("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: greed.txt (M+F, FF, intr, wife) Authors name: Nuj Baf (nujbaf@yahoo.com) Story title : Jesse's Greed -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 2003. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Jesse's Greed (M+F, FF, intr, wife) by Nuj Baf (nujbaf@yahoo.com) *** WARNING: This story is fiction, and should be treated as such. The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, DO NOT read any further. If it is illegal in your geographical location, DO NOT read it. *** Today I am a single mom staying in a dirty one-bedroom apartment in an impoverished drug infested neighborhood. Everyday I worry about my seven-year-old daughter growing up in this environment. I am also a recovering alcoholic. I am not a whore or at least I don't consider myself one but to supplement my income, I allowed a sleazy crude married taxi driver to come over Thursdays during his night shift to take my body for his sexual gratification. He hands me $250 every month, which covers most of my rent. "My wife is so fat and ugly, I can't look at her anymore," Amit would say usually after my clothes were removed and he would want me to prance around naked. Being from India just like Amit, I felt particularly humiliated being in this predicament. The shame that an Indian woman from a good background would feel is immeasurable. It is funny that I still felt this shame even after what I had been through. The way his paws were all over my breasts and my slim body made me cringe inside. Then when he entered me, I lost my self-respect. At the end I become depressed knowing that my body did get aroused and that I felt that wonderful feeling deep within my legs. Rent was due by the third of the month and there were no exceptions. For the last eight months I managed until yesterday. Amit said he wouldn't have my money till next week. Hermina, my only friend, who was always ready to loan me in emergencies went to San Diego for the week and my checking account balance was critically low. So for the third time in the last two years, I had to perform a most deplorable act to get myself a reprieve of three days. George, the disgusting Armenian landlord, was gleaming through his yellow crooked teeth. "Geeta, you don't know how much I dream about this," he said. "Is it necessary for me to remove all my clothes?" I asked knowing that it wouldn't change anything. Nonetheless my clothes were shed so that he could totally humiliate me as I sucked his cock. I was on my knees in my bedroom while his pants were crumpled at his ankles as he sat on my bed. So for being late on my rent, I took his erection into my mouth. I was good with my mouth and knew well how to use my fingers, so that it wasn't long before George came. I swallowed it all. Lastly he would watch me put back my clothes with a sad look not knowing when his next opportunity would happen. It was only seven years ago that I first came to Los Angeles from India with my husband and my infant daughter. We came with full of hope and ambition to start a new life. Jesse was in computers and had a good job immediately and I studied to be a lab technician. Within a few months upon our arrival, Jesse discovered the all American scheme of being successful. "All I have to do is find a way to be on top of a pyramid scheme," he said. "But you always have to start at the bottom," I retorted. "Not necessarily," he replied. I was happy the way things were. Everything was going well and we were well ahead of schedule to get into our first home. But Jesse dreamt of making easy money without working for it. "Do you remember Patrick?" my husband asked me. "No," I replied. I had my daughter on my lap hungrily sucking on a bottle of milk. "Anyway, he is the guy who is the number two man at Goldmax. The guy gets a check of a hundred thousand dollars every month for practically doing nothing. I have been pushing him for a month with my proposition and he called me yesterday," Jesse said. "And what was your proposition?" I asked. "You see he has ten guys under him and each of those ten guys have another ten guys under them and so forth. The thing goes down more than fifty levels and a percentage of sales gets filtered up all the way," Jesse said. "Anyway, one of the ten guys under Patrick died a few months ago and the guy didn't have any family so the spot was left vacant." My husband walked back and forth as he continued explaining. "Patrick was offering a hundred fifty thousand dollars for that spot but I proposed that I would give him half of all my take forever instead of giving the seed money." "Forever sounds dangerous," I said. "Considering that getting half the take, he would cover his hundred fifty thousand in six months, but yet he wouldn't accept my proposition," Jesse said. "So I asked him what more would he like?" "What did he say?" I asked. "I'm not sure exactly but it has something to do with you," my husband said. "With me?" I asked. "He told me that he had met you at Gary's house for the Goldmax meeting," Jesse said. "That was a month ago," I said. "Yes. He has invited you and me to his house tonight at 7:30. He wants to see if we can finalize the arrangement." "I don't like the sound of this," I said. "Let's see at least. We