The Adult Story Hub

The steam hung in the bathroom, but the hot water from the shower had long since cooled to lukewarm. Steven's thoughts were elsewhere, as he tightened the grip on his cock, bringing it to its full 6" length. He had that sense of energy that follows the tiredness from hard work, and the sweat and dirt from mowing the lawn had long since been washed from his body. The bathing forgotten, it was the hardness of his cock in his hand that captured his complete attention, as he soaped and lathered it, stroking repeatedly. His balls hung loosely as they swayed back and forth, occasionally hitting against his hand.
He wasn't thinking of anything particular, but just enjoying the time alone, comfortable with the thoughts of how satisfying sex had been lately with his wife. He felt the familiar stirrings within balls, and slowed his pace somewhat, enjoying the ride along the edge that precedes orgasm. He replaced the bar of soap in the tray, and tried using his right hand to stroke himself. Steven was right handed, but for whatever reason, his left hand did that particular job the best. It wasn't long before he was coming down from his sensual high, and, really, he hadn't planned on cumming in the shower, anyway. He didn't want to have to clean it up or explain any sticky remains to his wife. Hayley. His wife! Thoughts of her quickly restored his cock to its full size. Brunette, blue eyes, 37 years old, maybe 125 lbs. Perfect tits. They hung only a little lower than when they had first married 15 years earlier, and they had grown two inches. 38 C's. Perfect. Looking down, there was one sizeable drop of pre-cum perched on the slit of his cock, and he cleaned it off with the tip of his finger before the shower could wash it away. The drop of pre-cum he savored on his tongue. Why? Because he liked it. As he did this, he caught himself on the edge of cumming, and abruptly stopped the furious stroking of his cock...just in time.
Knowing that dinner would soon be ready, he turned off the water and opened the shower curtain. He had just an instant to recognize that his wife, clothed, was kneeling on the floor at the edge of the tub. Her hands shot out and grabbed his cock, pulling him into her mouth. His wife had never particularly enjoyed giving blowjobs, and as far as he could remember, hadn't let him cum in her mouth since before they were married. That was likely to change. She devoured his cock, sucking it so fiercely that he had to step out of the wet tub to keep his balance. She moved with him, using one hand to pull the skin of his cock toward the base, with the tightest of grips. The head of his cock swelled purple and massive as her mouth again descended on it, her head bobbing furiously as she alternately sucked and licked it. Her eyes never left his as she ravished his cock, the picture of pure submission.
Just as he knew she had to be surprised to find him with a hard cock just after a shower, he was also sure she didn't know that he had a load of cum "cocked and locked" before she even touched him. His body tightened as he fought to control his orgasm, but she sensed it, too. Both of her hands reached around and clenched his ass, pulling his balls deep into her mouth. After less than a minute of what was otherwise the perfect blowjob, he unloaded. Spurt after spurt kept shooting the short distance to the back of her mouth. And still her blue eyes looked up at him, pleading to please in their way.
He could see cum escape her lips, dripping down her chin and onto her blouse as the last of his orgasm subsided. As she pulled her mouth away, she licked her lips before extending her tongue to wipe the cum off the head of his cock. Steven could see the gooey whiteness of his cum on her tongue and teeth as she continued to bathe his cock. She licked her fingers, wiped her chin, and then licked them again. Then, she stood, and, in a casual manner, as if she was telling him the forecast had a 30% chance of rain, she said, "Dinner's ready." Her breath carried the powerful scent of his cum, making his senses reel. She turned and let herself out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Unreal.
What was going on? And who was this stranger that looked like his wife?

When Hayley returned to the kitchen, she decided that battling herself was pointless. She had a need to cum and, therefore, would. Steven would be at least a few minutes, anyway. She moved quickly to their den and sank into their couch. She raised her skirt, and she felt the heat of her body quickly remove the coolness of the leather couch. She felt...wanton. And she had been. She reached between her legs and began rubbing her clit. If Steven came down the steps and saw her, he would find his wife giving him a perfect view of her cunt. She didn't really want Steven to find her this way, but the naughtiness of it, and of what she had just done with Steven, gave her all the imaginative fantasy... But it wasn't fantasy. She had actually done it. Remembering the sight of his swollen cock, and the velvety feel of his cock in her hand, against her tongue, in her cheeks, and finally filling her mouth to her throat, she gave herself over to her climax, cumming with loud moans. Her desires hoped he would hear her, find her spread and fuck her; her shyness hoped that the orgasm would quickly diminish in time for her to straighten herself up.
She managed to stifle her moans as her orgasm finished its convulsing, and, catching her breath, she climbed off the couch. She went to the kitchen to grab a paper towel to wipe up the wetness she had left behind. So much wetness for so short a time. She returned to the kitchen and was about to use the ladle to scoop out stew that had been cooking in the crock-pot all day, when she realized that she hadn't really cleaned her hand. She wiped her gooey hand and fingers on the edge of a bowl. That would be Steven's bowl. She couldn't help but grin. And now that she was returning to her senses, the wetness of her cunt was giving her chills because of the air-conditioning. She wasn't wearing panties, but for the life of her, she couldn't think why not. She had planned on the blowjob, and Steven wouldn't recover fast enough to give her a good fuck. What had she been thinking? She raised her skirt slightly and raked a couple of fingers across her cunt, scooping her fluids. She wiped her fingers on Steven's bowl. Damn! She was wet. She scooped again, and again, until she was more or less dry.
Most of her juices had gathered in a small pool at the bottom of the bowl, but were otherwise stuck on the downslope of the bowl. She emptied a ladle of stew into it, obscuring what she knew was mixing with his dinner. Screw him if he can't take a joke, she thought. He'll probably never taste it anyway. She placed their bowls and drinks on the table and went to the bathroom to check herself.
Some of Steven's cum had dried on her chin, and she saw that some was on her blouse. She was about to wash up when she felt a sense of wrongness about it. What seemed right was to leave it as it was, tantalizing Steven through dinner and beyond. A grin again spread across her lips, and a wonderful sense of fulfillment washed over her.
Although she felt good physically of late, she had developed a concern that she wasn't pleasing Steven sexually. She fairly frequently had assorted sinus infections, back and neck pain, and just general aches that seemed to reduce her interest in physical intimacy. But for the last few months, she only had some minor neck or back pains, and even that occurred on rare days. She loved Steven, and with her body feeling good, he had to know that she loved him. To have and to hold, that was the vow.
The love was there. The commitment was there. But something nagged at her, telling her that she needed to prove herself sexually to him, to be the aggressor, the experimenter, the temptress. She wondered where all these ideas for sex had been hiding, because for the past 15 years, love-making just occurred...naturally...in its own time. It was rare that she fantasized about anything. She did enjoy romance novels, but she never actually fantasized about Steven. Anything other than watching his cock spurt cum onto her breasts. That was still her favorite. Oh yes. She heard Steven descending the stairs, so she quickly rubbed yet more fluids from her cunt, then hurriedly wiped it off on her napkin, except just a little "bit" on Steven's spoon. She gave him a nice smile as he entered.

