'conversations'!”  You jerk, I almost added.

“That activity you were briefly engaged in a few minutes ago was not a conversation, my Dear.  In order to have a quote-unquote conversation you need at least two people.  A pre-recorded greeting does not count as a person.”

I was fuming by now.  This asshole plain enjoyed my misfortune and pain.  So I was yelling at him even louder now.  “I also didn’t appreciate our little meeting a couple weeks back, when you suggested that I was trying to seduce you that stupid Friday night at our work outing.  The most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!"

The insecure part of me wanted me to ask him why he completely ignored me since that meeting.  But I didn't say anything.  Instead, overwhelmed by everything that was happening to me, I felt weak and helpless, and to my absolute horror, I suddenly started to cry.  Just couldn’t control it.  Tears were pouring down my cheeks, and my chest was heaving.  I felt like a complete idiot, but simply couldn’t stop myself.

George looked at me in a way that stirred me deep inside.  Didn’t say anything for a good while but then, when he finally did speak, his words sent a jolt down my spine.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to upset you in any way.  I would never want to hurt you…Chantal.”

I froze.  Did he call me Chantal?  I haven’t heard anyone call me that name in months.  Because Chantal used to be my stage name at Erotica, the strip club where I used to work.  I looked at him carefully.

“Did you just call me Chantal?”

His desk phone rang at that very moment, and he reached over to get it.  It was his assistant, calling him under some silly pretext, no question just dying to know what was going on in here.

“I will get back to you on that,” he said to whatever useless question she had asked him.

I was watching him closely while he spoke on the phone.  His lips.  His eyes.  The big hand cradling the handset.  He looked so familiar now.

“You remember me now, don’t you?”  He said.

I did.  I remembered George.  How did I not see it before?  George used to be one of my regulars.  Ages ago.  Back when he was about thirty pounds lighter, and back when wore a wild mustache.  He changed a lot.

I closed my eyes and let my mind take me back to the place I loved so much.  I could picture the familiar surroundings, feel the unforgettable atmosphere.  The reddish darkness of the place, the loud music, the glimmering stage...  How I missed that place.

And then I pictured George -- or rather -- remembered one of our many erotic encounters.  Wearing nothing but a pair of high heels, I was sitting on his massive lap playfully pulling on his mustache.  He used to love it when I played with his mustache.  Used to love it when I played with other body parts of his as well.

"You and I had some good times back in the day.  You, me, and two glasses of champagne inside one of those private booths at the back of the club.  We did a lot of crazy things back then.”

Paul had no idea -- thought I was one of the clean girls, thought I would never let a customer touch me.  Thought I would never take a guy for a private lap dance inside one of those dirty sex booths.  Because that’s what I told him and he believed me.  But I lied.  I didn’t do it with all the guys…just a handful over the years that I found myself having intense sexual feelings for.  Feelings of physical attraction so strong, I could not resist or control.

George was the king of those guys.  I was attracted to George big time.  He was simply the manliest man I knew.  Big, strong, tough.  Didn’t put up with bullshit from anyone.  And physically -- half animal and half man.  Raw and untamed in a sexy and provocative way.  I still remembered the scent of his intoxicating cologne, and how it used to drive me absolutely insane.  I used to get so turned on while dancing for George, so horny.  He and I used to do things…naughty things.  Yes, all this while I was dating Paul.

“You used to open my pants and squirt peach-scented hand cream all over my cock.  Once nice and slippery, you would grip my cock tightly and stroke it up and down, and up and down, till it got large and hard.  You liked it large and hard."

It would be a lie to say that I didn't to these things.  I did.  I used to stroke George’s penis with a shameless passion while whispering obscene things into his ear.  And as soon as I would get his cock to stiffen, I would throw a towel over his crotch and sit across his lap astride.  My legs would open nice and wide, exposing my horny clit in the process.  I would thrust myself against George’s large body and rub my pussy against the towel-covered hardness of his cock.  Harder and faster, till I felt the orgasm take over my entire being.  Orgasms with George were always so unbelievably with nobody else.

“I could feel you come every time.  I still remember how great that felt.  Your body twitching with orgasmic convulsions, your eyes rolling back in your head, your mouth screaming dirty things into my ear.”

“Stop it, please.”

“I would wait for you to finish and then ejaculate all over your towel like a teenage boy.  All this, while Paul was waiting for you outside.”

No other man had this effect on me.  Ever.  I turned into this whole different person when I was with George.  This horny bitch deep inside of me took over all of my thoughts and actions.  When I was with George, there was no guilt, no shame, no inhibition.  No past or future.  No Paul.  All there was -- was the primitive need to rub my pussy against his cock and to orgasm as intensely as I could.  "You dirty whore," he used to call me.

George made me feel things that I never felt before, evoked primal urges in me that I didn’t know I had.  I used to think about him all the time, hoping each night that he’d show up at the club.  I couldn’t wait to see him, to feel my towel soak up each and every last drop of his cum.  Yes, all this while I was dating Paul.

“One day you just stopped coming by,” I said.

“I had to.  I couldn’t stand the thought of another guy fucking you while you and I had this...special relationship.  I had to wait until the time was right."

He shifted in his seat again.

“The last time I saw you, I told you that you and I were made for each other and that one day we would be together again.  You were in love with Paul back then and didn’t see it my way.”

Wait a minute.  So me working here…not a coincidence?  Not the case of impressing Margaret, the Human Resources Manager, with my intelligent wit and freshly-acquired computer skills?  Let me think a minute.  How did I hear about this job opportunity?  That's right.  The manager Erotica emailed me the job posting not long after I quit dancing.  I even called him after I got the job to say thank you.  Gabriel.  A super nice guy and a good friend of mine, but also a good friend of George’s.  It all made sense now.

A calm feeling came over me.  I no longer wanted to scream or cry.  I didn’t care if Paul was, in fact, fucking his ex-girlfriend’s tits while I was calling him on the phone.  All I wanted right now was to sit down.  I walked over to the leather chair and, like the other day, deeply sunk into its very soft cushion.

I closed my eyes again.  Desperate to escape my miserable reality, my wreck of a brain took me down the memory line again.  I was back at the Erotica.  I could hear the music and I could taste the champagne.  I could also remember George so clearly now.  George...and a thousand ways he could make me cum.

Thinking about it suddenly made me remember the horny state I was in.  I could feel the whore in me emerging now and slowly taking over my mind and body.  I was so desperate for an orgasm.  Didn’t have one in weeks and needed urgently to release some of the uncomfortable tension I felt all over.  I wanted George badly.

When I opened my eyes, George was standing right beside the leather chair.  Just an arm's reach away.  I could smell his intoxicating cologne; same cologne that used to drive me crazy horny all these years ago.  His crotch was right at my eye level and I could see a major hard on in his pants.  This made smile.  I brought my hand over to his cock and griped it tightly through the fabric of his pants.  His breathing became heavy the instant I did that.

He whispered to me: “Remember that one night at Christmas time?”

“I remember.”

“You sucked on my cock and let me ejaculate inside of your mouth.  'Merry Christmas' you said to me right after, your mouth still full of my cum.”

“You were the only one--”

“Suck my cock again.”

He unzipped his pants and let them fall to the floor.  He pulled down his briefs and, as he did that, his cock sprang large and free almost slapping me in the face.  I looked at it with lust.  There was a drop of slimy pre-cum lazily glazing over its eye and I wanted so badly to taste it.  My mouth couldn’t quite reach his penis the way I was sitting, and I needed to readjust my body in the chair.  I shifted from a sitting position to a kneeling one, my upper body stretching out over the arm of the chair.

I stuck my tongue out and licked around the tip of George’s cock until all of the tasty pre-cum was completely gone.  It tasted divine.  A salty drop of pleasure that made me hungry for more.  I parted my lips, and let George slide his cock deep inside my mouth.

It was much larger than what I was used to because Paul’s penis was only average in size.  George’s cock filled the entire cavity of my mouth.  It poked at the very back of my mouth making me gag a little which I didn't mind at all.  Just the opposite -- I loved the sensation of gagging on George's insanely large penis.  I was emerged in this hypnotic state of erotic discomfort-slash-pleasure, and I didn't want it to stop.

“I am going to fuck your mouth now and what I need from you, is to tell me how you would like me to come.”

He pulled his cock out of my mouth to let me answer, but I didn’t know what to say.

“Do you want me to come in your mouth?”  He asked.

I thought about that for a moment.

“No, George.  I want a re-play of what Paul did to that slut the night he cheated on me.  I want you to come on my face.”

