HOT-HOK1.TXT
PAYING FOR IT
(Another Hot Wife Tale)
By J. BOSWELL
I guess I have to start by saying that money is not a problem in our
life. Both Tim, my husband, and I are professionals and make a very nice
living. He's a lean, fit 34 years old, and I'm approaching the BIG 3-0. I have
a good face ("incredibly beautiful" according to Tim), and a great (also
according to Tim) body (36C-22-32), 5'4", 112 pounds, auburn hair and large
gray eyes. Two Yuppies, right?
Well, our life WAS just about perfect, and then I (we?) developed an
obsession that made it even better for me (and I hope better for Tim, too!).
What's crazy is that the obsession really began as a joke.
......
One Thursday night, Tim and I were home watching TV when one of my
girlfriends called. She had stopped for a drink after work and ran into two of
our old classmates from graduate school and she was calling to invite me to
join them for a drink and some gossip.
I was still dressed from work and hurriedly put my shoes back on and
checked my purse for cash. Of course, my liquid assets totalled $2.14! I asked
Tim for some cash rather than wasting time stopping at an automatic teller.
Tim smiled and brought out his wallet.
"Wait a minute," he smiled, holding his wallet above his head, away from
my open hand, "How badly do you need this cash?"
"Come on, Tim, I'm in a hurry."
"I can see that, Jessica. Well, I'm in sort of a funny mood, and I'm
thinking maybe you could earn the cash."
I smiled, because he is always THAT horny and THAT obvious. "Okay, Dear.
How about you give me the cash and I owe you a blow job?"
He leered at me, "How about cash on delivery?" And that was the first
time.
......
All dressed up in heels and a business suit, I dropped to my knees,
opened his zipper and took his already-hard cock into my mouth. To my surprise,
I began feeling warm and tingly, even slutty. Tim opened the top few buttons on
my silk blouse and pushed the folded bills into my bra, and I became even more
aroused. I gobbled his hard flesh into my mouth, licking and sucking loudly;
feeling my own heat and moistness increasing between my legs.
Timmy shot his cum into my mouth in a surprisingly short time and leaned
back into the sofa, "Ohhh, Jessie! That was great!"
I had thoroughly enjoyed the quickie, too, and got even hotter as he
handed me another ten dollar bill and said, "Here, you really earned a tip."
I took the ten and folded it with the two twenties he had pushed down my
bra, and rebuttoned my blouse.
Tim was zipping up and looked at me, "I think you really enjoyed being a
little whore, didn't you?"
I smiled and brushed the accusation off. "I was just in a tight spot for
some cash, Dear. I was a poor, innocent, desperate soul and you were the one
that took advantage of my plight and forced me to perform that disgusting and
perverted act!" We both laughed and I kissed Tim goodnight and left for the bar
to meet my friends; but with second thoughts about grabbing Timmy and dragging
him up to bed. For the rest of that night I could feel a small smile float
across my mouth as I recalled the whole incident.
......
Neither one of us said anything about that incident, but about two weeks
later, I told Tim I needed some cash for groceries and he asked if I would be
willing to earn it.
I smiled and shrugged, "A girl has to eat."
He took me into the bedroom and we balled each other's brains out for two
hours. As I walked around the food store on wobbly legs, with four crisp
fifties in my pocket, I knew I was "hooked" on our little game.
......
Now, only a few months later, I have to "earn" every cent I spend,
whether for myself or the house -- and I love it. The opposite is also true --
when Tim wants me, he has to pay for it. Nothing in life is free, and I get to
set my own price -- a blow-job is at least $40 and I won't fuck for less than a
$100.
Like any good businessperson, I know I can charge extra for the popular
options. A little friendly bondage is $40, a strip is priced like the
"Strip-O-Grams" in the area -- $100 for the strip, and VERY good tips for
anything "extra," and if he is short on cash -- a hand job is $20 ($25 with oil
or cream or jelly!). Cash only! No checks, credit cards or IOUs!
......
Tim is wonderful at thinking up variations on our lovemaking. One
evening, we got in the car after shopping in the mall and he said, "$100 for a
blow-job, right here, right now, in public." I smiled and put my hand out for
the money. In seconds, I had Tim's seat back, his zipper down, and his cock
out. I started sucking him while bent over the console, but soon knelt on my
seat, knowing anyone who saw me would be certain of what I was doing. I didn't
care -- my panties were soaked through as Tim shot his cum into my mouth.
