I Could Not Practice My Growing Sluttiness With Alhaji My Husband…Until I Met Ibrahim III - 4 years ago
“I’m ready, baby,” he said. “I’m ready to give you a good f**king.” “Yes,” I said, that memory of long ago coming unbidden into my eyes “f**k me. f**k me hard.” I blinked. Who said that? Who had just asked to be f**ked hard? Definitely not me am sure. But it was. He got between my legs and I felt the hard head of his cock pressed against my p*ssy. I screamed as he shoved his huge prick partly into me. It felt sooooooo full, like it was in my womb. “f**k me!” I yelled. “f**k me! Please give it to me good!” I had finally let go, accepting that I wanted Ibrahim to f**k me. Accepting that my body had been longing for his prick for the past two years now. I am not a good wife. I knew that I was loud and somebody might hear but at the moment, I just didn’t give a damn who heard. I wanted to be f**ked and f**ked good. Ibrahim obliged as he slammed his cock all the way into me and I breathed a sigh of relief. He felt so good inside me. So good. I raised my legs and wrapped them around his back. “Give it to me, please please pleaseeeee,” I moaned. “Give it to me!” He began to f**k me in quick, hard strokes. He was playing with my a*s as he f**ked me and I was loving it. I wanted to be abused and treated roughly. That was what I’d always wanted after that day with him, that was the only thing I was good for, a woman who cheats on her husband and loves it should be used and abused and he was giving it to me just the way it should be. My breath was coming in loud gasps as I realized I was cumming. It had never been like this. I saw the stars that I’d known he’d make me see, just the way I had seen them two years ago. “Oh f**k. It feels too good. Too good. I love it. Ohhhhhhhhh, I’m coming. I’m coming! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I screamed at the top of my voice as I felt that overwhelming release. A floodgate had been flung wide open and c*m was gushing out in chunks as I thrashed and writhed upon the sheets, begging him not to stop f**king me, thrusting back to receive every stroke he had to give. My climax shook my body as I’d never been shaken before, it was more intense even than that day two years ago. It went on and on and on and felt like I was having series of orgasms. Then all at once I came crashing back to earth, still panting, my toes curled up and my legs kicking imaginary bicycles in the air. But his cock was still in me and still hard. He slowly pulled his cock from my clutching p*ssy and placed it against my stomach. “Turn over,” he said. “Get up on your hands and knees.” “But what are you going to do?” I asked. “Just do it,” he demanded. I turned over and got up on my hands and knees. Once more he slammed his cock deep into my p*ssy. He leaned across me and grabbed my b**bs as he savagely pounded his cock into my hungry c**t. On and on he pounded into me from behind, it was not a familiar position but that was the day I developed a love for the doggie position as his stroke went in deeper than before and he was fondling and pinching my hanging b**bs causing me to c*m twice more before he finally released my b**bs, gripped me by the waist and delivered rapid fire strokes into my well used p*ssy before finally slamming into me hard, grunting and pouring warm sperm deep inside me like that day two years ago “Nhggggggggggggggggggg’’ he grunted as he poured and poured what must have been litres into me before finally collapsing on my back. Twice more afterwards Ibrahim f**ked me that day in his hotel room, in different positions that I never knew existed, but I loved it. he sucked my b**bs like only my children had ever sucked them but unlike my children, the feeling was exquisite as it flowed down to that flower between my legs and sent shivers all through me. But every good thing has to come to an end. We departed that day exchanging numbers and him promising to come get me at the same market we had met in three days’ time. I was a changed woman. My se*uality had been aroused. I tried to hide it from Alhaji when we were having fun two days later but he felt it and loved it. I was freer with him. Then the anxiety started as I started waiting for Ibrahim to call. My p*ssy was itching, I needed his cock to fill me up. He had opened my eyes to the joy of good old f**king and was now starving me of it. Three days passed, a week, two weeks, until it was close to a month when his call came in that I should meet him in the hotel. The relief was clearly written over me as I went up with him in his hotel room and hugged him but his countenance was cloudy. Then he threw an envelope at me. I was shocked. I could feel Ibrahim’s eyes on me as I turned over the glossy photographs enclosed in the envelope “I can’t believe it,” I shouted. “You took pictures. Why did you do that?” Ibrahim smiled. He knew he had me exactly where he wanted me. It was time for him to take off his nice-guy mask. “Why do you think, bitch?” he said coldly. I had never been talked to that way. I looked up in surprise. I had been sorry and ashamed of what had happened between me and Ibrahim at first, then later acceptive of the slut he had turned me into. But I still didn’t want to lose my home, my children, my life. I know what Alhaji would do to me if he found out about my indiscretion. And then this. I looked down once more at the pictures. Glossy pictures of me being f**ked doggie, with my b**bs handing, a cock obviously buried inside me and my face upturned in ecstasy! the pleasure in them could not be mistaken! me with my kegs on Ibrahim’s shoulder as he pounded into me. the clearest thing in those pictures was my expression! i was enjoying it, i couldnt feign r*pe.There was no doubt it was me. My unclad flushed body, my hanging b**bs, the birth mark on my buttocks visibly displayed for all to see. My husband would need no soothsayer once he saw these pictures and my mouth was open in heat. I looked depraved. My face told a whole new story that was strange and foreign to the me known to all close to me. “Oh my God,” I cried softly as the reality of my situation dawned on me. “I don’t understand. I really don’t understand.” “It’s simple,” he said. “You took a little pleasure. Now you’re going to have to pay for it.” “Blackmail,” I answered. “You want money?” “Not money,” he said. “I just want you to go to work for me. I saw your potential right from our university days but you were hidden away and I could not get close enough to hook you to s*x. I knew you were a slut, you only needed someone to bring out the real you. That day in the classroom I thought I had finally got you but you slipped away. For two whole years I trailed you and that day in the market, I knew you had been stewing, longing for my cock and like a lamb you walked straight to the slaughter’’ he finished with a wicked smile. “Oh my God,” I said again. “I’ll pay you money. I’ll do that. But I couldn’t do that, please, not that” “You will,” he said. I didn’t like the slow smile that came over his face. I tugged my skirt down and got off the bed. I walked to the door and put my hand on the knob. At that moment I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t believe that he would ever part with those pictures. “Don’t go out that door, Fateema” he warned. “Or you’ll find your pictures going on every newspaper in the country and beyond and on the internet. I will mail it to your husband, your senior wife and your step children. Your parents will see them, your siblings, everybody that matters to you…….Dare me and see.” Then I knew he meant what he said. He was not bluffing. I knew what going to work for him meant, but I couldn’t allow those pictures to be distributed. I turned around to face him once more. “You win,” I said timidly, all the fight going out of me “So what do I get to do working for you?” I asked with tears streaming down my face. “You know. Don’t pretend you don’t know but so that we are not mistaken, let me spell out your duty. You will f**k whoever, whenever and wherever I tell you. Now I am your master, your pimp, I will make money off your ripe body, your sluttiness while you will enjoy it. If only you know the number of men and the kind of money they will pay to f**k a decent looking lady like you. You will become a hot cake! You may think I am being wicked right now but in time you will love your job so well that you will never think of stopping” he said. “Now strip off, bitch. We’re going to have a little lesson to seal the bargain.” And that was how I became Ibrahim’s whore, to be pimped out at his discretion and as much as I hate to admit it, his last words have turned out to be true. I have never looked back or regretted that decision in the past eight months. Oh, if you know the things I have done during these months, the number of men ie f**ked, the places i have been f**ked, the orgies, the groupies, the role playing…. Sigh. Just know that I’m a whored out housewife and loving it.