George shoved his cock back into my mouth, faster and harder this time.

“Keep it nice and tight for me in there, and hold on baby, because you never had your mouth fucked the way that I will fuck it now.”

He went at it full blast.  Thrusting his cock in and out of my mouth fast and rough, slamming it against the back of my throat wile his enormous balls bounced against my neck.  He was going faster and faster, picking up the speed to an almost unbearable pace toward the end.  I knew that his secretary was standing right outside of the door, listening to what was going on in here.  But I didn’t care.

“Here I come!”  George squealed out.

He pulled out and pointed his cock at my face.  I wrapped my hand around its base, and as soon as I squeezed it, creamy strand of cum started shooting out of its eye.  So much of it.  It squirted all over my face and as soon as it landed there, it begun a slow downward run toward my neck.  The sensation of warm ejaculate on my face felt so unbelievably erotic.  I closed my eyes to better take in the experience.

“Stand up,” George finally said to me.

He helped me out of the chair and hugged me from behind me, wrapping his big arms all around me.  Strength and power just emanated from this man.

Paul was not a very large man and I never felt a dainty little female when I was with him.  But it was a lot different with George who outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds.  I found this drastic physical difference between us to be very, very arousing.  Not that I needed to be aroused any more than I already was.

“Rest your foot on the edge of my desk,” he whispered in my ear.

I did what he said -- lifted my leg and raised it tall till my high-heeled shoe found the edge of George's desk.  My skirt bunched up around my hips as I did that and I could feel my pussy lips come wide apart.  Still on, my underwear was completely soaked in my pussy juice.

I said loud enough for George's secretary to hear, “I’m so fucking wet down there, Baby.  And so horny.  Please make me come.”

George reached over my shoulder and slid his right hand under the lacy fabric of my panties.

“That’s right,” he said.  “It’s your time to come, baby.”

He started rubbing his fingers around my clit.  I can't explain how much pleasure that brought to my pussy.  I closed my eyes and concentrated on the warm sensation of George’s cum slimily dripping down my face.  The feel of it made the experience of my pre-orgasm so divinely intense.

I could feel some of his juicy ejaculate right above my lip.  I snaked my tongue out of the corner of my mouth and licked it off.  The sweet and salty taste of it on my tongue pushed me over the edge and set off my climax.  I threw my head back and hit George’s chest with a force that made some of the strands of my hair fall onto my cum-glazed face.  The hair just stuck to the creamy substance and partially covered my face.


I knew this would be a big one.  One that would fix it all.  All the frustration, all the horniness, and all the emotional pain.  It felt like the good old days.  George and I pleasuring each other again.

The intense wave of my orgasm made me weak and dizzy.  I almost fell in faint, but George held me tight till I got some of my strength back.

“George,” I could only say.

Gorge smiled at me and reached toward his desk to grab some Kleenex tissue.

“Turn around,” he said.

I turned to face him and let him tenderly wipe his cum off my face.

I’m fuzzy about what happened next.  I’m not really sure how I got home, but here I am.  In my bed, on my third glass of wine.  Just made my dirty confession but don’t believe my head is spinning any less.  Paul hasn’t called all day but I don’t really care. Because all I can think about right now is George -- and how much I want to feel his cum on my face again.


I was never into guys my own age -- they all seemed like little boys to me -- and I ended up marrying a man quite older than myself.  Twenty-two year age difference didn’t seem like a big deal at the time.  I actually loved the fact that my older husband was mature and established, and had a successful career.  Life was perfect for the first few years of our marriage.

Sex was never an issue during those first blissful years.  Joe was not much of a lover -- often too tired or too “limp” to screw me, but my own sex drive was pretty low back then too, so I didn’t mind.  It actually seemed like we were the perfect couple: Mr. Limpy and Mrs. Frigid.  It’s like were made for each other.

But things started to change right around the time I turned thirty.  Not sure what triggered it, but all of a sudden, I started to notice myself experience sexual feelings, thoughts and desires that I never felt before.  To my surprise, I was developing a sex drive!  And not just any ordinary sex drive either.  The timid, sexually reserved young lady that I used to be was slowly turning into this horny, sex craved, men obsessed whore.  It's like I had this alternate ego -- this Inner Erotic Goddess -- that was suddenly waking up inside of me and begging me to let her come out and play.

“Play” is the wrong word here.  My Inner Erotic Goddess wanted to fuck, fuck, and then fuck again.

It didn’t just happen overnight.  It was a slow and a gradual process, but before I knew what hit me, sex was all I could think about.  Mental images of sexual acts were taking over my dreams and my conscious thought.  I fantasized about sex all the time.  Rough, soft, kinky, oral, anal, manual, group -- just name it -- I wanted to do it all.  But with Joe going in the exact opposite direction (becoming less interested in sex as he aged), I knew that we would soon reach the point of disconnect.

This is how bad I had it: I made a mental list of all the naughty things that I wanted to do in order of how horny they made me feel.  The first thing on my "naughty list" was a sensual hand job.  I visualized closing my hand around an erect penis and massaging it up and down...and up and down...again and again until I made it explode with squirts of creamy ecstasy.  Haven’t made a guy come in this way since college.

I followed Joe to bed one night.  I got completely naked and laid in bed right next to him.  I reached down between his legs and gently squeezed his balls.  “I want to jerk you off and watch you come all over,” I whispered into his ear.

He tried.  He really did try his best to please me, but things didn’t quite play out like in my erotic fantasy.  I kept sliding my fisted hand up and down the length of his cock, but simply couldn’t get him to cum.  We eventually gave up on the idea.  Joe climbed on top of me, stuck his half-hard cock inside my pussy, and finished himself off by fucking me the missionary style.  Missionary was his favorite.

But I couldn’t blame him.  He wasn’t the experimental type and I knew it when I married him.  That actually was one of the perks since I wasn’t into sex that much back then either.  But things were different now.  I couldn’t settle for the missionary style once every couple of weeks any longer.  It would simply be wrong to waste all that new-born sexual energy, to let my body waste away when it could give and receive pleasure in so many intriguing ways.  And my body…it was like a sexy fuck machine -- every man’s dream.  I had enormous breasts and a tight pussy that was ready for action twenty-four-seven.  It’s like I was made to fuck and to be fucked.

After ejaculating intensely into my pussy, Joe rolled off me, turned to face the wall, and fell asleep almost instantly.  But I was so upset, so sexually frustrated, that sleep was the farthest thing on my mind.  I just wanted to crawl into a ball and cry.  I wiped off the blob of Joe’s cum lazily dripping down my leg, put on some clothes, and decided to go downstairs.  I poured myself a glass of red wine and just sat there on the couch in the complete dark.  I wasn’t proud of it but there was something not-so-nice on my mind lately.  Again -- not proud of it -- but I quietly wondered if I should I cheat on Joe.

Yes, I should cheat on him...  No, I should not.  Yes...  No...  I was torn inside.

But not even fifteen minutes into the moral struggle brewing inside of my head, the Erotic Goddess got tipsy on the wine, took over the entire thought process, and solved the dilemma for me.  Made the decision, answered the question.  Yes, I would cheat on Joe.  I would fulfill my sexual needs and live out my erotic fantasies with other men if I couldn’t do it with my husband.  The slut that she was, the Goddess insisted that I pursue that un-finished hand job as soon was as humanly possible.  She also hinted that Carlo would make a great candidate for the co-star of my first extramarital adventure.

Carlo? Really?

Carlo was the horniest guy at my work.  He was your stereotypical office pig -- shamelessly flirting with all the ladies at the office, “accidentally” rubbing against them in the coat room, telling the dirtiest jokes imaginable.  But at the same time extremely clumsy while attempting all that, which (instead of offend) made the women at the office laugh and make fun of the poor guy.

Carlo liked all the women in the office but had a special infatuation with me -- meaning -- he wanted to fuck me more than he wanted to fuck the others.  Flattering, I suppose.  He was trying to score a date with me since the very first day we met.  “Let’s go for a drive in my car, park it somewhere quiet, and…talk,” he would whisper quietly when nobody was around.  The guy had no shame.

The fact that both of us were married was probably more of a turn on to him than the actual perspective of sex, I always thought.  The sneaking around aspect of it I guess, doing something bad, having a naughty secret.  “Maybe one day,” I would say to him just for the heck of it, but never, ever, have I taken any of Carlo's indecent proposals seriously.  That is…until now.  Thanks to my horny alternate ego, Carlo was about to become the luckiest guy under the sun.

