Seventh Installment

 

 

The irony of all of this is that this is same motel which I used to set up the last group sex session I made Annie do, and in a room identical to the one she met her "lovers" in, But this time she could not say: "You will never regret what you will do in this room."

 

My idea to see her fuck strangers was intriguing to me.  And that she was willing to do it heightened my excitement.

 

In part the idea of strangers appealed because I thought it gave me back my control.  It made her more subservient to me.  Doing it with my friends had become something that I could not control; and obviously she could and would do it anytime she wished.  My jealousy became a factor.  I had told her.  She was surprised and a little annoyed about those feelings, since it had all been my idea in the first place.

 

I think it worried her—doing it with strangers—and that she agreed to do it for strangers should have worried me too.  But I was too swept up in the fantasy.  In an odd way I wanted her humiliated by them.  I wanted her submissive to them.  In an odd way I wanted her to be ashamed and sexually coerced.  I think my jealousy actually made me angry with her and this was a punishment.  I am sorry to admit it.  I did not really want hurt to her.

 

For her part, as I know now, she agreed because she was ashamed of her secret fucking.  She thought she owed me this.  She thought she should do something for me, since she was "cheating" on me.  And too, it was like things we had done before.  Fantasy play-acting had been part of our sex games. We had play-acted rape and bondage games.  She had always enjoyed it a little rough.  This sex game was just one or two steps up the rung of the same ladder.  So maybe—or so I told myself—this idea was not too extreme, and besides I thought I had it all well planned out.  The men I had picked up were strangers to me too, and they were "traveling" men—out-of-towners, I believed—so they would not likely encounter her in her day-to-day or mine either, and so would not likely cause either of us any embarrassment ever.  The whole thing should remain anonymous.

 

As I said, the irony was that it would take place at the same motel where Annie met with George and his friend.  It was at that bar and super club where Annie had met George the first time that I met the men I picked up for my sex game.  I had chosen it intentionally. I knew the motel catered to "traveling" businessmen and I presumed such men were susceptible to my kind of overture.  The motel was notorious for "hook-ups."  The motel clerk would treat anything that happened as none of his business. 

 

The three that I met were older than the two of us.  They were sitting at the bar and talking about business and then talking about sex and some woman they were interested in.  I gathered it was someone's wife that they each knew and this seemed too good to be true.  I interrupted them saying I had an odd request and I didn't want them to be offended.  I didn't want to think I was some kind of pimp, but I had a proposition for them.  I said I had loaned some money to this wife of a friend of mine and she would not pay me back.  I was in a spot because I did not want to tell him about it.  I had got her to give me a blowjob, but this was a lot of money. I could not settle for that, even if she did me every week for a year.  So anyway here was the deal: if they would cover her debt, they could have her for a night and do whatever they wanted with her.  They did not believe me, I think.

 

They asked how much.  This was the tricky part.  It could not be too much or too little.  I was not sure what to say and finally I said: "Well, I'll tell you.  Anything I can get would be more than I can ever get.  You take a look at her and you decide what to pay." 

 

That was too generous. I knew it.  I could see the looks at their faces.  So I added: "But at least $100.  Is that fair?"

 

"Does she know?" one of them finally asked.  This one—his real name I did not know; his nickname was "Buzz"—he would be the one to take charge.  He had dominated the conversation I had overheard; it was he who claimed to put the make on his friend's wife.  Not the sort of person I would ever like. I am kind of a nerd.  He was bigger than me.  Looked like a former high school jock, who got a degree in business, and some sales job after college.  Nice hair.  Class ring.  Nice teeth.  You know the type. 

 

I said: "She has no choice.  I told her I would do it if she did not come up with the money.  Yesterday was my deadline.  She offered to blow me and I told her it was time to pay up.  Can you do her tomorrow night?"

 

He said: "No..."  He told me to take a walk and let him talk to his buddies.  I nodded and went to use the men's room.  When I got back everyone but him was gone.  I figured I had failed but he motioned the bartender and bought me a drink.  After we were served, stirring his highball with his finger, he said: "You going to be there?"

