They're off-limits, their lives taken up by their families, devotion saved for their hubbies, spare time filled with community events, women's club meetings, and PTA activities.But sometimes, those dutiful wives – whether they be 21 or 41 (or even older) – find they have a burning desire to experience something new, something different, something wild and sensual that is more animalistic than emotional, an encounter so mind-blowing it keeps them hot and excited on those long boring nights at home, well after the encounter is over.Wives who, at least for one night (or one afternoon), become total sluts, giving themselves to a stranger, or multiple strangers – to men, women, and both – in a decadent drive to know true sexual fulfillment in a way their friends and relatives will never understand.And every once in a while, they get caught – and some even discover their hubbies want to see, want to watch, maybe even want to share them with still more strangers…Women with daddy issues, wives who desperately want to know what it's like to be taken from behind, to be gangbanged, to feel the roughest of rough sex...Those are the tales you find here, in Taboo Tales of Wives, Sluts, & Their Steamy Stories 2!
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Taboo Tales of Wives, Sluts, & Their Steamy Stories 2: Ten More Scandalous Stories
Hot Wife Shared by the Loan Shark
Naughty Wife Desires: Taken by the Young Stranger
Naughty Wife Desires 2: Shared by the Neighbors
Naughty Wife Desires 3: Sharing Wives and Hubbies
Pounded by the Soldiers (Time Travel Erotica)
MILF Diaries 1: Kimberly Meets Her Match
MILF Diaries #2: Taking Her Young Man From Behind
MILF Diaries 3: Sarah's Taken by the MILF's Hubby
MILF Diaries #4: Taming the MILF
MILF Diaries #5: Everyone Takes Kimberly
Shared by Hubby, Ganged by Three in Her Own Bed
© 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.
If you like these steamy, sexy tales, please look for other stories by the wicked writers at After Midnight Press. To find more of their work, simply visit their website to find a host of our hot, sensual stories for sale – often many are offered free or on a special reduced rate!
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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?"
Paul does not sound amused. He's financed a few of our other projects, short-term small loans to tide us over, but we pay dearly – usually ten percent interest, on a 30-day loan. He is a no-nonsense kind of guy, and you give him what you owe, when you owe, or there's hell to pay. We owe him sixty grand, and while the money won't be transferred in the sale in the next two days, we can get a legitimate short-term bank loan based on the contract to pay him off.
"Listen, Paul, I…it's…well…" Trey's stuttering, meanwhile I'm lying here, blindfolded and tied to the deck, nude, Paul no doubt looking me up and down. I feel panic deep inside me, my heart pounding, heat radiating from my face.
"Put some pants on, Trey, I can't look at ya like this."
I hear him rustling around, no doubt searching for a shirt or pants. I hear him moving, the deck creaking under him.
"Damn it," I cry out. "Cover me, let me go."
"No, not quite yet," Paul says, and I hear leering in his voice, if there is such a sound.
Nothing. No sound, no move to cover me, free me.
"Trey?" I say, my voice quavering a bit.
"Okay, go ahead," Paul says. "That's a sight I'm going to remember for a long time."
"Sorry, sorry," Trey stutters, and I feel cloth dropped over me, covering my breasts and pussy, then hands working the rope around my wrists. Finally, I'm free, though I don't remove the blindfold.
"Leave," I say, my voice cracking as I do.
"What?" Trey says.
"Just leave," I scream. "Leave my clothes and go in the house."
I hear Paul snickering, then the sound of the glass door sliding shut. I lay there a few moments, then lift the blindfold enough to peek – they're gone. Quickly I scramble to my feet, dress, then I slide open the glass door. I hear them, off in the living room. Mustering as much dignity as I can, I stand up straight and walk into the room.
Something's not right. I mean something really bad has happened. I can tell by Trey's face – he's white as his shirt.
He looks at me, but says nothing.
"Your deal's gone south," Paul says, a little glee in his voice. I'm not sure if he's gloating over the fact that he's giving us bad financial news, or the fact he just saw me naked, stretched out and bound to the back deck.
"Th…the house, honey," Trey says.