It was just a matter of the right opportunity now but it presented itself sooner than I thought.  The boss invited the entire department out for dinner to celebrate the successful end of our fiscal year.  Dinner was to take place the following Friday.  An office event -- the perfect setting for two married people to meet for an hour or so without raising a suspicion.  You leave the event early but tell the spouse it ended late.  I sent Carlo a quick e-mail: still interested in going for that drive?  Just like I thought, he was.

Carlo came up with a detailed plan of our secret meeting almost instantly.  This obviously wasn't his first time cheating on the wife.  He suggested that about forty five minutes into dinner, he would pretend to receive a phone call from home and leave the restaurant on a “family situation”.  Since dinner was a casual buffet this wouldn't be a big deal.  Carlo would drive his car to a parking lot of a nearby shopping mall and wait for me there.  About a half hour later, I would make the old “headache” excuse, leave the restaurant too, and drive over to meet Carlo.

I must admit, I had mixed feeling about the “naughty secret” in the days leading up to it.  Cheating on Joe?  With Carlo?  In his rusty car?  I felt disgusted with myself on a couple of occasions and almost called the whole thing off.  However, doubts only came to me during the bright hours of the day.  But when the nighttime came, things would start feeling completely different.  Lying naked in bed...all warm and relaxed…I would touch myself in between the legs and feel my body tingle with sexual desire all over.  And during those alone-moments in the darkness, I just knew that the Erotic Goddess would not let me back out of this deal no matter what.

Friday was here at last.  Anxious with anticipation, I woke up earlier than usual.  I stood in front of my closet.  What to wear, what to wear… The strategist in me decided on a black bra with a front clasp and a sweater that easily opened in the front -- a sexy red thing with a zipper going all the way down.  I needed convenient access to my best assets (my big tits) and use them to my advantage in the little game called Make Carlo Loose His Mind.  Or was it called: Make Carlo Come All Over His Rusty Car?  Sounded good either way.

I really liked the ambiance of the restaurant the boss took us to.  It was dark and cozy, which made for a great way to set the proper mood for my first extramarital adventure.  But I was having doubts again and felt nervous.  Where was the Erotic Goddess when I needed her most?  I definitely needed some alcohol in my system.  Good old alcohol, always there for me in my time of need.  I ordered a glass of Australian Shiraz and sipped on it real fast -- desperate to loosen up in time to enjoy my naughty adventure.  It worked like magic.  About a half way into my first of glass of wine, I felt a nice and relaxed feeling come over me.  I was in tune with my body now, feeling all my sex parts swell up and tingle with sexual anticipation.  I was ready for the hand job of my life.

Carlo was trying hard to play it cool.  He was casually chit-chatting with this person and that, but not doing a very good job at the “not raising a suspicion” aspect of our plan.  I could feel his horny eyes on me almost the entire time.  It was like watching a hungry dog salivate at the sight of a tasty bone.  The Sober Me would probably have signaled to him to be more discreet, but tipsy on wine, I didn’t mind his eager eyes on me at all.  I actually enjoyed the effect that I had on poor, cum-filled Carlo, and decided to have little fun with the guy.

Faking interest in a story told by a co-worker sitting across the table from me -- and right next to Carlo -- I deliberately leaned toward him as much as I could.  As I moved my body forward, my large breasts pushed up against my folded arms, exposing a good part of them out of my sweater (oops… did it unzip a little without me realizing?).  Carlo was stirring in his seat uncomfortably, mentally fucking my tits with his cock, cumming all over them.  And even though I couldn’t actually see it, I just knew there was a little hard-on in his pants there for me already.

Carlo received “the call” from home sooner than was planned.  He was anxious -- my little wine inspired tease worked like magic.  Good job, I told myself.  I was actually getting a little eager myself.  I just couldn’t stop wondering what Carlo's penis looked like, hoping for a large, rod-like cock -- just like the one in my sexual fantasy.

I patiently waited out the pre-agreed half an hour and made my move.  I quickly finished what was left of my wine and told everyone about the “really bad headache”.  Just before I got up to leave, I discreetly reached into the bread basket (placed in the middle of the table by our waiter at the start of dinner) and fished out two tittle packets of butter out of it.  I put the packets of butter in my purse and left.

Less than fifteen minutes later, I was getting into the passenger’s seat of Carlo’s car.  A warm blob of thick pussy juice, that suddenly formed between my legs, was making my pubic hair stick to my underwear in a way that made me extremely horny.

“Let’s go find a private place...”  I wanted to say to Carlo, but he was driving off before I even had the chance to open my mouth.  He must've known the area very well because just a short while later, he was parking his car in a secluded parking lot of an industrial complex.

It was getting late and I didn’t want for my first sexual fantasy to play out in the complete dark.

“Park over there.  By that building with the light,” I said to Carlo.


“Because I am going to get very naughty with your cock and I want you to watch me do it... see each and every dirty thing that I will do to you."

Carlo parked by the building with the light like I asked.  He pushed his seat away from the steering wheel and reclined it.
“Girl, my cock is ready for you,” he said.

He wasn't lying.  I could see a big bulge pressing hard against the fabric of his pants.  But “big” wasn’t good enough for me.  What I wanted was the largest, hardest, stiffest cock experience of my life.  This needed more work.  I unzipped my sweater, opened my bra, and let my tits bounce out of my clothes.

“Holy fuck….” Carlo hissed under his breath.  “Your tits are fucking unbelievable.  I need to suck your  I need to suck on them right now.”

I let Carlo suck on my nipples while I ran my hand up and down his bulged crotch.  I could feel his erection growing bigger and harder.  When I decided he was ready for the big moment, I pulled my breasts away from his mouth and unzipped his pants.  I struggled with the thick denim of his jeans but finally managed to pull them below his ass.  His erection sprung free with a sudden: “here I am!”

And there it was…Carlo's cock.  Just the way I pictured it.  No.  It was better.  Large, hard, and so wonderfully tan-colored.  I couldn’t help but think of Joe’s small and pale penis and snickered at the unimpressive mental image.

The hand job of my dreams was just about to unfold and I couldn't be more excited.  I started off by softly massaging Carlo’s balls.  “Oh…oh…” he was quietly moaning under his breath.  When I was finished with his balls, I wrapped my hand around the base of his penis and ran it up and down its entire length.  Just a couple of times to tease and then -- I paused.

Pure bewilderment in his eyes, Carlo intently watched the hot erotic scene slowly unfolding down below his belt line.  A pleasant surprise in his eyes -- as if none has ever done anything like this to him before.  “Don't stop,” he begged, “please don't stop!”

I reached into my purse and retrieved the packets of now half-melted butter.  Big question mark on Carlo’s face.

“What the heck is that?”

“Shhh… just trust me.”

I opened the first packet of butter and smeared its contents all over Carlo’s testicles.  I gently scooped his balls in my hand -- as if they were a pair of fragile eggs -- and started sliding my lubed hand over and under his balls, tracing sensual circles with it.  Round and round, again and again.  Faster, tighter, harder.  I watched Carlo’s erection get bigger and harder still.  

“Oh yeah…” he moaned.

I opened the second packet of butter and squeezed its slippery contents into the palm of my hand.  I made a fist and wrapped it tightly around Carlo’s cock.  I started sliding the greasy fist up and down the entire length of his penis, in slow but rhythmic intervals, the butter making the job so easy and so wonderfully sensual.

Number one on my sexual fantasy list -- a sensual hand job -- was slowly unfolding in front of my very eyes.  I was getting turned on more and more, my pubic hair completely soaked in my pussy juice now, my clit on fire.  I was sliding my fisted hand up and down Carlo’s cock faster now, my exposed breasts jiggling and bouncing violently with each move I made.

I covered each and every inch of Carlo’s cock, starting rough and tight at the very base of it, and finishing soft and gentle at the tip.  I went up and down and up and down.  Faster and faster.  Carlo was in absolute ecstasy, his breathing heavy and loud now.  He was getting closer to his big release with each move of my hand.  Tighter and tighter...  His gaze was shifting back and forth -- from my bouncy tits to his buttery cock and again to my tits.  “Oh fuck…oh shit…oh fuck.”

“Do you like the special way I massage your cock?”


“Are you getting close?”

“Almost there.”



“I want you to come all over my tits.”

This very last thing I said pushed Carlo over the edge.  Every muscle of his body tensed and stiffened, and his hips started an erotic up-and-down dance to meet the rhythm of my hand.  I squeezed just a little bit tighter, went just a little bit faster, and there it was.

“Holy fuck!”  Carlo screamed.

