"That's it! Fuck your fucking slut. Ram that big cock inside me hard and deep. I want to feel your cum shooting inside me. Harder! Fuck me. I’m such a slut, your slut. Do you like your slutty wife always being horny? Fuck me hard."

Our sex life had always been great, but now it had reached mountainous heights. My husband loved it, and so did I. The hornier I became, the more attentive he grew. It became a self-feeding loop. Mike would lavish me with affection, which made me even hornier, and I’d fuck and suck him into oblivion, which restarted the cycle. With his broad smile and drained balls, my husband was the envy of every husband in the area.

He didn’t know that the fire in my dripping cunt was due, in large part, to my new side hustle. Of course, he didn’t bother to ask, and a good wife knows when to be quiet. As far as he knew, he was the most legendary fuck on the planet. What my sweet, attentive husband didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

That doesn’t mean that certain things that happened in my new hobby career didn’t make it into the bedroom. While Mike used to be stingy when it came to spending, it seemed that he had no qualms about dishing out tons of money for lingerie and sex toys. His loving, traditional wife had found her balance. I was no longer just plain, boring Mary Anne, and I wasn’t the hellion that I was back in college when I earned the nickname Mary Jane. I was neither—both—I am woman. Hear me fucking roar in orgasmic bliss.

I was bent over his office desk, being slammed so hard from behind that the desk scooted with each thrust of his hard cock. My cunt was dripping liquid fire, and I was screaming for more. Mike’s speech was muted because my wadded-up panties had been shoved into his mouth. His secretary, a sexy, little, twenty-something blond that makes goo-goo eyes at my husband, was out for lunch. Stacy was her name; Stacy the slut is more like it. Of course, I know how to keep him happy, so I had no fears.

"Shoot your wad into my hot cunt. Punish your slut wife for being such a whore."

“Mmmph, arlphh, mmmnng,” was all he could respond with. The impromptu gag of my soiled, sodden panties in his mouth was quite effective and such a dirty idea that I was getting off on it, as well as his turgid manhood brutally pounding me.

His hands grabbed my hips so hard that I guessed there would be bruises, and he pulled my shapely ass into his groin, thrusting as deep and hard as he could. His cum shot into me, spurt after spurt of hot, liquid pleasure. I reached around, gabbing my husband’s body and holding him against me, my quivering pussy undulating over his orgasming member, milking every drop out of his cock.

“Keep the panties, tiger,” I told him. “I think I’ll drive home like this, with your cum leaking out of my freshly-fucked cunt and dripping down my thighs.” My entrepreneurial endeavors, not to mention Allison's influence, had really upped my dirty-talking game.

I walked toward his office door; then, inspiration overtook me. Looking over my shoulder with a devilish, impish smile, I pulled up my skirt and flashed him my ass. Some cum was already leaking down my legs. I looked like a shameless, cheap tramp, and I know he loved it.

“When you get home tonight, I’ll wear those panties, and you can fuck me while I’m still wearing them.”

I exited his private office, seeing Stacy the slut walking in. “Hello, Stacy,” I said, quite cheerily.

I looked as if I’d just been fucked hard and rough. Her knowing look was priceless. I’d moved beyond the point of caring if anybody knew I had sex. Given that she’s always trying to get her grubby paws on my Mike, I reveled in it.

“Can I ask you something?” Stacy inquired.

“You just did,” I jauntily retorted. I somewhat liked her, despite her being young, sexy, and single and trying to get her slutty hooks into my husband.

“How can you not have a career and still always be so happy?”

I laughed at that. “I’ve done the rat race,” I told her. "Even if you win, you’re still a rat. I’ll take being a domestic goddess over stress and deadlines any day.”

“We should have lunch sometime.”

I ignored my first thought, which was something unsavory having to do with a bottle of arsenic or something. Instead, I said, "Oh, any time. I’m sure we’d be great friends."

For more than a month, I’ve had the sneaking suspicion that she was fooling around with my husband. I partially blamed Ginger for that, as her husband’s constant antics were a recurring topic. However, things just seemed a bit too close between Mike and Stacy. I kept reminding myself that so long as I kept his eyes and cock focused on me, everything would be fine.