"I don't understand."
Paul walks across the living room, props himself against the mantle. "The buyers, turns out the feds are after them. Not an hour after you all signed the contract, their assets were seized, accounts frozen. The bank cancelled the mortgage."
I felt my legs grow weak.
"Joe, you know we're good for the money," Trey said. "Give us an extension, we'll pay double interest."
Paul leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed. "Why would I do that?" he asked. "I can just take this house, sell it myself, pocket far more profit than I'll make on your loan."
"Come on, Paul," Trey said, panic in his voice. He moved his mouth a little, but no words came out.
"Please," I said, stepping toward him. If he took the house, we'd lose everything. We'd managed to eke out a living over the past two years, but this sale was going to set us up going forward. We wouldn't be rich, but we'd double our income, be able to grow our business so we could make some real money.
But only if we didn't lose this house.
Tentatively, I reached out, took his hand in mine. I looked in his eyes, fighting – unsuccessfully – to hold back the tears. They spilled from my eyes, ran down my cheeks. "Please, don't do this."
"Tell me about what you two were doing outside."
I shuddered, looked down. "It's a thin…thing we do, every time we sell a house," I said, my voice little more than a whisper.
"Trey there ties you up and fucks you?"
I shook my head. "No. I mean, we do it, yes, in the house just after signing the contract, the bigger the profit the more we play…" my voice choked off.
"This was going to be our biggest one yet," Trey picked up. "We…I decided to get a little crazy."
Paul laughed, pulled his hand away from me, walked across the room to the front door. He stopped, turned back to us.
"Tell you what. I'll give you a 30-day extension. Hell, I'll give you a 60-day extension, won't even charge you extra interest."
"Yes?" Trey said, a little bit of excitement in his voice., I shivered, because I had a feeling there was going to be a steep price.
He stepped back to me, cupped my chin in his hand. "On two conditions. First, I run the open houses. You two do what I say, no questions asked. Second," he ran his hand down my arm. "When we sell, I get my own little celebration with your wife."
"No fucking way," Trey said, stepping to us, trying to insert himself between us. Paul's an older guy, I'd guess around 50, while Trey and I are both in our late 20s. But there's no way Trey would be able to push Paul away, or stop him if they got physical. Trey's a taller, slender man, while Paul is big – round, wide shoulders, a big barrel chest, and thick arms. No, Trey would not do well if things became physical.
"It's…honey, it's all right," I say, my voice trembling.
He turns to me, hands on my shoulders. "Honey, no."
I look into his eyes, giving him a weak smile. "It's the only way. We'll lose everything. I…" I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's what I can do. Just once, and then we're clear. Forever."
He sighed heavily, stepped away, and I reached out, shook Paul's hand, and strangely felt my heart skip a beat.
Paul certainly was getting his money’s worth.
We had the open house three weeks later, and I do have to give Paul credit, he drew a crowd with his advertising and contacts. And the house looked fabulous – it was staged, which meant a firm that rents furniture and wall paintings and other home décor for open houses comes in and sets up like it's a model home, the kind you see in magazine spreads. Well, that's the idea, though Trey and I have a staging firm that's a little bit lower-budget. The homes still look nice, but up to this point we've been selling starter homes.
Paul went all out, and the home looked like a million dollars.
So did Paul, dressed in a coat and tie. Trey was dressed nice too, in business casual, like always with our open houses.
I, on the other hand, was dressed in this short – and I do mean short – frilly little humiliating maid’s uniform. You know, plunging neckline, little white apron, and the dress was so short I couldn’t bend over without flashing everyone. Under all that I was wearing a thin, damned-tight thong and garters.
No, that’s not how I dress for open houses. Unless our financial future rests in the hands of Paul Martin, and he says I have to do it or else.
Per Paul’s instructions, I stood in the corner, smiling at people as they walked in. Whenever he’d point to a piece of furniture, I’d have to walk over with my feather duster and clean it off – and yes, he made me do that clichéd little pose, legs straight, bending over – and flashing the room and showing off more a more than embarrassing amount of cleavage – to sweep away whatever dust he imagined was there.