He was cumming.  I brought my breasts near the tip of his cock as whitish cream begun squirting out of its eye.  Huge amounts of it -- I've never seen anything like it in my life.  It went all over my breasts including my now very hard nipples.   Some of it landed on my cheek and felt so wonderfully warm against the cool skin of my face.  I kept massaging Carlo’s cock till the very last drop of the thick cream squirted out of it.

He was done.  His breathing was back to normal now and he was slowly regaining his composure.  But I wasn't finished yet and needed some TLC urgently!  I grabbed Carlo's hand and guided it under my skirt and inside my panties.  “Rub my clit,” I said with unintended impatience in my voice.  I was turned on to the point of near-insanity, and it would only take me a couple of short minutes to achieve an orgasm.

“Holy shit, you're so fucking wet down there.”

“Just rub it!”  I ordered and he did as I said.

"You are such a dirty girl...”

"I'm a dirty whore and I love it."

All I needed was to have one last look at my cum-glazed tits, one last glance at Carlo's still hard and butter-covered cock, and I was there.

“Yes…yes…yes!”  I screamed loudly as intense orgasmic convulsions took over my entire body.  I took a tight hold of Carlo’s hand to make sure that he wouldn’t move it away too soon.  Holy crap…  This, by far, was the most powerful orgasm I've experienced in a very long time.  Sad, considering the fact that I was married for over five years.  I quietly wondered why Joe could never bring this much pleasure to my pussy.

I was sweaty and out of breath but needed to act fast.  I didn't want for Joe to get suspicious.  I found some Kleenex in my purse and wiped off Carlo’s cum off my tits and face.  I got more Kleenex and cleaned up the wet puddle of pussy juice in between my legs.  I threw the dirty tissues out the car window.

“I had no idea you had a wild side, girl.  You always seem so reserved…even prudish,” Carlo said, big smile on his face.  “Can we do this again sometime?”

“We’ll see.”

I fished my cell phone out of my purse and dialed Joe.

“Hey Baby, we’re almost done in here.  I should be home in twenty minutes or so."

I signaled to Carlo to start driving away.  Our special meeting was over.

In the meantime, I was very proud of myself for having completed number one on my "naughty list".  This, by far, was the most erotic thing that I have ever done in my life.  So far.  But perhaps this was a one-time-thing?  Perhaps the Goddess got her sex-fix tonight and wouldn’t feel the need to pursue the remaining items on the naughty list?

But never satisfied, the Goddess was already planning my next naughty adventure.  I will tell you all about it soon.


The phone rang loudly.  I glanced at caller ID before picking up, it was Mike.
"What's up babe?" I asked.  Mike rarely called me from work.

But he didn’t answer.  I could hear him breathing heavily on the other side of the phone, but other than that he was completely silent.  “Is everything okay?” I asked a little concerned.

Few long seconds passed before he finally said: "I'll be home in an hour to fuck you."
He clicked off and was gone.

Did I hear that right?  Took me a couple seconds to process this very unusual three-sentence conversation.  Did he just say he was coming home for a quickie?

Presumptuous on his part, I thought.  Did he expect me to just drop everything and wait there for him naked by the door?  I didn’t think so.  I was in the middle of laundry and sex was the farthest thing on my mind.  I decided to call him back and tell him not bother coming home.

But as I started walking towards the phone, his words suddenly replayed in my mind.  “I’ll be home in an hour to fuck you..." the sound of his masculine voice making the words "fuck you" turn something on deep inside of me this time around.  My body twitched with a sudden surge of sexual desire.  Blood rushed to my face and my nipples turned hard in an instant.  I became very aware of my clit and how it rubbed against the stitching of my jeans as I moved my legs forward to walk.  I suddenly felt horny.

I never made it to the phone.  Instead, I slid my hand inside my jeans and under my panties.  I was surprised to find that my pussy was already wet.  I stuck my middle finger inside of it and started sliding it up and down my pussy shaft, slowly at first, but then gradually picking up the speed.  I felt a strong urge to orgasm and let out a quiet moan.  It would only take me a couple of minutes to do the job myself, but no -- I would wait for Mike.  I retracted the finger.

Needless to say, I couldn't concentrate on laundry any more.  I closed the laundry room door to spare myself the sight of dirty sheets and towels piled up on the floor.  I felt the need to have some red wine (strange since it wasn't even lunch time yet) and poured myself a glass of Chilean Merlot.  Its usual color of deep ruby-red looked oddly light in the bright sunshine of the day.

I just love wine.  Wine brings a lot of excitement into my life.  Wine makes me giggle like a teenage girl for no reason at all.  Wine makes my food taste better, my clothes fit nicer, and my friends seem funnier.  But most important of all, wine makes me screw hard and it makes me screw dirty.  Mike really likes the dirty whore that wine brings out of me and encouraged my passion for the beverage enthusiastically.

I took the glass of wine with me upstairs and decided that a hot bubble bath would make for a great pre-sex activity.  I poured some lavender-scented bubble bath in the tub and turned the water on.  I sat on the tub’s ledge and watched the bubbles getting bigger and fluffier while sipping on the Merlot.

I suddenly thought of a stash of pornographic magazines that Mike "hid" from me in his office.  I knew about them all along.  He kept them in the bottom drawer of his desk under a pile of old racing forms.  I often brought them out of hiding for my own pleasure, and used them as an aid while masturbating.

Nothing went better together than wine and porn so I decided to take a little trip down the hall.  I was back in just a couple of minutes.  In my hand was a glossy magazine, its cover featuring some bimbo’s huge tits.

Not that I had anything against tits.  Woman’s breasts actually really turned me on and I often pictured big bouncy ones during sex.  Made my orgasms better.  And this pair was particularly attractive.  Round and perky, with large pink circles for nipples.

I took my clothes off and slowly got in the hot bubbly water.  Had a big gulp of wine and swallowed it slowly.  I felt tipsy almost instantly.

I reached for the dirty magazine and randomly opened it to a page depicting a young muscular man standing against a red-toned background.  Curly blonde, down on her knees, was in a process of giving the man a blow job -- his penis deep inside of her mouth.  The man was pressing at the back of the woman's head -- her hair messily tangled in between his fingers -- as if to stuff his penis even deeper inside of her.  The expression on his face was that of a near-orgasm which really turned me on.  My dirty mind led me to imagine that he was just about to ejaculate inside the woman's mouth.  I was very aroused by now if Mike wasn’t here soon, I would have to masturbate to release the enormous tension that suddenly built up around my pelvic area and my clit.

But at last I heard the front door open.  "I'm up here!" I yelled to Mile as loud as I could.

He found me in a flash.  Didn’t question the bubbles, didn't ask about the wine, didn't even seem surprised to see me holding one of his dirty magazines.

Actually -- he didn’t even say hi.

His pants were off before I could blink, but he didn’t bother with the shirt and left it on.  His cock was hard and large...and so close...just on the other side of the tub's ledge and inches from my cum-thirsty mouth.  Inspired by the sexy picture in the magazine, I wanted so badly to take his penis into my mouth and suck it hard till warm sticky cream filled the entire cavity of my mouth.  But Mike had other plans.

“I want you to sit in my chair,” I was confused at first but quickly realized that he meant the leather chair in his office.
“But I’m completely wet,” I said.

He either didn’t hear me or didn’t care.  He grabbed me by the arm, pulled me out of the tub, and guided me in the direction of his office; my wet body leaving a trail of soapy mess on the floor as I we were making our way across the hall.

When we got there, his strong hands pushed me into the cushions of his office chair, quite roughly I should add, his face dead serious.  The leather fabric of the chair felt a little weird against my wet skin.  Sticky and immobilizing.  Stuck to the chair, I had a difficult time moving my body but found the "trapped" sensation to be a real turn on.  Mike knelt down in front of me.

“Come closer to me and spread your legs.  Spread them real wide," he said.

With quite a bit of effort, I un-peeled my body from the chair and moved my hips all the way down. 
Mike grabbed me by my thighs and spread my legs as far as they would go.  This made the lips of my vagina come wide apart exposing moist flesh of my very horny pussy.

"Eat my pussy, Mike," I whispered to him.  "Make me cum."

He dug in, using his tongue to pleasure my juicy cunt with unnecessary urgency, as if he was in some kind of a rush.  “Slow down baby, let me enjoy it awhile," I told him, and he did.

Mentally, I was in some type of a sexual heaven.  Pre-sex bubbles combined with the intoxicating effects of the Merlot have reduced my sexual inhibitions to nil.  I was screaming out dirty words of erotic pleasure in a way that was way too loud for the open windows.  But I had no shame left in me at this point at all.  Actually, the idea that Mr. Andrews next door was likely hearing my pre-orgasmic screams, only added to the intensity of my naughty morning.  The big moment was almost here.

