This was a phone call that Alison did not want to answer. It was the third time that Davenport had called. She could not avoid him all day… Like yesterday.
She was starting to truly question her sanity. Six months into being a part-time prostitute was bad enough. Three months into being the mother of a prostitute working for the same person was even worse. She had these days where she just hoped he would never call back again. Yet laying in bed at night, sometimes after even having sex with her wonderful husband, she craved another booking from this man who had changed her life.
She was at a stoplight, and with a sigh she hit "accept" on her dashboard computer.
“I think y’oughta know that if you weren’t gonna answer this time, I was coming to your house to talk to your husband.”
Alison took a deep breath and closed her eyes. This man’s voice was a Pavlovian trigger. She immediately felt tingles in both her pussy and her nipples every time he called. Her heart would race and her mind would speculate about all the wonderfully degrading and sexy things he would have her do.
It was the same with her daughter. Emily called it the slut effect.
“Sure…” her voice had a small amount of defiance. “So what do you need? Why didn’t you just text?”
He hesitated and made a funny noise in his throat. “Because this one is a little complicated darling. I have a group in two weeks. It’s a bigger group than ever. One of them has had you before. You remember Ron? Super tall, had a long dick. Liked eating your kid’s ass?”
Alison‘s incredibly fast and brilliant memory found the image right away. It was another duet job they did but this was only one man. He did have a really nice cock and it was only the second time that Emily had done anal. Alison‘s orgasm watching her daughter being taken by a man twice her age was so huge and so embarrassingly depraved.
She looked forward to it again.
The upright suburban mom of three had just left the school district office. She had a meeting with the superintendent and one of the other members of the school board.
Now, as she was finishing her conversation with the man who called himself the Handler, (she refused to use the word pimp and was happy he had never asked her to ) she was checking her face in the mirror.
Her hair was down and her soft blonde waves framed her perfect facial structure. She was a beautiful woman and the epitome of successful, suburban, white money. Even her outfit today, a soft print dress with a cropped suit jacket, was stylish and sexy without being overtly so.
The superintendent was old school, a little chubby, and somewhat of a pig. He often stared a bit too long at women's chests and openly flirted.
On the exterior she had to pretend to be indifferent to his attention, but inside she had wanted him to tear everything off and have her right on the conference table in front of the whole staff.
Looking now into the visor mirror she couldn’t help but notice the blush in her cheeks, the familiar look of disgrace and embarrassment that seemed to wash over her every time Davenport spoke.
“Yes, I remember. He was very kind afterwards and gave us a lovely tip.” Her vaginal walls fluttered and clenched, reminding her that being a real prostitute was filthy and disgusting… and exactly who she wanted to be. “What about him?”
“He’s having a poker party. You are supposed to be the party favors. It ain’t nothing you haven’t done before, but there is a twist.”
The light changed and Alison turned left heading towards the food pantry to drop off the donations from the school. It was part of Theo‘s Boy Scout project. It was such a mom thing to be doing that the contrast of arranging for another turn as mother/daughter prostitutes felt even more exciting and once again…humiliating. (She could hear Emily’s happy voice, “Say ‘whore,’ Mom. It’s what we are.”)
“OK… So, what’s the issue?”
“It’s out of town, and it’s overnight”
Alison reacted quickly, like a mom should. “No way! We had a deal. Daytime only. Local only. How would I ever explain that to David? No way, Davenport, you’ll have to get somebody else.”
“Yeah… I was afraid you were gonna say that. Look, let me send you the dates ‘n’ the info. Talk it over with the teen tart and you guys can figure out how to handle daddy. I’ll give you 24 hours.”
Alison was about to protest when the call went dead.
Fuck… the only thing worse than feeling helpless about the arrangement she and her 17-year-old daughter had with this man was the feeling that she could not possibly resist being sexually exploited once again. He was the conduit to the secret life she had come to crave. Daily.
