The Gloryhole - Tia Lascivo - ebook

Mrs. Makepeace has a new female friend. They visit a sex-store gloryhole, and a whole new world of sin opens up featuring hotel sex and BBC.~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~Melanie led the way. She stopped outside the third door along on the left side. Cubicle three, apparently, according to the number neatly stenciled in black paint on the wall to one side of the door.“Here we are,” Melanie said as she pushed the door open. “Let’s go.”I followed her in and was immediately confronted by the sight of the blonde lady on the DVD cover smiling at a well-muscled black man. The image came from the TV fixed to the wall, the video piped in somehow. From the front desk, I supposed.I stood and watched the screen for a moment or two, then took stock of the room. It didn’t take long because all I could see in the way of furniture were three plastic chairs fixed to a metal stand. They were blue. Molded. The kind of seats you might find in a bus station waiting area, only these were clean and in a good state of repair. Again, like the rest of the place, it was clean and bright in there, a room like a cell, barely four feet across by ten feet deep and seven high. Then I noticed the apertures in the walls. There were holes of varying sizes set at what looked to be apparently random heights set in the wall opposite the chairs. I didn’t count, but there looked to be eight or nine. I blinked, puzzled at first. Then I felt a rush of excitement when I realized this was more than a jerk-off den. I was in a glory-hole!When I first realized what the place was for, I couldn’t make up my mind whether I was excited or appalled.“Jesus,” I gasped, “this is so bloody wrong.”

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Mrs. Makepeace - Hotwife Adventures:

The Gloryhole


Tia Lascivo

* * * * *

Copyright © 2016 by Tia Lascivo

All Characters are 18 and Over


“You do know I’m married?”

Melanie looked at me, incredulous, one sculpted eyebrow arched.

“Of course I do,” she said with a sigh.

Our husbands were eleven miles to the east of us. They were at a Giants game while we sat in Melanie’s car, the store on the opposite side of the street. I threw a dubious look at the door before looking into Melanie’s face.

“Well, I don’t think I should go in there,” I told her.

Melanie smirked at me and swiveled in her seat to face me.

She heaved an exasperated sigh and said, “It’s just a bit of fun, Julia.”

I glanced at the storefront again. It wasn’t that I had any real objection to going inside. If anything, the idea turned me on. It would be fun to visit a sex store, and I was already squidgy down at my pussy because it was a naughty thing to do. The problem was I didn’t know Melanie well enough yet. My biggest concern was how far I could trust her.

“My husband…” I said, doubt in my tone. “I don’t know. He might not like it.”

Her eyes went wide as she looked at me with an expression which suggested I was the world’s dumbest wife.

“Don’t tell him,” she said with a small shake of her head. “I never tell Michael.”

Melanie grinned at me, eyes sparkling with inner mischief. I ‘d only known her a couple of weeks, but already liked her a lot. She was outgoing and fun. Lively. The look I caught in her face in that moment only made me like her more. It was there, the devilment within shining out through her eyes. I had the sense we were kindred spirits and I had the sudden urge to tell her everything about me, about Mrs. Makepeace. My instincts were telling me Melanie was going to be a very special friend, but I still had to be cautious.

So, keeping my cards close to my chest for the time being, I played it naive and asked, “What do you say when he asks where you’ve been?”

“Shopping for shoes, usually,” Melanie said. “I’ve got a gazillion pairs,” she added with another roll of her eyes. “I’m never gonna wear them all. But it keeps my marriage safe.”

“Safe?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Every woman has secrets, right?” Melanie looked at me, abruptly serious. “Well, at least I do,” she said. “And so do all of my girlfriends.”

I was curious about that comment, so, interest piqued, I asked, “Secrets?”

Melanie went cagey. She pouted and frowned and studied me for several long seconds.

“Yeah, you know, little things we don’t necessarily want our husbands to know about.”

“What? Affairs, you mean?”

Melanie stared at me again. Such an intense look I could just about hear the cogs turning.

“Maybe. Some of the girls,” Melanie told me.

“They cheat on their husbands?” I asked, still playing the innocent.

Melanie gave me yet another eyeroll.

She said, “You’re kidding me right? Is it like there’s no cheating going on in England? You’ve never heard of it before?”