I grabbed Mike by his hair desperately needing to fine tune his movements at this point.  He was licking up and down my pussy which felt great, but I needed him to concentrate on my clit right now.  “Tightly around my clit baby...stay on it now... yes... right there,” I was yelling loud enough for Mr. Andrews to hear, and I pictured him whacking off.

I finally felt it.

“Yes... yes... yes...”  I could only say as spasms of orgasmic pleasure travelled up and down my body.  I felt it all over: my clit, my anus, my nipples.  I was in pure sexual ecstasy experiencing one of the best orgasms I had in quite a long time -- so pleasurable and powerful that I felt drenched and limp as soon as it was over.

But Mike wasn’t finished yet.  Close though.  His eyes had that “out-of-this-world” gaze and his breathing was loud and fast.  He pulled me a bit closer forward, stuck his enormous cock in my juicy pussy, and started pumping into me like there was no tomorrow.  Fucking me hard and fast while taking in the visual of my wet tits violently bouncing from the impact of his powerful thrusts.  He was clearly on a mission to empty his cum-filled balls as soon as was humanly possible -- and I knew he was almost there.

And there it was.

“I’m cumming babe...cumming now...pulling out my cock and spraying my cream all over your cunt!”

Mike pulled out just in time.  He was ejaculating with a massive force, whitish cum spewing intensely all over my pussy.  With quite a fascination, I watched Mike's ejaculate make a sticky mess all over my crotch.  I brought my hand to it and rubbed the creamy substance into my pubic hair.

Took him a good minute to come out of it, but he was in control once again, his eyes clearer and his breathing slower. 
"That was fucking good,” was the only thing he said.

Less than five minutes later he was dressed, out the door, and gone.  Back to work, I assumed.

“Fucking good” was the understatement of the century, I thought.  I slowly peeled myslef off the leather backing of the chair and stood up.  My legs were shaky as I was making my way back towards the bathroom.  I still had some wine left in my wine glass and the bubbles were more inviting than ever -- I was going to finish my bubble bath.

Laundry wouldn't get done today but screw it, tomorrow was another day.


My very first day as a stripper…happened over a decade ago, but I remember it well.

Decision to try out the carrier path of an exotic dancer came to me easy, but on that very first day...the day I was actually going to do it...the day I would strip for money for the very first time...  On that first day, I wasn’t sure any more.  Was I doing the right thing?  Did I have what it took?  Would stripping change me?

I didn't get much sleep the night before.  I tossed and turned in bed imagining the worst.

The main reason behind my decision was, no surprise, money.  The prospect of “easy cash” was just too tempting to resist, especially at a time when I really needed it.  But money wasn’t the only reason behind my decision.  There was also the intriguing prospect of adventure and glamour that I imagined came with this job.  Performing on stage like a star...wearing sequins and lace...drinking expensive wines...

naughty stories, confessions of a stripper

There was also the long conversation with Yolanda.  Yolanda told me that everything was going to be all right and I believed her.

Yolanda was a close friend and an established dancer already, who knew the stripping world inside out.  I felt lucky to have an inside link into this business and a mentor -- someone to guide me through the first days and weeks of my unconventional new carrier.

Yolanda was the most beautiful woman I ever met.

Her flawless facial features screamed "foxy coquette", and her gorgeous body was the perfect balance between the feminine curve and the athletic finesse.  But there was more to this woman than just her looks.  There was something extremely enticing about Yolanda that went far beyond her physical beauty.  It is hard to pin point what that “something” exactly was.  Could have been the sexy way she swayed her hips when she walked...or maybe the seductive way she crossed her legs when she sat.  Not sure.

Whatever it was -- it made Yolanda simply irresistible to the opposite sex and equipped her with a mystical power to seduce any man that walked the face of the Earth.  Any man at all.  Young, old, rich, poor, single, married, even a priest...she could have them all if she only wanted to.  Yolanda had the uncanny skill to shamelessly charm her helpless victims into the point of near-obsession.  She was the natural femme fatal.

On that very first day, I showed up at her place around six.  The plan was to relax for a bit before taking the Big Trip.  “Don’t worry, Hun,” she told me on the phone after I had mentioned my sleepless night.  “We'll have a couple of glasses of wine and make sure you feel good and ready before we go.”

Our destination that night was a popular downtown strip club with a sensual name of Erotica.  Modern and upscale, the place attracted, and geared toward, the wealthier caliber of clientele.  Best way to describe Erotica's typical customer was: very rich and very horny.  And expecting a lot more than just an old, boring lap dance out of his visit to the club.

With that in mind, Erotica hired dancers that fit a certain profile.  Young, thin and pretty were the obvious attributes, but there were other criteria as well.  Employing girls who were open minded, friendly and "loose" helped with the management's vision of converting an ordinary strip club into the land of sexual fantasy, where naughty desires came true. 

Others just called it the neighbourhood bordello.

Erotica had two areas designated for lap dancing activity.  There was the loft-like VIP area located on the upper level of the establishment that was led to by a circular, beautifully lit-up staircase.  A railed half-wall merged this upstairs space with the rest of the club, giving it a loft type of a feel.  Leaning against this half-wall, horny rich men used to sip on their overpriced Martinis while looking over the rail and down at the stage, where Erotica's pretty girls sensually moved their naked bodies to music.

The upper-level VIP area was simply gorgeous.  One of the corners of the space nested a contemporary bar that featured high gloss counters and sleek, modern-looking bar stools.  Pink lighting accents soaked this space in the sea of pinkish shimmer (not to get too poetic).  Located near the railed half-wall was a lounge area furnished with expensive leather chairs and luxurious couches.  Everybody’s absolute favorite was the spectacular crystal chandelier.  Gracefully suspended from the ceiling, the chandelier filled the room with a romantic sparkle.  The ambiance was just unbelievable.

With lounging and socializing concentrated towards the front of the rail, the intimate entertainment by a lap dance, took place at the very back of the VIP -- away from the rail and against the back wall -- where a row of leather chairs (separated by sheets of heavy curtains) created about a dozen of semi-private lap dancing booths.

The back-of-the-wall experience combined with dimmer lighting and a calmer tone, gave this space a cosy-and-secluded type of a feel.  The type of dancing that went on against the back wall of the VIP was...only somewhat dirty.  It certainly was not the sort of activity that my mother would approve of, but as long as I stuck to certain personal rules, and as long as I didn't cross certain personal lines, I was willing to give it a try.

Where I didn’t want to be was the Champagne Lounge.

Located the very back of the club, the so-called Champagne Lounge provided refuge from crowd and noise.  It nested a number of fully enclosed private booths reserved for a more intimate style of dancer-client encounter.  The steep entry fee into the Champagne Lounge guaranteed no interruption of any kind and -- more importantly -- ensured a quality service.  With dancing at the bottom of the list of services provided, a Champagne Lounge customer was sure to be entertained in a variety of other creative ways.  Very intimate ways.  Hand jobs, blow jobs, naughty erotic girl duets and more…anything went.  Satisfaction was guaranteed.

This was not a place for me, I thought back then.  I would never, ever, set my foot in the Champagne Lounge.  I would not perform dirty sexual acts for money.  I would not become a prostitute.  And that's what I thought back then.

wine and sex, naughty stories

On that very first day, I had Yolanda with me to help me through my fears and my anxiety.  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” she told me.

I was in her living room, comfortably seated in one of her very cool designer chairs.  Her place was so tastefully decorated and so cozy.  I was starting to absorb the pleasant ambiance and beginning to feel myself relax.  Yolanda smiled at me warmly and poured me a glass of wine.  “I discovered this wine just last week,” she said.  “I think it’s my new favorite.”

Yolanda was passionate about wine.  The mission of her life -- she often joked -- was to drink and sample as many different types of wine as was humanly possible.  Yolanda was infatuated wine -- is the best way to describe it.  She loved its taste, its smell, its color...what it did to her state of mind.  She tried to explain it to me a number of different occasions, but I'm not sure if I truly understood.

Yolanda liked to drink her wine too.  Drank lot of it, in fact.  Her dream was to one day open a little winery of her own.  “Somewhere in the beautiful mountains of Italy,” she used to say in a dreamy voice.  This was the reason she became a stripper and this was why she worked crazy hours at the club, she told me one time.  It was all to make her dream come true.

"I will throw erotic wine and sex parties at my winery, and you're invited to all of them!"  She used to tell me in a sexy voice after drinking too much wine.

