The Life of a Prostitute

by Doris Joe

  With her lips over her teeth, she gently clamped on my shaft three times, our signal that she wanted to try to cum with us. “Gentlemen,” I said, “Brothers.” I bobbed my head to indicate the pace. “Let us prepare to share our essence with our goddess." I gradually picked up the speed. I figured the men couldn’t last much longer, and I wanted to get my wife back to the peak.

  “Almost there,” I said, seeing the tension in her neck and arms. Marcus nodded in agreement, feeling her thighs tighten. Bonnie’s moan was even louder this time, and the twins yelped as her hands suddenly squeezed their cocks involuntarily. “Now,” I said, but it wasn’t really necessary. All six of us were erupting. I felt her gulp as I spurted deep in her throat. My knees grew weak as the pleasure washed over me. I was focused so much on orchestrating the event, I didn’t realize how turned on I was. Seeing my beautiful, sexy, loving wife—a goddess I truly worshipped—like this, having her fantasy fulfilled, was like no other feeling I’d ever had.

  Louis shot as far as my belly, with stripes painting from her chin to her breasts. Carl and Jeff both showed cum streaks high on their chests. (Ah, the memory of days when I might have shot that much or that far.)

  I stroked her cheek as again we said in unison, three times. ”Thank you, Venus, goddess of love, for sharing your pleasure with us.” We slowed our movements as did Bonnie. I stroked her cheek as I slipped my cock out of her mouth. She still was sucking so it made a quiet pop as the head emerged. Gently, I raised her head back to normal and bent to kiss her.

  “Thank you,” Bonnie’s lips and tongue formed the words, as she looked at each of us in turn. “Thank you all.” Louis climbed off her, Marcus withdrew, and John managed to squirm out of her ass. I lifted my wife and carried her to the other side room where we had set up a king-size bed. As planned, John, Marcus and Louis took their leave. I gave my wife, still languid in the afterglow, a gentle sponge bath and settled her comfortably on her side in the middle of the bed. After the twins cleaned themselves up, I positioned one on each side like three spoons. Falling asleep, Bonnie instinctively put her arm around the one in front and nestled her backside against the one in back. This part wasn’t scripted for her since they were a surprise, but I had given Carl and Jeff advice about how to behave. I knew they might not fall asleep as easily.

  I dimmed the light and closed the door, letting the three of them experience whatever they were going to experience. I slept on a couch in the main room, awakened a couple of times by sounds from my wife and the twins.

  Carl and Jeff were gone when my wife woke me in the morning. She told me she had just finished teaching Introduction to the Pussy, and both students had passed the oral exam! We dressed, packed our things up and made a quiet exit.

  On the drive home, Bonnie told me how when she woke up in the middle of the night, she had given one a blowjob while she fucked the other. When she woke a few hours later, she did the reverse, so neither would feel he missed something.

  “Were you able to tell them apart in the dim light?” I was curious.

  “Based on how his cock curves,” Bonnie laughed out loud, “I’m pretty sure Carl is left-handed. Natasha hadn't been with John in a very long time. They’d chatted online, and exchanged emails, but anything physical had been absent since their split. John hadn’t fucked her in months and she really fuckin’ missed it. Bad. Even the two men Natasha used for part-time 'cocks on the side' didn’t help. She tried to use them to feed the flame of burning need for sex and sin John had ignited, but even two guys and Hans her husband couldn’t 'feed the fire' the way John did.

  They only made her miss him more. 'Maybe I should just stop being a whore?' Natasha would muse to herself from time to time. Be a 'good girl.' But that idea never lasted more than a few moments, before the sweet, nasty thoughts and images of, 'Fucking, fucking, fucking, oh I love fucking! And fucking John. I love to fuck John!' would fill her head like visions of candy in a child's mind. Besides, she'd smile to herself, wasn't she already a 'good girl?' John had told her that many times.