Steven was driving to work the following morning, a grin his face, where it had been stuck for weeks, it seemed. The visual images of the perfect blowjob the previous evening and of his cum leaking from Hayley's lips, which were wrapped around his cock... He had to stop thinking about that. It was unsafe to drive with one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing his rock hard cock through his slacks. Still, he marveled at it, now certain that, yes, that was only the second "complete" blowjob she had ever given him. And then to have to eat dinner seeing small globs of white cum drying on her black blouse...and those bits on her cheek and chin... It was more than he could take. Still, it didn't limit his shock when, after finishing dinner, she had stood up, dropped her skirt, bent over the dinner table, spread her legs and said, "Don't ask. I just need to be fucked, right here, right now!" As he stood behind her, removing his shorts, she had reached between her legs, parting her cunt lips, moist - no - wet, forming the perfect invitation. He couldn't think of Hayley ever having offered her cunt so brazenly. His cock had been kind to both of them, and he was able to watch for what seemed like forever as he slid in and out of his wife's cunt, before shooting whatever jism remained into her.
Dammit! He felt his balls tighten, and he came in his pants. At the next light, he looked for napkins in the glove compartment and couldn't find any. And, it was still a 30-minute commute to the office. He thought that surely there couldn't be much cum left over after last night, but the wetness in his pants didn't reassure him.
What WAS going on? Only a couple of months ago, he was happy to get a nice feel of one of her tits without getting snarled at. Why couldn't he just jump into this slice of heaven that she was presenting him? Everything felt right...but something felt wrong. It didn't make any sense. Anything other than vanilla "making love" had always been left to him to initiate, and always with the possibility that she wouldn't be interested. Why the change? He had to think.
For the past 6 weeks or so, her desires had been more frequent and much more imaginative. It had begun with little changes. Sex on the couch. Sex on the floor. A slow grind of his cock with her hand under a restaurant table, a night out without a bra. She had been willing to do these things before, but it was never her idea to it. But it was more than that; she was getting clever about it.
As he thought back, he hadn't even noticed that she wasn't wearing the bra that evening, because it had always been safe to assume that she was, particularly if wearing dresses or anything at all that revealed her form. She was always so shy about revealing her figure, and particularly wearing anything tight on her chest. She had let him know that she wasn't wearing a bra as she was getting into their van, after dinner, in a crowded parking lot. For once, he had acted the gentleman and opened the door for her. She had sat, with her feet on the door well, and making a pained face and twisting in some sort of discomfort said, "There's something in my shirt." With the door still open, she raised her blouse, slowly, to expose one of her 38 C's, the nipple hardening quickly. She grasped under her breast raising it, looking down at it, and then pinched her nipple, rolling it briefly between her fingers. "Oh, that's all it is." She had winked at him, turned forward in her seat, fastened her seat belt, and only then did she lower her blouse back into place. He was faced with walking around the car with an obviously stiff cock in his pants, capturing the eye of a lady who had just parked her car. This type of exhibition just didn't happen with his wife, and especially in daylight in an area with people around. His previous requests for quick flashes were always greeted by a deep sigh, followed by a "if I have to" roll of the eyes and the briefest of glimpses of a breast. He loved her breasts. He wouldn't stop asking.
Before they were married, Hayley had a spirit of adventure, or at least, a nympho's desire for a cock within her cunt at every available chance, which was still limited due to a long distance weekend romance. He could remember sex on the roof of a dorm in college, in a lobby of a locked building that they had sneaked into, on her parent's den floor while her parents were asleep, in a car on the side of a road, on the roof of a downtown hotel, in a motel room when four friends were sleeping, on the beach in the afternoon, in a golf fairway at night... It didn't surprise him that sex in married life would become less frequent, or that their likes and dislikes would settle into more or less a permanent, less exciting, compromise. But it did surprise him now that, after all these years, she seemed to be getting spontaneity back. Again, why? He arrived at the office, and after a brief detour to the restroom, began thinking on other matters.

It seemed to Hayley that since mid-morning, all she could think about was "5:30." That was when Steven would be home from work. It had been about a week since her last surprise, and although they had made love once during the weekend, her doubts about her sexual inadequacy were rising again. At 4:30, she took a bath. A long, luxurious one. Scented bath oil. A candle on the edge of the tub. "5:30" crossed her mind. She checked the clock. No, not yet. She re-read her favorite Romance novel, a wickedly sensuous story in which a young woman is captured by a muscular pirating Viking, who rapes her for weeks following his conquest, then falls in love with her battling spirit. And she for him. She fingered her clit. She imagined how horrible it would be to be captured, and taken like that. The thought of "5:30" awakened her from her dreamy masturbations. It was now 5:10, and the water had cooled. She got out of the tub, toweled herself dry, brushed her hair, and sprayed herself with just a hint of perfume on her neck.
She went downstairs, removed the vacuum cleaner from its closet, plugged it in, and waited by the window to watch for Steven returning home. She was sure this would please him.

He entered the house, admittedly thinking about sex. Steven was thinking all had returned to normal, as the weekend's sex had been "ordinary," in their bed, but very loving, very satisfying. He parked the car in the garage, entered the kitchen and heard vacuuming from the Den. He turned the corner and found Hayley vacuuming the den, naked. Only once before had she done housework naked, and that was just topless. The air-conditioner had broken and it had been hot in the house. The air-conditioner was working now... And yet, here she was... The noise from the vacuum meant that she probably hadn't heard either the garage door opener or the kitchen door, and he was able to watch from behind as her breasts gently swung with the sweeping motions that she made. Her back was slightly bent so that the fullness of her breasts jiggled in a way that made his cock instantly hard and uncomfortable in his pants. She leaned over to pick something off the floor, and he could see her wispy cunt hair between her legs, visible clearly against the light coming in from the den window.
He retreated into the kitchen slightly, so that she wouldn't see him. After he quickly shed his clothes, he raced to her from behind. With his left hand, he seized her dangling breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers, finding the nipple already stiff. At the same time, his right hand reached around her waist and found her cunt with his fingers. She was wet. She gave a startled jump, dropped the vacuum cleaner, and leaned forward, placing her hands on the window sill, arching her ass in invitation. She hadn't even looked to make sure it was him. As he placed his hands on her pelvis, he saw that she had written, somehow, the words "FUCK ME" on her ass in red ink. He rammed his cock home, his hands still on her pelvis, pulling her against him with each thrust. And even as the pleasure within his cock fought coherent thought, he wondered what had made her so wet. Vacuuming in the nude? No. Being nude in front of the window where others could see? Maybe. Probably not. It would be unlikely that anyone would see her. Her panting turned into moans, becoming short screams, her whole body bucking against him, crying out a desire for passion. With the smacking sounds of his balls slapping against her ass and a slight reflection in the window of her breasts swinging savagely in time with each thrust, he felt his cock swell to a rare fullness. It was a fullness that he knew she had to feel stretching her cunt lips, because the tightness and the furnace that was her cunt gave him no choice but to shoot his load.
She wasn't done with him. She pushed him onto the floor, and somehow his cock remained stiff enough for her to sit atop him and grind her cunt into him. She tantalized him with her breasts, lowering them to his lips and then pulling away just as he was about to capture them with his mouth. She knew her breasts were the tools that could keep him hard as a rock. She finally raised herself on her legs, squatted over him, slamming herself down on his cock repeatedly, which gave him a great view of his cock piercing his lovely wife. As she began her orgasm, he could feel their fluids run down his cock and between his legs. She finally placed her fingers at her clit and brought herself off to a climax that ended with a throaty "yeeeeesSSSS!" that sounded like it had waited ages to emerge. He came again, just as her leg strength gave out and she fell across his chest. His cock slipped from between her legs, and after no more than a minute, she rose to turn the vacuum cleaner off, and she went up the stairs. It was the best way possible to come home from work, but he hoped, maybe, they could actually share a kiss later.

In the bathroom, Hayley felt that she was, truly, the best wife in the world. How could any woman please her man more? She had been provocative and surprising, and it was downright fun! It had seemed that she was out of her mind, unable to think, as her body responded to Steven's cock spreading her sensitive areas, pistoning within her as she was "taken" by "her" unseen man. Her body was satiated, her mind satisfied that "5:30" had been worth the wait. She was absently staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, when she began to focus on her body. Maybe her right breast hung a little lower than the other, but she was pleased with her luminous skin. She marveled at all the pink flushes in her skin, the redness of her swollen cunt lips. She turned, watching, and... What? How - WHEN - had Steven managed to write THAT there?