I didn’t know it that day, but I just was about to join Yolanda in a crazy wine and sex adventure that would completely change my world.  An adventure that would take the two of us unusual places and bring interesting people into our lives.  An adventure that -- eventually -- would lead us to a picturesque little village in Italy.  Funny how it all started with a glass of Yolanda's brand new favorite wine on my first day as a stripper.

She was sitting across from me, sipping on her wine slowly, savoring it.  “Wine truly is the nectar of gods,” she said. 

I tasted the wine and really liked it too.

“Wine and women have this very unique relationship,” she continued.  “There is this mystical quality about wine that has the power to magnify our feminine charms and to amplify our sexual appeal.  And, of course,  to turn us into dirty whores when we need to be whores.”

She let out a little giggle and continued.

“You become a different…a more sensual woman while under the spell of wine.  Wine is why I manage all right as a dancer.”

Manage all right as a dancer was the understatement of the century.  I was well aware of Yolanda’s reputation as one of the most sought-after exotic dancers in the area.

“To make top dollars at this job, you need to do more than simply dirty dance for a horny guy hiding a half-erection in his pants.  What you need is to use your charms to create a truly erotic experience.  Take your horny customer on a sexual adventure.  Transport him into another reality, let him escape the here and now.  Even if only for a while…let him fantasize, let him imagine, become his dream woman.  All while strategically transforming that half-erection in into a full-blown raging hard-on.  And that’s how you make the big bucks in this biz.”

"Hmm... not sure if I have enough of feminine charm to make erotic magic in a dirty strip club."  I was doubting myself out loud.  Only Yolanda had that.

“Not to worry, Baby," she smiled at me seductively.  "This is why Goddess of Sex Appeal gave us, dancers, wine."  She dipped her index finger in her red wine and licked all around it with her tongue.  I felt something pull and twitch inside of me as I watched her do that.

“Here is how you do it.  Looking hot and feeling great, you strike a conversation with one of the Money Prospects sitting at Erotica's fabulous bar, and you order yourself a glass of Australian Shiraz.  So it begins.  The first glass warms your heart and relaxes your body.  You start to giggle and flirt and suddenly realize that -- while you weren't paying any attention to it at all -- your nipples have somehow turned pointy and hard.  You begin to feel moist down below and naughty thoughts start taking over your entire thought process.

Second glass, and your charms begin to to magically hook and hypnotize.  Hungry for more than just a conversation, the horny Money Prospect at the bar takes you up that beautifully lid-up staircase and right to the back of the VIP area, where the erotic adventure begins."

“Wow.”  I could only say, quite impressed with Yolanda's poetic interpretation of what many would call dirty and sleazy.

“And what happens after the third glass?”

There was a hint of smile on Yolanda's lips when she said, “That depends.”

I didn’t ask.

She suddenly stood up.  “Speaking of wine.  Let me refill our glasses.”

Wine was slowly working its wonderful magic on my body, and the stubborn knot I have felt in my stomach for most of the day was slowly loosening its grip.

“Here you go, Hun,” Yolanda handed me a fresh glass of wine.  “Have you picked a stage name yet?” she asked.

I did.  Searching my brain for the perfect stage name was one of the many things that kept me up last night.  “Ashley,” I told her.

We sat in a complete silence for a while.  Just sipped on our wine and smiled at each other for no particular reason.

You know what I'd like?”  She suddenly said interrupting our comfortable quiet time.

"No clue, what's that?"

“I would like to meet Ashley.  In person and right now!”

I wasn't sure what she meant.  “What do you mean 'meet Ashley'?”

She winked at me.  "I would love to see you all dressed up and ready to work Erotica's floor," she said.


"Yes now!  Why don't you change into your club outfit, put some make up on, and and let me see the stripper version of you.  Introduce me to Ashley, please.”

“Sure, why not," I said thinking to myself that it wouldn't be a bad idea to have an experienced exotic dancer evaluate my hope-to-be-sexy appearance ahead of my debut into the stripping career.

“All right then, why don’t you go into my bedroom and take your time.  Come out when you’re ready.

Everything I needed for tonight's big adventure was inside a small duffel bag that I packed this morning.  Couple of different club outfits, make up, shoes, a towel…  I went to retrieve the bag from the back seat of my car, where I had left it.  Few minutes later, I was standing next to Yolanda's enormous bed and in front of a full length mirror just next to it, slowly taking my clothes off.  Perhaps inspired Yolanda's latest liquid favorite, I really liked what I saw reflecting back at me in the mirror.  Maybe I wasn't as breathtaking as Yolanda, but I wasn't bad at all.  I had nice legs, firm butt and big boobs with perky points for nipples that have been known to evoke instant erections.  I had a pretty face and wavy, shoulder-length blond hair.  I was going to do all right as a stripper.

I reached into the bag and fished out an outfit that I have (very thoughtfully) selected for tonight.  It was my secret weapon -- a sexy black dress that simply drove men insane.  I wore it to a night club just a couple weeks ago and had two guys fight over which one of them would pay for my drink.

I put the dress on.  Found my high heels and put them on too.  I applied bright red lipstick and fluffed my hair.  I had one last glance in the mirror -- I looked pretty hot.

“Here comes Ashley!”  I announced to Yolanda and attempted a seductive walk towards the middle of the living room, where she was waiting for me.  Not used to wearing high heels, I struggled with my balance and -- if anything -- looked clumsy and comedic.  Eventually though, I managed to cross the room without tripping or falling.  I stood in front of Yolanda, hands on my hips, and waited for her reaction.

She took her time examining me, then nodded her head in approval.  “You look amazing, " she said.  "You really do."
She smiled at me.

“But now you need to learn how to use that sexy body of yours.  Looking good simply isn't enough.”

“I thought wine was supposed take care of the rest,” I said joking.

She laughed.  “Wine won’t do it all, Baby.”

She pointed her finger toward one of the chairs.  “Sit down and let me give you a little demonstration.”

I sat in the chair and waited with anticipation, not sure what Yolanda had in store for me.  She took a long sip of her wine, slowly raised from her chair, and gracefully walked toward me.  I need to learn to walk like that, I remember thinking to myself at that moment.

I didn't expect it -- and was taken aback, when out of nowhere, Yolanda begun to sensually move her body to soft sounds of music quietly playing in the background.  Right in front of me and so close.  She was so gorgeous...  Didn't matter that she was completely dressed -- she was always full of sex appeal, clothes on or off.  And her body moved in this spiral, fluid sort of a way.  She was so feminine, so graceful, so desirable...  Why was I enjoying this so much?

I couldn't believe the instant physical effect her seductive dance was having on my body -- the lower part of it in particular.  I felt myself getting hotter and sweatier, and soon became aware of the fact that a substantial amount of sticky moisture has formed down below in between the lips of my vagina.  My body was reminding me of the fact that I was very...very horny.  No sex in four months was the main reason behind my desperate state.  I was simply starved for sex.  She needs to stop this right away or things are going to get really weird, I remember quietly thinking to myself...but I said nothing out loud at all.  So she continued on.

She gracefully came into a kneeling position just inches in front of me and gently placed her hands on my knees for support.  Then slowly and seductively...Yolanda danced her head into my crotch area, her hair falling all over my lap.  Subtle back-and-forth movements of her head insinuated oral sex, which made the lips of my vagina tingle and itch with a desperate need of an orgasm.  I caught myself wondering what it would be like to kiss her on the lips, or to stick my fingers deeply into her delicious pussy.

Naughty thoughts were rapidly taking over my mind and there was no safeguarding against them.  Yolanda's increasingly seductive ways were not making things any easier on me either.  A little while into her erotic dance, she suddenly raised her head and looked at me in a way that made me imagine...or hope...that she desired me in a sexual way.  She was still kneeling in front of me, but her upper body was in an upright position now, so close to me her breasts were softly rubbing against the skin of my legs -- her nipples showing though the thin fabric of her shirt in a very provocative way.  I really liked being this close to her and I thought that she liked being close to me too.  But then -- without a warning -- she suddenly pulled away making me worry that perhaps this was the end of her erotic performance.

But it was not.  I quickly realized there was more to come, when Yolanda reached for the buttons of her shirt and started to slowly unbutton them one by one.  Before I could see it coming, her large breasts suddenly spilled out of her clothes and fell onto my lap making a quiet slapping sound in the process.  I just sat there stunned and surprised, starring at her breasts with indescribable lust and desire.  Two gorgeous sex objects just resting there in plain view, their warm flesh gently pressing against the skin of my sex-starved body.  I felt a wave of sexual desire pulse right through me...making me remember the horny state I was in.

