I think I fussed over this dinner more than I haveA ever done for our Thanksgiving, Christmas or Easter dinners in years past. I had prepared a roast and potatoes as well as my mama’s coleslaw and my own creamed corn. For desert, I’d fixed a chocolate meringue pie – my specialty, always in high demand at Church suppers and the kids’ bake sales. Our dinner table was set with our best china and silverware – I even got out the good linen napkins that rarely saw the light of day outside of Christmas dinner.

I wasn’t wearing my Sunday best for the dinner, but rather a new dress I’d picked up the day before – a simple black dress, modest compared to many of my working outfits, with the hem a mere four inches above the knee and displaying only a little cleavage in its mild scoop neck, accented by the double strands of good, but fake pearls my mother had left to me. The fabric molded itself to my braless breasts, my nipples swollen and hard, making prominently displayed bumps. Beneath my dress, my lacy black panties were already soaked and I feared that at any moment I would feel the warm trickle of pussy juice running down my thigh.

Donnie lingered nearby, wandering into the dining room or the kitchen to give me looks of disgust and anger on occasion, the words “whore,” “slut,” or “cunt,” always on his lips and occasionally wafting to my ear in his venomous hisses. At least he’d put on dress shirt and his good slacks and looked presentable. I would smile back at him and tell him I loved him, occasionally glancing down to confirm the hint of an erection tenting his pants.

With the food prepared and looking absolutely delicious, the younger kids staying overnight with friends and my oldest daughter, Tara, about to leave to spend the night with her best friend and myself looking hopefully elegant and a little sexy, I glanced at the clock. It was just a few minutes shy of six o’clock in the evening and I let loose with a little sigh of relief.

As the old grandfather clock in the living room struck six, its chimes were countered by the ringing of the front door bell. He was here! I met Donnie in the hallway, his expression stormy and his fists balled in anger. “You fucking whore,” he growled. “I can’t believe you really did it. You invited that motherfucker to dinner in my house.”

I stood on tiptoe and bussed my husband on the cheek. “Our house, Donnie…that I’m paying for at the moment, thanks to him.” I walked on by him and then glanced over my shoulder, smiling happily as I said, “Well, c’mon. Let’s greet our guest.”

With Donnie slowly following me, I opened up the front door, my heart beating very quickly with excitement that I could feel all the way down to my loins which were pulsating with arousal. Our guest stood there and his appraising glance of me sent quivers of desire through me as I said happily, “Good evening, Mister Richards. Welcome to our home.”

#

“Mister Richards, would you like to come to dinner at our house Saturday night?”

I was standing at the door, about to leave the office of my bank manager, Mister Richards, feeling a bit nervous – almost like an awkward teenage girl asking a boy to go on a date. I was already feeling strange simply because during my entire visit, I had stayed dressed, sitting in a plush chair in front of his desk, chatting about my recent visit to Key West and my whorish triumph there.

I had arrived with the hope – no, hunger and need to suck the older man’s cock, something I had done twice a week for nearly a year without fail, but under doctor’s orders and the command of one of my more influential patrons, Gustav Stockman, I had been chaste for nearly three weeks – the recovery time deemed necessary after having sucked and fucked one hundred and eight loads from my winning a gang bang competition.

My employer had declined my offer to resume sucking his dick a few days early and had instead spent almost half an hour praising my sluttish ways, having revealed that he’d seen a recording of my gang bang victory. It didn’t upset me that copies of the DVD of my gang bang were being passed around – in fact, it made me even hornier. Finally, Mister Richards had dismissed me with a heavy sigh, a regretful glance at his pocket watch and then telling me, “I look forward to seeing you on Tuesday, my dear Sonya.”

I had gotten up and was at the door when I paused and turned back and worked up the nerve to invite him to dinner. Mister Richards looked at me for a long moment, studying me. “You mean, me coming to your house socially…outside of our business relationship?”

I nodded and said, “Absolutely. I would very much like to show my appreciation for all you’ve done for me and my family. I’m a good cook and…well, you already know where my other talents lie.”