He was thankful, yes. But now the suspicions wouldn't go away. He couldn't admit to himself that she was having an affair, but the seemingly weekly regularity of this sexual lioness invited all kinds of unsettling thoughts.
A few days later, Hayley went off to run some errands, so he used the time to search around the house for any clues as to what might have ignited her libido. He searched under the bathroom sink, through her closet, her desk, and her bedside table. He booted her computer and checked her e-mails, documents and any other place that might provide a clue. He didn't know what he was looking for, and he didn't find it. X-rated videotapes, letters from an admirer, appointments on her calendar...nothing. He decided to start recording these "events" on his own calendar, hoping they would continue, but fearing a pattern would emerge.
One night, after watching baseball on TV, all was quiet in the house, and he wondered where she was. It was time to go to bed, and they usually went together. He found her already in their bed, eyes closed, legs spread wide, with a huge black vibrator humming noisily as she cycled it in and out of her cunt. A welcome sight, yes, but where did she get the vibrator? She already had a couple of others. Why that one? It was certainly fatter, thicker than his cock, by far. And black. It contrasted nicely against her flushed skin, but why black? What part of town had she been in to buy it? Despite being disturbed, his cock throbbed at the sight, and he was in need of release. He didn't know if she knew he was there or not, but with the TV off downstairs, she probably did. He found his release on her breasts. Hot cum splashed across her tits, and she didn't even open an eye. That was one of her favorite turn-ons. Just what was the fantasy she was into?
He recorded the date on his calendar. It was curious, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to talk to Hayley about their sex life. With her being so aggressive, it seemed like she would bring it up, but she didn't. In fact, she seemed to avoid the subject, and had avoided the subject over the past months, almost as if it had never happened. He brooded with suspicion.
The "events," as he recorded them, he realized were very easy to identify. The next event happened while shopping at the mall. When clothes shopping, he was in the habit of finding a seat, or more often, standing near the women's dressing room in those stores that didn't provide seats, a pet peeve. Hayley would step out periodically to see how he liked the outfits she was trying on. At Macy's, on an obviously slow night, after trying on several evening dresses that hadn't quite worked, she stepped into the dressing room entry area naked, except her heeled leather shoes. She had taken a chance that nobody would be around, and he hadn't paid any attention to where the security cameras were. She struck a pose, reflected on all sides by the mirrors placed there. She stretched out a hand and curled a finger in invitation. He accepted. He couldn't help but wonder if others didn't notice the smell of sex that went with them as they left the store ten minutes later. He later recorded the date on his calendar.

Hayley had been horny for over a day. She had seen the chiropractor the day before, and her back felt great. It had been giving her problems lately, but the adjustments seemed to work. She had really wanted to jump Steven's bones when he returned home the day before, but she had an idea that required more time, and she put it to work. She had written a note to Steven and placed it on his passenger seat late the night before, so that he would find it on his way to work. It said, "When you come home, I'll be cumming too. On the deck." That would give him something to think about. And it had given her something to do. She looked down at her cunt. It was a little sensitive, but it looked remarkably different without the curls of her brunette hair. She replaced the razor on the soap dish and rinsed herself with water. He would like this. She better follow through with some wax to make sure all the hair was gone. Once this was done, she abated the stinging with some lotion. She inspected herself in the mirror, covering her face with her hands, embarrassed at the sight of her own clit, sticking out, asking for attention. She gave it a little rub, which sent jolts of pleasure through her. She stopped, feeling it was wrong to pleasure herself, as if it might somehow stop her from giving her all to her husband. Besides, she had some painting to do.

It had been another week since our clothes shopping expedition and the note Steven found in his car said it was time for another "event." A few newspapers were on their neighbor's driveway, so he assumed they were away. Besides, their deck was relatively private when leaves were on the trees. That was good, as he had no doubt that whatever she had planned on the deck would have to include sex and nudity. In fact, he recorded it on the calendar before he arrived home. There wasn't much risk involved with the neighbors away, but exhibiting herself in any way on the deck was still completely out of character for her, at least, until recently. He hadn't gotten much accomplished at work, his thoughts always drifting to what he might find at home. He had called, but there was no answer. The thought of her having an affair kept recurring, and he had decided that he might follow her around the next week. It would be easy enough to appear "out on sales calls." He parked the car in the garage. Although he had suspicions, it didn't stop him from being excited about the prospects awaiting him.
He found her, as the note had said, on the back deck, with her hands pumping the black vibrator in and out of her cunt. She was reclining in one of their swivel deck chairs, with an unusual looking bikini. He approached her. Ahhh, she was wearing paint. She had used fluorescent body paint that they had purchased years ago at a gag store and never used. She had painted her nipples orange, one breast "cup" blue and the other green. Pink "strings" completed the bikini top. The "bottoms" were also pink, and he realized, happily, that her cunt was shaved to allow for the paint. She had shaved herself once a couple of years earlier, with the comment afterwards that she would never do it again, due to the itching that followed. Well, she had lied.
No shorts, T-shirt, or even a towel could be seen anywhere on the deck. Her head was leaned back against the chair, her eyes were closed, her legs were wide open, and her feet were propped up on a couple of upside down flowerpots. It was a new standard for brazen exhibition of her sex. He removed her hands, kneeling between her legs, and worked the vibrator himself. She never opened her eyes, but gave herself to the sensations, both vocally and by rocking her hips into the vibrator. After several minutes, having increased the speed of the penetrations, she came loudly. He sure hoped the neighbors weren't home. He helped her up and led her to the deck railing. In a rare instance of self-
control, he enjoyed her slick, hot, cunt for half an hour, with her leaning over the handrail, her breasts swaying in time with the pace of his slow thrusts, before he went over edge and came in her.
Steven was not at all pleased when he soon afterwards walked to the mailbox to get the mail, and saw their neighbor, a married man, mouth the words "THANK YOU" while picking up his newspapers from the driveway, 40 yards away. Steven's face turned red as he heard a chuckle, and he only hoped that this was the first, and last, time his neighbor had seen Hayley naked. Hayley had never said anything about him, and they had remained only acquaintances despite having lived beside each other for over 5 years. He was a computer techie of some sort, Steven couldn't recall. They didn't have much in common. Still, Steven couldn't help but put him on his imaginary "possible affair partner" list. It was now a list of one. On the other hand, he realized how awkward it was going to be around him at the neighborhood party that weekend. And, presumably, awkward around his wife, assuming he told her. Or was she home, too? Oh, man...
A week later was "that time of the month." Nothing was likely to happen in "event" terms, and... nothing happened. A week afterwards, however, he decided that the time was right to follow Hayley around a bit. He parked the car near the entrance to their neighborhood. He had no good place to "hide" as far as watching wherever she might go on foot, such as their neighbor's house. Their neighbor didn't really seem her type, but he was becoming less sure now of what her "type" might be. He didn't have to wait in the car too long, however. Shortly after 8:00, her van left the neighborhood, and he followed, a discrete two or three cars behind.
She stopped at an ATM machine, then continued on. This was pretty cool. Steven, Private Investigator. He admitted to himself that he didn't expect to find anything unusual, so he approached this day with a certain amount of humor. Her second stop was the chiropractor. That lasted about 30 minutes. Another $30 gone. After that, she went to Wal-Mart. This took her about an hour, coming out with two plastic bags of what looked like cosmetics and some hardware. He wondered what PI's listen to in their cars. Steven, PI, was having a tough time of it. Talk radio seemed to be saying the same thing 20 different ways. FM music was pretty much the same old stuff he already had at home, if he liked it. He should have gotten a book-on-tape or something.
Hayley pulled into Home Depot. So did he. Maybe Wal-Mart didn't have everything she needed. For what? He didn't know. She had never really repaired anything before, but she could get very motivated in her hobbies. Another sack accompanied her return to the van. She drove maybe half an hour to another part of town, where she pulled into a small restaurant. That was good. He was getting hungry too. She sat at the window of the restaurant, obviously waiting for someone. He'd wait, too. After a few more minutes, her friend Denise entered the restaurant. That made sense. Denise worked in this part of town. He drove off to a Wendy's drive-thru before resuming his watch. There wasn't much to watch. After an hour or so, Hayley drove home. And he figured he better make at least one sales call, so he called it a day for his PI job. Steven checked his voice mail and found that another customer needed to see him in the late afternoon. He called Hayley on the cell phone and let her know he'd be returning, he thought, around 7:30 or so and not to cook for him. He'd get a free dinner, at least.