“Make them hard,” Yolanda whispered to me.

I didn't understand at first.

“Make hard...make what hard?”  I asked confused.

“Make my nipples nice and hard," she said.

I brought my trembling hands forward and gently cupped Yolanda's breasts.  Is this what she wanted?  Her breasts felt so warm and so soft to touch...  An urgent need has come over me to play with those breasts in a very naughty way, so I gripped them tightly and started to press them, squeeze them, knead them...  Rougher, harder, faster...  And the more I did it, the wetter I felt down below.

"My nipples have that...horny itch," she whispered to me, her eyes closed now.  "Suck them till the itch goes away."

Using the grip that I had around her breasts, I guided one of her nipples inside of my mouth.  She let out a quiet squeal of what I perceived as being pleasure and delight as I did that.  I started licking around her nipple in wide circles, but purposefully did not stimulate its very tip in any way at this time.  Wanting for the horny itch to grow so unbearable that it would make crazy with desire.

"Please suck my nipples harder, Baby..." she finally said, heavy breathing making her words barely coherent.

That's all the encouragement I needed.  Without any further prompting, I started sucking on Yolanda's nipple with passion and desire I didn't know I had in me.  Softly and carefully at first, but the longer I did it, the harder I sucked -- and the harder I sucked, the louder she moaned begging me to go on.  Didn't take very long at all for Yolanda's nipple to get insanely hard.  I felt the hardness of it with my tongue -- task accomplished.

I let it slip out of my mouth and went for Yolanda's other nipple -- this one still in a soft-and-limp state of being.  I sucked on it with great pleasure, and felt it get very hard -- very quick.  I wanted to spit it out of my mouth and proudly show Yolanda what I have done to it...but just couldn't bare the thought of parting with it. Pure sexual greed was making me lick, suck and bite all around Yolanda's hard nipple like a horny maniac, not giving a care about anything else in the world.

I felt an enormous pressure building deeply inside of me -- pulling type of sensation in my lower abdomen area in and all around my clit.  I wanted so desperately for Yolanda to reach inside of my panties, touch between the lips of my pussy and relieve some of the sexual urgency I felt all over.

But she didn’t.  Instead, with a sudden gesture of her hand, she signaled for me to stop.  Confused, I let her nipple slide out of my mouth, loosened the grip around her breasts and reluctantly retracted my hands.  I was in a state of what I could only describe as a short-term paralysis -- unable to move or speak.  All I could think was: why?  Why couldn't I suck on Yolanda's beautiful nipple just a little while longer?

She stood up and went to sit in a chair across from me.  Didn't button up her shirt though.  Her perky breasts still out there for me to see...still pointing toward me...still glistening from the wet treatment my tongue has given them just seconds earlier.  As she reached towards the side table to retrieve her glass of wine, they bounced and jiggled.  Observing that caused for a wave of sexual heat to go right through me.

“I think I got you going there for a minute, didn’t I?”

I couldn’t answer right away, my eyes still fixated on her breasts, my poor brain still confused about the entire incident.  Was this just a game to her?

It took me a couple of minutes, but I finally regained my composure.  I cleared my throat.  “You did.  You're very good.”

“Mission accomplished then," she said.  "Ashley's nice and horny for her first day working in a strip club full of testosterone and fat wallets.  Trust's a good thing.  Nothing attracts money like a horny-vibe from a pretty stripper.”

I wanted to tell Yolanda about the intense pressure inside of my stomach and the enormous fire around my clit -- but I didn't.  Instead, I raised from my chair and slowly made my way back into the bedroom, where I put my street clothes back on.  Just a few short minutes later I met up with her by the front door.

"Ready to go?" she asked.

I nodded my head to signal yes.

I didn't realize it then -- but as yellow taxi cab pulled up in front of Yolanda's house, an exciting brand new chapter of my life was just about to unfold.


A major car accident I was involved in a few months back, left me to deal with some hard-to-fix health issues such as back pain, migraines, sleeplessness, and anxiety.

In addition to prescribing me pain killers and sleeping pills, my family doctor referred me to a rehabilitation clinic specializing in car accident injuries for a series of back adjustment as well as some massage therapy.  He was especially optimistic about the massage therapy -- convinced it would effectively reduce my pain and anxiety, and fix my sleeping problems for good.

John’s Total Health and Wellness Clinic was a small and an unimpressive locale, with bare walls and very few furnishings or decorations to hang your eye on.  The owner John, on the other hand, seemed like a nice enough of a guy, and I quickly came to like his heavy-accented chit chat and his unnaturally wide grin.

Unfortunately though -- session after session -- weeks of treatments were going by quickly, but I wasn’t noticing much of an improvement in my overall condition.  The massages just didn’t seem to work.  Gladys, the massage therapist assigned to me by John, tried her best to press and knead into me with all her might and power but just wasn't able to alleviate any of my symptoms.

My wife, Janet, was slowly becoming frustrated with the poor progress of my therapy goals.  “This whole massage thing is a complete waste of time and a waste of the insurance company’s money,” she told me one day.  "I will need to have a little chat with John the next time we are there.

This wasn’t good news for John as was my wife was just the most unpleasant person to deal with.  She was rude and unfriendly and made everyone around her nervous and uncomfortable.  I said to her that perhaps I should be the one to have this conversation with John -- this was after all was a matter concerning my person -- but she gave me the evil eye and simply told me no.  There was no point in arguing with her.  I'm embarrassed to admit this, but my wife completely rules my life and makes most of my decisions for me.

The very next time we were there, Janet confronted John and plain told him that unless there was a drastic improvement in my physical well-being over the next couple of weeks, I would not be coming back to his clinic for any more treatments.

John’s smile faded when he heard this news.  He clearly didn’t want to lose a solid patient like me; his small business just couldn’t afford it.  I saw panic and desperation in his eyes, and just knew -- this poor man would do anything to keep me coming back.

I knew that John didn’t like my wife.  Couldn’t stand her, in fact.  One time he even asked me half-jokingly why a nice guy like me was married to a witch like her.  But he had no other option right now but to suck up to her, and fight hard for the hefty checks my insurance company sent to him at the end of each and every month.

He quickly regained his composure.  With a reassuring smile, he told my wife that a new massage therapist was to start at the clinic the following week.  He said that she was a nice young lady who recently completed studies in the field of Oriental Therapy and Massage.  “She has the hands of a magician that could heal a dying man,” he said.

He put his hand on Janet’s shoulder.  “I promise you that Claudia will relieve most, or even all, of your husband’s symptoms in a very short time.  Just give her a chance.  She was referred to our clinic by a well-known healer.”  Janet seemed intrigued and told John to book her instead of Gladys for my next appointment.
  I had a very good feeling about the new massage lady as well, and simply couldn’t wait to meet her.

When we showed up at the clinic on the day of the appointment, John offered my wife some green tea to sip on while she waited for me in a small waiting room by reception.  He then turned his full attention to me.  Asked me how I was feeling, and after a brief chit-chat, told me to follow him into the treatment area of the clinic.

A narrow doorway behind the reception desk led to a hallway that nested about a half dozen treatment rooms.  I was only familiar with the one closest to entrance which was where Gladys used to see me.  But John led me right passed it and deeper into the hallway, until we reached the very last door.

“Go in there, my man, and get ready for your massage,” he said.  “Claudia will be with you shortly.”  He winked at me secretively which confused me a bit.  “And make sure you enjoy each and every minute of your special massage.”

I was quite surprised when I entered Claudia's treatment room as the space just didn’t seem to fit the style of the clinic.  The room was nicely decorated and felt cozy.  There was a plant there, pictures on walls, and even a rug.  Lighting was minimal but sufficient.  The massage table was big and sturdy, and instead of a plain white sheet like Gladys had, there was a fluffy red blanket covering the table’s top.  There was a big pillow by the headrest which was something I never saw on Gladys’ massage table either.

I took my clothes off, put them neatly on a nearby chair, and slid under the wonderfully soft blanket.  I was facing up, my head comfortably resting on the pillow.  I felt good and relaxed already.

There was a quiet knock on the door.  “Ready?” a soft voice asked.

I answered that yes, I was ready, at which point a young woman entered the room.

Wow.  I was expecting Claudia to be a younger version of Gladys -- plain looking, muscular, and all business-like.  But instead, I laid my eyes on just the most gorgeous brunette.  She looked like an actress from a porno I saw not long ago.  She had long eyelashes and big sensual lips.  It wasn’t hard to notice that she also had a pair of very large breasts.  They were so enormous, in fact, that the white overcoat she wore as her uniform, was stretched to its absolute max around her chest area.  A couple of  top buttons were left undone revealing her sexy cleavage.