What our business was and where my talents lay was that for the past year, I had served Mister Richards and a cabal of well off citizens of our town as a whore, offering sex in exchange for keeping our mortgage paid – the recession having cost me my job, and almost costing my family the roof over their head. My husband’s job had been cut back to almost half-time and we’d have never stayed afloat without my whoring paying for the mortgage and the substantial tips I got with nearly every job I was sent on.

Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, I received assignments and on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I would give Mister Richards a loving blowjob. Strangely, he had never attempted anything more…staying as it were within the agreement we had established for our “business” relationship. It had taken the insight of one of my favorite customer’s daughter, Jane Stockman, to make me understand that Mister Richards would never expand on our activities within the confines of our agreement. From that simple explanation, an idea had been born in my mind, one that had grown over the last couple of weeks, complete with all the ramifications it entailed. Indeed, it had been some of those ramifications that had spurred me all the more to ask Mister Richards to come to dinner.

Mister Richards studied me for a long minute, his intense gaze making me wet for him. I’m sure some people would find it amazing that I harbored such ardent desires for a man hovering around sixty years old, with a pot belly and greatly thinning hair, a seemingly ordinary man. But…there was something about him, something that spoke deeply to the sluttish side of me…a confidence and a power that had captivated me since the day he had proposed I become a whore and work for him and his cabal and had then proceeded to command me to strip naked and suck his cock. Since that first moment when he’d awakened that realization about myself, I had ached to be his…to do whatever he bid me do.

Mister Richards smiled and nodded. “I think I’d enjoy such an evening very much. What time should I arrive, Sonya?”

I licked my lips as every fiber of my being wanted to crow with joy that he’d said, “Yes,” and I replied, “Would six o’clock be good for you, sir?”

He nodded and said, “Wonderful, my dear.” I turned to go, but paused when he called out, “Sonya, will your husband be there?”

I looked back at him, willing myself to sound calm as I replied, “Would you like him to be there, Mister Richards?” and then silently prayed for the him to give me the answer I wanted.

I think my employer could read my desire on my face because he gave me a big grin and replied, “Absolutely, Sonya. I think that would be most appropriate for the occasion. See you, Saturday.”

I walked away, barely noticing his receptionist, Lily Fox smiling speculatively at me as I left, so desperate was I to get to my car and get my hands under my dress. In the bank parking lot, sitting in my car, I had my fingers plunging in and out of my pussy, sobbing with pleasure as I thought of what I had done!

My announcement to my husband that we would be hosting our bank manager to dinner triggered the loudest and angriest argument of our marriage – so ugly that Tara had without bidding, had shepherded the younger kids into her compact car and had taken them out for ice cream while her father blew his top.

“NO WAY, YOU FUCKING WHORE, IS THAT MAN COMING IN MY FUCKING HOUSE. I SUPPOSE YOU WANT TO FEED HIM AND FUCK HIM TOO! I’LL BURN THIS FUCKING PLACE DOWN FIRST!” he had screamed, his voice becoming shriller with each word.

I stepped up into Donnie’s face and said firmly back, screaming at the top of my voice, “IT’S OUR HOUSE, DONNIE AND IN CASE YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED, THE ONLY REASON WE’RE STILL HERE IS BECAUSE OF MY WHORING WAYS. WE OWE THAT MAN EVERYTHING AND HE’S COMING TO DINNER AND IF HE WANTS TO FUCK ME UP THE ASS ON TOP OF THE DINNER TABLE, YOU’LL LICK MY ASS SO HE CAN SLIDE HIS COCK RIGHT IN!”

The yelling went on for awhile, with the usual variations about me being a slut and whore and me reminding him of who was the real breadwinner now. The argument came to an abrupt end when I suddenly reached out and grabbed Donnie’s crotch, confirming my suspicions about him being erect.

“He’s coming to dinner, Donnie, that’s all there is to it.” I said in a calmer voice. I squeezed his cock through his slacks, “You can call me a whore and fuck slut all you want. We both know it’s the truth, but we also both know that deep down, you like me this way. The thought of having Mister Richards over to dinner and whatever else he wants, excites you. Hell, Donnie, you’re ready to cum in pants right now!”

