Wife and Mother by Day, Prostitute by Night

It all started with a message from my husband’s boss. We’d been flirting long-distance for months, pure texting, pure provocation, and that afternoon he got bold enough to tell me in detail all the things he’d do to me. Some of it made me laugh, some of it made me uneasy. But one thing kept me thinking about it for the rest of the day, with my phone face down on the table, as if that could turn off what he’d awakened in me.

He wrote that, below the telephone company offices, near the old monument, there was a group of women who worked the street. He said some were stunning and others were simply hot. His fantasy was to buy me an outfit, stand me there among them, and have everyone look at me with desire. They’d get turned on by you, jerk off looking at you, want to pay you to get fucked, he wrote. And I was left intrigued, my cunt already throbbing under my underwear.

That same night, after picking up my kids, I drove around the area just to look. I passed slowly and saw nothing. I parked for a moment and watched. Nothing. I went into the gas station farther down and asked the guy on shift if he knew about the girls who worked around there. He smiled, looked at my tits without even trying to hide it. He told me the whores showed up later, two or three hours later. I thanked him and went home with my head buzzing and my thong glued to me.

I couldn’t get it out of my head. An hour later I wrote the boss of my husband. I half-jokingly asked him if his proposal was serious.

—You mean going out to sell your ass? —he answered.

—I’m curious —I wrote.

—Curiosity killed the cat. In your case, worse: they’ll fuck you. They’re going to tear up that bored housewife pussy of yours and you’ll come home walking crooked.

I laughed to myself in the kitchen, squeezing my thighs together. We agreed we’d have to plan it, that one day we’d go together. I told him yes. But I already knew I wasn’t going to wait for anybody.

***

I texted my husband to find out what time he’d be back. He said late, that they still hadn’t finished a closing at the office. As soon as I read that, something decided itself inside me. I’m going to go around again. Just to look.

I bathed my kids, fed them dinner, put them to bed. Then I got in the shower myself. I washed slowly, and without meaning to, I left two fingers between my legs, playing with my swollen clit, imagining unknown hands on me. I got out before I came; I wanted to get to the park fully heated up. I put on a black miniskirt, a sheer white blouse without a bra —my nipples standing hard against the fabric—, a shirt tucked in over it, and high-top sneakers. Hair loose. I looked like a secretary leaving the office late, and that was exactly the idea.

I looked at myself in the mirror and got wet just imagining the scene: me, out in the street, waiting for someone to stop. I went down to the parking lot almost running. When I got into the pickup I realized I was short of breath. I checked my thong: it was already soaked, a sticky thread joining the lace to my cunt.

I drove toward the area looking for a place to leave the car. I circled the surrounding streets until I parked and waited. I saw a car arrive, two women got out, one young and the other about fifty, very well preserved. The car drove off and they went into a place. I decided to get out, but then I thought they’d see me too clearly there. I went around the block, parked again, and got out.

A woman came out of a house. She looked me up and down, at my sneakers and short skirt.

—Am I in your way here? —I asked.

—No, honey. Leave it there and go work in peace.

—No, ma’am, I’m a secretary, I just left the offices —I lied.

—You don’t have to lie to me —she said with a smile—. You can tell you’re one of the pretty girls from the corner.

I was surprised she’d figured it out so fast. I ended up half-confessing that I needed to make up my paycheck. She patted my arm.

—If I had your age and your body, I’d do it too. Go ahead, no problem. If you need anything, knock on my door. I stay up late.

—Thank you —I murmured.

—Be careful and drain them —she said, and went back inside.

***

I walked fearfully toward the corner. Cars passed slowly, honked, yelled things at me. One stopped beside me and the driver stuck his tongue out at me; another yelled that he wanted to suck my cunt. I tried not to turn around. The park across the street had dark areas and lit areas, just like the street. I got to where the girls were and they greeted me as if nothing.

—Hi, how’s it going?

—Fine, here —I said.

—Look, I don’t know you, so you have to go with Mrs. Nora.

One of them called her on the phone and, almost immediately, the beautiful fifty-something woman appeared. She looked me over from head to toe.

—Come here, newbie.

We walked until we turned the corner. She stopped, folded her arms, and faced me.

—All right, woman. What are you looking for? You got a camera, a microphone?