“Of course I have,” I said. “Of course people cheat in England.”

“How long have you been married?” Melanie asked.

“Eight years.”

Her eyebrows shot up before she asked, “And you’ve been a good little wife for all that time?”

I heard the incredulity in her tone. Saw it in her expression as she stared at me, blue eyes locked on my face.

I thought about giving her a little snippet of Mrs. Makepeace’s sordid history, of which there was a lot to draw upon. I’d cheated on my husband the day I got married, so there was no way I could be described as a good little wife.

“I’ll be an American at this point,” I told Melanie. “And take the fifth on that.”

Melanie continued to stare as she mulled it over. It was an admission in itself, of course. If I had nothing sordid in my past, why would I hide behind the Fifth Amendment?

Melanie smirked. She nodded.

“Oh-ho!” she grinned. “See what I mean? Secrets.” Melanie dropped an eyelid against one cheek in a lascivious wink. “Don’t worry,” she said, a hand on my arm. “I won’t tell a soul. I’ve got enough skeletons in my closet to fill a boneyard.”

I was intrigued by that, and wanted to ask Melanie a whole raft of questions. Everything she’d said so far only went to convince me more that we had a whole lot in common.

“Really?” I said, looking at the store again. “Is one of your secrets a particular liking for pornography?”

She went sly again. Melanie’s slightly uptilted eyes narrowed, the feline expression enhancing the hint of the Asiatic in her looks. Melanie is a very pretty lady, in my opinion at least. A helmet of blonde bobbed hair, exotic eyes and high cheekbones. Blue eyes.

Melanie gave me that look and smirked.

“I like looking at porno,” she said. “But I go through phases. I had a thing about lesbian stuff not long ago.” Melanie threw me a glance, her expression laden with the unsaid as she went on to add, “Had some fun with that. You know … experimenting. I tried it out for real a couple of times. With a couple of girls.”

Desire uncurled inside me and the ache of lust worked through a few gears. I was getting decidedly horny, the need making me reckless. It’s a familiar sensation, a thrill of excitement when I know sex is on the agenda. My libido awoke. Heat flared between my legs when the implications hit me and I imagined Melanie mixing it up with another woman.

I didn’t say anything. I just sat there, carnal yearning swelling my throat while my body responded in myriad ways.

“I might buy a couple of DVDs today,” Melanie said.

I gulped down to clear my throat of the blockage.

“Of what?” I asked, the question coming up close to a croak. “Lesbian porn?”

Melanie shrugged and held my stare.

“Big black cocks,” she eventually told me.


I’d never been in a sex shop before. The toys I have are all mail order items which I had sent straight to the house. Setting foot inside the store was something new for me, a fresh experience which had my insides churning with a thrilling mix of sexual arousal and high anxiety. The reality was a surprise to what I’d pictured inside my head. For some reason I’d imagined a sleazy emporium. Racks on the walls containing ratty and much-thumbed magazines, furtive men with shifty eyes lurking around. A hangover from my Britishness, perhaps? Memories of Benny Hill and grubby comedy shows from way back in the 70s. The thing is, as my imagination ran wild, I felt my pussy sluice, the nastiness of it appealing to my darker side. It was just the place for Mrs. Makepeace. I was so turned on I wondered why I hadn’t thought about visiting a sex shop before, thinking if I took one of my men along with me, I’d probably put on a show.

I looked at the storefront for a long time while I tried to imagine what it would be like to walk into a place like that. Two women, both attractive and obviously wealthy. What would happen if some pervy man tried it on? What would Melanie do?

As the nastiness warmed my pussy, I turned away from the store and looked at Melanie.

“This isn’t what I had in mind when you said we’d go shopping,” I said.

She just grinned at me.

“Yeah,” Melanie drawled. “Sorry, but I kind of got the impression you might not mind too much. You seem like a girl who likes to have fun. Know what I mean? You don’t strike me as a woman who’s gonna get all bent over a little porn. I just thought it’d be a fun thing to do. The guys won’t have a clue,” Melanie said with a shrug. “They’re full of baseball and bullshit. And there’s no harm. We’re only shopping.”

“I’ve never been inside one of those places before.”