Hayley's pulse raced. She had so much to do, to try. She unloaded her bags from the van, left them in the garage, and went into the kitchen. The phone ring startled her. It was Steven. The short of it was that he would be home late and she knew when. Good. This gave her even more time to do something she had never even thought about before. She fixed herself a Coke, found an old comforter they sometimes used as a picnic blanket and returned to the garage. She opened the first sack. Cosmetics. She put that by the door to the kitchen. The second sack. What WAS she doing? She felt she HAD to do this. The thought terrified her, but at the same time, her cunt was becoming wet. What had happened to her?
She enjoyed making love, but even more enjoyed the unexpected hug. Flowers. A passionate kiss in a setting where sex was not expected. Holding hands while walking. Good conversation over a dinner out. Just a look that says, "I love you." And making love that included a comfortable bed, sheets, background lighting, or perhaps a fire in the fireplace. And here she was, her thoughts captive to what she assumed were Steven's sexual desires...the love was there, but it was focused more on the sexual act, not the sensuality. A rough fuck...nudity in the house...nudity out of the house...displaying her cunt to him like a slut...sucking his cock...swallowing his cum. Avoiding these things had come naturally to her. It just wasn't romantic. These things she did only rarely, on special occasions, and only if he had been meeting her needs. Recently, however, it seemed she couldn't orgasm unless she was breaking her own standards for what she regarded as appropriate in marital lovemaking. Were her needs changing?
Hayley looked at the items she had purchased, and realized with a start that her hands had been fingering her clit and that she was about to cum. She stopped. She couldn't do that until later. She had to give Steven all of her love, her body, her sex, and if she came now, she would be "less" later. Or, she might chicken out. But she knew she wouldn't. She had to fulfill him. She needed to be had, to be taken, just like the heroine in the romance novel she had read. Who had she talked to about that book? Her thoughts became confused, and she went in search of Steven's tools.

As the garage door opened, Steven began pulling the car inside and was astonished by what was in the sight of the headlights. He had to brake, rather hard, and pull the car back out. He stared at Hayley from within his car. His wife was in the garage, kneeling on a blanket in the floor. She was facing the garage door, naked except for panties, which apparently held a vibrator in her cunt. The panties were soaked. Across her chest she had written "fuck me" in large letters with a black magic marker. Her hands were behind her back, and ropes were tied around her arms, each connected to eyebolts mounted on the ceiling. Her eyes were covered by a blindfold. Her lips had the glossiest, bright red lipstick he had ever seen. He turned off the car, went inside the garage and closed the garage door, thankful that their neighbors were not outside.
After the garage door opener stopped, all he could hear was the muted rumbling from the vibrator within her, and rather quick breaths from his wife. He found that her hands were tied behind her back. She couldn't separate her wrists. She could stand or sit, and that was about it. He didn't see any possible way that she could get herself free. He didn't see any way possible that she could tie herself up like that, either. Who helped her? Then he saw the slipknots, and it appeared to make a little sense how she could have bound herself.
He knew he had told her what time he would be home, and he was perhaps an hour later than that. How long had she been like this? Then he noticed her kneepads. She had thought about this, prepared for it. Her trip to Home Depot made sense. This chick needed to be fucked.
Steven stripped out of his clothes and began to lightly touch her - her chin, her cheeks, her ears, her shoulders, the side of a breast, her thigh. He didn't say anything. If she wanted the blindfold, then she obviously wanted some mystery. She hadn't said a word either. Whatever fantasy this was, he was willing to step right into it. In fact, he had dreamed something close to it himself. He untied the ropes to the ceiling, but left her hands tied behind her. He gently leaned her forward, so that her head was on the blanket. She still hadn't said a word. As he went behind her, he lowered her panties, and removed the vibrator that, judging by her soaking panties, had been inside her for a long time. He moved forward, and placed the vibrator at her lips, catching her by surprise. Still, she managed to lick some of it as he spiraled it past her mouth. He turned it off, and squeezed her nipple, slightly, then harder, as she remained bent over. He was afraid he might have squeezed it to roughly when a small squeak emerged from her. He moved behind her.
Her ass now raised, her cunt visible, he saw that she had written, not to neatly, but in small block letters, "H A R D" across her butt, in red ink. Of course. A two sided message, "fuck me, HARD." The light on the garage door opener turned off, and it was almost black in the garage. He slid a finger between her legs, probing the slick wetness of her cunt. The heat she was generating took him by surprise. His fingers followed the trail of her juices, finding both of her thighs soaked. An hour like this? Longer probably. He inserted two fingers straight into her cunt. She shuddered. He found her special little spot, not her G-spot, but a ripple slightly larger than others in her vaginal canal, and pressed it with his fingertips. Her moans filled the garage. He alternated pressing her spot and retreating, until she seemed too tired to moan any longer. Her body began convulsing, forcing her cunt against his finger. The feelings this spot produced she had always said were "too intense." Apparently not this time.
Enjoying her vulnerability, he inserted a third finger, pushing them in as far as he could go, then spreading them as much as possible. His fingers didn't seem to stretch her as much as he expected, probably because of the size of the vibrator. He fucked her, not to carefully, with his fingers, enjoying the feel of her clit and bare pubic mound with his other two fingers. He removed his fingers and smelled them. Her juices smelled good...fresh, if that was possible. In fact, she smelled good all over. She had prepared herself well.
He lowered his head carefully, and without any warning, gave her cunt a wide lick with his tongue. She jerked in surprise. He did it again, because he could. She couldn't do anything about it. Hayley, for whatever reason, hated oral sex on her. She had never explained it, but now she was hardly in a position to refuse. He wanted to do this some more, but the position was uncomfortable, and to roll her over would mean that he would have to untie her hands.
So, he fucked her, hard. Just like the sign said... He relished the power of fucking a bound woman, a helpless woman, and loved it that it was his wife offering herself to him in this way. She apparently shared this excitement. The garage was unfinished, and her shrieks seemed to echo through the room, and he worried that the neighbors might hear. Then, caught in his own passion, he decided, so what?