Freshly pleased by my husband, I made my way to my actual destination, a nice restaurant not too far from his office. I tend to avoid the city like the plague, but Allison and I had our business lunch meetings at this cozy, little café. We had business to discuss. The restaurant knew that we were coming; we’d become weekly regulars.

Before we got to business, we had to share all our juicy details: Ben was “more than likely” fucking his new teaching assistant, Allison had been sent some sexy dresses to review by a club-wear company, a few of her regular cam-friends were going through some personal stuff, tomorrow evening was cooking out on the grill at my house, and she’d had a recent tryst with a sexy bartender and gave me all the sordid details. We laughed at ourselves over our mutual antics. Having grown to be close friends, we knew each other’s secrets.

“So, what’s the word on the teasers,” Ginger asked me as soon as we’d caught up on our gossip.

“Well,” I said, continuing our business discussion. “The webmaster at your cam site didn’t want to sell us front page banner space, but I convinced him. He said that he was uncertain about us charging admission and having a week-long run-up to your Mary Jane show.”

“How’d you convince him?”

"Oh, easy." I paused for dramatic effect, reveling in my marketing expertise. “I pointed out that your contract explicitly states that the model may charge admission and/or work for tips. Then, I also pointed out that the ad banner space had no restrictions except for being adult content.”

”Just like that?”

“No. I also threw in a few points worth of admission pre-sales along with the reminder that it will all be in site tokens, anyway, so he gets to double-dip on his profits.”

“You’re a devious genius.” Ginger’s face grew pensive, and she paused. “That reminds me…"

We paused as Gerard, a very sexy, young waiter, brought us our lunch. "Your usual drinks?" he asked.

“Doubles, please,” Ginger said to the alluring bulge in his pants. “We’re celebrating.”

“Oh, what’s the occasion?”

“My online viewership has just surpassed five-hundred average viewers,” Allison proudly exclaimed.

“Oh,” Gerard said. “Like on YouTube?”

“No,” Allison blushed. “I’m a cam model.” Our waiter’s jaw dropped.

“Here,” I said, diplomatically taking control. “Take this card.” I fished one out of my purse. “Use that code when you sign up for fifteen tokens off of admission to Scarlet’s show this coming weekend.”

“You serious?”

“You’re cute,” she said to him, going into full slut mode. “I also do dirty videos. Have you ever modeled or acted?”

“Um,” he stuttered. It was amusing to see a black man blush. “I’ll go get your drinks.”

We laughed ourselves into hysterics, and to his credit, Gerard recovered from his embarrassment. Lunch went smoothly, and we always received excellent service.

“You began saying something before we made our waiter blush,” I reminded Allison.

"Oh, yeah. A couple of my cam-friends and I were talking, and,” she paused, trying to read my expression. “Well,” she continued, “they were wondering if you’d help market them like you’re doing for me. They’ll pay you ten percent, just like I do.”

I thought it over for a millisecond. “No, Allison. That’s not good.”

“You won’t do it?”

“I’ll do it, but tell them to wait awhile. Let’s see how well we do with this campaign before we take on a load too big to handle.”

“Oh, I can handle a huge load,” she exclaimed just as Gerard was coming back with the check.”

“Okay. Let’s go to your place and do the promotional shoot.”

“My place is such a mess, Mary,” she said. She'd mostly dropped the “Anne” from my name a few weeks ago. “Can we use your kitchen, instead?”

I wasn’t happy about using my home for what amounted to a porn shoot, but I agreed. We sped home in our respective cars. Ginger's car was, of course, a flashy convertible. It was quite the contrast to my sensible sedan. She continued, toward her house, as I pulled into my driveway. She needed to get her Mary Jane outfit for the photo shoot. That gave me the time I needed to tidy up my kitchen and get things ready. Porn shoot or not, I’d be mortified if my kitchen wasn’t spotless.