 

I said: "I promised her I would.  She is scared."

 

He nodded.  "Okay..." He downed his drink.  "We'll do it Saturday... but here is the deal.  We want to see her first. I mean, see her with her clothes off. Look her over. She how she acts. If she's gonna do what we want.   Then we will pay you what she's worth."

 

I shook my head.  "You can see her. Okay.  But I want some guarantee about this.   If you fuck her, it's $20 a fuck. If she sucks you off, it's $10 each. Is that agreed?"

 

He laughed: "You going to count?"

 

"Damn right," I said, and downed my drink. He looked at me and added: "You are cold, man." 

 

I said: "Money is money."

 

We shook hands. 

 

I told Annie that night.  I did not tell her everything.  I told her how we were pretending that she owed me money and that she should pretend that she was blackmailed and had reluctantly agreed to strip for some men at the motel and let them take pictures of her and so on, that she'd probably find they also wanted to have sex with her.  She looked worried.  I saw that and asked her what was wrong?  She said: "When is it?"  I told her Saturday night.  She said she had to work that night.  I said: "We'll pick you up from work. That's better anyway."  She said: "What are they like?"  I shrugged: "Just guys..."  "How old are they?" She wondered.  I told her they were maybe like ten or fifteen years older, maybe older, early forties maybe.  She bit her lip, thinking: "I don't know."  She worried out loud—but this was not what she was really worried about: "What if they know who I am?"

 

I said there was no chance of that.  What she really worried about was the fact of it being that particular motel: what if George and his friend saw her there?

 

We fucked in anticipation of the whole thing.  She never asked me how many men there would be.  I wished I had asked for more of them, sick bastard that I was.

 

I called the phone number that he had given me from a pay phone out of sheer paranoia.  I got his secretary and did not know what to say.  I left a message, saying that the meeting for Saturday would be late.  I would meet him as we planned but we could not start the meeting until our client arrived, or something like that; it was confused.  The point I made was that I would see him at the bar on time but we couldn't get going until after she was out of work.

 

It was an unbearable wait.  Several times my friends came over that week.  They wished I'd go to bed and leave her to them, but I did not oblige.  Annie actually went to bed first and they were obviously disappointed.   How they thought this was going to be a regular thing, I can't guess. 

 

After the whole thing went bad and Annie didn't want to do it anymore, Gary put Annie on a spot and she wanted me to put a stop to it, so I confronted Gary.  I had to tell him: I knew they had had an affair and he had to knock it off.  He really looked sick at heart. I don't think it was because I'd "found out," so much as because I was making her "stop seeing him."  He was good about it; he let it go.  He never did put another move on her, as far as I know.  Telling Gary to "stop it" got the word out to all the others.  We all stayed friends for a lot of years afterwards, although Steve stopped coming over.  Of course, I haven't seen any of them for years now. 

 

But at any rate in that week leading up to the Saturday I had no interest in a sideshow and neither did Annie.  We were both pretty nervous about it.  This was a fantasy game like we had never done before; this time others were involved and they thought it was real.

 

I guided her on how to dress before she went to work.  I wanted her to appear to be the reluctant housewife I'd portrayed and so she should not dress in a sexy way, but in a plain way.  She should not wear make-up.  She should not flirt with them, I told her.  She looked at me like I'd slapped her.  I had to apologize.  She said: "This is not something I asked to do...." She would not speak to me when I drove her to work.  She had the dinner shift that night.  Tips would be good, and she was not sure she could leave on time, if it was busy.  I told her we would be waiting outside for her.