have the final word anyway," my husband said. I was certain that my husband knew what Patrick wanted but he never admitted it even up till the day he died three years ago in a car accident. I kept pestering Jesse as we drove to Patrick's palatial residence that evening in our dirty red Nissan Stanza. "What do I have to do with your arrangement?" I asked but my husband's responses were suspiciously vague. Being greeted by your host at the grand French doors wearing silk pajamas made me feel awkward. I definitely was not familiar with such casualness. "Welcome, Jesse and Geeta," proclaimed Patrick as he showed us inside knowing our mouths would drop as we saw the exquisite grandeur of his living arrangement. Jesse, being twenty-five, looked like a kid next to the older more sophisticated Patrick. I was surprised to see two other couples seated in the room. Introductions were made and we shook hands with Danny, Laura, Michael and Pam. Jesse and I immediately noticed that both the wives were dresses like sluts. Pam had on a black spandex mini dress that just stopped at the bottom of her ass. She didn't need any nylons as she had smooth milky white thighs. She wore knee length black vinyl boots with very high heels. Laura had on a tight brown top that accentuated her breasts with an off-white velour mini- skirt and black fishnet stockings. Strangely, I felt out of place wearing a conservative pinstripe pantsuit. "I have asked Danny, Michael, Laura and Pam to join us tonight," Patrick said. He stood facing us, the outline of his dangling member somewhat visible beneath the soft fabric of his pajamas. "They are the recipients of unimaginable wealth by joining me in a win-win proposition. We are here to find out if you are brave enough to accept wealth." We were seated in what seemed like a sunken room with tasteful modern furniture and paintings that I knew were the real thing. The comfortable seat made me feel at ease. At that time, the most beautiful woman that I had ever laid my eyes on walked in. She wore a typical maid's uniform. I noticed that my husband was as entranced as I was. She served us our drinks oblivious of her enchanting beauty. She was a well-endowed young Hispanic girl with light amber eyes. "You might find that funny, but most people are cowards when it comes to making money," Patrick continued. The outline of his dangling penis was still a couple feet from my face. "We are here to take the challenge," Jesse said. He sounded too excited. I wished he would contain himself more. "Exactly that is what we need," Patrick said. He now sat down facing all three couples. "I believe in sharing. In sharing, we work for one goal and we all win. That is why I asked Jesse and Geeta to come here tonight. Jesse had given a very nice proposition to me and it is based on the principal of sharing. Let us all go into the our pleasure room and see how Pam and Laura will share." I immediately knew where this was going. "I think we have a problem here," I said. "And what problem is that?" Patrick asked. "I'm sure we can work out any problem we have," Jesse said. I gave my husband an exasperated look. "Well, I certainly hope so," Patrick said. He walked ahead while Pam and Laura, clearly excited, followed right behind him. I was the last person to enter the pleasure room. The pleasure room looked like a studio. There were different contraptions all placed randomly on top of a wooden stage. There were stage lights, a glass incased control room, and chairs for an audience. I knew what these contraptions were for and I nudged my husband to leave this house right now. Jesse stubbornly ignored me. I would have left myself but I was afraid to leave my husband alone in such a scenario. Something wicked was about to happen. Danny and Michael, the husbands, sat down on opposite ends of the stage. There were leather straps on the arms of the chairs as well as on the bottom at the legs. The wives respectively tied their husbands to the chairs. I could see that the husbands could not get out. They were trying to free themselves for Jesse and my benefit. "Look at this check," Patrick said as he handed me something. I glanced at it. It was written to my husband's name for $48,528.07. "That check can be yours. It is last two month's earnings." My husband snatched the check from me and said, "Wow!" "All we need is your participation, Geeta," Patrick said. He glanced at the two wives waiting for his instructions. "I will not do anything that involves pain," I said. I could see that Jesse was now on the verge of jumping for joy. "I promise you that there is no pain only pleasure. Everything will be outlined in the agreement," Patrick said. "Do I have to do whatever you say?" I asked. "Yes," Patrick replied. "Will that include orgies and gangbangs?" I asked. Jesse listened attentively. "I certainly hope so," Patrick replied. "Jesse, are you sure for this kind of money, you are willing to sell off your wife to this man? Are you ready to throw away a happy family life and a good normal life for our daughter?" I asked. I could see that the two wives were impatiently waiting to shed their clothes. Patrick was intently waiting for my husband's answer. "Geeta, it is not as terrible as you make it sound," Jesse said. His mind seemed warped