What we’d done over the past month or so was test marketing. My specialty was creating a unique brand and custom-tailoring a marketing campaign to capitalize on the revitalized brand identity. Since Ginger liked to dress up, I convinced her to utilize that, but the costumes were just the very beginning. Over the past few weeks, we’d created a few characters, personas, or alter-egos, to coincide and align with the outfits. Allison’s Spider-Girl character was every nerd’s wet dream. Her skin-tight spider suit and her sexual superpowers were all the talk in the site’s forums for days after the character’s debut.

Mary Jane was basically an expansion of what I saw when I first caught her act. The slutty, traditional housewife role was, by far, her most popular one. That’s why we decided that her big premiere would be Mary Jane. It figured; pretty much every man wants a sexy woman at home that toils away all day, just biding her time to serve her man a hot meal and a scorching pussy.

Angel, the air-headed, goth bimbo, was also somewhat popular. However, we needed to add some more details to that persona, so she’d only made two appearances since I took on handling Ginger’s account. The numbers on her leader boards told me where the money was. The masturbating masses wanted a sexy, blond housewife. That made me feel warm all over.

Minutes later, Allison barged through my door. She was all dolled up, wearing the Betty dress, spiked heels, and stockings. Toking deeply on a big joint, she coughed gruffly and handed it to me.

“Let’s get the world excited about meeting Mary Jane.”

I shot a series of poses with a digital camera, instructing her on how to bend to show off her assets. Soon, she was splayed out on my counter, her cleanly-shaven snatch on display.

"Now, run your hand idly up your thigh. Good. Now, do the same thing but use that spatula. That’s hot!"

We were giggling like innocent teenagers viewing their first porn video. Because it sold better, being cheerful was a necessity.

“Now, pull out those tits. You paid good money for those, so show them off.”

More shots ensued.

“This is making me so horny. Can I masturbate?”

"Oh, you like fingering your hot cunt for all those horny people? Feel free. Fuck yourself. Wait! Use the serving spoon and rub your breasts with that hot pad.”

Either because I have a keen sense for effective marketing or because I’m a sadist, I let her finger her overheated cunt until she was panting, on the verge of orgasm. Just before she could cum, I pulled out the cue cards I’d made and held them up. She blanched.

“Read these, and use your horniest voice. Since you’re about to cum, it should be perfect.”

“I…ah, um,m…I can’t,” she panted out between moans.

“Trust me,” I retorted with extreme confidence. “You’re selling sexual fantasy; this will entice.”

“What if I cum?”

“Even better! Do it. Fuck yourself as you read it.”

Ginger tried, but she was somehow too embarrassed. While Allison had no reservations about fucking herself with a tentacle dildo on the webcam, reading while being videotaped somehow made her shy and uncomfortable. After three attempts, I told her to stop.

“I know what’s missing. You don’t have that connection like you do with your fans when you’re performing. Try this.”

I moved the camera, propping it up on a pile of cookbooks. Then, I moved just outside of the camera’s view, but still in a direct line of sight to Ginger.

“Fuck yourself for me,” I urged. “Make yourself cum for me while you read this. You’re not talking to the camera; you’re seducing me.”

“But…”

“Forget the camera, Ginger. Look at me.” To make her feel less insecure, I tugged off my skirt and stood there, bottomless, with Mike’s dried cum on my thighs. She smiled. “You said you’re into women, too. Look at my freshly-fucked cunt and think about licking it while you fuck yourself and read.”

“Give me more weed, and I will.”

I strode over to her, trying to ignore the fact that her pussy was so wet that her creamy nectar glistened all across her swollen cunt lips. She took the marijuana from my hand and inhaled deeply. Feeling naughty and mischievous, I reached out and caressed her velvety folds, making her moan and shudder.

Then, I looked deep into her eyes and said, “There is no camera, no world, only me, you, and your hot pussy. Does that feel good?” My hand was busy between her legs.

“Mmm, fuck, yes,” she moaned.

“Perfect. Keep that in mind and read your lines.”

Finally, pontificating with sighs, moans, and impassioned gasps, she read the cue cards and even ad-libbed some horny interludes.