 

I went to the bar and they were already there.  Buzz and his two "friends" and two others he had invited whom I did not know about.  I nodded to them as I was introduced.  They were all older than me, not as old as my Dad, but that generation in between.   They had done things like this before was my guess.  They had expectations.  They asked me questions about Annie and so I told them basically about us, as if her husband was someone just like me, while of course I was his friend.  They had a hard time understanding how I could do this to my friend.  Wasn't this worse—stripping his wife naked for men, renting her out to fuck and suck them off—wasn't that worse than just hitting him up for the money she owed?  I tried to tell them they just didn't understand, but to tell the truth this part of my story did not make much sense.  I made it seem that I was angry with her, that I had a grudge, and that I didn't mind if they degraded her.  It was just part of the play-acting, meant to make my story seem true, but it was a mistake.

 

When we drove over about ten to pick her up—we used his car and she did not recognize it, standing at the corner looking out for me—they stayed in the car and wanted to look her over before they got her.  They approved of her right away.  They liked that she was young.  They liked that she was pretty.  They liked her legs.   They said they wished she had bigger tits.  They wanted to know if she sucked cock.  I told: "If you want her to..."  They wondered if she'd ever been fucked in the ass.  I said I did not know.  In fact she never had.  I felt a pang at the thought of it.  I liked the idea, but I worried about her feelings.  I did not want her to be really hurt.

 

Buzz told me to get out and go get her.  She turned and saw me when I got out.  She looked surprised.  It was the look that I had hoped she would give.  If she had smiled, it would have been wrong.  She did not smile.  She looked anxious.  I think she was.  I told her that there were five of them.  She nodded.  She looked in the car and hesitated before Buzz said: "Get in, honey."

 

She sat with me and two others in the back seat.  Two had stayed back at the motel room.  Buzz drove with his friend beside him.  He looked at her in the rear view mirror. "What do we call her?"  I gave her real name before I could think about it.  First mistake.  Or second, or third perhaps.

 

Buzz said: "Hello, Annie.... You can call me Buzz...." And he introduced the others.  Then he said: "I hope you're not too tired...."  The men laughed. 

 

She said in a voice that was not timid: "I'm okay."  Buzz nodded with a smirk.  He winked at her in the rearview mirror.  She did not smile but she looked at him without anxiety.

 

Annie did not look at me the whole time.  It was like she was angry at me, which was good play-acting, but I was afraid she really was.  It was awkwardly silent for a mile or so.  No one made small talk with her.  They ignored her and then started talking about plans they had for the rest of the weekend. They all had wives and yard work and kids to deal with. My wife was just a night out. 

 

The one next to Buzz said he had to leave by midnight.  Buzz said: "Well, then you can go first...."  Then Buzz said: "You talk to Brian?"

 

"Yeah," his friend said.

 

"And?" Buzz asked.

 

"He'll be here after..." he replied.  Buzz nodded.

 

Pulling into the motel parking lot, he drove around behind it.  I could see Annie relieved by this.  No one would see her that way, she hoped. 

 

It was a warm night.  The two left behind had opened the curtain and the side windows, and had flung the door wide and stood outside of it drinking beers from bottles.  The car's headlight reflected on the picture window.  They grinned when Annie got out after me.  They approved too. 

 

Buzz turned off the car, the headlights.  He was the last in. No one spoke, waiting for him.  Annie looked around the familiar room: the two beds; the mirror-topped low dresser; the small round table with two chairs in front of the window under a hanging light.  The hanging light was lit.  In fact all the lights in the room were on: the lamp on the dresser next to the phone; the pair of overhead reading lights above on the night stand, pointing onto beds; the recessed light in alcove next to the hallway door and the bathroom and the clothes rack; even the bathroom light shining from its open door.

 

The men came into the room.  Sitting in the chairs. On the bed. Standing.  Buzz invited Annie to come stand in front of the beds. I stayed in the doorway.  I was going to close the door, but Buzz said: "Don't do that... it's too hot."

 

There were beer bottles sweating on top of a case of beer on the floor next to the dresser.  There was a bottle of cheap vodka on the dresser, not yet opened. A quart of Seven-up next to it.   Buzz asked Annie if she wanted a drink. She said nothing.  He made her a vodka and Seven-up anyway and handed it to her.

