A hooker for my husband 2. - Sex Stories

A hooker for my husband 2.

... our drinks. She set them down, her breath was short, her small bust heaving. She was even a little flushed. “Its arranged,” Hubby said the following evening. “Good,” I replied. I was looking forward to it. “What do I need to take, aside from my makeup, and wash bag?” “A good selection of erotic underwear, you know.” Hubby said. “Will I need something if we go out?” I asked. “I think so, best to be prepared. Oh and he wants you to take that outfit you wore the other night.” The limo collected me from the apartment. My soon to be updated apartment. Hubby had decided it all needed doing. He’d write it off against tax, no doubt, and come out ahead. I wore a little red dress, very little, very short. It clung to my every curve, making underwear a no, no. Red killer heels, the ones with the eight inch heels defined my calves. My bare tanned legs were smooth, freshly shaved, as was my pussy, already moist with anticipation. The P.A was in the car, the chauffeur took my bags, placing them I the boot. We drove smoothly away, and were soon heading towards the East end. “Lothar wants you to arrive in just your heels, so take the dress off,” she instructed. I raised an eyebrow, questioning. “No questions. Just do what you are told. Now Lothar wants you to entertain several of his business associates this afternoon. You will be filmed, and of course photographed during the course of the weekend. This evening diner at a club, with Lothar. A dress will be provided, wear it. Now you’ll find ...

... £20,000 loaded on this prepay card, I‘ll put it in your bag. Don’t loose it, it will not be replaced. Now get out of that dress.” I did as she instructed, excited to be naked in the back of the limo as we drove through the streets of London, excited to be naked in a car with her. “Can I do anything for you while we drive,” I asked. “No, thank you. Tomorrow I will instruct you on what to wear, and what is expected of you. Now we are here. Your bags will be taken up for you, as will this dress.” We pulled into an underground garage. The lift was being held open for me, by a suit. I got out, and walked naked from the car into the elevator. The doors closed behind me, the lift began to rise. “I’m a £20 grand whore, fucking hell,” I thought. “Fucking hell.” The lift doors opened, in front of me a huge room, with a bar off to the right. Ahead and to my left was all glass, giving an uninterrupted view of the river and the city. Lothar was there. I stepped forward, shoulders back, tits out. I walked proudly. Why shouldn’t. I was naked, but for my heels. My makeup was how I’d done it that night I fucked Lothar. The first time I had been paid to have sex. I knew I looked good. Looked hot. My breasts moved gently as I walked across the room. My tits moved, my hips swayed. Lothar was there, he wasn’t alone. He was fucking. The girl was screaming, screaming for him to stop. He cock pounded her arse, causing her flesh to ripple. She was swathed in sweat. Another girl took two steps towards ...