  Fucker. Natasha and John had both been good about their 'fuck crazy' until they met each other, but they'd opened the deviant, sneaky flood gates, and now Natasha couldn't stop. She suspected it was the same with John, but she didn't like to think about that. That meant he was fucking somebody on the side, and it wasn't her. Probably some chick even more obedient and sex-obsessed than she was. Well, more obedient maybe, it wasn't possible that whoever it was could possibly want to fuck him more than Natasha did. When she pictured John slamming some other whore; it was exciting and painful at the same time. She shook the vision out of her head; it just made her want to be getting fucked by him.

  She’d made subtle attempts to reconcile, if that was the correct word as they hadn’t stopped being friends, they cared about each other, but there hadn’t been any real, physical contact. He’d said he’d try and meet for a drink several times, but had never been able to.

  Goddammit. It was only beautiful lucky happenstance, and the obvious blessing of the 'Gods of fucking' that they’d found each other at all. They were both with someone else, but they’d stumbled across each other, and began doing things they'd both only thought about doing before.

  They’d talked about it when they were fuck buddies, how they needed to nourish their dark side, and how they were both sexual food for each other.

  "Our weekly serving of nasty evil, for good sexual health!" John once joked. He'd also said that like everything else if you gorged on it too much, it wasn’t healthy. If you had to feed your dark needs, feed them, but don’t be a glutton. They were being cheating whores, but that didn’t mean they shouldn’t exercise some restraint. Keep it crazy, and fuck when possible, but keep it simple.

  "Fantasize, and use those sexually deviant thoughts as spice to make our sweetly evil fuck times even more awesome, but don't let anything or anyone else outside our significant others intrude on the time we spend together." But Natasha had gorged.

  It had started out as a very good day for Natasha. She’d fucked Hans before leaving that morning, and headed to town. She'd had a two day seminar so she was staying in the city for two days. Two days of sweet, sneaky nasty sex. John came by in the morning and taken her like a slutty whore. Fuck yeah. He was coming by later, and it was gonna be blindfolds, and cumming. And more cumming. He’d fuck the fuck out of her. An afternoon of sexual debauchery.

  It should have been enough, but that day Natasha had been filled with a different need. John had just left her, and Natasha had been watching the news, freshly fucked and absentmindedly playing with herself. She'd grabbed her computer and put her favorite porn cd on. As Natasha watched the woman on the screen getting used by the ‘pizza delivery guy’ (she liked her pizza with extra sausage) she started to think about being even more 'fucky'.

  Natasha's mind flashed back to the guy she’d met at a coffee shop the previous week. He'd said his name was George? Yeah, that was it. Mid thirties, mid-sized and 'schoolish' with brown hair and brown eyes. Not bad looking, but not particularly good looking either. But what the hell, a cock to fulfill a fantasy was a cock, right? The more she thought about it, with the sights and sounds of fucking moving across her computer screen, the idea of getting another sneaky fuck had been overpowering. Add to that the sinfully slutty idea of three different cocks over the course of the same day, four if you counted Johns repeat performance later that afternoon, and it made her feel her clit just thinking about it.

  Fuck. She'd never done that before.

  He didn't even have to know my real name. Natasha mused to herself nastily. She’d call herself something whorey. She’d tell him her name was Lutka. Yeah. Lutka Galore. Hehe.

  "Lutka Galore." She'd said the name aloud to herself.

  If she was gonna do it, she had to hurry. Her notebook had been lying on the table that day, and George had arrogantly grabbed it to scribble his digits on the back. Natasha would have tossed it aside if it had been on a piece of paper or a card
, liking the flattery, maybe even fantasizing a little about a John and George double team. But no way she would have kept it or called it. Apparently 'The gods of fucking' had deemed otherwise, she thought to herself, because she still had his number.

  It was providence. She was meant to do it this once. A providential fuck. She liked the sound of that.

  Thinking back on that day, she realized that sometimes the gods of fucking are just fucking with you.

  And so it was that an hour after John had left, Lutka Galore was fucking George.

  Natasha had called him and, "Why yes, I'm free this morning, and I'd love to drop by for coffee," he'd said. She'd known beforehand by the way he'd greedily looked her over that day in the shop he’d do whatever was necessary to get free, and that just added to the nervous nasty feeling. This would be the first one night stand. 'One day stand' actually.