“My name Claudia,” she said in broken English.  “You hurt and pain.  I here to make massage and pleasure.”

Yes baby, massage and pleasure, I thought in my head simply breath taken by Claudia’s beauty, unable to speak out loud for the time being.

Claudia didn’t waste any time.  She placed her hands on my shoulders, heavily leaned into me, and started to wonderfully rub around my neck area.  She was so close to me that I could smell her intoxicating perfume and feel her warm breath on my forehead.  Supported by the pillow and in a semi-vertical position, my head was perfectly aligned with her cleavage and I just couldn’t help but stare as her half-exposed breasts sensually jiggled with the rhythm of the massage.

Holy shit.  I suddenly realized that I was getting an erection.  There was no question about it, my penis was definitely getting larger and harder -- usually a welcome wonder that I have not experienced since my car accident -- or even longer than that.  But this was not the place or the time and I was terrified by this unexpected development.  Stop it!  I was mentally yelling at my dick.  Stop it right now!  But it didn’t listen.  My dick was hard as a rock.

Claudia would surely notice my erect penis in just a matter of minutes and I was starting to panic.  What will she do when she sees it?  Likely run out of the room and complain to John about me.  I decided the best thing would be to end the massage session immediately.

“Claudia, there is a little problem…”  I started to tell her but she didn’t let me finish.

“Shhh… we fix problem,” she whispered into my ear and then started suckling on its lobe in the most sensual way.  I was shocked.  In my wildest dreams, I would never expect for the events of this massage session to progress down this naughty path.  However -- I did not mind it at all.

My dick was just enormous by now.  Still nibbling on my ear, Claudia found it with her hand and squeezed it gently through the blanket.  I briefly thought of my wife…slowly sipping on her green tea at this very moment and patiently waiting for me.  But it was too late.  There was nothing -- no power in the whole world -- that could take me away from Claudia right now.

She squeezed my dick a little bit harder.  “Here big tension and big problem,” she said.  “We fix.”  I was completely helpless.  All I could think in my suddenly sex craved brain was -- fix it baby, fix it good.

Claudia pulled away from me now and stood up straight, facing me.  Her breasts seemed even larger now than they did before, and I could see her nipples trying to poke through the fabric of her white overcoat.  I closed my eyes and said a little prayer in my head asking God to, please, let me see Claudia’s breasts.

This was my lucky day, and I knew my prayers were about to be answered when Claudia begun to slowly unbutton her coat, one little button at a time. 
When she was finally done, she slipped out of her coat and threw it on the floor.  Underneath she was practically naked.  All she had on was a lacy black bra and a skimpy G-string.  Her body was just unreal.  Absolutely gorgeous.

“You like?” she asked?

“I do Claudia, I like a lot.”

My hands reached for her breasts and popped them out of her bra cups.  Her nipples were unbelievable and just like I had hoped -- hard and swollen with sexual excitement.  I brought them toward my face and started sucking on them, consistently alternating between the right nipple and the left.  Claudia threw her head back and moaned in pleasure.  “Suck them, Baby.  Suck good.”

I could hear the sound of my wife’s voice carry all the way here from the waiting room -- she was talking to someone in her usual loud and bossy tone of voice -- but that only made me suck on Claudia’s nipples even harder.  And the harder I sucked, the hornier I got.  There was no turning back.

It’s been a while since my wife and I last had sex.  All my post-accident symptoms made a practically impotent.  Until now.

I managed to stuff both of Claudia’s nipples inside of my mouth and passionately ran over them with my tongue -- quickly licking back and forth from one to the other.  Claudia suddenly pulled away from me, making her nipples slide out of my mouth with a plop.  She had another activity on her mind as she started to slowly roll the blanket down my torso and gradually exposing my naked body.

When she finally got all the way down to my penis and noticed my enormous erection
, she said: “Hello there Meester Big.”

I took a quick look and could not believe my massive hard-on.  My dick was large -- and so stiff it stood up straight pointing toward the ceiling.  I couldn’t remember the last time my penis got to be this big.

“Sorry,” I quietly said to Claudia, extremely uncomfortable about the indecent state of my manhood.

“No need to embarrass.  That natural.”

This girl made me feel so good I wanted to cry.

She squirted some type of a massage oil all over my business and cupped my testicles with her right hand, her long fingernails sensually tickling the most intimate places of my crotch.  She gave it a little squeeze and started massaging my balls in the most heavenly way, her hand rolling up and down and all around my tender scrotum.  Her other hand was holding on to my penis, gently pushing it out of the way to allow her better access to my balls.

“Big tension there,” she said giving my balls a tighter squeeze.  “Too much semen inside.  We take out.”

“Yes, take it out, take it all out”, I was trying tell through heavy breathing.  I was moaning and groaning, the intense pleasure making my speach incoherent and illogical.  “I love you Claudia.  I love you so much.”

Claudia put her little finger on my lips.  “Shhh big boy…your wife no far.”

“Okay Baby, I’ll shut up.  I’ll do anything you say.  Just keep massaging my horny balls.”

Claudia had some interesting pleasure tricks up her sleeve.  This obviously wasn't the first set of balls she ever massaged in her life.  Using the fingertips of both of her hands, Claudia gently grasped the skin of my scrotum and started to stretch it in many different directions.  I felt like I was in heaven.  But there was more to come after that.  Claudia formed little circles with the thumb and the index finger of each of her hands and ringed my balls.  She squeezed tight making them pop out of the rings.  She then slowly pulled them away from my scrotum allowing me the experience of the most pleasurable pain of my life.

“I think you ready for ejaculate,” she said.

“Yes Claudia.  I ready for ejaculate.”

Claudia fisted her hands and alternating them in a slow but a rhythmical manner, massaged my cock in an upward direction.  Starting at the base of my penis, she was sliding her tight fists up my enormous erection -- finishing at the head of my penis with a little squeeze.  Repeat.  And repeat.  And repeat.

She then switched things up again.  While squeezing my balls with one hand, she was masturbating me with the other.  The pleasure derived from the combination of these stimuli was just unbelievable.  I could hear the unpleasant sound of my wife’s voice in the background once again.  She was telling John all about our broken air conditioner.

“Take off you bra Claudia.” I whispered.  Her breasts were already hanging out of her bra, but I wanted no visual obstruction whatsoever.

Claudia unhooked her bra and tossed it onto the floor.  I couldn’t take my eyes off her gorgeous breasts -- so round and perky -- and I knew that the end of my special massage treatment was almost there.

Claudia stood to the right of the massage table, at my mid-body, her body facing toward me, her bare breasts right there in front of me.  She reached for my penis with her right hand, and started the most divine masturbation of my penis, starting off gently and slowly, but in time picking up the speed and intensifying her squeeze.  Her breasts violently bounced from the impact of the hand job she was performing on me, and it was just the most spectacular sight to watch them go up and down as she jerked me off.

My eyes traveled back and forth from her bouncy tits to the tip of my cock -- ready to explode with abundant amounts of backlogged cum at any second now.  Then, I glanced up at Claudia’s mouth and saw her tongue snake out of it, and lick her lips in the most provocative way.

And that’s when I started ejaculating.  The convulsions brought on by my orgasm were very powerful and the amount of semen spraying out of the eye of my penis was just unreal.  It all landed just north of my belly button.  The intense pleasure of my orgasm made me squeal but Claudia reacted quickly by bringing a towel to my mouth to muffle the sound.

“Shhh…no let your wife hear.”

When I was all done ejaculating, Claudia used a wet towel to clean me up.  She then disappeared behind the door without even saying good bye and that was it.  My massage session was over.

“So how was it, Honey,” my wife asked as soon as I emerged from behind the curtain.  “How are you “feeling?”

I couldn’t form a coherent sentence to answer her, still exhausted by the electrifying sexual release I experienced just minutes earlier.  But I quickly regained my composure.

“I feel great… wonderful!”  I told her excited.  “I haven’t felt this good in months.  This Oriental Technique is a true miracle, Baby.  My headache is completely gone and I feel no pain in my back whatsoever!”

And I wasn’t lying.  My pain was gone for real and I truly felt like a new born baby.

“Thank you, Honey, for taking charge and helping me find the way to heal.  I love you.”

I kissed Janet on the forehead and went over to see John about another appointment with Claudia.  He opened his appointment book and winked at me as he circled me in for next Tuesday.

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