The sex had been fantastic. After Steven came in her, she hadn't counted on him extending his opportunity for playing with her body. It shouldn't have surprised her, though. That's just the way it was in her story. The man tied the girl up, raped her, and then played with her body until he tired of it. Steven had untied her hands, and she thought that was the end of it. Then he rolled her over and tied her hands to the ropes connected to the ceiling. Then, after a brief absence, during which he apparently found more rope, he somehow tied her legs open. He had feasted on her pussy. He had called it that, knowing that she didn't like the term, saying that her pussy tasted so good. She didn't particularly agree, but had no choice in that position but to kiss him, her juices on his breath. And certainly he had his content of groping her breasts. It seemed like he had played with them for hours. Maybe he had. Then he had fucked her again. He lasted so long when he was able to fuck her a second time. That, she hadn't wanted to stop. Secure in her own house, but tied up and at the mercy of a man. Her body shivered again. He left her down there alone for a while, still with the blindfold on.
She could tell by the plumbing sounds that he had taken a shower. She had heard him descend the steps, then whisper her name - "Hayleyyyy..." A smile had formed on her lips, then faded abruptly as she realized he had taken a Polaroid picture of her. What a mess she must have looked. Why would he want a picture? That reminded her of something, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
When he had freed her, she went to take a shower, noticing that he had again written "FUCK ME" on her, this time with a black magic marker. She didn't remember him doing this. She felt confused, and a part of her wondered if she was losing her mind. Still, she felt like she had a purpose, and even though she didn't know what it was, it had been met. Hayley cried a little that night. It wasn't Steven's fault. She was frustrated because she didn't understand herself. After a couple hours of tossing and turning, her body fell into a sound, needed, sleep.

Another week, another "event." Steven was paying bills and balancing the checkbook on the computer, when he heard Hayley make some noises in the kitchen. The freezer door, perhaps. He went back to what he was doing, when he heard her say behind him, "You will kneel before me." He turned around, and he was stunned. Besides the vibrator, Hayley had made another purchase. She had purchased leather boots that went to her knees, and the boots had at least 3" heels. This drew her leg muscles wonderfully taught, but his eyes couldn't linger there. He couldn't stare at her bare cunt or her exposed breasts either. Both of her arms were covered with leather gloves, which extended almost up to her shoulder.
One hand was placed on her hip, fist clenched, with her elbow out, in the manner of angry parent, perhaps. The other was held like a waiter's, with the palm open, holding a bowl of chocolate ice cream. This struck him as curious, but he didn't say anything because of the serious look in her face. She wore a black mask over her eyes, with holes cut out so that she could see. It wasn't a cheap Halloween mask, either, but a leather one that obviously cost some money.
She repeated, "You will kneel before me...now!" Last week Jeckyll, this week Hyde? He knelt. She stepped closer, so that her pubic mound brushed against his nose. He could smell her wonderful scent, her juices adhering to his nose. She stepped back and placed the bowl of ice cream in front of him. "Look down." He did. "That is where you will cum." Hmmm. "Pull down your shorts and underwear, and begin stroking yourself!" He did. "Do not cum until I return." Huh? She was back rather quickly, with a video camera. Great. He finally came, and it seemed like the semen factory must have been doing its job lately. It was hard maintaining his balance and aiming his jism, and the ice cream began to look like a photo negative of vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup. Sort of. "Sit against the wall!" He did.
She put the recorder down, and picked up the bowl of ice cream. She took a spoon and slowly shaved a small amount of ice cream, with a lot of cum. She moved it to her mouth, then stopped. She passed it several times under her nose, smelling it, and then she replaced the spoon in the bowl and handed it to him. She picked up the camcorder, used her boot to spread his legs, and then leaned forward with one foot, the sole against his cock, the heel threatening his balls as she slowly twisted her foot.
"Eat...the...ice...CREAM!" His cock raged to life, and he didn't even want to think of the reasons. Despite liking the taste of pre-
cum, he had told her some months ago that he didn't really want to eat his cum anymore, despite the turn-on that it was for her. He realized the lie. And Hayley knew it, playfully grinding his cock as he took the first bite. With the camera, the feel of her boot on his cock, the heady sense of eating cum (with chocolate ice cream, of all things...), and the sight of his dominating, naked wife standing above him, with a finger rubbing her clit, he ate the ice cream, and the cum, greedily. She somehow made herself climax, standing, which he had never seen before. When he had finished the "cream," she stopped the camcorder, turned and walked away, without saying anything. That was beginning to be her trademark...
He recorded this on the calendar. An "event" almost every week, but on different weekdays, Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday. Something was wrong here, but at least now he had a place to start looking.
While she was asleep, Steven removed her checkbook from her purse to see where she had been writing checks. Gardening store, dry cleaners, Wal-Mart, drug store, grocery store. They didn't sell boots and gloves like that at Wal-Mart. He went to her desk and removed her credit card bills. The most recent bill she had just received, and he quickly found two charges to x-items.com. He booted the computer, logged onto the net, and checked the site. Adult novelties. At least she wasn't going into seedy stores around town. He couldn't help but give a thorough look into their products, just for fun.
He began to wonder how she had found that site. It wouldn't be too hard to type in a few keywords in a search engine and find it, he supposed, but there was a part of him, a jealous part, he admitted, that wondered if wasn't someone else behind her recent change. The irregular regularity of her sexual throes had started much sooner than the purchases, so he looked at the previous month's bill for anything unusual. Clothes stores, a few restaurants, chiropractor visits. The two preceding months were much the same. The chiropractor seemed to be doing pretty well, with several visits per month. Their insurance didn't cover the visits, and he more or less had given her the responsibility of paying for her visits. She hadn't been complaining about her back lately, so he had guessed it was working.
A thought occurred to him. Without having to pay the bills for her visits, he hadn't realized how often she had been going to the chiropractor. He carried her receipts to his desk, found his calendar in which he had been taking notes, and started comparing the dates.
He was sure that checking each number in a winning lottery ticket would be more thrilling, but the succession of dates matching perfectly at first seemed coincidence, then an exciting discovery, then shocked realization. She had been to the chiropractor on each of the dates he had recorded, or the day before. He feared the worst. An affair seemed the only possible answer to explain Hayley's heightened sexuality.
The following days were a torment. Each appointment had been on a weekday, when he was at work. It was impossible for him to follow her around every day, and she didn't write her appointments on the calendar. He tried to ask what she was doing each day, without sounding pushy or mistrustful, but he didn't hear a word about the chiropractor. Her part-time job included working half days several days each week, and it was before or after her job, likely, that she would find it most convenient to go to the doctor.
He cursed his stupidity. After she went to bed, he ransacked her purse, and unearthed what he was looking for, in the change pouch. An appointment reminder. He should have thought about this sooner, and avoided the anguish. Her next appointment was in 5 days, on Tuesday, at 8:00 in the morning, at Dr. Richard Gilliam's. He had seen his name on the credit card bill, but finally he was forced to name his apparent enemy, and it twisted in his thoughts like a black downward spiral into which he vented all his rage. Dr. Gilliam. As the days came closer to her appointment, he became frustrated as to how he was to find out what was going on. Challenge her? Accuse her? Of what? If Dr. Gilliam...The name escaped his lips as would an expletive that he didn't want anyone to hear... was behind this, the result, from his perspective, was that he was receiving a tremendous benefit, but he couldn't enjoy it if it meant that she was having sex with him. A troubling thought flashed through his head that, perhaps, he could still enjoy her. He didn't pursue the thought.
At work on Monday, in his search for a yellow highlighter in the office supply cabinet, his eye caught hold of a small box, and then he found the proverbial lightbulb flashing above his head. Tuesday morning, he remained around the house later than usual, with the lie that he had an appointment away from the office. Hayley left the house at 7:30, and he only hoped that his plan would work.
When he returned home that afternoon, his wife was napping, which wasn't unusual for those days she worked. Or, maybe she wasn't napping. Maybe she was masturbating with the memory of her visit with Dr. Gilliam. That sour thought led him to her purse, where he retrieved a small Dictaphone from an outside pocket that she apparently didn't use except for stuffing trash papers. He was happy to find it. It had occurred to him that the tape probably made an audible "click" when it reached its end. If she heard it, and found the unit, he would have some explaining to do. Which maybe wouldn't be a bad thing, anyway. Still, he preferred it this way. He took the Dictaphone to the garage, where he could play it without being heard. If she woke up, he would hear her steps on the floor above, where their bedroom was located.
He had been frustrated all day by the fact that a simple, good plan could easily unravel. He had waited around the house in the morning so that he could start the tape as close as possible to when she left. He caught a break when she went to the bathroom just before she was to leave, and he had quickly inserted the recorder in the pouch. It would record for two hours, so giving her a half hour of travel, the inevitable doctor's office wait, the wait in whatever type of room he used, and the actual appointment, he had felt he had a good chance to record her entire appointment. After all, how long does a chiropractic appointment take? No more than 30 minutes when he followed her. But he didn't know. He'd never been. It might take longer if she was screwing...He stopped that thought. He rewound the tape approximately 75%, figuring he would avoid the car ride portion. He hit the "play" button, with the hope that it had been able to record decently through the fabric of her purse.
The car radio. He had rewound too far, but at least it sounded clear. Fast forward. "...one appointment ahead of you." Good, the tape should be long enough. Fast forward. The sound of magazine pages. Fast forward. The sound of laughing, then, "the doctor will be with you in just a few minutes."
It started very professionally.
"Good morning, Hayley. How are you?"
"Fine, thanks, I've had a good week. And you?"
"Sometimes I think that my days are too long, but it's a good problem to have. There's a lot of starving chiropractors out there. Not that they're bad, of course, but there's just too many for the area. How's the back, getting better?"
"Yes, I think so, but after 4-6 days after my visits with you, my neck and back still gets stiff, and, usually in the mornings, I have that stabbing pain between my shoulder blades that goes away after a couple of hours."
"Same old story. Well, let me take another look at your x-
rays to make sure that the Atlas adjustments I've been making are proper. For most people, 3 months of treatment is the maximum before I've done all that I can do, and they almost always don't need any more adjustments unless they're in an accident or exert themselves unusually. You've been coming here pretty regularly, for a little longer than that. Have you seen this video?"
"Uh, no."
"Okay, why don't you watch this while I go check the film. It gives some history on Chiropractic, problems with the spine and some of the things we do to correct it."
Steven heard the tape being pushed into the player, the sound of the TV being turned on, and the door being closed. Good, he thought to himself, no affair. But the dates matching perfectly were beyond matters of chance. He continued listening as the tape explained Chiropractic. He heard most of it very clearly and even learned a few things. The videotape concluded and rewound. Dr. Gilliam, the name no longer a metaphor of evil, re-entered the room.
"How was the tape?"