  She had watched the porn cd while she waited for a knock on the door, and when George arrived she'd answered the door wearing only her bathrobe. All pretense of having coffee tossed aside. She didn't care, she'd never see him again so she just whored out the minute he came in the room. Cock in the morning, cock in the afternoon, some more cock now, and more cock later. Three different cocks. All those things should have made it as evil good as she’d imagined, but it wasn’t. It was fucking so Natasha had liked it, but like too much turkey on a holiday it had been regretted and when she'd cum a few minutes later Natasha knew she'd probably fucked up. She never felt the bad evil delight she’d expected. She’d tried, but after another fifteen minutes of him pounding on her, she'd shooed George away with promises of another hookup that would never happen. There'd be texts she wouldn’t answer, the number blocked. It had been a stupid thing to do, and not worth the risk. She'd never do that again, because if John found out he’d be pissed and, although he'd never admit it, hurt. Not because he'd feel he had a right, but they both had a jealous need not to share each other with anyone but Hans and Monique. And Natasha knew she’d be pissed if he picked up another mistress, regardless of any right she might or might not have.

  "Okay," Natasha recalled saying aloud, "I've had my triple cock experience, time to be regular crazy, not full-blown bat shit." Then she showered, and opened a beer to wait for John. When John got there Natasha was so worked up she barely gave him time to get his clothes off. One thing fucking George had done was hype her up for John. The idea of being bad, then bad again, and bad yet again, turned her into a nasty, evil mess. She'd felt the 'evil fuck delight' she’d wanted from George the moment John slid his cock into her.

  She came almost right away.

  "Fuck that was fast!" John had remarked laughing evilly. “Even for you, slutty girl.”

  Natasha had cum again half a minute later.

  Jesus she was fucked up, she thought to herself as she felt the next one building up.

  'Wtf?'

  And another one!

  Then she'd just let go an enjoyed the up and down cumming roller coaster.

  They’d been fucking for fifteen minutes and John had finally cum. She was enjoying him thrashing around and shooting his warm load into her when there was a knock on the door.

  “Relax,” John said catching his breath and sexing down. “I’ll get it, probably housekeeping or someone at the wrong room.”

  She’d felt nervous, and had felt a weird apprehension.

  John had gone to the door, and she'd heard George's voice, and her apprehension turned to panic. She'd waited with her heart racing wondering what the was going on.

  When John came back he'd looked puzzled, “There’s a dude out there asking to see you. He looks kinda freaked.”

  “Probably somebody from my office, I told them where I was gonna be.”

  “Uh huh,” John said quizzically. He knew she never did that. She got up and hurriedly slipped on her pants and top, not bothering to put on her bra and panties, even though John’s cum was leaking out of her and into her jeans. George was at the door. She wasn’t pleased and it must have been obvious to George.

  “I’m sorry, Natasha,” he said quietly, “But I think my wallet fell out while I was here, it’s the only place I could think of. I’m am SO fuckin' sorry.”

  “Fuck!” dhe whispered, and then glared at him before whispering again, “Wait here.”

  She went back and started looking around the room. John had watched her with curiosity from the bed, absentmindedly jacking himself hard again.

  “I have to give this guy some notes, gimme a sec.”

  John had already gotten hard again.

  Oh yeah.

  “I need to get back to fucking you," she said, touching his cock with a smile. John watched as Natasha had scrambled around. She saw the wallet then; lying on the floor next to a lamp. She had picked it up, acting as if it was something that had dropped out of her bag, and laid it down on the desk, set a book on top of it, then picked both up and headed for the door.

  Natasha leaned out while holding the door slightly closed.

  “Here.” She'd been pretty brusque.

  George hadn't taken the hint, “When you gonna call me again?"