Occasionally he’d walk folks through the house, introducing me, and I actually had to courtesy every he did that. At first it was awkward, even angering, especially when I’d catch a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye, a smug little grin on his face. Whenever he’d do that, I’d look away – at first I’d turn my attention to Trey, hoping to get some strength, some sort of comfort, from him, but he looked so…I don’t know, like a little boy who’d lost his Halloween candy. I think he was more humiliated than I was, especially when Paul would tell people who we were.
“ This is Trey, he’s the developer who did such a wonderful job on the remodel,” he’s say, slapping Trey on the back like they were old friends. “And this little tart is his wife,” he’d continued, sneering at me. "I get to use her today as my little servant."
“ Oh my, aren’t you a lucky man,” they’d say, or something like that, making jokes about how he had me trained, or how they wish they had a wife who knew her place like he had, wondering out Trey could ever let me go to another man.
One time Paul put his arm around my waist and drew me close.
“ Yeah, I was even thinking about seeing if Trey would rent her to me for the night,” he joked, sending nervous little laughter through everyone there. Well, everyone except me, though I tried faking a smile. That’s the one time Trey did something, or kind of did something, anyway.
“ Let me show you the upstairs,” he quickly said, interrupting their laughter and leading them away.
Paul pulled me tightly against him, his hand slipping down my back, to my ass. He squeezed, and I felt his cock grow hard and large against me. “I’ll tell you one thing, honey,” he whispered, his lips next to my ear. “If I had a woman like you, I’d never stand by and let someone humiliate you. Even if I got the shit beat out of me, I’d do something.”
His words shocked me. I…I didn’t know what to say, how to react. Without waiting for me to do anything, he pulled away and followed as the group followed Trey upstairs, a gigantic bulge in his pants.
I shivered. I actually shivered. I mean, I’ve never been attracted to Paul, he’s kind of a slimy guy. Not physically – in reality, especially for someone his age, he’s in pretty good shape. But he’s a sleazeball, willing to take advantage of anyone for a buck, and…well, you know how he has me dressed.
Still, I’d never had a man say anything like that about me. Trey loved me – we worked hard together, trying to build a life for ourselves, and he was always kind and considerate and gentle with me (even the few times he has me tied up, I know what he’s going to do, how he’s going to do it, and I know he’s not really going to inflict any pain) – but I’ve never had a man grab me so forcefully, and then say anything like that, like he'd really protect me if needed.
Finally they came downstairs and the group dispersed. I glanced at Paul, and felt…something. Not love, no. And not even lust, I don’t think. But…I wondered what he’d be like, just how big that cock is, and I wondered if he meant it, what he said, or if it was just some idle words. Suddenly, I had an urge to touch him, to run my fingers along his face, to see what he'd taste like. I know, it's crazy, but…truth is I've always had a thing for older men, and the fact that Paul was so in control, exerted so much authority…I don't know, it's hard to explain, but I felt myself growing just a little bit aroused.
Another couple came in, a man and a woman we’d seen around town before. They were kind of odd – we live in a really small town, and everyone knows a little about everyone else. This couple – Todd and Jenny – were rumored to be…well, into bondage. BDSM. Like in that movie, Shades of Grey (or at least what I’ve heard about the movie – I’ve never actually seen it).
Okay, yes, Trey tied me up on the back deck, and yes, he’s done things like that before but I’ve heard these two are really into it – spanking, collars, the whole shit.
“ Wow, who’s the maid?” Todd asked.
Trey stepped over. “That’s m…my wife. She’s in costume for the open house.”
Todd chuckled. “Some costume,” he said, stepping over, running his hand along my arm. I flinched, but Trey just stood there, staring, uncertainty on his face.
Paul stepped over, and when he did he slipped his body between me and Todd.
“ Yes, it is nice, isn’t it?” he said, running his fingers down my arm, ever-so-briefly running them along the swell of my breast, his eyes locked on mine.
He glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s about time to close up shop. Let me give you good folks a tour before we finish up here today,” he said, gesturing for them to follow him. They did. After a few steps, Paul stopped. “Trey, Chrissy, why don’t you both come along.”