She usually spent enough time at the food bank to be seen by all the right people who also volunteered. But today she wanted to bug out of there as quickly as possible. Quite often, when the Handler made her feel sexually charged, she feared it was painted all over her face: “LOOK: this woman is a phony, this woman is really a whore. This fit, perfect, well-educated woman will do whatever sexual act you tell her to! (Barring a few pre-arranged exceptions) Scan the QR below!”
Just as she tapped her fob next to her big white SUV, she heard a woman’s voice call out.
“Hey! hold up a minute.”
Alison turned to see a tall woman heading towards her. She had a beautiful figure and was dressed in the usual attire for Alison's people: workout clothes that hugged her shape and a stylish hoodie. She even had the same designer puffy bag Alison carried. Her long curly red hair was pulled back in a ponytail through a cap, and she—
Alison’s heart stopped for a moment, and she caught her breath. Only 20 feet away she recognized the redhead from the gas station bathroom last spring. The one who Davenport was “using” harshly. The one that started Allison down the road of submissive prostitution.
“Hi! Thanks for waiting. I knew I recognized you. Alison right? I’m Gwen.”
Her long hand stuck out, and Alison admired her beautifully tipped fingernails. The uptight blonde took the proffered hand, and they gently shook.
“Look, I know you know who I am. And you know, I know who you are, right?”
Alison hesitated…
“I’ll take that silence as a yes.” The redhead was close now, and looked left and right to make sure no one was spying, watching, or even paying attention. Her voice dropped to a sultry alto. “I’ve been doing this for two years. I can’t get enough. And honestly, I love and hate it equally. As soon as I saw you, I knew we had to speak.”
She hesitated and cleared her throat. “It gets kind of lonely, doesn’t it? Having a dirty secret you can’t share with anyone?”
Alison suddenly panicked. She turned and pulled the door handle of her vehicle. “You have me mistaken for someone else I don’t —“
Gwen pushed on. “Keeping it from your husband, best friends? It can be tough, yet… exhilarating, am I right?”
Alison's heart was racing, her breath was shallow, and she found herself frightened and aroused; the familiar combination she usually bathed in when with the clients her handler sent her to service.
“I don’t… I don’t…” She paused and for some reason knew she could not lie.
The thought of sharing this with someone other than Emily was intriguing. Maybe even relieving. “I’m—yes, yes…” she said, barely above a whisper. “I do know…how that feels…”
Red Gwen’s green eyes smiled as she took a deep breath of relief. “Are you doing anything right now? Would you be willing to get a coffee or lunch or something?”
The blonde mother of three hesitated again. She felt like she was stuck to the pavement. This was another level of embarrassing. Someone not only knew what she was doing but knew her name. She assumed Davenport must’ve told this woman, Gwen, was it?
Alison checked the time on her cell. “Sure, um, coffee; the one at Blaine and Fifth?”
Gwen’s mood lit up, and Alison thought her smile was quite beautiful. She also found herself quickly glancing down seeing an impressive set of nipples pushing through the hoodie. Her own tingled. She blushed horribly and rolled her eyes when Gwen touched her arm and whispered, “They can be quite obnoxious sometimes. But the men just love it. I love having them roughly used.”
She then winked and turned heading for her own car; of course, another white SUV. Alison stood holding onto her open car door wondering whether or not Gwen was wearing panties under those tight pants. She had a very impressive round ass.
With the door closed, she squeezed her hands on the steering wheel and moaned in frustration. “What the fuck, Alison…?” Due to Emily‘s domination and insistence, Alison had grown to love having sex with another woman, even if it was her own daughter. Now clearly that arousal was taking her into even more dangerous territory.
Moments later, she popped into the Starbucks' bathroom to mop up an annoying amount of crotch wet. She was tempted to "rub one out", as her daughter called it, when the TP grazed her clit. She decided it was best to follow her daughter‘s orders and wait until later. Hopefully when Emily got home from dance class…
Now with a half-caf latte with medium foam, she was politley smiling at an approaching Gwen.