“Hiya lover... oooh, umm, that feels so good.” Her moans weren’t in the script, but they worked. “I’m Mary Jane, the hot... oh fuck, I’m going to cum... umm, hot and horny housewife, and I love nothing more than playing with my dripping cunt all day, waiting for you to come home to fucking fuck me.”

Ginger paused, her thighs shaking, the spoon handle inserted halfway into her cunt. Pointing a bold, lust-filled stare at the camera, she pulled the kitchen utensil out of her slit. Her sex juice oozed out along with it. Unbidden, she held it up before her mouth and licked her liquid sex off the handle, staring at me, then the camera, then back. Moving the spoon portion over her twat, she began slapping her exposed and swollen clit. That caused her remaining lines to burst out in half-moans and whimpering sighs, in time with her slamming the steel spoon onto her clit.

“I... aah, fuck... have, um, dinner ready for you, dear. I’m so close. It’s hot and tasty. Fuck, I’m so wet!”

Allison threw her head back, her hands pulling down the top of her dress, exposing her breasts. The spoon fell to the countertop with a metallic clatter as she grabbed her boobs and squeezed them hard, lifting them, her fingers closing around her hard nipples.

Glancing back at the cue cards, she thrust two fingers into her cunt, sloshing sounds emanating from it as she fucked herself wildly.

“But, oh fuck me... but, but my cunt is hotter, and tastes like sex-honey. Come see my show on Saturday night... oooh, mmm.”

Ginger tossed her head to and fro, her blond wig whipping tendrils of yellow gold all around her impassioned face.

“Cum for me. Please cum. I love it when you cum.” She paused, an expression of twisted, agonizing bliss crossing her face. “I’m going to cum. I’m cumming now. Oh fuck, it’s too hot. I can’t hold back.”

Madly grasping for the camera, I grabbed it just in time to zoom in on her pulsating cunt as she orgasmed. Her fingers were plunging into her twat so fast that they were a blur. However, the sounds she was making and her bucking hips as she came, right in front of me, were erotically hypnotic.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck. Fucking fuck. I’m cumming. Fuck me hard. Oooh, aaah, oh fucking shit.”

An awkward silence followed, with neither one of us able to speak. Finally, I blurted out, “Cut!” and turned off the camera. We stared at each other, then erupted into hysterical laughter.

“I can’t believe I just masturbated in front of you, on camera no less! You’re a bad influence on me, Mary Anne.”

“You’re one to talk!”

A few minutes later, we’d composed ourselves, and she’d left. I suddenly remembered that I was also a housewife, and I needed to throw together an appropriate meal in about twenty minutes. Mike was due home. Soup, sandwiches, and salad it would be. I had everything prepared in less than fifteen minutes; I’m a good wife. Then, I spied the spoon from earlier.

I could see the residue of Ginger’s cunt fluids on the spoon, and the handle was still damp with her liquid lust. Overcome with horny compulsion, I grabbed it and licked her juices off the bowl of the spoon, and began running the handle over my aching, fiery pussy lips. Just as I was getting into the sensations of pleasure, I heard my husband’s car pulling into the driveway. I hurriedly put my skirt back on and tossed the cum-soaked spoon into the salad bowl.

“Made it home on time for once, Mary Anne. What’s for dinner? I'm starved.”

“You sit down, tiger. We’re having one of your favorites: soup, salad, and sandwiches.”

“I love you so much. What’s for dessert?”

“Me and my panties, of course. But first, eat.” I set the table, after kissing him, and spooned out his salad. “This spoon is covered in pussy juice, so eat up.” I didn’t lie; it was.

I fished my soiled panties out of his front pocket as I kissed him. Then I retreated to the kitchen to pour his soup and bring out his sandwiches. I spied my cooking apron hanging on its peg and followed my impulses, smiling with horny delight. I stripped nude, then put on the panties, followed by the apron. With his evening feast balanced on a serving tray, I sashayed out like that. Mike rewarded my lust-filled efforts by nearly choking on his salad.