with greed. "So you do not mind that I become a slut. To be used by Patrick and probably all kinds of different men. I would probably be handed over to several men as sexual favors. If you can live with that, I will accept the proposition," I said. My heart was pounding hoping that Jesse would do the right thing. I knew I had to put him in a corner. I had to get this preposterous idea out of his head. "I can accept it because I know it will be for the better," Jesse responded. I did not show how devastated I was at that time. I stood stoically and said, "You have made your decision. Now take the money and run." Patrick's face lit up. In less than a minute, Jesse and I glanced at the fifteen-page contract and signed away our lives. Jesse pocketed the check and asked sheepishly as to where should he be seated. "You're going home," Patrick told him. "Geeta would be dropped home in the morning." My husband didn't argue but I could see that he didn't expect to be left out. I knew it would make the night much easier for me without Jesse and I felt relieved to see the Nissan Stanza leave the driveway. I braced myself for a long night of senseless fucking. I was not looking forward to this. I had grown up in a very protected and conservative family in India. I went to an all-girls catholic school where boys were forbidden to even enter. Then when I turned twenty, my parents arranged my marriage. Sex was a wife's duty. I never enjoyed it and I never learned to enjoy it. The moment was awkward. I didn't know what to do next. I had not been naked in front of anyone else besides my husband. Patrick went inside the pleasure room and I was waiting in a cozy dimly lit room with a grand view of the city lights. "They've left," Patrick's voice startled me from behind. "Who?" I asked. "The two couple, Danny, Michael, Laura and Pam. Laura and Pam were pretty disappointed though. They really enjoy the pleasure room," Patrick said. "So what happens next," I asked Patrick as I stood watching the city lights twinkling in the dark moonless night. The glass pane that stretched from the floor to the ceiling was cold to the touch. "The most sensual part of a woman is her neck," Patrick said. I felt his lips gently kissing my neck. The kisses were tender and unhurried. This was a new experience to me. Jesse never kissed me like this. There was no hurry in what Patrick was doing. He wasn't grabbing me all over. "Sit down. I'm going to have Annabelle give you a foot massage," Patrick said. I took a seat on the soft leather chair and placed my feet on the matching ottoman. I felt calm in the semi- darkness and let my mind drift with the soft mellow music streaming in from I don't know where. Someone was removing my shoe. I looked to see an outline of a woman's head. I knew it was the beauty that had served me the drink. "Would you stand up," she said in a sweet unaccented voice. I got up on my feet. She had her hands on my waist and found the zipper on my pants. Gently she brought the zipper down and removed my pants. I sat down again in my conservative white cotton panties. Annabelle folded my pants carefully and put it aside. "This will be a little warm," Annabelle warned as she placed layers upon layer of heated moist towels over my bare feet up to my knees. I wondered where Patrick went. And when he would be back and what will happen. I wondered how it would feel to have Patrick in me. Would his cock be bigger than my husband's? Would he be on top of me and be looking at my face as he does it? "You have very nice skin," the angelic beauty said. I could now see in the dark. I looked at her pretty features and said, "Thank you." Back home in India I knew a few girls that slept around. Besides disapproving their behavior, I couldn't understand their indulgence in such activities. I consoled myself that I am going to allow my body to be used by other men only for my husband's sake. What I will be doing is different. I am not doing it for my personal gratification. I knew I would not enjoy fornicating either. It was a shameful act that circumstances had made me do. "Try to relax," Annabelle said. She began removing the warm towels. Her touch was soothing even as she pressed her thumbs into my calf. I guessed that human touch in itself was a relaxing experience. "I don't enjoy sex, you know," I blurted out. Annabelle didn't respond. She just was doing magic with her fingers. It felt so good. I kept glancing towards her fascinated by her beauty. I had never felt so wonderful and loved her touch. Her fingers were giving attention to each little toe. "Have you ever experienced sex? Being fucked is not having sex," Annabelle said. She stood up and I noticed that she was wearing a black satin slip dress that stopped just to cover her genitals. Her light fair skin contrasted well with the dark draping fabric. She had flawless legs that were long and shapely. "Most of the time it is painful. I can't imagine it to be enjoyable. I can't understand why some girls are just crazy about sex," I said. "Stand up. Let me rub your shoulders," she said. Annabelle was taller than me. She removed my top and told me to turn around. Then she unhooked my bra. It felt awkward standing with just my panties on. "This will make you feel good," she said as her fingers