"What tape?"
What Steven heard afterwards chilled him.
When he entered the kitchen, the surprise that greeted him didn't surprise him. His wife was standing in the informal dining area, which had a glass door built into a bay window, which leads to the rear deck. She was wearing a short T-shirt that was pulled above her breasts, and her breasts were pressed against the glass. She was working a dildo in her cunt, a wide and long dildo, but made of ice. He had been in the garage maybe 45 minutes, replaying the tape, and based on the water dripping from the dildo and pooling on the floor, she had apparently been at this a while. What's a husband to do?
He fucked her standing up, her hands against the doorframe, feeling a biting mix of cold and heat as he plunged within her. As he fucked her, he noticed they were being watched. Their neighbor, again, on his deck, staring through the trees. He apparently there to water his plants, but, instead, he was rubbing his crotch. Steven guided Hayley's head to the right, and he could tell she was confused. He tightened his grip on her pelvis, and thrust hard and fast within her, cumming just as she recognized their voyeur. She made an unusual squeaking sound before sliding his cock out of her cunt and all but running from the door, then upstairs. Steven picked up what remained of the ice dildo from the floor and quickly walked it to the sink. Like Hayley, he didn't want to see their neighbor, either.
Two days later, he had a chiropractic appointment. Without the least bit of surprise, Dr. Gilliam was good looking, with soap opera type looks - tan, graying at the temples, not a real doctor, just playing one on TV... Steven fought to continue the role of patient. He told him that he had woken up several days earlier with a "crick" in his neck, but unlike others, it didn't seem to go away. The doctor asked a standard variety of questions, marking a checklist on his clipboard. Steven almost missed it, but Dr. Gilliam was using a red ink pen. So Hayley probably hadn't written the messages on herself, after all. It made some sort of perverted sense.
Dr. Gilliam indicated that he would need x-rays to provide the proper adjustments, and they proceeded with that. The doctor then had Steven sit in the examination room, including little more than a padded table, a chair, a small counter space, some posters, and a TV/VCR. The doctor then suggested he watch a video about Chiropractic while the x-rays were developed and he saw another patient. Uh-huh. Sure.
He inserted the video, and Steven closed his eyes. He already had heard the video, thanks, and he had no intention of watching it. After it was over, the door was closed, and he quickly looked in the cabinet below the VCR to see what other movies were there. There was only one, about spinal construction. The label was very similar to the one in the VCR, so he swapped it and placed the video the doctor had shown him in his inside jacket pocket, which was hanging from a chair.
More than a few minutes later, the doctor returned and invited him to a viewing room to review his x-rays. Dr. Gilliam pointed out how his neck was unusually straight and that, as he aged, how the vertebrae were likely to become fused to a degree and painful. Steven actually hadn't made up the neck story; it just didn't hurt now. Maybe a couple of months ago. The doctor explained how several months of adjustments, moving this vertebrae this way and another that way, should work well to keep everything the way it was meant to be.
He took Steven to another room, which had a strange device with an arm that stood by a padded table. He asked if Steven had understood the video.
"Video?" He looked confused. There was an uncomfortable pause. Hopefully, this would work.
"Tell me, how has your sex life been lately?"
Steven looked straight ahead, with minimal movement, not sure how he was to play this part. He tried to copy his wife's tone. "It's been great. My wife has been acting like a nympho the past several months. She's never acted like this before."
"Really, tell me about the last time."
Steven told him about the ice cube dildo and the show by the back door.
Dr. Gilliam chuckled, seeming quite pleased with himself. "Excellent. At our next appointment, you will bring me the videotape your wife recently made while you were eating ice cream. You will not remember anything I've said in this room when you hear me count '3.' One, two, three."
When he finished counting, Steven looked at him. Dr. Gilliam resumed, "you need to lie down on the table with your head at the far end, so I can make the first adjustment. You'll need to be..."
Steven cut him off. "I don't think so."
"Excuse me?"
Steven removed the Dictaphone from his pants pocket, and hit the PLAY button.
The doctor's voice sounded. "So tell me, what type of outfit did you choose?"
Hayley answered, "What I knew he would like. Black leather boots, black leather gloves, black leather mask."
"And you wore nothing else?"
"No."
"That would be quite a sight. Okay, two things. First, this is what I want you to do tonight. First, when you get home, take a plastic coke bottle, the 20 oz. size, and fill it about 2/3 full of water. Lay it on its side in the freezer. Tonight, sometime after your husband comes home, cut the plastic bottle away from the ice, then run water over the ice to shape a dildo, a nice fat one, maybe as thick as your wrist. Pick out a room in the house and let him find you using the dildo, with your legs spread. Do it by a window or door so that there's a chance someone will see you. I think maybe you should just wear a T-shirt this time, but pull it above your breasts. No bra. Let him fuck you. After that, you'll be embarrassed about your little exhibition, and leave to another room. After you dress, you will feel satisfied, and personally rewarded, that you were able to offer yourself to your husband this way. Then it will occur to you that sex really felt so much better after a visit to the chiropractor.
Secondly, when we begin talking again, you will tell me that you continue to be concerned that your breasts hang unevenly. You will then ask me if an adjustment can be made to make them level. My seeing, touching, and taking pictures of your breasts will seem a very appropriate part of my job. While I am doing this, you will only feel some guilt about how surprisingly good it makes you feel that someone besides your husband is touching your breasts. When I count '3,' you will not recall this conversation. One, two, three."
"Oh, I guess I forgot to get the videotape for you. So tell me, where does it hurt today?"
"Well, I'm really embarrassed to say this, but, I think my breasts are hanging unevenly. Is there an adjustment that can fix that?"
"That's not something I can capture on x-ray..."
"I know. Here, let me show you. I want your opinion." A few faint noises, obviously the sound of her blouse and bra being removed, then, "What do you think?"
"Well, I don't want to jump to conclusions. Which breast do you think is hanging lower?"
"The right one."