—No, nothing like that. My husband’s going to be late and…

—I already got you —she cut me off—. You want the adrenaline rush of being a whore. You want to get fucked good and proper.

—That’s one of my fantasies.

—Honey, that’s everybody’s fantasy. No problem, but you’re going to do everything I tell you. Are you a secretary?

—Yes.

—Take off that shirt, let me see you properly.

I unbuttoned it. She looked at my cleavage, opened my blouse a little more with two fingers, pinched one nipple lightly through the fabric, and let out a low whistle.

—Holy Mother of God, you’ve got some serious tits. Are they real?

—Yes.

—You’re going out like that, showing them off, and you’re going to get in line. Do you wear glasses? —I nodded—. They’re in my pickup. —She smiled with something close to affection—. So: married, with small kids, with your job, your truck, and still you come here to get your mouth filled with cocks.

—Exactly —I said.

—Very good, newbie. You’re going to enjoy yourself tonight. Let’s go get your glasses.

We walked to my pickup talking about my family, my job. She made me a list: condoms, lube, morning-after pill, hand sanitizer. I told her I also wanted a beer.

—None of that. Have a cooler; that’ll relax you.

We went into the corner store and I bought almost everything. As we left, she took a photo of me.

—So the guys know you’re with me.

We went back to the avenue and there were many more girls now. They all greeted Nora respectfully. She introduced me as the new girl, and they said nice things, half-joking. Nora put me at the front of the line.

—There’s less work there, but it’s to show off like our new flower. I’ll stay behind you. You stand there and let’s see.

***

She left me alone about ten meters from the others. The first car arrived. The driver was jerking off, with a beer in his other hand, his big red cock poking above the steering wheel.

—How much, baby? How much to jerk me off?

I looked at Nora. She nodded at me. I gave him the price.

—Come on then.

I made the mistake of crossing in front of the car and approaching the driver’s window. I put my hand through the window, grabbed him hot and slippery, covered in spit. I started stroking him up and down, squeezing the head every time I reached the tip. He strained, squirmed in the seat, stared at my tits hanging out the window. Within seconds he growled and came, thick spurts splashing my forearm, my wrist, even the collar of my blouse. When I complained that he’d messed me up, he drove off laughing. I went back to the curb and Nora shook her head.

—You really are new. Don’t be stupid: never cross in front of a car, and never stand on the driver’s side. You open the passenger door, period. —She looked at my semen-covered hand—. When they come, you wipe yourself off with their clothes, not yours. And most important, newbie: where’s the money?

—Oh… he didn’t pay me.

—Oh, girl. You’re learning. Go back to your spot. Take off the shirt, leave only the sheer blouse, and hike up the skirt. Keep a handkerchief on you.

***

The next car had a couple of guys around twenty. They asked for a Russian. Nora went over, negotiated for both of them, got a good bill out of them, and included some oral. She told them to pull over by the park and sent me up.

They went a block and stopped. The passenger got out, opened my door, and there he was, right there in the street: a long, curved cock with the vein standing out. He grabbed the back of my neck and shoved it into my mouth in one yank, pulling my hair until my eyes watered. He rammed it to the back of my throat, I gagged, choked, saliva pouring from the corners of my mouth down into my cleavage. He fucked my mouth mercilessly, driving my face into his pelvis.

—That’s it, slut, swallow it all —he panted.

The other came in from the opposite side and started taking off my blouse, baring my breasts, squeezing them with both hands, crushing them, sucking one nipple while he pinched the other between his fingers until I screamed against the cock in my mouth. He slipped a hand under my skirt, pulled my thong aside, and drove two fingers into my soaked cunt. He thrust them deep, pulling them out and pushing them back in with a wet, watery sound.

—The bitch is dripping —he told the other—. She’s wetter than a hose.

He pulled out his fingers and ran them over my tongue without letting go of my hair. I sucked one and got finger-fucked by the other, my tits out, bouncing in rhythm. When the first one was close, I put his cock between my breasts, squeezed them together with my hands, and he fucked my tits, the tip showing each time, until he growled and unloaded a hot shower over my chin, my open mouth, my cheek. A stream hit my nose. The other couldn’t hold back seeing me this filthy; he pulled out his cock and, in three strokes, painted the other half of my face, thick spurts hanging from my chin, my hair, mixed with saliva and smeared mascara. I got out of the car adjusting my clothes, face a total mess and my cunt throbbing with need.