poked into my shoulders. It was an instant release of tension. I felt weak all over. "Do you have sex with Patrick," I asked. "Yes," she replied. Her hands slipped inside my arms and grabbed both my breasts. I was surprised from my body's urges at that moment. I had never felt a sexual urge before in my life and I surrendered to her fondling. "Annabelle, what are you doing to me," I moaned. I was feeling a tingling between my legs I never felt before. "Something you always needed," Patrick said. I tensed like a little girl caught doing something bad. I turned away from them hiding my breasts. Annabelle came towards me. She took off her slip dress and she had nothing on underneath. I marveled at how comfortable she was with her body. I marveled at how soft and unblemished her skin was. She had the most perfect breasts, not too big and sculptured magnificently. Then she hugged me and we stayed embraced for a while as Patrick took a seat and watched on. Part of me knew that what was going to take place tonight and for a good time in the future was wrong. I was a married woman with a very conservative background. Husbands that I knew would go to the ends of the world to uphold the dignity of their women. It was my luck to have Jesse who sold his wife for a bag of gold. The long journey of allowing my body to be used by others began at this moment. Annabelle tugged down my panties exposing my tight young buttocks and hairy bush for Patrick to see in the thankfully dim light. I wasn't used to be unclothed in front of others and I looked downwards as Patrick studied my olive skin. Annabelle held my hand to a spot under the light so that Patrick could get a better look at me. I cringed as his hand touched my breast. I still couldn't believe that another man was touching me in this fashion. Annabelle turned me around so that his hands could feel my back. He squeezed my cheeks with both hands and I let out a moan to my dismay. It was surreal. The two of us walked naked with Patrick following us. We headed to the bedroom. Annabelle held my hand as we both got ourselves positioned on the bed. "Now who wants me," Patrick said. Annabelle responded, "I am always yours and willing." I had no idea what made me say this. "I'm new, fresh and exciting." I pressed my breasts together and spread open my legs as wide as I could. "Now that is a hard decision. I'll take both of you," he said while crawling between the two of us. At that moment I wondered if I could still run away and tear up that contract. Patrick embraced me tightly and Annabelle removed his silk pajamas freeing his pale white tool. I felt it touching my thighs. My hands instinctively went down and grabbed its majestic size. It definitely was larger than my husbands. Maybe because I wasn't ready to have Patrick's tongue plunge into my mouth, I sneaked down to have my first look at another man's dick. Like a trophy, I held it carefully and admired its touch. Patrick was fully shaved there and his organ looked handsome and elegant. Without trepidation, I licked its underside slowly at first and then with some renewed feeling of purpose, I sucked on it vigorously. I must admit that I started to get excited despite of my strong moral beliefs. "That feels good, Geeta," Patrick moaned. I was glad that my master was pleased. Now I was ready to meet his lip with mine, to have our tongues dance with each other. At this point, I wanted nothing more than his strong member plunged deep into me. I crawled back up. Like a conqueror plundering his fallen enemy, Patrick gazed into my eyes before our passionate kiss. Then he slipped his cock into me, a victorious smile enveloping his face. It was at that point I considered myself a slut, especially since I eagerly met each of his manly thrusts with my own. "Fuck me hard," I moaned. That first night with Patrick and Annabelle, I was treated very special. It made my foray to be a man's toy much easier than I had expected. Besides tender moments with Annabelle, Patrick took me another two times that night. As promised, in the morning I was dropped off to Jesse and my apartment. We moved from our tiny apartment into a million dollar estate home. Our friends were very envious of Jesse. Half the time I wasn't around anyway. I was entertaining Patrick or whomever he wished me to entertain. It was funny that Jesse was oblivious to the fact that everyone we were acquainted with despised us for our wealth. Jesse would throw lavish parties at our new grand home for our Indian acquaintances. I would wear the most expensive and latest designed salwar kameez, our ethnic garb. Then Patrick's call would come. He would instruct me to wear a black leather outfit that would barely cover my modesty and to be ready in ten-minutes as a limo would pick me up. I excused myself from my guests, citing some emergency, changing and rushing out in my new outfit covered by a long overcoat. I would never know whom I would find inside the limousine. This time it was a large black man from Kenya. The driver took us to a bondage club as the big man with bright white teeth had me sit on his lap wearing just my skimpy outfit. He slipped his hand under the triangular leather patch that covered my pussy with one finger buried inside my moist cunt for the duration of