 

He smiled and asked her how old she was.  She told the truth.  He asked her how long she'd been married. She told the truth.  He asked her if she'd ever been with another man than her husband.  She lied.

 

I still stood in the doorway.

 

Buzz brought me a beer that I did not ask for and then drew his wallet out of his back pocket and said: "You said... $100?"

 

"No.. I said that..." but I could not put in words what I had said.  As it was, Annie gave me an angry look.

 

Then Buzz said: "No wait..." grinning, putting his bill back in his wallet, "We got to look first... then we decide what to pay...."

 

He turned and while Annie glared at me, he made himself a drink.  Then, looking at her, who turned now to him, unspeaking, expectant, Buzz said: "Drink it, honey."

 

She sipped.  He said: "Drink it up."  She gulped.  He insisted: "Drink it all."  She did.

 

"That's a good girl..." He took the plastic cup from her.  "You want another?" She shook her head.

 

He nodded.  "Okay...." He looked around the room.  "You guys... you guys..." He gestured some to move and then he pointed to where I stood and said to her: "Go stand over there next to him.  She was positioned then in front of me, next to the end of the dresser—I stood behind her, almost in the open door; the five men all sitting on the bed or chairs or standing looking at her from the front.  I moved a little more into the room, I could see Annie's reflection in the mirror, the side of her face.  She looked at Buzz.  I wanted to close the front door, but again Buzz shook his head at me.

 

Buzz picked up the plastic wastebasket and put it on the end of the dresser within Annie's reach and then looked her over slowly, grinning, and leaned against the dresser, folded his arms, and said: "Strip."

 

I could not see Annie's expression fully, although I could see her from the side in her reflection of the mirror.  Being behind her, my main line of the sight was the men watching her. She looked at her own hands as she began to unbutton her dress in front. She did not look up at their faces.  I did. I was fixed on their watchful expressions, their anticipation. And they were not looking at her face either.  Their eyes followed her hands and her fingers. Unbuttoning, removing the dress from her shoulders, letting it fall, stepping out of it, holding it.  Their eyes on what she revealed.

 

Buzz took the dress from her hands and gave it to a man on the bed who simply tossed it high over his back to a far corner of the room.  They laughed at this. 

 

Annie wore pantyhose to work, a white bra and white underpants.  She took off her low-heeled shoes, and stepped away from them.  She did not wait for instructions.  She did not hesitate.  She did not hurry.  She did not tease.  She undressed self-consciously and a little slowly, but she was not showing reluctance.  They should suppose that she was resigned to the circumstance, even if humiliated by it.

 

 

Figure 1 : I watched my wife submit shamelessly, as Buzz told her to strip for these men and then he tied her hands behind her with her own bra so that she was presented, facing them helpless and naked.  They took turns fondling her. She was obviously sexually aroused; I saw it; they saw it.

 

Buzz had her put the wad of her pantyhose into the wastebasket.  She removed her underpants next.  One smooth motion.  To her feet.  Stepped out of them.  All eyes on her hairy pussy.  She held them briefly, then put them in the wastebasket, as he directed.  Now she paused briefly, looked up finally into the faces of the men who studied her thighs, belly, pussy.  I saw her hands come to her back awkwardly, to pinch her bra and saw it pop open, and unhesistantly she slipped the straps from the shoulders, drawing the bra away to show her tits to them, and Buzz reached out for it and took it from her.  He held it, eyeing her cute tits, her puckering nipples.  All of them eyeing her tits and all the rest of her, now completely naked for them.

 

Buzz nodded and said to her: "Turn around."  Now she looked at me when she turned and she looked anxious and ashamed and it gave me a pang of sexual satisfaction, I cannot help it.  I wanted this.  I wanted her to feel this.  I don't know why. 