Far away, Nora was waving me over.

—Do you have other clothes? Go to your pickup, change, and wipe that semen off. Buy the tissues. I’ll wait here.

***

I went to the pickup, put on a white lace set —a short babydoll, matching thong— and went back. I stood there an hour, talking to strangers who came up to me, giving them oral at the open passenger door, one after another. I learned fast: hold the cock by the base with one hand, suck it slowly from the bottom up, lick the tip like it was a popsicle, take it all the way to the back of your throat when they were about to come, choke a little, swallow or keep your mouth full and spit it out. One guy asked for a rim job; I knelt on the dirty asphalt and ate his ass until he came on his own, without touching himself, my tongue deep inside him. Another pulled my tits out over the babydoll and spit on them before fucking them, finishing between them. Another paid extra for me to spread my legs and eat my pussy on the curb, his face pressed to my wet thong, while I trembled and bit my lip so I wouldn’t scream. He made me come in a matter of minutes, his tongue buried inside and a thumb on my clit; I convulsed, grabbing his hair, smashing his face into me. When he finished, he licked my thighs and left without a word.

After that I went back for another change of clothes and discovered I no longer had street clothes, only some gym leggings and the thongs they’d given me. I put on the leggings and a tied white shirt, low-cut as hell.

I went to the store for more tissues. Behind me, a voice:

—Honey, how much for a quickie?

It took me a few seconds to realize that question was for me, that I was really working as a prostitute on the street. I gave him the price. I went back to the pickup to put my things away and the same man followed me.

—All right, I’ll give you the quickie right here. Anal.

I asked for the money up front. He pulled a big bill from his wallet, I tucked it away, opened his pants, took his cock out —a thick dick, wider than it was long, purple at the tip— and got it ready in two strokes with my mouth, spitting saliva on it to leave it dripping. I put the condom on with my lips, sliding it down to the base.

—Turn around —he said.

I opened my eyes wide, still not quite believing what I was doing. I turned around, pulled my leggings down to my knees, closed my eyes, and got on all fours braced against the back seat, looking into the truck with my ass bare, offered up. I felt him move my thong aside with two fingers, felt the cold lube dripping between my butt cheeks, felt him open my ass with his thumbs to get the tip in. He pressed slowly and then shoved suddenly, sinking in half his cock. I screamed against the seat; the sensation of fullness, of burning, of being stretched, cut off my breath. He pushed again, and again, and by the fourth time he had it all inside me.

—What a tight little ass, you fucking bitch —he panted, gripping my hip.

He started moving, first slowly to settle in, then hard, slamming his pelvis against my ass, pulling almost all the way out and jamming himself in again. He spanked me hard, again and again, leaving my skin burning. He yanked my ponytail, pulled my head back, and whispered filthy things in my ear.

—You like this, don’t you, married slut? With cock in your ass. You’re going to go home with your ass open and your husband won’t know a thing.

I moaned against the seat, mouth open, drool running down my chin. I slipped a hand between my legs and rubbed my cunt while he fucked me from behind. I pinched my clit between two fingers and within seconds felt the orgasm climbing up inside me. I shook, tightened my ass around his cock, and he groaned when he felt me clamp down. He came with two more thrusts, buried to the hilt, and stayed there, trembling over me. It was over in about five minutes, but they were the most intense five minutes of my life.

—You’re incredible —he said while taking off the condom, knotting it and throwing it under a car. He pulled out a card—. Write me. Another time I’ll pay you better.

He left. At that moment the woman from the house came out.

—Not here, girl, please.

—Sorry —I said, and offered her the bill I’d just been paid—. For the trouble.

She took it.

—No trouble at all. I’ll look out for you here.

***

The avenue was chaos: cars, people walking, girls in barely any clothes. Nora yelled to me from far away.

—What outfit is that? Take that off and put on this dress. But you’re paying me back for it.

—Change here?

—Oh, cut the bullshit, are you shy? Hurry up and go back to the front.

I changed right there in the street, in the middle of the sidewalk, for a moment left with only my thong on, tits out for anyone who wanted to look. And they did: two men walking by stopped dead, one grabbed his bulge over his pants. The dress was made of the thinnest fabric, almost transparent, so short it barely covered my ass. I went back to my spot. The girls already knew I was the new one; they laughed even at how quickly the customers finished. Then a car arrived with an older man.