the ride. "Ah, an Indian girl, how nice," Mr. Obowe kept saying in his heavy accent. It was a very exclusive fetish club done in an elegant manner. With my outfit, I was the center of attention. Even a has-been celebrity took interest in me as Mr. Obowe proudly strutted me around the premises. In one of the open rooms where others can participate, the Kenyan had me tied in chains. My buttocks were now presented for anyone to slap or whip at. And so I felt on my naked buttocks, the slaps and whippings from strangers. All I did was ask for more. When I was released, the Kenyan took me to a private room. I was stripped of whatever scanty clothes I had on. My wrists were handcuffed behind my back and I was placed on my knees. His thick glistening cock was pushed into my face. A whiff of its sickening odor seeped into my nostrils as I eagerly open my mouth for its expected entrance. As the large tool stretched my smaller mouth, I immediately gagged. His tool tasted cheesy but I accommodated its presence as best as I could. My mind was thinking about Jesse sitting comfortably in our living room sipping on Merlot as the big African man kept using my face for his pleasures. My hands were now tied by a rope and pulled upwards. My legs were spread and my ankles chained. I was blindfolded and a large ball-like object was strapped into my mouth. I don't know what was happening but I could hear the shuffling of feet and the door to the private room opening and closing. Something pinched my nipple and I immediately contorted from the sharp pain. I couldn't scream and tears flowed down my cheek. My bladder also emptied itself as the warm liquid crawled down my naked thighs. Then my other nipple met the same fate. This time my body was more ready but the pain was still excruciating. "Aren't you glad that I brought you here," Mr. Obowe said to me. Knowing that compliance is vital to my state of affairs, I nodded in agreement. "How are you my darling?" my master's voice streamed into my ears. I tried to show that I was fine. Tears ran down my cheeks in hearing Patrick's voice. Mr. Obowe said to Patrick, "She is certainly a fine gift. I will enjoy her most definitely." With that I felt the first smacking on my thighs. It seemed there were many who used the whip on me that evening. I could sense five or six different people. Some teased me by gently stroking my breasts and pussy with the leather strips, before slapping them over my body. Others went straight to the whipping. The fetish was turning me on even though I still tried not to admit that to myself. When I was finally released and everything taken off my sore body, I collapsed on the floor. Twenty minutes later after infusion of liquids, I was back on my feet though barely. Mr. Obowe was a very sexually charged man. He had arranged exchanges with other couples on the premises. Four men, total strangers, were ready to use my body as their semen receptacle. In exchange, the Kenyan was to enjoy their respective girlfriend/wives simultaneously. I guess Mr. Obowe was into quantity rather than quality. The four women unclothed that circled the large black man were much older. However their pale complexion contrasting with his dark black skin made an interesting sight. To tell the truth, I was too exhausted to give these men much attention. I lay on one of the numerous mattresses strewn on the floor. "Guys, I'm really tired tonight. Just take my body but I really can't do much else for you," I told the four white men quite plainly. Luckily they seemed sympathetic and took turns plunging themselves into my younger tighter exquisite body. I felt like a jaded whore taking on the cavalry. The men took their turns, lust in their eyes. I couldn't imagine the turn of events in my life. I am right now lying who knows where on a vinyl like covered mattress, my body unclothed and my lower appendages spread open for strangers to insert their weenies into my little private hole. These moments of realization would hit me on every episode I had on my journey as Patrick's sex slave. Many times the shame of it all would overwhelm me. Mr. Obowe seemed satisfied as we finally made it to his hotel room in the early morning hours. I crashed on the comfortable bed and slept for hours. Mr. Obowe was soon up and he went for a round of golf with Patrick. I waited in the hotel till nightfall. I had my meals brought up, checked on my husband and daughter, took a luxuriously long bath and watched TV. This night was comparatively much quieter. I had dinner with Mr. Obowe and Patrick in a topnotch restaurant. Patrick brought me a short black dress to wear sans underwear. I have been in situations like this before. I knew all the men were looking wondering what an exotic beauty was doing with these men. Back at the hotel, Mr. Obowe utilized my body for the night. Doing one person at a time was considered easy work. I had many such nights with many different men that they seemed to become a blur. Episodes that were always vivid in my memory were those that involved more than just a simple fuck with a stranger. Those elaborate situations that took place were imbedded in my memory like a tape on a loop playing the same scene over and over. Believe it or not, even a full year after signing that contract I