“You enjoy your meal,” I told him, setting down his food. “I’m in the mood for meat.”

Mike’s quizzical expression made me giggle. Wordlessly, I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled under the table. Reaching for his pants, I undid them and tugged out his cock, stroking it.

“Mary Anne, what are you doing?”

“I’m sucking your big, hard cock while you eat, so you can fuck my brains out.”

I backed my words with action, taking his stiffening cock into my mouth and bobbing my head up and down on it as my tongue swirled all over its circumference. Before he’d even finished his soup, my oral talents were just too much for him.

“Oooh, aah, cumming,” he moaned.

I was rewarded with his hot jizz shooting into my mouth, coating my tongue and throat. Although I’d wanted him to fuck me, a satisfied feeling filled me. I greedily sucked on his throbbing member, drinking every last drop of cum.

“Ah, sorry, honey,” my husband lamented. “You made me cum; you’re just too good. Now, I can’t fuck you in your panties.”

“Let’s take care of that. Finish your meal like a good boy.” I sped back into the kitchen.

Pouring Mike a tall, stiff drink, I retrieved the remaining cucumber from the refrigerator and washed it, thoroughly.

“What’s that for?” he asked me when I’d returned.

“The drink is for you, my big, stud, and the cucumber is to fuck me with.”

He was stunned. I smiled at him like the horny nympho I was, and quickly batted the dishes aside. Sitting on the table, my legs spread around his manly torso, I pulled my panties aside and handed him the thick, long vegetable.

“Fuck your wife, tiger. Slam it into my burning cunt. Make me cum, you horny fucker.”

He gently pressed it against my quivering hole.

“Slam it in hard. Fuck me with it like you hate me.”

He shoved it inside my dripping snatch, and I was rewarded with that heavenly feeling of being completely filled. Inspired by Ginger’s performance, I reached for Mike’s soup spoon and began tapping it against my engorged clit as he crammed the cucumber up my cunt. The feeling was indescribable, and all I could do was scream my housewife head off. I felt properly fucked, slutty, and so dirty that I couldn’t take it.

“I’m going to cum. Please make me cum. Fuck your wife with that cuc... oh fucking fuck.”

I was so aroused that my orgasm made my vision blacken, and the entire world shattered into a billion pieces for a moment. When I regained control, Mike stood up and had his arms wrapped around me. I fell back onto the table, and our mouths locked in a passionate kiss that lasted a lifetime.

“You wait here while I grab a knife.”

“A knife? For what?”

“Don’t you want to eat it now that you’ve fucked me with it?” My husband just smiled.

A few hours later, after we spent some quality time with each other, Mike headed to bed. By then, I’d put my clothes back on, and I told him that I’d be along shortly, as I had to tidy up the kitchen and the mess we made of the dining room. As anticipated, he was snoring deeply before I’d even finished cleaning the kitchen. I knew that the following day would be hectic for me, as I had to make certain everything was perfect for our cookout.

A good wife buttresses her husband in every way possible. That not only included making sure that all his friends wanted to fuck me, but it also extended to presenting the perfect picture of happiness and perfection, both in and out of our home. That meant paper lanterns and mood lighting for the backyard, ensuring the grill was sparkling clean, and having exactly the correct amounts of beer, booze, and ice on hand. This takes a lot of planning and work, but the main key is to make it appear effortless.

Before I laid out the barbecue plans, though, I had the video we shot to edit and upload, pictures to post, and an ad campaign to launch. That took far less time than I’d anticipated. The one thing about the online adult industry is that they have well-coded websites. Allison’s cam site was no exception. The dozens of pictures, all watermarked, loaded onto her previously-unused blog in the blink of an eye, the advertising banner popped up as soon as I’d sent the money, and the teaser video we’d just shot uploaded in a few seconds.

Satisfied both mentally and physically, I retired to bed. I cleaned up, then crawled under the covers next to my snoring, bread-winning husband. I kissed him gently on the forehead.

“Good night, tiger. Sleep well. If you’re fooling around with Stacy, I’ll cut off your dick.”

To be continued...