My words burst the balloon that was Donnie’s righteous indignation and for a moment I thought he would cry as his face clouded over with shame, but I knew that once again, I’d hit the nail on the head. Whatever else my husband felt about my being a slut for hire, there was a part of him that was aroused by being cuckolded and now for the first time since this had all began, he faced the possibility of seeing it done first hand.

I stepped into my husband’s arms at that moment and kissed him, his lips reluctantly opening up to my probing tongue. I would have liked to have fucked him right on the spot…I was almost at three weeks without cock and so horny, but I knew that he wouldn’t…I’m not sure he could anymore without knowing that another man had first been with me sexually. When the kiss ended, I whispered, “I am a fucking whore, Donnie, but I am your fucking whore. I love you and I know you love me.” I finished the kiss and then turned to leave for the kitchen to inspect the contents of the refrigerator. I looked over my shoulder at my husband and grinned, “Why don’t you go jack off and think about what’s going to happen.” I didn’t look back again, knowing as I heard him tromping up the stairs that he was going to be doing exactly that.

The next day and a half, Donnie scarcely said a word to me other than to hiss his insults my way. I was busy cleaning house and prepping for dinner. I called my kids’ friends’ mothers to arrange for sleepovers, explaining that we were having company and asked Tara if she could make herself scarce as well that night.

My daughter was more than a little curious, asking a few probing questions. “Mister Richards from the bank is coming for dinner, Mom? Isn’t he the guy you’re working for now?”

I smiled and nodded, “You could say that, honey. He’s part of a group I guess you could say I work for.”

Tara gave me an odd look, one that was heavy with speculation and a little bit of amusement. “So…is this dinner part of your work for him?”

I started to open my mouth to say yes, but I knew that that wasn’t true. I laughed a little and then shook my head before replying, “No, not really. This is personal. I suppose this is my way of saying thank you to Mister Richards. He kept us from losing the house and I imagine, so much more.” In my mind, I was wondering if I should tell her that without my job, we’d likely be unable to afford sending her to college in the fall.

That had satisfied her curiosity and she’d been a great help to me getting things ready, assisting in the kitchen and ferrying my younger ones to their sleepovers, allowing me to focus on getting everything ready for the moment Mister Richards came into our home.

#

“Mister Richards, you remember my husband, Donnie?” I had my arm tucked around Mister Richards’ arm as I guided him into our home. Donnie stood in the doorway, his hands now stuffed into his pants pocket, glowering at us.

The bank manager smiled and extended his hand. “Why of course. It’s been too long, Mister Hammonds. I remember fondly our last meeting.” He glanced at me with a sly grin. “That was when your lovely wife first proved her worth, as I recall.”

Donnie stared at his extended hand and then with an expression of great distaste, reached out with his hand and limply shook the banker’s hand. “Sir,” he said meekly.

I guided our guest into the living room, him studying his surroundings. “Lovely house, my dear, simply lovely. I understand your desire to keep it and how it must fuel your…enthusiasm for your work.” He paused and picked up an antique candy dish I’d found in a yard sale. “Exquisite, Sonya. I always suspected you had marvelous taste.” He paused and chuckled, “Or is it I also suspected you tasted marvelous?”

I giggled like a teenager girl at his teasing comment while Donnie just frowned. I offered him a drink and he surprised me by asking for a beer when I thought he might request something a little more refined. I fetched him and my husband beers and returned to find Donnie sitting in his easy chair, face flushed bright red and Mister Richards on the sofa, going on about me and my talents. “…I never suspected how well suited Sonya was for her vocation. I mean, I saw in her the raw talent, but never suspected she would take to it so heartedly.” After I handed out the beers, Mister Richards patted the sofa cushion next to him and I didn’t hesitate to sit down, pressing my mostly bare leg against his pin stripped trousers.

My employer continued singing my praises without pause, Donnie’s eyes widening in shock as Mister Richards dropped his hand calmly and possessively on my bare leg above the knee, sliding his finger upwards to expose more of my thigh while he said, “I don’t think Sonya’s ever gone out on a….an assignment that within a few hours, I haven’t received a call raving about how wonderful she is. I’ve never seen the like before, everyone, men and women both, amazed at her skills and her enthusiasm.”