was still ashamed at exposing myself to men. I would become depressed at my degradation. Since alcohol in all forms was always available, I started consuming more and more of it. Soon enough, a glass with a stiff drink seemed always to be attached to my palms. One sunny Sunday afternoon, Patrick had an extensive gathering for a delegation of Saudis at his home. There were about twenty-five men that came visiting from the Kingdom. "Jesse, please spend some time with Nisha," I shouted to my husband as Patrick's limousine waited in front of our home. I wore a pale floral chiffon dress that left my breasts and my black thong clearly visible. I was led to Patrick's extensive ten-acre backyard lot. There I met Pam, Laura and six others of Patrick's contractual sluts lounging underneath the canopy. I got my gin and tonic and relaxed next to my fellow sexually willing wives. "Geeta, that dress looks nice on you," remarked Kimberly, a stunning blue-eyed blond that has been in our circle for six months now. "Thank you," I said gulping down the smooth chilled drink. I quietly listened in on the girls chatting about their worst and best experiences. Six sweaty shabbily dressed Hispanic men were setting up a circular fence in the middle of the yard. The girls and myself noticed that they spent half the time ogling the sight of us nine beauties dressed very provocatively. I was sure they could have finished the work in half the time. We tried our best to ignore them and their incessant whistling and cat calls. Things became harder for the workers as a dozen local escorts also joined us. They sat away from us wives and taunted the horny men by blowing them kisses. After a light refreshing lunch courtesy of Patrick, the always ravishing Annabella made an appearance giving us each a large elastic band with a round label each having a different number written on them. Mine was three. "Place these on your thighs about this high and your number should be clearly visible," she said. Annabella gave the same instructions to the high-class prostitutes. Then all of us about twenty-five women moved indoors for the final preparation. Our clothes were shed and our high heels were fitted. Everyone was helping one another on the makeup and on the trimming of unwanted hair. Some had no hair on their pussies, some just a little strip and a few like me had a nice little trimmed triangle of hair. We waited until the middle-eastern men arrived. When we could hear the cacophony of sounds streaming in from the backyard, I felt trepidation, as one can never predict how the day will go. A little shame and shyness mixed in as well. It was part of the job I guess. When we were all ready, Laura said, "Let's go, let's party." Each of us with our number tags strapped high up on our thighs, high heels and nothing else filed out of the mansion and into the backyard. We were greeted enthusiastically by our guests as we all made our way into the fenced in corral. The lustful glances of the hired male servers unnerved me as we all danced inside the fence to the upbeat music. I knew many eyes were on me, the only darker olive skinned female, keeping up with the dance moves. It felt unusual to dance with just your high heels but after a little while I thought nothing more about it and tried to enjoy myself taunting the men. The afternoon sun glared over our sun block protected bodies. Two call girls and Tiffany all told me, "the men are looking at you." When we were finally released, I was exhausted dancing non-stop for three hours. There was quite a stir among the Arab men arguing among themselves deciding who got whom for the night. We sat naked on the lounge chairs glad to be off our feet as men kept blabbering in Arabic as they gestured animatedly in our direction. One by one we were getting chosen. I was picked out pretty soon and got clothed. Once everyone had been paired up, we were shuttled off in groups to the hotel. I found out that this entourage took a whole floor. Our entrance into the hotel lobby was dramatic. The sight of about a couple women dressed in apparent whore-like fashion each one attaching herself to a middle-eastern man was not something one would see everyday. Once I was alone with my man in the room, I practically pounced on him. I started kissing him feeling his rod inside his pants. I had learned that being the aggressor was the best way a whore could take control of the situation. In this case it paid off. The guy really thought I wanted him. I got his pants down and hungrily sucked on his sizeable dick. I fondled his balls and soon he arched and shot globs and globs of cum into my mouth. I swallowed most of it, spilling some. Now the rest of the evening would be a lot calmer or so I thought. "Hamid, I am going to take a shower," I said. As the hot water hit my body, my tired body began to feel some relief. Soon after I wrapped myself in a terry robe, got inside the bed and switched on the TV. Hamid took a shower next and I was just glad to have a little time to myself. "I'm tired, too," Hamid said as he toweled off his wet hair. It was the best three words I heard all day. I glanced at his flaccid penis and opened the covers of the bed to invite him in and to snuggle next to me. After two hours of TV, my hands found his limp