We followed as Paul showed off the kitchen and living room, other parts of the house, and then upstairs he made a wide sweeping gesture with his hand in the master bedroom.
"This is where it all happens," he said, a little smirk on his face.
Jenny slipped her hand in Todd's and they walked around the large, four-poster bedroom. Jenny ran her other hand along one post, then the two of them looked at me.
"I'd love to have someone like her cleaning my house," Todd said. "How about it, Jenny?"
Jenny stepped to me, like she was inspecting a piece of furniture, running her hands along my shoulders as she walked behind me, then she stepped in front of me from the other side. "You'd look great in this house…in this bed." She ran her tongue along her lips.
I caught myself with my mouth gaping. I wasn't sure what to do, say, even what to think.
"I don't know," Paul said, a little smile playing across his face. "Maybe Chrissy is up for a little light maid duties, maybe twice a week for a month – if we get the right price on the house."
Jenny turned to Todd. "Oh, I want her," she said, like she was speaking of a car or toy.
Todd turned to Paul. "We love the house," Todd said. "We get her services for a month, and it's a deal."
Trey cleared his throat. "We…" his voice cracked. "We don't…we renovate and sell homes, we don't offer…cleaning…services."
Todd turned back to Paul as if he Trey wasn't even there. "Deal?"
Paul pursed his lips, then shook his head from side to side. "You're already getting a bargain on this house. To get a maid that looks like sweet Chrissy, that's going to come at a premium."
He turned to me, so that his back was to them, and winked. I…I hate to keep saying this, but I was lost, absolutely floundering, no idea what to say, to do.
"Ten grand extra," Todd said.
I heard Jenny gasp a little.
"It's only money, babe. Don't you want her?"
Jenny smiled, nodding her head.
Paul stepped toward me, leaned forward, his body against mine. I trembled, felt my pussy growing wet. God, what's happening to me? I don't know, being dressed like this – window dressing for the guests, an object, a sexual attraction – it was suddenly intoxicating.
"You decide," he whispered to me. "You say yes, you sell the house, save your finances, and I'll split the extra ten grand with you, 50-50."
"Well?" Todd asked.
"No, no," Trey said. "Deal's off, I don't care if the house sel—"
"Deal," I said, stepping forward – intentionally brushing against Paul when I did. He was like a mountain – didn't move an inch, his body hard.
I glanced at Trey. Color was draining from his face. His mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.
Paul turned, extended his hand and shook.
"We'll have the papers drawn up tomorrow," Paul said. "Visit my office around, maybe 1?"
Ten minutes later the house was clear, except for Trey, Paul, and me.
"Chrissy, what the fuck was that?" Trey said, his face scarlet.
"Hey hey," Paul said, raising both hands, palm facing Trey. "No need to talk like that to the young lady."
"The young lady is my wife, and you stay out of this."
Another little thrill went through me. I'd never seen Trey like this before – he was shaking he was so angry. He looked like he wanted to punch Paul and if he had I think I would have draped myself over him right there, kissing, telling him to take me, in the house, with or without Paul present. And I'd have told Paul the deal was off – that Trey was taking care of me.
But he didn't. He just stood there, staring at Paul, who smiled, then turned to me as if Trey didn't matter any longer.
"You got some balls, even for a woman," he said before leaning forward and kissing me, hard, his lips pressing almost painfully against mine. Instinctively my hands went this chest to push him away, and he reached up, wrapped one large hand around the back of my head, holding me. I found my resistance wavering – hell, who am I kidding, it was only token resistance to start with. I melted into him, taking in his kiss – he slipped his tongue between my lips, and my legs felt as if they might collapse under me.
Finally, after what seemed like a long time, he pulled away. Just then we heard a knock on the door, and three people – two men and a woman – came in. They were the staging company, here to load up all the furniture and decorations. The two guys were youngish – maybe early 20s. One was tall and lean, the other not much taller than my 5'4", and built like a bulldog. The woman was gorgeous – probably 5'10", curvy without being big, with long, beautiful black hair.