"Are you sitting up straight? Ah, that's better. Okay, lift your hands and touch the top of your head. A little higher. That's it, yes. Hold that position. Let me take some measurements for my file." The sound of a drawer opening and closing. "Let's see, that's just over a 38" chest. That's not unusually large, so the weight by itself is not likely to be a factor. Let's see. I'm afraid my fingers are a little cold. Hopefully you won't find this uncomfortable." There was a long silence, as presumably, he felt her breasts. "Okay, perhaps some small alterations in your spine can adjust this over time. For comparison, I'm going to need to take some photos, which we'll probably have to update every several weeks."
Steven stopped the tape. Throughout the tape, Dr. Gilliam had been having a very difficult time making eye contact, no doubt trying to think of a way out of this. He backed away a little. Maybe Steven looked dangerous. The doctor stammered for words, then began in earnest. "I must admit, you are quite the Sherlock for figuring this out. But let me explain." Yeah sure. "I have a successful practice. I paid a lot of money to purchase an existing practice after working with my predecessor for several years. He had a number of other hobbies, one of which was hypnotism. I don't understand it at all."
"There's a lot of chiropractors out there. You see their offices everywhere - in run down shopping centers, in older homes that have been commercialized because 4 lane roads run where their front yards used to be. Very few do you find that are in medical complexes or in newly constructed, stand-alone buildings like this one. There's a lot of reasons for that, but buying this practice seemed the best way of avoiding becoming one of the 'have nots.' My wife, you know, she spends as much as I can make. And I can spend pretty well myself. Club memberships, clothes, cars, the loan to pay for this place. That's where the video comes in."
"The video was made by my predecessor. The hypnotic part comes during the first couple of minutes, when people will pay the most attention. I'm a doctor, you understand. I've been to college, learned the skills, and devoted my life to Chiropractic. I believe in what I do, and that it also helps people lead more comfortable lives. At the same time, it's a challenge. Many health insurers don't pay for visits, so it's left to my customers to foot the bill. At $30, we charge a reasonable rate. The problem is, when it's their money, they only come long enough to feel better, then they skip the remaining appointments that our science says they need to help reduce symptoms now and recurrences later. Someone may need eight visits over three months. If they come twice and can resume their normal activities, they don't come back.
The idea behind the video was for them to feel good about their lives, and then relate those feelings to the benefits of my service. That way, they come back. They're better off for the visits, and I rarely have any openings in the appointment calendar. It's a win-win situation."
"I can see that," Steven said. "But then you got greedy."
The doctor gave a slow nod. "My predecessor didn't give me much instruction on the limitations of the video. He said I couldn't force people to do things they didn't want to do, and I haven't really pushed the envelope, so to speak. But I first became tempted with a quite attractive blonde several years ago. Let's just say that it's worked every time so far. But I can only go so far. There's too much disease out there, and, really, I'm quite happy at home. Also, after a patient's first appointment, I usually only schedule fifteen minutes per appointment, so there's no time to use the video."
"But in certain situations, you do."
"Well, yes. The good looking women are a weakness."
"And what do you do with them?"
"I really don't want to go into that."
Steven raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? I have your medical license hanging by a thread." He dangled the Dictaphone in front of him. "Tell me, what have you done with my wife?"
"I've never had sex with her, if that's what you mean. I've never even had her remove her pants. There just isn't enough time, for one thing, plus I have two female assistants who are always about. There's too great a chance I'd get caught. I've seen your wife's breasts, yes, and taken some pictures (see Hayley's tits at www.asstr.org/~IdleHand/Contents/hayley.html). I've done that with a lot of women. And rather than make them just feel good about their backs, I've expanded the benefits of Chiropractic to fulfilling sex. They're happy. You should be happy. They feel better. I get to satisfy my libido while filling my bank account. And that's really about it."
Steven gave him a skeptical look. "That all sounds very reasonable, but I have my doubts. You could use your video so that patients forget that they had to wait an extra half hour for their appointment, and you could use it to make your patients think their appointment started late, when in fact, you had liberty with them for as long as you wanted. And as for your staff, you could easily have them watch the video and have them forget what they've seen you do. I can only think of one solution here."
He looked at me, emotions mixed between panic and hope. What hope did he have? "Your office, does it have a VCR?"
"Yes."
"The only way I'll let you out of this is for you to watch your video, and then answer the questions for me. That's your only option, short of being exposed."
The doctor gave a somewhat defeated look. He said, "I know what you're thinking, but the film won't work on me. We've got to find some other terms. I'll be happy to give you your wife's pictures back, and the videotapes she's brought me. This has the potential of too much trouble. How about this? There's two more copies of the videotape in my safe. We can destroy them together. Just to give you some reassurance, I'll give you a few pictures of my wife." He reached into his desk drawer and removed several pictures. I looked. If he was a graying Ken, she was a nude 30ish Barbie. Wow. The face in the picture matched a photo on his desk, a portrait that pictured them together. It seemed legit.
"Keep those under wraps. If she finds out, I've had it. I can't afford a divorce." Dr. Gilliam opened the safe and removed the videotapes. He had a hammer in another desk drawer, and offered it to Steven. They stepped outside through his private door to the rear of the building, and Steven smashed the tapes, pulling the film from them. He then threw them in a dumpster.
Dr. Gilliam looked worried, and he had reason to be. His business was likely to go on the decline. "I'd appreciate it if you left that little tape with me," he said.
"No, I don't think so," Steven said. "I have no way of knowing whether you have more tapes, or more pictures of Hayley and me. We'll call it a draw."
He nodded, reluctantly accepting the terms. "Okay. A draw. Anything else?"
"Yes, this visit was free." He nodded again and escorted Steven to the lobby before taking his next patient, an absolutely gorgeous 20 or so year old that Steven couldn't imagine had any problem with her back. The things he could do with that tape...
Steven figured it was probably best not to tell Hayley about what had happened. No doubt her Chiropractic visits would soon end, without the hypnotic suggestions that it was working so well. He thought about telling her to see another doctor, but that would just arouse suspicion. With any justice, the doctor's practice would be meeting its end in the next several months.