dick and I gave it a squeeze hoping for a reaction. I felt enough of a surge that I snuggled myself to his hairy chest. I cupped his sizeable balls and tickled his bunghole as we continued watching TV. It was past midnight and the rest of the entourage and my fellow whores were still making a ruckus down the hallway. I sensed exchanges going on and some group action. I felt like a one-man woman today and wanted to have intimate sex with Hamid. His manhood was alive now and I snuck down to tongue it a little. It wasn't long before he pulled me up, turned me around and let his member spread open my labia for the forceful insertion. His dick filled me up well and that always made me enjoy the sex. I moved to his rhythm and our bodies went at it. He expertly played with my nipples, his forefinger and thumb twisting them incessantly. I gasped as my insides started to get that sensation. I mumbled to him to fuck me harder. He went like a jackhammer and I twisted my torso in the ultimate moment. And like a good script, moments later he filled his goo into my womb. We lay there for a while, silently listening to the shrills and laughter continuing outside our door in the long hallway. A loud knock. "Hamid, Hamid," his compatriots called for him. Hamid reluctantly got up from his deep after-sex sleep. He put on a robe and opened the door. Four of his friends immediately walked in and seemed to be chastising him for not joining in the revelry. The men were in their shorts each with a naked whore to their side giggling. I tried to feign sleep but one of the men pulled off the blanket exposing my naked body. Before I could even cover myself, one of the men jumped on me and expertly got his thing into my sticky vagina. There was no fun in this and I had it happen quite a few times. Another gangbang for me. So as always I just lied there and let them take their turns. Each of them felt satisfaction in taking me. The look in their eyes as they know that I had become another notch in their conquest of women haunted me. This time an exotic Indian women much like their Arab women. When I got home finally to my husband and daughter, I was so exhausted that I slept for twenty-four hours. I took a long hot bath to hopefully dim the memories of the last few days. I closed my eyes as I lay in the warm bath. Lately whenever I did that, the faces of the men that have used my bodies come at me like a slideshow, their expressions frozen at the time of climaxing. Like a whore I was losing my self-respect. Alcohol was my friend. It kept me away from my feelings. Jesse who was nothing in stature compared to Patrick, made himself pretty obnoxious lately. Clearly Patrick was getting tired of my husband. For two years now I have service men for Patrick, dutifully sucked their cocks and opened my legs for them. I sensed more and more that I was called on for the insignificant clients doing what I called clean up jobs. In the beginning I was flown in jets and driven in limousines. I met important people. Now I was an after thought, sent to cheap motels to suck and fuck the underlings. I looked worn out with the alcohol and all. Strangely after two years of being a whore, I became more depressed and humiliated offering my body to men. I thought I would get used to it. When Patrick clearly disclosed that he really did not need my services any more, I didn't feel any jubilation either. Jesse knowing that as long as my services were required, the money would keep flowing in pestered Patrick to keep using me. Patrick was running out of options and ideas. He sent me for a while to be an all purpose maid and whore for his customer's college bound son. I was made to stay naked all the time in his small apartment and to entertain his friends. It was no longer a win-win situation for Patrick. In an unusual move, Patrick sent me out to Jamaica. He got me new clothes and fixed me up somewhat. I was with two other girls entertaining an important client. Half way through my stint, Patrick called me. "I have some terrible news," he told me. Patrick hardly ever called me, so I knew this was not good news. My heart sank down to my stomach. "What is it," I said. "It's Jesse. He has been in a terrible car accident. Geeta, I'm very sorry but he is dead," Patrick said. The events that occurred after that were a total blur. Like a zombie, I flew back to Long Beach Airport. A few family members out of pity met me at the airport. Friends, I didn't have. Jesse had a traditional funeral with our local priest. People knew what we did and the general consensus was that whatever happened was deserved. Patrick helped financially as Jesse had over extended himself. There was hardly twenty thousand dollars left over for me and soon after the cremation, my daughter and I were left alone, homeless and family- less. I drank and drank. Eventually I had the courage to seek help and to recover from this disease. Making ends meet was by no chance easy for my daughter and I. I still offered my body to men in order to survive. I am hoping that one day I will not have to that any longer. The End. For more of my stories, please visit www.asstr.org/~nujbaf Comments? E-mail me at nujbaf@yahoo.com * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kristen's collection - Directory 24