“You want to go inside now? Have a look around? If you hate it, we don’t have to stay.”

Melanie crossed the road. I was a few steps behind, my eyes on her bottom, the blue skirt molded to her rounded buttocks. It was a tight skirt made out of some Lycra type of material which showed off Melanie’s backside in a way that might be provocative inside the store. Her rear is what I’ve heard described in crude terms as a bubble-butt. She’s wide in the beam, the globes a considerable size, the whole arrangement counterbalanced by her generously proportioned bosom, her figure defined by a surprisingly tight waist.

I looked at all that backside and watched it wobble when Melanie moved across the road on a pair of stack-soled shoes. Then I took in the rest of what she was wearing, her black blouse semi-transparent, the bright halter-neck bra arrangement visible underneath. It was entirely decent for a day out shopping in town, the effect of the ensemble morphing into something more slutty given the nature of the business inside the store we were about to enter.

“Nice move,” I muttered to myself as I reached the sidewalk in front of the shop. I thought it was cleverly done, her choice of clothing.

My stomach flipped when Melanie pushed the door open and stepped inside. I could feel my legs and hands trembling when I paused for a moment. Then I sucked in a deep breath and followed my friend into God-knew-what.

The cleanliness came as a bit of a surprise. The shop wasn’t anything like I’d expected. It was bright and organized, just like a regular store, only instead of cereals or coffee on the shelves, it was dildos and porn. I saw racks on the walls like I’d imagined, only the publications were in pristine condition and not dog-eared and used. It was bright in there, really well-lit, with banks of overhead fluorescent tubes enhancing the impression of cleanliness. To my right was a long counter, more of a glass display case which featured a dizzying array of paraphernalia and, another surprise was the girl at the till. I don’t know why, but I’d seen the attendant as male, but the reality was a hot twenty-something with long black hair and a beautiful, intelligent face. I gawped at her for a couple of seconds, wondering how she could look so casual surrounded by all the sex while I looked around and took in the rows of DVD covers, all luridly graphic in a way which let you know immediately what to expect if you slid the disc into the machine and settled back to watch a film. There were costumes and masks, dildos and whips, dirty movies for every kink and fetish.

I saw Melanie standing in front of a DVD selection, a moue of concentration pursing her lips as she examined the choices.

When I got close, my insides contracted, my pussy clenching around an imaginary cock when I saw the cover on the box Melanie had in her hand.

“You like that?” I asked her, the words clotted and thick.

When she turned her head to look at me, my sex tightened again. I could tell just by her face she felt the same gnawing void of sexual longing. The look she gave me was all hot and horny, her eyes half-glazed with whatever she was feeling inside. She nodded at me, nostrils pinching together as she sucked in air through her nose. I watched her throat go tight before she replied with something close to a groan.

“Yeah,” Melanie said. “Told you. Big black cock.”

“She looks like she’s enjoying herself.”

Melanie glanced at the cover to where a mature lady grinned at us with her eyes, her mouth stretched tight around a very thick black penis.

“God, yeah,” Melanie sighed.

Then she looked at me and did a very odd thing. Melanie looked at her watch and turned her face towards a sign above a door which read: Pay and Play.

Her throat went tight again as her attention returned to my face. Then Melanie’s eyes slid away, her expression furtive all of a sudden.

“Can I trust you, Julia?” Melanie asked. She blinked into my face, expectant, like she was really counting on the answer being yes. Then she added, “I mean, really trust you.”

I got the sense something momentous was about to occur. It was in her face and tone, her very demeanor.

“I’ve got secrets,” I told her, my voice barely a whisper. “You can trust me, Melanie.”

She examined my face for what felt like an age. Melanie kept her eyes on me while she gnawed at her bottom lip, obviously trying to make up her mind.

She kept her voice low as she said, “This is huge.” Then Melanie giggled and grinned and went on to add, “In more ways than one.”

“You can trust me,” I said. “I’m not a good wife at all.”

“Oh, God, sweetie,” Melanie sighed. “Neither am I.”

“So…?” I said.

She looked at her watch again. Glanced at the girl behind the counter.

Melanie then turned her attention back to me and stared at me for a few seconds more.