Mr. Richards leaned forward and said, “I tell you, Donnie, your wife was born to be a whore!” As he spoke, his hands slid up under the hem of my dress, fingers easily finding my mound and feeling the heat and wetness soaking through my silky panties. I gave a little gasp as the tips of his fingers trailed over my labia, the silk molded to my lips.

Donnie’s mouth gaped open and for a second I thought he might throw his beer can at Mister Richards, but then we all heard a door shut upstairs and then footsteps coming lightly and quickly down from above. We all quickly came to our feet, me a little unsteady in my high heels as we watched my daughter come downstairs. I had completely forgotten she was still here.

Tara looked lovely as only a nubile eighteen year old girl can. She was dressed for a night’s dancing in a short sheath dress, strapless, the bodice barely containing her young, pert breasts, while her legs were made even shapelier by her three inch stilettos. Tara had her sandy blonde hair braided into a French twist that hung over her shoulder, calling attention to the exposed portion of her breasts that barely jiggled as she came down the stairs, smiling at us.

A quick glance around had me smiling with naughty amusement as I couldn’t tell whether my husband or our guest was staring at my daughter with the most lust. Of course, I felt some strange yearnings myself…not for the first time either since I had discovered my own enjoyment of women and heard others fantasize about me and my daughter.

“And who do we have here?” Mister Richards exclaimed, stepping forward to meet her at the base of the stairs.

“Mister Richards, allow me to introduce you to our daughter, Tara.” I smiled at my daughter as I moved to stand beside him. “Honey, this is Mister Richards…from the bank.”

Tara smiled shyly and offering her hand replied, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Richards.”

Mister Richards grinned wolfishly and said, “The pleasure is surely mine, my dear,” as he gently shook her hand. “I now know that your mother comes by her beauty honestly as I see you take after her.” It suddenly occurred to me that he shook her hand with the same one that had just been fondling my wet mound. I tried to keep myself from shivering with delight at that nasty realization.

My daughter glowed at his oddly phrased compliment and said, “Thank you. Mom is lovely, isn’t she?”

We stepped back to let her enter the room, almost surrounding her as Donnie moved up as well, his face a mixture of lust for his daughter and alarm at Mister Richard’s attentions towards her. “Will you be joining us for dinner, Tara?”

I could feel the hunger in his voice and was suddenly struck by almost overwhelming desires of my own, suddenly envisioning my daughter stark naked and spread-eagled on our dinner table, me licking Mister Richard’s semen out of her young pussy. I was snapped out of my dizzying fantasy by Tara’s voice, laced with a hint of flirtatiousness, as she replied, “Not tonight, sir. I already had other plans.” Tara smiled as she continued, “I wish I could, Mister Richards. Maybe another time.”

Our guest glowed with delight as he said, “I look forward to that, dear. I very much look forward to that.”

He released Tara’s hand and she stepped forward and kissed her father on the cheek, not shying away from pressing her partly unclad body against his chest, her bosom pillowing out as she leaned into him. She smiled at me and I thought I caught a hint of a wink as she leaned into me, her hand squeezing my arm as she planted a chaste kiss on the corner of my mouth and said, “I hope you all have a wonderful evening.”

She started to move towards the kitchen, but paused as she stepped past Mister Richards. “It was very nice to finally meet you, sir,” she said softly…even meekly, although I thought I could detect that hint of flirtatiousness still in her voice. “I know how much you’ve done for us. Thank you, Mister Richards.” Then she leaned into him, her father noisily grunting as she kissed him on the cheek.”

In the stunned silence that followed, Tara eyed us all and said with a smile as she walked away, “I love you guys. Enjoy yourselves tonight.”

For a moment, no one spoke and then as we heard the kitchen door close, Mister Richards spun around and beamed at us. “My compliments on having such a lovely daughter. Such wonderful manners for one so young – you two must be very proud.”

Donnie just glowered although I could see an erection tenting in his pants. My own arousal was growing as well as I considered Tara’s almost brazen behavior. I had long thought she had a good grasp on what I did for a living, but while I believed she understood, I wasn’t sure of whether she might actually approve. Now I had to wonder while the naughtiest thoughts flashed through my mind.