There was small talk. Gwen's sixteen-year-old daughter, Shelby, was a junior at Emily's school and her husband, Marty, was a firefighter. His schedule of three-day shifts at the firehouse allowed Gwen to "take care of clients" with less fear of discovery.
Then there was shop talk. She had done some overnight work when her daughter would have a sleepover or a travel tournament for her soccer team. The two even discussed penis size and the variety of client hygiene.
Alison shared her story yet hesitated telling Gwen about Emily.
They both seemed to be dangerously attracted to the possible scandal that would happen should their lives as submissive whores be revealed.
Alison felt some pressure leave her shoulders when she shared. "The expectation to have sex is so different, you know? It's the relief of just being a body. A three-holed slut and not the mom who has it all together."
Gwen nodded. "My husband is amazing and sexy as fuck yet my orgasms are at least ten times better when I am working. And,” she lowered her voice, "I love being called names."
Alison wanted to respond but her growing arousal was gagging her. Her pussy had been tingling and fluttering and was dangerously close to cumming. Gwen read her like an open book. "You need to cum?”
Alison was speechless.
Gwen boldly continued. “Me too. Are you into other women?"
Alison closed her eyes and clenched her fists letting her head nod. "I wasn't until my daughter showed -" Her eyes flew open and her face went white. "I mean, my daughter was reading a book, and - "
Gwen laughed softly and put a hand on the blonde's forearm. "It's okay, I know about Emily. Davenport is very chatty. I don't judge. I am pretty sure my Shelby knows. I mean I know she knows I am bisexual. She caught my sister and I once on a vacation and just smiled. Now whenever she leaves for an overnight somewhere she'll wink and say, 'nice girls get less tips' or something like it. I was mortified at first, now it just makes me want to fuck her."
Alison burst out a laugh and covered her mouth. Then the two laughed together.
Alison made a bold move. "My place is five minutes."
Gwen's eyes went wide then she smiled and nodded.
Expensive coffees abandoned, the two probably broke a few traffic laws racing to her house. When they burst through the side door into Alison's kitchen they took on a classic scene of ferocious kissing and tearing of clothes.
Gwen was topless, trying to peel down her tight pants when Alison dove in and took Gwen’s left nipple into her mouth and sucked. They really were quite big; thick like a pinky and from Gwen‘s reaction, quite sensitive.
Gwen grabbed the host by the hair and held her tight. Her right hand delightfully discovered a soaking wet pussy no longer wearing a thong. Alison had put them in her purse after the bathroom fire start. Now Gwen’s lovely fingers were the kindling.
The blonde pulled her mouth off the pink nipple with a loud popping noise. “Ohhh fuck!” She grabbed on to Gwen’s hand to assure the woman did not take her long fingers out of Alison’s screaming vagina. Glorious orgasm was imminent due to Gwen’s fingernail scraping against Alison’s G spot.
And through the fog of nearly uncontrolled lust she had a moment of clarity.
She yanked Gwen’s hand out, and the redhead pulled her mouth off Alison’s neck. “What?!” she asked through shocked breaths. “Too much?”
“No! No, it’s great, it’s— it’s perfect but… I can’t have an orgasm without her permission.” She actually slumped against the wall, her head hanging low in flushed defeat. She covered her face with her hands, feeling like she could just melt from embarrassment.
Gwen erupted in hearty laughter. “You’re submissive to her?”
Alison nodded in arousal-dousing shame. This felt worse than the clients calling her a “terrible mom” while they fucked her mercilessly.
“Does she punish you?”
Alison looked up with tears forming surprised at the question, and said gently, “...she does.”
“Then let’s give her something to punish you for.”
Alison’s eyes smiled. She grabbed Gwen by the jaw and kissed her with ferocity and unchecked passion. She pushed the redhead back as the two of them removed the rest of Alison’s clothing.