Just the thought of me giving him a blow-job on a parking lot made me
feel more like a hooker than ever and I was about as hot as I had ever been in
my life.
As soon as we walked into the house, I dragged Timmy down on top of me
and said, "Oh, Baby! That was so good! I need a fuck, right now! A freebie!"
Always the gentleman, Tim tipped me $20 when we were through.
......
One warm Spring night, just as we were at the front door to leave to get
a quick supper at the local casual restaurant, Tim offered me $50 if I didn't
wear any underwear under my top and short skirt. He handed me the fifty as I
handed him my bra and panties. I should have tried that before, because before
we arrived at the restaurant, Tim told me to finger my clit and my fingers
slipped around in my already dripping-wet cunt.
Tim saw how hot I was and told me that if I really wanted to earn my
money, to order the salad bar. I did, and every time I walked up to the bar and
bent over to reach something to put on my plate, I could feel my denim skirt
ride up the back of my thighs and felt my tits hang out away from my chest,
filling out my top. The kid keeping the salad bar stocked really got an eyeful
and I LOVED it! In the car I offered Tim a $25 refund if he'd fuck me right
there. He said he was tempted but that there were too many people, including
kids, so he fingered my cunt and pinched my nipples to a tremendous orgasm for
free.
......
Ever onward and upwards we got deeper in our little "game." Sitting home
one night, complaining about the lack of anything good on TV, Timmy suggested I
dress up in something sexy and go to a bar.
"What about you?" I asked.
"Oh, I'll be there. I'll be right behind you and I can `pick you up' like
a real hooker working the hotel crowd."
I'm sure the big grin on my face told him I loved the idea, as I rushed
upstairs to change.
Less than an hour later, I strutted into a hotel lounge in my shortest,
tightest tube-dress and my highest high heels. Getting up onto a barstool
without flashing everything I had was a feat in itself!
Like bees to honey, I was soon approached by a parade of good-looking
unattached (at least for the night!) men, buying me drinks and dancing with me.
A few of them invited me to their place, or up to their room, some even hinting
about my "occupation," saying things like they realized "time was money in
today's world" and that was alright with them.
Tim eventually made his appearance, and when he did, it was after he had
had more than a few drinks. He stepped up to the bar and placed his hand over
my shoulder.
In a voice loud enough to be heard several stools on either side of us,
he asked, "Say, Sweet-Stuff, I've been noticing you, and I was wondering what a
little action with you would cost." Aware of the audience, I whispered, "Two
hundred, for the night."
Louder than before, Tim gasped, "Two hunnert? Are you kidding? Plus the
room?"
I moved close to his ear and whispered, "Tim, if you don't get me out of
here, right now, I'll fuck you right here on this bar!"
Tim helped me off the stool, and took a parting shot at our interested
audience, "Lady, for this kind of money, you better be as good as you look!"
I was pulling him through the lobby when he stopped me and pointed to the
bank of elevators. Dangling on his finger was a room key!
We hit the button and the doors opened. Tim pushed me into the corner of
the elevator and punched "7" for the floor. I pulled him against me and kissed
him, hard. I was hot, and wasn't sure I could wait to get to the room!
In a flash, Tim had his tongue buried down my throat and his hand up
under my dress and down my panties, fingering my hard, wet clit. A man caught
the doors before they closed, but we didn't stop. Instead, I pulled Tim closer
and wrapped my leg around his. The other passenger "Harumphed" but I didn't
care -- it was all part of the scene we were playing. When the doors opened at
"7," Tim and I disentangled ourselves and got off the elevator. As the doors
closed, I turned, smiled and said to the other passenger, "Have a nice night --
we're going to!" Tim opened the door to the room, and we tumbled onto the bed.
Too hot to undress, Tim unzipped his fly, pulled my skirt up to my hips, pulled
the elastic in my panties aside and entered me in one hard shove. I started
cumming, immediately.
We fucked and sucked almost all night. It was wonderful. And, I never
felt more like a whore than the next morning, as I walked through the lobby in
my tart dress, heels, and "just-fucked" look. Even a nun would have had no
doubts about what I had been doing all night!
......