 

Buzz took one hand and then her other hand and held them together and she understood and did not speak; she looked at the floor and held her hands as he had put them while Buzz tied them at the wrist with her bra.  He turned her by the shoulders to face the men and moved her to stand in front of the dresser, turning them to face them. Then he returned to me, taking out his wallet.  He took out the bill he had offered to me before.  A hundred dollar bill.  He also gave me an additional twenty. "Okay?" he said.  I nodded.

 

While I was being paid, one of the men sidled across the edge of the bed to be closer, to be the front of her, and reached out to finger her cunt, slipping his crooked middle finger up into her, alternately looking where he felt and looking up to see the expression on her face. Meanwhile two others gathered to stand beside her and one felt one breast, toying with her nipple, and the other felt the nipple of her other breast, also examining their effort and her face for reaction. She turned her head away from me.  I could not see her expression.  They liked it, however, and made comments while they fondled her sexually.   The man with his finger up her cunt asked her is she liked to suck cock.  Annie did not reply.  He insisted.  She spoke so softly I could not hear, but the man said, grinning: "Too bad...."

 

They laughed.

 

Buzz stood with me and watched.  We all watched.  For that matter anyone outside could have watched.

 

The men traded places.  Each taking a turn with her cunt, her tits.  Sometimes two at her cunt.  Sometimes one or two behind her feeling her buttock, slipping fingers between the cheeks.   The same man who taunted her, the one who had to leave early, as I recall, then asked her, as he put a finger into her anus: "Ever been butt-fucked, honey?"  She shook her head.  "Too bad," he said again. And again they laughed. 

 

Buzz approached and the men parted for him and seeing this she turned her face toward him. She was flushed, her mouth parted, licked her lips.  She looked, as she was, deeply sexually aroused by this.  They saw it too.  This gave me such a twinge I instinctively felt my own hardened prick and squeezed it.  The other men as I saw also had erections. Some were now removing their pants.  Buzz sat on the end of bed in front of her, obliging another man to move, and lifted his beer bottle to drain it and drink the last of it and then held his arm out, the empty bottle upright and said: "Straddle this, Annie...." 

 

She waddled forward, her arms tied behind her; she was unsteady.  She spread her legs to stand over it, and he lifted it, pressing the nub of it up into her vagina and said: "Fuck the bottle, Annie." 

 

Her eyes jittered, expressing disbelief.  "Fuck it, Annie," Buzz repeated. 

 

He said smoothly, "I'll help, " and he started to slowly pump the neck of the beer bottle into her cunt, raising it gradually so that the whole neck of it was up inside her cunt, twisting the body of it against her clit, and wiggling it so it moved inside of her, and she made a modest tight-lipped whimper.  She continued now meeting and responding to his efforts, until he just held the bottle firmly while she tremulously began to buck against it, buckling her knees to press it deeply, and closed her eyes.  Buzz said: "Good girl." 

 

She continued now, willingly, wantonly, as he had instructed her. Flushed.  Ashamed? Or aroused? Certainly that.  He held the bottle stiffly and let her do all the fucking. 

 

"You like that?" he asked her.  Annie said nothing.  Her breathing was quickened and loud.  She breathed to her own fucking strokes.  

 

Annie often cums quickly when we start to have sex.  She almost always has two or three cums to my one.  So I was not surprised, but they were very gratified to see how she suddenly stiffened, her thighs taut, and made an urgent moan and shuddered with her eyes tightly closed, her face contorting in her pleasure. 

 

She opened her eyes as she gasped when her "little" orgasm subsided, and glanced sheepishly at the very pleased men and catching her breath she stepped away to dislodge herself from the bottle which Buzz still held, grinning at her, winking at me.

 

She said weakly: "I need to sit down." 

 

She did look faint.   Someone courteously brought her a chair and someone else held a glass of Seven-up for her to sip.  She thanked him.  Her knees were trembling.  She could not look them in the eyes.

 

"Good for you," said Buzz.  He looked at me and said: "She's a good one.... We got her cheap."  She looked at me hurtfully, but I thought to myself, just about ready to cum in my pants, she wants to do this.