Trish’s Life - Sex Stories

Trish’s Life

... until six o'clock.

At six, the doorbell rang. Harold answered it and welcomed Mr. Grant inside. "Yes, yes, Simmons. Where is your wife?"

"She's just finishing up in the kitchen sir. Right this way." Harold led Mr. Grant to the kitchen. "Mr. Grant, this is my wife Trish." Mr. Grant took a good long look at Trish and nodded in approval.

"Very nice. You could be 69th floor material with a little work." He put his hand on her back and ran it down to the bottom of her short black dress, then put his hand up her dress and felt her panties. "Cotton. I knew it." Trish looked startled towards Harold. Harold didn't know what to do. He couldn't lose his job. He didn't say anything and simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Harold, go fix your wife and I a drink," Mr. Grant told Harold. Harold left for the den to make some drinks. "Do you know why I'm here?" Mr. Grant asked Trish.

"For dinner?" asked Trish meekly.

"Fuck dinner. If you want your husband to keep his job, you had better just do what you're told tonight. Understand bitch?" With his last word he gave her long blond hair a sharp tug.

"Yes," whispered Trish.

Harold came back into the room carrying drinks. "Harold, finish cooking dinner. Your wife is going to give me a tour of the house."

"Yes sir," said Harold as his wife and Mr. Grant left the kitchen.

"Let's start upstairs. You first," said Mr. Grant. Trish led him up the stairs. As they climbed Trish felt Mr. Grant's hands groping her ass. "You've got ...

... a great ass bitch. We're going to have some great times."

Trish began to sob as she reached the top of the stairs. Mr. Grant walked past her and into one of the rooms. "The bedroom I see. Come in here bitch." Trish followed him into the room. "Now, I like your dress; it's very slutty. But you need to lose the underwear and the bra. Take them off now."

Trish whimpered as she pulled down her panties and then she nimbly slipped out of her bra. "That's better cunt. Now I can see and feel your nipples through the dress." He groped her tits through the dress.

"Let's see your slit. Pull your dress up to your waist bitch," he told her. Trish pulled up her dress to expose herself. "Oh, fuck. Look at the bush. We need to fix this right now. Come in here bitch." He led her into the ensuite. Mr. Grant found Harold's razor and shaving cream on the counter and said, "Here. Shave that thing right now."

Trish pleaded with her eyes, but Mr. Grant told her to quit stalling. Trish ran some warm water and soaked her bush with it using a sponge. Then she lathered in some shaving cream and began shaving. It got easier as she went, but it was terribly embarrassing with Mr. Grant watching her. Surprisingly, she found herself aroused at the site of her shaved cunt. She tried to remind herself what a degrading experience this was.

Mr. Grant began running his hands over her cunt as she stood in front of the mirror. "Doesn't that feel nice, bitch? Watch me pull you open," he said prying ...