  “Never,” she said, looking at him with dagger eyes, and she shut the door. John was in the bathroom taking a piss when Natasha turned around to get back to him fucking her. That should have been a sign, John peeing with a hard on? She'd practically squirted out of her clothes feeling relieved, apprehensive and sexed up all at the same time. She had felt a little quaky from the combination. When John stepped out of the bathroom he was wearing his jeans and was holding his T-shirt in his hands. He leaned against the wall while gazing at her lying on the bed, legs open, and beckoning to him.

  “What the fuck are you dressed for? Get over here and fuck me!”

  “You give him his wallet?”

  “Huh?”

  “I saw it when you went to the door. Didn’t notice it before, I was too sexed up I guess.”

  She started to make something up, but John interrupted her.

  “I’m sure it didn’t like, fall out of his pants when he was taking them off.” He said with a slightly sad smile, and shaking his head.

  “Oh come on, John.”

  “And since I don’t need a rubber, it would explain the used one in the bathroom trash.”

  A voice in her head screamed, 'No way! Are you fucking kidding me!'

  But she just laid there in stunned silence.

  "Well this sucks," he said, sighing.

  "Oh fuck," was all she could think of to say.

  “Look. I don’t like it, but what can I say? You could have at least done it on a day when you didn’t have me all you want, fuck Natasha, you damn beautiful little whore. Fuck.” Natasha slid off the bed, trying to think, and walked to the dresser. She grabbed the bottle of tequila she’d brought for the night, and took a big swig. She turned and faced him, freaked and not having any idea of what to say.

  “Fuck, John. I was just crazy. I won’t do it again, fuckin’ ever.” “Was I kissing you after you sucked his dick?”

  “No. I didn’t suck his dick."

  She stopped, stuck between denying the obvious, and talking about it at all.

  Thinking it might help she stammered, "I could catch something sucking his cock, and give it to you and Hans.”

  That had really helped matters.

  "Yeah. Glad you remembered to be a little safe."

  She hadn’t sucked his cock. She had made George lick her pussy because of the power trip she felt making him do it after John had just cum in her an hour earlier. God she was evil.

  “I guess for that reason believe you,” John said. "But I gotta go."

  He started putting his shirt on. “Bullshit! I’m a dumb ass whore, but I really mean it, I won’t do it again. You go out and fuck someone. That chick you told me about that was hitting on you at the Double D Bar and Grill. Fuck her, please. Bring her here and make me watch, fuck it. I deserve it. Fuck don’t go. Fuck. Please. I fucked up.”

&nb
sp; She’d kept babbling, and John just let her talk. Finally, he interrupted her, “Look, I’m in no place to act hurt, but I kinda am.”

  “I know. And I don’t know what to say, except don’t leave me like this. All sad and horny and freaked out. Fuck, don’t do this.”

  "You're the one who's horny, I'm just bummed."

  "I fuckin' know that. Just don't go right now. Come on, you can't go right now."

  “You’re ain't in a position to be asking me for anything lady.”

  Lady. He’d called her lady. Not a good sign. “Please. You can’t leave. Let’s chill out and talk about this.”

  He looked pissed now instead of freaked out. “What the fuck are we gonna talk about?"

  “I don’t know!”

  She could feel tears coming to her eyes. That seemed to soften him again.

  “Sit down, we’ll have a drink,” he told her. They talked for a while as they passed the bottle between them. She didn’t remember what was said except that he assured her they’d be hanging out, but it would be weird for a bit, and he’d have to have some distance for a few days. He’d hung around until she’d calmed a bit, but he'd gently put off her advances which just got her all shaky and freaky again.

  As he was leaving she’d said, “Please fuck me again before you leave, it’ll make us both feel better. Please, I need it John. You need it. Please. I’ll be so nasty and evil, I’ll fuck you so good.”

  He’d sighed and said, “Look, I’m not trying to be mean here, but if you’re that worked up, call that dude back, Natasha, I gotta go.” “Fuck that! I want to fuck you. I’m never seeing that fucker or any other fucker besides you and Hans again. I won’t, I fuckin promise! Look!" she'd said holding out her phone and bringing up his number, "I'm deletin' this number right fuckin' now."