I had been accumulating a tidy sum in my "Honey" jar, and decided to
splurge on myself, the way any self-respecting hooker would -- on clothes,
jewelry, and make-up. I spent the day buying the most outrageous items I could
find -- micro skirts, seamed stockings, crotchless panties, red-red lipstick,
cut-out bras, and on and on. I had a ball!
After dinner that night, I decided to give a fashion show to Timmy, and
surprise him with my wildest "streetwalker" outfit. I put on heavy make-up, red
crotchless panties, a black corset top, stockings, garterbelt, red heels and a
red vinyl skirt not quite long enough to reach my stocking-tops. For the
crowning touch, I put on a wild, cheap blonde wig and spiked the tresses.
Tim went absolutely crazy! Only, instead of throwing me down on the
floor, or chasing me up to the bedroom, he suggested we go for a ride!
The ride wasn't very far -- only downtown, stopping around the corner
from Calvert Street, a street notorious for cheap streetwalkers. By the time
Tim had pulled to the curb, I knew what he wanted me to do -- and I was game!
I got out of the car and Tim pulled around the corner. Then, after making
sure my seams were straight, I strutted around the corner and into the glow of
the street lamps. Tim was parked across the street, and I saw two other women
(dressed pretty much like I was!) standing about a half a block up the street.
There were no pedestrians, and the traffic was light, but steady. I was
breathing rapidly -- partly from excitement, and not a little from
apprehension. I felt very alone standing there.
I soon noticed the same red Firebird pass me, twice, and then for the
third time. On the fourth time, he stopped and leaned over the passenger seat,
"Hey, sexy lady! Looking for a ride somewhere?"
I stepped over to the car and bent over at the waist, giving the driver a
full view of my almost-naked tits, "Maybe. Where you headed?"
He had to pull his tongue back in, before he could answer. We chatted a
little, and I promised him I'd be around later, but was waiting for a
particular somebody at the moment. He waved and drove off.
After going through the same routine with two more drivers, Tim coasted
to a stop beside me.
"Want to party?"
I was glad it was him. My fear had gone away and the excitement had taken
over as the night went on. I gave him the same tit-shot I had given the rest of
the guys. "Maybe. Are you a party-er?"
He smiled at me, "I'm a very generous party-er."
"How generous?" I asked.
"Well, if you'll speak a little French -- fifty."
I opened the car door and got in, "French is my favorite language."
Tim drove to a nearby city park and stopped the car on one of the lanes.
He pushed his seat back and opened his zipper. I held my hand out -- palm up,
and he handed me a fifty. I folded it and opened my purse. I dropped the money
in and took out a condom I had put in there before we left home. Tim raised an
eyebrow.
"A girl can't take chances out here," I said, matter of factly. He nodded
and I wrapped his hard, little rascal in the rubber. He watched as I popped the
wad of chewing gum out of my mouth, and stored it in my cleavage. I lowered my
mouth down on his sheathed erection and had barely gotten the rubber wet before
Tim tensed in his seat and began filling the condom with his cum. I could tell
he had really gotten off on the whole scene.
Still in character, I carefully removed the condom and tied it in a neat
knot and tossed it out the window. I smiled a lipstick-smeared smile at him.
"You were really hot. I enjoyed that. Now, could you take me back to my
corner?"
Just then, a police car's blue flashing lights lit up the back window.
Caught!
I could tell from Tim's posture, that he was as nervous as I was. Two
officers got out and one stepped up to the driver's window and shined his
flashlight in at us. Fortunately, Timmy had already zipped up.
"What's wrong, Officer?"
"Don't play dumb. I hate it when people play dumb. What were you doing
here, discussing the savings and loan crisis?"
"Officer, my wife and I were..."
The cop roared out a huge laugh and looked in the window, again. His
light was shining on my bare thighs, above my stockings. I was afraid my
crotchless panties were showing him everything!
"Your WIFE??!! Yo, JD, he says this `lady' is his wife!!!" At their
request, we got out of the car and produced enough ID to prove that we were
married and the cop did a cursory check in the car. The other cop approached
and walked around my side of the car. The freshly-filled condom was revealed to
his light and he nudged it with his shoe.
He stooped down to my eyelevel, and looked right into my eyes, "Do you
prefer the dry, ribbed or lubed, Honey?"