Completely naked, two contrasting sexy bodies fell onto the table with screeches and giggles. Their arms and legs entwined and hands roamed and stroked.
Laying on their sides, kissing like starved teenagers, an unspoken competition arose as each slid fingers into the other person’s cunt: Alison’s bald, white, and pink; Gwen’s reddish and capped with a ginger triangle of well-trimmed curls. The wet sounds of lips and tongues and fingers plunging filled the kitchen. A few creaks of the table were ignored as these two women gave into sapphic desire that felt almost spiritual!
Now aware of Allison’s submissive side, Gwen took charge. She jumped off the table and yanked Alison's body to the edge. There was a squeak as her ass rubbed against the wood. Alison yelped, but internally loved the pain. Without any preamble, Gwen opened her mouth and sucked in Alison‘s entire vulva. The next few minutes were nothing less than a hungry beast eating its prey.
The blonde squirmed and groaned as her heat soared to boiling. She grabbed some red hair and was halted by a tight grip from long fingers. Gwen grabbed Alison’s wrists and held her down.
Orgasm from another woman felt different than a man. “FuuuUUUckk! Yes ! Right theh—“ her voice caught as her body arched, and an explosion took her, tossed her, and blew out of every pore she had. She instinctively clamped her thighs around Gwen’s ears holding onto any connection she could.
Gwen pushed the thigh vice open and pulled back soaked and red faced to match her hair. “Damn…I am glad I was here for that.”
Alison laughed and slowly sat up. She took Gwen into another hot lip lock then disconnected with a smack. “Me too…”
Forty minutes, six orgasms, and several prayers later, Gwen gave Alison one last kiss of promise. She winked and headed out.
Alison finally understood the old joke, hate to see them leave but love to watch them walk away.
***
She had showered with soap and memory washing over everywhere her lover had electrified. Drying off she saw her phone on the sink light up. It was from “Gwen FC,” for fire crotch. (Her idea). Alison was “Alisub” in Gwen’s. (Also Gwen's idea.)
That was delicious. Let’s do it again
She felt like a teenager texting back.
Absolutely xoxo
Then she realized how lame that was and sent a second. This one way more bold.
Maybe the Handler will let us work together…
There was a painfully long pause, then three bouncing dots
Fuck yes! Flame emoji.
Fuck yes indeed.
***
As expected, Emily was not happy her mommy-slut had cum without permission. Alison had considered not say anything, but the mother knew her daughter knew. Lucky for her, the whole family was home when Emily got in from dance, sweaty and hungry. But half an hour later…
“You smell like someone else’s cunt.”
Now frozen with a basket of laundry outside Jasmine’s room, Alison’s eyes were wide. She had showered! Emily handed her mother a dish towel. It was one her mom had used to wipe up the delicious drippings from the two new lovers off the kitchen table earlier. It was pulled from the dirty laundry; probably when her daughter dropped her dance attire.
Emily’s revelation to her mother had been half whispered and was followed with a promise. “You will pay for that in my room at 9 o’clock.”
The air crackled.
“Nod if you understand…” Alison did…her face shamefully red, her pussy shamefully aching.
She realized why Emily had chosen 9 o’clock. David and Theo would be at church league basketball practice, and Jasmine would probably be asleep already.
The next two hours were filled with rearranging the linen closet and making unnecessary calls to Laney, her BFF and fellow suburban perfect. And to the lecherous superintendent; she needed to feel ordered yet dirty. It scared her how much she was torn.
Eight-year-old Jasmine settled sweetly, and Alison was thankful for the distraction. She was in the en-suite bathroom now once again wondering why she was doing this, where this need to be degraded and submissive had its birthplace.
She mopped her dripping pussy after removing all of her clothes knowing Miss will want her naked and vulnerable.
She looked at herself in the mirror and noticed a...