I started to go into the side room to change, but Paul grabbed my hand. "We have to talk about paying the stagers," he said.
"I … that comes out of the home sale," I said.
"Yeah, normally so, but I got a sweet deal on this one. Half price, so long as…well, let's just say they get to have a little fling with the two of you."
"I don't understand," Trey said.
Paul turned to me, running his hand along my left shoulder, slipping his fingers under the shoulder strap holding the dress up. He slipped it down over my shoulder, let if fall down my arm, then pulled further until the dress fell away from my breast.
Trey stepped forward, grabbed Paul's arm. Paul glared at him. They stood like that for a while.
"Either take a swing at me or get your hand off me," Paul said.
"This wasn't part of the deal," Trey said.
"I said you two would do whatever I wanted at the open house. You agreed." He turned to me, looked into my eyes, and said "didn't you."
I began shaking, I mean violently. My heart was pounding inside my chest, I realized I hadn't breathed in…well, in a while. I exhaled, then breathed in hard and deep. I felt my faced reddening, heat radiating from the skin. I was…scared. And absolutely enthralled, searing hot arousal gripping me. God help me, I wanted to know what he had in mind, what he would do. What he would let them do.
"Ye…yes," I whispered.
I closed my eyes, the sound of Paul chuckling filling my ears.
I flinched at the feel of his hand on my breast, his other hand tracing along my right shoulder, fingers under the strap, pulling it off, the dress falling down, both breasts now exposed.
He cupped both, kissing, first my left breast, then my right, back and forth. I moaned, softly, and heard Trey gasp. I opened my eyes – he was staring at me, hurt and shock and humiliation playing across his face, but he said nothing. Did nothing.
I saw the woman – I don't even know her name – step to Trey, her hands playing along his shoulders, cupping his face, turning him toward her, kissing him. He kept his eyes on me as she kissed. He didn't return her kiss, but he made no attempt to pull away, as if he were some sort of mannequin, no emotions, no feelings.
Before I knew it the other two men were on me. They picked me up, carried me up the stairs, hands on my thighs, breasts, ass. I glanced down the steps at Trey. He was looking at me as the woman unbuttoned his shirt, kissing his chest, and then I lost sight of them.
With seconds I was on the bed, in the master bedroom, the clothes being pulled from my body. I was soon naked, Paul on the bed next to me, also nude now, kissing me, his hands fondling my breasts, squeezing, caressing, fingers pinching my nipples.
Then the other two – I have no idea which one was doing what – but I felt them, one kissing along my left thigh, just above the knee, the other kissing the right thigh. I reached up, my hands running up and down Paul's body. He pressed his lips harder against mine, and the slight pain stirred something in me, something that was hot and arousing. I moved my hands down over his – his hands were splayed over my breasts, and I closed my hands on his, forcing his hands to close, and he got my signal, squeezing my breasts harder, pinching my nipples forcefully, deliciously painful.
The other two, they were kissing, moving higher, their hands on my hips. I moaned into Paul's mouth – I'd never felt like this before, my heart absolutely racing, sweat breaking out along my body. I mean, I've had pretty hot sex – it's an incredible thrill when Trey and I fuck one another in a house we just sold – but this was unlike anything I'd ever imagined. It felt like fire was running along every nerve in my body as the two kissed higher, higher, almost at the top of my legs now.
One moved away and the other – I could feel his face just inches from my pussy, blowing on me, his breath hot and arousing, stirring. Paul pulled away from the kiss, then began kissing down along my chest, taking my right nipple into his mouth. He sucked, hard, pulling back, stretching my breast, my nipple, just as the other man mashed his face into my pussy, tongue stabbing deep inside.
"Fuck," I screamed, my body shuddering. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
I know that's not very original or clever, and usually I'm quiet during love making, but I was out of control, my body no longer mine, and I couldn't really keep from screaming, from cursing, and honestly, crying out for them to take me.
I could feel orgasm building, ready to explode at any second, when suddenly Paul pulled away from me, climbed on his knees, straddled me and rammed his cock into my mouth.
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