I looked right back at him and smiled, "Well, the lubed make a long night
a little easier, once you get used to the taste." I was standing with my back
to Tim and the other policeman, and the one standing in front of me, casually
reached into my cleavage and retrieved my chewing gum.
I smiled and lowered my mouth over his fingers, flicking the gum into my
mouth with my tongue. "Thanks, Officer, I thought I lost it."
He licked his fingers slowly, and stared at my cleavage. "You know, Miss,
these streets can be dangerous. You never know who you're gonna meet. You
should stick to indoors. If you're new to town, there's places like `The Raven
Pub' in the Poe Hotel. You're a little, uh, flashy for the nice bars, but `The
Raven's' seen your type there."
"Gee, thanks for the career advice, Officer!" I smiled my widest smile up
at him. His nameplate read: J.D. MURPHY.
"Don't be so smart-mouth, girlie. You never know when you'll need a good
cop."
They finally decided to let us go, after everything checked out. Officer
J.D. Murphy smiled and said, "I'll be looking for you, Miss Lube-Tube. You can
bet I'll be keeping an eye out for you and your pimp-husband, here."
Being accosted by the policemen had rattled Timmy, but the action had
only taken me to another level in excitement. As Tim sped us home, I inserted
three fingers through the opening in my panties and deep into my sopping wet
pussy. I began a moaning, total orgasm after only a few flicks of my thumb
across my erect clit.
At home, Tim tried valiantly, but the policemen had taken the wind out of
his sails, and the starch out of his cock. He could only watch as I pleasured
myself with my vibrator, pushing it through my panties and up inside of me. I
fell asleep exhausted and with the vibrator still in my hand.
......
Over the next few days, Tim regained his old enthusiasm, and at my
urging, we discussed other scenarios. My passion obviously increased as the
situation became more and more realistic; and, there definitely was a little
kink running around inside my brain that took me into uninhibited, orgasmic
pleasure -- the more I behaved and was believed to be a whore, the more intense
the pleasure.
Talking about the various types of hookers, from the high-priced callgirl
to the cheapest streetwalker, we began to investigate alternatives to what we
had already tried.
The weekly, local free paper was a good source of information, judging by
their "Personals" in the back of the paper. They advertised everything from
"escorts" to "strip-o-grams" to "trained masseuse" to, simply, "young WF,
seeking GENEROUS man for fun w/o commitment." Another avenue of investigation
were the "date-line, `976-'" numbers. Tim asked me which one I wanted to try,
and I smiled and told him "all of them!"
......
Unfortunately, before we had a chance to live out any more of my
fantasies, Tim was selected to go on a West Coast tour with one of the company
Directors. The trip would be part fact-finding and part pep rally, and Tim and
I were both excited about what his being chosen would mean for his career. On
the downside, was the fact that Timmy would be away three weeks.
When I dropped him at the airport on Sunday, we knew we wouldn't see each
other, again, until the third Saturday -- by far, the longest we had been
separated since we had met.
By the second week, I was really missing the fun Timmy and I had been
having over the last several months. A few quick phonecalls during the day sure
wasn't the same as having Tim there. Several nights, I even dressed in parts of
my costumes and played with my vibrator, but I missed my "John" too much for it
to be fun.
Finally, on the second Wednesday night, I put on my make-up a little
heavy, dressed in a tight denim skirt, red high heels and blouse and stockings
and went for a ride. I drove to a mall, but didn't have the nerve to get out of
the car in such a suburban setting. So, I put the car in gear and headed
downtown. It was a warm night and I drove around the Inner Harbor, looking at
all the tourists. Feeling bored and lonely, I decided to call it a night.
On the way home, I was stopped at a light and realized I was looking
right at the Poe Hotel!
This was the place Officer J.D. Murphy told me the hookers worked! On
impulse, I pulled over to the curb and sat across the street from the entrance.
All types of people were going in and coming out, dressed from jeans and
t-shirts to three-piece suits and evening dresses.
Not quite sure about what I wanted to do, I drove around the block and
found a parking place. I checked my make-up in the mirror and got out of the
car.
The entrance to the "Raven Pub" was off the lobby and I could hear the
music and talking and glasses clinking before I pulled the door open.
=====================
TO BE CONTINUED...
..............................
(C) J. BOSWELL, September 1991
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