—You, come. Get in.

—Don’t you want anything specific? —I asked, naming the price.

—I don’t care about the price. Get in.

I hesitated. The girls signaled me not to. One came over to find out what he wanted: to take me to his hotel. Nora stepped in, charged him up front, took the money, and told me:

—Get in, newbie. They’re going to follow you. You do whatever he asks.

***

The man pulled away. While he drove, he asked me to take it out and suck it. I opened his fly, found his cock inside his pants, and took it into my mouth right there, bent over the gearshift, his belt digging into my side. I sucked it slowly, licking, sucking the tip, squeezing his balls with my other hand. He drove with his left hand and with his right he gripped the back of my neck, guiding my rhythm. Saliva ran down my chin and dropped onto his thigh. I did it until he was hard, until I could feel it throbbing on my tongue. We arrived at his hotel, he handed the car over to the valet, and we went up. In the elevator he slipped a hand under my dress and pawed at my wet cunt; the bellboy saw everything and looked down with a smile. In the room he handed me a bag from an adult store: a costume, a blue dress with white ruffles, stockings, and shoes, all naughty little-girl style. I put it on in the bathroom.

When I came out, his face was pure lust. He pulled out his phone and started taking photos and videos of me. He made me squat, spread my legs, show him my thong pulled aside with two fingers. He dragged me to the edge of the bed, made me kneel, and shoved his cock in my mouth again, this time filming close-up how my cheek warped, how saliva fell in thick strands between his balls and my chin. Then he threw me onto my back, hiked up my stockings, spread my legs, and drove his tongue into my cunt over the thong, wet, biting over the fabric. He ripped the thong off me in one yank and licked me without stopping, sucking my lips, fucking me with his tongue, eating my clit until I dug my nails into his bald head and came screaming in his face.

I told him to put on the condom.

—Without. I’ll give you more.

I thought about it for a moment and agreed. He got on top of me, opened my legs back so far they nearly touched my ears with my knees, and pushed inside in one shot. I cried out: he was thick, and my cunt clenched hard around him. Despite his age, he was good, patient, and kept changing positions on me. He fucked me missionary, thrusting slowly, sucking my tits, biting my nipples. Then he put me on my side and took me from behind, lifting one leg, working my clit with two fingers while he whispered filthy things in my ear. He sat me on top of him, face-to-face, and made me ride him with my tits bouncing against his mouth; he squeezed my ass, spread my cheeks, stuck a wet finger in there while I went up and down on his cock. I came two more times, shaking, soaking him. When he was close I asked him not to finish inside me from the front.

—Of course not. Girls like you get it from behind.

He put me on all fours, pulled his cock out dripping with my juices, spit on my ass, and shoved it in from behind with nothing to lube it but my own saliva and what had dripped from my cunt. It burned, but he went slowly, sinking it in little by little until he was all the way in. Then he sped up, grabbed my shoulders, and fucked me hard, the bed banging against the wall, my tits slapping underneath me. He finished like that, hard, shouting, emptying everything inside. I felt hot spurts filling my ass, one after another. He stayed there a few seconds, inside, throbbing, until he slowly slipped out and the semen started running down my ass cheeks to my white stockings.

After that he asked for the costume back and paid me the extra. Before I left, he said something I wasn’t expecting.

—I’ll be back in a month and I want you to come to dinner with me. Can you?

—I’m married.

—I didn’t ask you that. I asked if you can. I’ll pay double.

—Yes —I said—. Yes, I can.

He gave me his number and I left, still with his semen slipping down the inside of my thigh.

***

Down below, a young man came up to me.

—New girl, we’re here for you. We’ve been following you. Get in that black pickup.

I hesitated, but Nora had told me that part was handled by them. I got in. Inside there were more men who didn’t answer my greeting. We’d barely left the hotel when a hand grabbed me by the neck from behind.

—All right, slut, don’t make a scene.

I tried to break free and gave up. I told them I was fine, that I just wanted to go back with Nora. They told me it was my initiation. They yanked my hair, tore the dress off my shoulders, and ripped my tits out, squeezing them with large callused hands. They forced my legs apart, pulled my thong aside, and I felt several fingers going into my cunt at once, digging into me, prying me open. I couldn’t see anything, pinned by the neck, my hands busy keeping them from squeezing too hard.

