Hot Wife Shared by the Loan Shark - Deborah Cockram - ebook

Real Estate agents Chrissy and Trey are celebrating the sale of their latest house flip in the kinkiest way they know how, with Trey dominating her on the back deck of the just-sold house – a final, hot, good-bye to the home they've spent virtually all their waking hours in over the past two months.They're interrupted rather rudely by their loan-shark lender, Paul, who walks in on them right in the middle of the deed with some especially troublesome news – the sales contract fell through, and that means they won't be able to pay him back when the loan comes due. Paul charges a lot for his loans, and he never lets his clients go pass due. For Chrissy and Trey, that means losing the house they've sunk everything in.Unless…Chrissy is willing to trade certain favors.To save their family finances, and their future, she agrees, and that starts a thrilling, arousing, scintillating ride through an open house where she's little more than a scantily dressed prop, then Paul has his way with her before he decides to share Chrissy with a few friends – all at the same time, using virtually every entryway her body has, all under the watchful eyes of her disgraced husband.And along the way, Chrissy discovers what how fulfilling it is to be taken by an older, stronger man who knows how to take, and keep, control…

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Deborah Cockram

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Table of contents

Hot Wife Shared by the Loan Shark

Hot Wife Shared by the Loan Shark

(An Older Man-Younger Woman Cuckold

Group Encounter Tale)

By Deborah Cockram

© Copyright 2017 by Deborah Cockram and After Midnight Press

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Everyone in this story is 18 or older.

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Hot Wife Shared by the Loan Shark

(An Older Man-Younger Woman Cuckold Group Encounter Tale)

By Deborah Cockram

My body shook, violently, the most intense, adrenaline-fueled wave of pleasure rocketing through me. I arched my back, tried sitting up, which served only to pull on my arms, the rope biting into my skin. Even that sensation, of the rope pressing hard against my wrists, was delicious, enjoyable, drawing a low, long moan from deep inside me.

Trey straddled me, his hands running up and down my body as he kissed my breasts, sucked hard on my nipple, pulling as he did.

I groaned, body shaking even harder if that's possible.

I was lying on the back deck, arms stretched overhead, wrists bound to the railing of the rough deck, a blindfold over my eyes as Trey kissed and touched and teased, driving me insane.

He yanked away from my nipple, sending fresh shards of wonderful, erotic agony washing through me. I felt him shift, moving down, his weight on my thighs now and then, oh my god, I felt his breath, hot, as he blew right onto my slit.

I trembled, and lost it, crying out, orgasm rising fast, too fast, unable to control myself and then…I heard some sort of clinking sound, followed by the feel of fresh ice right there, against my pussy. I screamed, tried drawing my legs up – he was on them, holding them down – and the sense of orgasm, that freight train headed toward climax, made a sudden turnabout and disappeared deep inside me.

Trey laughed. The ice moved away, and then I felt his lips on my left thigh as he kissed, gently, his hands caressing my hips.

This was the most intense, awesome love-making I'd ever experienced, and we were nowhere near finished, I was quite certain. We were on the back deck, outdoors, the warm humid air of late afternoon giving way to the cooler evening. This wasn't our house, we'd just sold it that day, signing the final contract on our biggest-ever flip, the one that put us in a different level.

Trey and I flip houses. We buy them, older, run-down ones, remodel them then sell. We started two years ago when Trey lost his job – he got a severance package that we combined with all of our savings and we bought a small house, renovated and sold the thing in about two months. This isn't like those television shows you see, where flipping makes $50,000, sometimes more. This is real life, and we live in a somewhat rural area, so the chance to make a lot of money is limited. We only made $15,000 on that first house,, but it was a start. and we've flipped 15 houses since then, always making enough money to live on, to buy another one and do it again, but never really hitting the big one.

Until now. We bought this one with everything we had – we even borrowed money this time, and we were only two days from having to pay it back so it was quite a relief this morning when we signed the final papers, bringing home a cool profit of $160,000 – enough to pay the loan and buy two more smaller houses at the same time, contracting out some of the work. That's where the real money is –getting two or three homes going at once, even if you have to pay someone else for some of the work.

We have a little tradition, too. Whenever we make the final closing on a home, when all is said and done, that night we go back to the house and have wild, passionate sex. Sometimes in the living room, sometimes the kitchen. Tonight we decided to do it outside, and because it's such a big deal, Trey brought out the ropes and blindfold and now, for the next who knows how long, I'm his little sexy servant.

I whimper – yes, an honest-to-god whimper – as he slips his hands around under me, squeezing my ass while he kisses back-and-forth now, my right thigh, then my left, moving higher each time he goes from one side to another.

Then I hear it. A voice, calling out. I can't tell where it's coming from – I'm blindfolded, remember – but I shudder again, this time from panic.

Trey doesn’t hear it, apparently, because he keeps squeezing, kissing his way higher, his lips pressing the very top of my thigh, just inches from my pussy.

"Trey," I whisper.

He kisses harder, opening his mouth, sucking just a bit – normally I'd be afraid he was leaving a hickey, but that's suddenly the least of my worries.

"Trey, somebody's here."

The voice is louder now, and it's calling us – "Trey, Chrissy?"

Jesus, it's Paul!

Just then I hear the sliding glass door, then Trey is gone, scrambling up.

"What the fuck?"

"Listen, Paul, it's not…" I hear Trey's voice trailing off to nothing.

"Trey?" I call out. He ignores me.

"What the hell is going on here?"