—Suck it, bitch —the one beside me said, and slammed his cock against my lips.

I opened my mouth and he shoved it down my throat, fucked me without letting me breathe, tears and drool running down my cheeks. Another one put his hand in from behind and started finger-fucking my ass. The one at my neck let go for a second to unzip himself, turned my face, and shoved the other cock into my mouth; they made me suck them in turn, one and then the other, smearing them all over my face, slapping me with them.

They put me face-down on the middle seat, ripped off my thong, and the first one mounted me from behind, driving into my cunt in one thrust all the way to the hilt. He fucked me hard, short strokes, his hand crushing my neck against the seat, while the other kept shoving his cock in my mouth. They swapped: the one inside came out, the one in my mouth mounted me, and so on, one after another, without pause, without giving me a break. They filled my cunt with semen, left it dripping onto the seat. One came on my tits, smeared them with the tip. Another finished in my mouth and made me swallow, gripping my jaw. Pinches, hard spanks leaving the marks of their hands, hands everywhere, fingers probing my ass, my cunt, my mouth all at once. I felt a body behind me and a burn: one of them shoved his cock in my ass, dripping with everybody else’s semen, no lube, and fucked me with short, cruel thrusts until he came inside with a roar.

When they were done, the one coming from the back pulled me toward him.

—Get on top.

He ripped what little was left of my dress off in one tug and looked at me like a madman. I straddled him, spread my cunt with two fingers, and guided his cock inside me, the thickest one of them all. I dropped down hard and screamed: he filled me completely. And, I don’t know how, in the middle of that chaos, with the others watching me, touching my tits from the seats, whispering filthy things to me, pleasure shot through me brutally. I started riding him frantically, up and down, squeezing his cock with my soaked cunt. I pinched my nipples, threw my hair back. I felt the orgasm rising from my feet, uncontrollable, and suddenly it burst out: I squirted all over him, a hot stream soaking his belly and thighs, my first squirt of the night. I screamed, trembled, kept riding desperately, my legs convulsing, until he grabbed my hips, slammed up into me, and came inside with three violent thrusts. He kissed me, and I didn’t kiss him back.

—I fucking love you. Now get out. And I hope to see you again.

***

I got out as best I could, almost naked, with the torn dress hanging from my neck, my mind blank, semen running down the insides of my thighs to my knees. I walked without really knowing where, aching, feeling the heat throbbing between my legs, my ass open, my nipples burning. Then I heard it again:

—New girl!

It was Nora. She looked at me and sighed.

—Oh, girl, look how they left you. But you enjoyed it, they told me.

—Yes. It was another one of my fantasies.

—Which one? Being taken by force? —I nodded—. But in the end you rode him.

—I couldn’t take it anymore.

She laughed.

—You were born for this. Did you run away from home to come here?

I told her yes, that my husband knew nothing. She went quiet, smiling.

—Are you going to keep going?

—No. I’m leaving. I have to get home.

She gave me my share of the money. I got my leggings and shirt back, put them on over my sticky body, and walked to the pickup swaying, wide open, exhausted, other people’s semen still dripping inside me.

***

In my building’s parking lot I got out barefoot. The security guard came up.

—Baby, you haven’t come to see me. You’re well served, aren’t you? I can smell it from here.

—Not today —I said—. Has my husband gotten here yet?

—Not yet.

He grabbed my ass as I passed, slid his hand between my cheeks over my leggings, felt how wet, how sticky I was, and smiled.

—You come back well fucked. Another day it’s my turn.

I just smiled and ran home to shower and put on my pajamas. Under the hot water I watched semen run down my legs into the drain, felt the bruises from fingers on my hips, the bites on my tits. I put two fingers in and cleaned myself out as best I could. Already in bed, exhausted, my husband came home.

—Why so late? —I asked.

—The closing, you know.

—I’m on my period. Today and tomorrow I won’t be able to.

—That’s fine —he said—. It’ll be the weekend.

I turned over in bed and closed my eyes, still feeling the echo of the night in every part of my body: the burn of my ass, the swollen flesh of my cunt, the bitter taste of semen at the back of my throat. Tomorrow I would be wife and mother again. But I already knew that once opened, that door was never going to close all the way again.