Dr. Gilliam seethed. Steven was smart to figure him out. But he was also gullible. He removed the master copy of his videotape from an unlocked file cabinet...the best place to keep your valuables. He amused himself and laughed shortly. Steven's audiotape was too incriminating, and many of his clients were too distinguished to hear about the "privileges" he allowed himself. If they found out, he'd be in jail. Worse, two were wives of pro football players. He'd be dead.
In a way, Steven had answered a question that he'd been tantalizing himself with. As a recent widower, the prospect of using his tape to get more than a titty grab HAD occurred to him, and Hayley was a fine piece of ass. It was finding an opportunity that he had been careful with, and with Hayley, he now had an opportunity and a purpose. Sweet.
If Steven had just made him watch the tape, he would have revealed everything. Sucker. He had no idea how the thing worked, but if he could suggest to a woman that she couldn't see "Fuck Me" written on her body, his personal signature of sorts, it seemed like the tape could be used for about anything. It was time to push the envelope.

Hayley arrived on time for her Chiropractic appointment the following Tuesday, after her part-time work. Dr. Gilliam's assistant had called and asked if a later afternoon appointment would be okay, as something had come up, and she found that she was the last appointment for the day.
When she got to the patient room, Dr. Gilliam held up a video and asked if she had seen it. It looked familiar, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember anything about it. The doctor started the tape and left the room while she watched.
They chatted a bit, he made an adjustment to her back, and she headed home. Her van clock said 7:00. She looked at her watch. 7:00. What? Where had the time gone? The video must have been longer than she thought, although, thinking about it, she didn't seem to remember much about it. She wondered if she was having a problem with her memory. She hurried as best she could through traffic to get home. She was surprisingly tired, so she fixed sandwiches, ate and then went upstairs to shower. Steven seemed to accept that she got hung up in traffic.
She felt unusually sticky. In the bathroom, she started the shower water, undressed, then looked in the mirror and saw what she recognized as cum, dried on her cunt, and a trail of small dried drops leading up to her breasts as well. This panicked her. She looked again in the mirror. She had what Steven referred to as her "just fucked look," red splotches on her skin with a healthy glow. But she hadn't had sex with Steven in a couple of days, and she had showered since then, at least twice, and just this morning, in fact! The time lapse occurred to her. She couldn't remember anything, but the only possible answer was that Dr. Gilliam had...
Just then, Steven opened the bathroom door, naked, with a raging hard-on, and pushed her into the shower. She was being taken, all over again, just like her Viking story. How many times had she been taken lately? Dr. Gilliam! She didn't remember telling him about her favorite book, but somehow she knew she had! Steven engulfed a breast with his mouth, then sucked her nipple fiercely, just short of biting it with his teeth. The pleasure almost became pain when he lowered himself to her cunt, and horrified thoughts of "NO! NO! NOOOOOO!" raged through her mind. He didn't stop the licking. Couldn't he taste...? Maybe the shower water would wash it away in time... The pressure of his tongue on her clit and the thought of her husband slurping another man's cum from her cunt sent her pulse racing. And the realization that she had been fucked without knowing it was a taboo far beyond a rape by a conquering Viking. She screamed in her orgasm. Loud.
The following week, Hayley received another call from the Chiropractor, requesting another appointment change, and again, it was for the last appointment of the day. Fine. While she had shared in a fantasy she didn't even know she had, a confrontation was at hand.

Dr. Gilliam almost couldn't concentrate on his patients through the day. Hayley had been a great fuck, and he would fuck her again, but he had a purpose to achieve. And while Hayley had been quite a willing participant under his spell, the next time, and from now on, he would have her of her own will. Sweet.
He finished with his last patient, and told his receptionist she could go ahead and leave, for which she gave him a disapproving look. Time for her to watch a video... It wouldn't do to have his receptionist suspect he was getting intimate with a married patient. He locked up.
He opened the door to the room in which his forthcoming fuck awaited, and, ...what a mixed signal! Hayley stood, fury on her face, but her nipples were rock hard, poking through the fabric of her blouse, apparently without the restriction of a bra. As he stared at her breasts, she raced forward, slapped him hard across the face and yelled "Bastard! You bastard!" Yeah, he thought, I am. But you're turned on. Otherwise, why no bra? And a skirt? She always wore slacks or shorts. How much did she know?
She slapped him again. He apparently wasn't paying enough attention. "How could you? You fucked me! I found your cum all over me when I got home!" Huh? Hell. He had forgotten to make her oblivious to any signs of sex. He had only made her forget about having sex and to suspect the video for being longer than she remembered. Well, it really didn't matter if she knew. He was about to tell her anyway. But something about it turned her on...of, course! Her rape fantasy. Her favorite book. He had drawn that out from her about two months ago, and he had used it subtly in his suggestions. Subtlety was at an end.
"Hayley, we need to talk. Step into my office and I'll show you a couple things."
She followed him in, and sat in one of his chairs. He opened his safe and retrieved a video. The best lies are mixed with truth.
"Your husband is a smart man, Hayley. He visited me a couple of weeks ago and confronted me with an audio tape, from a recorder he had placed in your purse." Hayley looked intrigued. This likely wasn't at all the conversation she had been expecting.
"The tape proves that I use a videotape about Chiropractic terms to hypnotize some of my patients,... in this case, you." He could see that Hayley seemed to register understanding about how she had been fucked, as well as the loss of an hour and a half or so. He explained how the particular audiotape suggested that she make an ice dildo, and exhibit herself to whatever world was beyond the door or window she had stood by. "The tape also, I might add, unfortunately, included me suggesting that your breasts were uneven and that you should display them to me in hope of an adjustment." Hayley looked down at her breasts briefly, again understanding. "That's right, they're perfectly matched."
"Bastard," Hayley snarled in a low voice.
"Steven asked me if I had done anything further than that. I told him 'no.' There wasn't time during normal appointment schedules for anything beyond, basically, teenage petting. I gave him all the photographs of your breasts I had taken. As he thought about it, I think the potential power of the videotape got to his head. He demanded a copy. I refused, for which you should be grateful. And I'll show you why."
He placed his video in the VCR and hit 'play.' He saw the mistrust on her eyes.
"Don't watch the video until you're confident that it's not the hypnotic one. Go ahead. Look away." He started the movie. He stifled a chuckle as Hayley's voice filled the room, from the TV. It was soft. Submissive. "Fuck me. Please? I've been admiring...wanting you for weeks."
Hayley's eyes opened wide and turned her head to watch, so Dr. Gilliam, knowing his fish was hooked and all but pulled on board, watched with her. It showed her walking on her knees, to his crotch, unfastening his belt, unfastening his pants, reaching in his underwear to pull out his cock. My 8" cock, Dr. Gilliam thought. Bigger than your husband, aren't I? You aren't used to that, are you? He had to control another chuckle. He had watched the video repeatedly the night before, but now, he was enjoying watching Hayley, shock on her face, her mouth open, paralyzed in stunned silence. Her face was a magnificent glowing red. Her nipples hard. Sweet. He would enjoy her. He let the video continue. There wouldn't be any more dialogue in the video, he knew. He started talking after the movie showed his first orgasm, into HER pussy.
"It goes on for another 30 minutes or so. You sucked my cock back to life, and we had another go. I had mixed feelings about doing this, Hayley, and here's why." She looked at him, skepticism mixed with fury, fury mixed with passion. Or so he hoped. Soon now...
"That audio tape threatens my business, you understand. Steven threatened my medical license, newspaper exposure, that kind of thing. Although I had given him pictures of my wife, naked..." He sounded downcast. "You know she died several months ago." Hayley was watching the video, which showed her sucking his cock like a porn star. "So he took those pictures of my wife, and I gave him the pictures I had taken of you. He wins, you know? I asked him what it would take for me to get the tape back from him. You're not going to like his answer." Hayley turned to look at him. Her nipples were still hard nubs. Sweet. Worth lying for. He tried what he hoped was his most sincere voice. "He said he would trade it for a video of me fucking you."
With that, the color draining from her face. "He didn't!" She looked distant, her thoughts unfathomable.
"He did. And I don't know if I can trust a man who would have his wife fucked by another man. I have a business and my reputation to protect. Unfortunately, that's going to make things more difficult for you." He could tell Hayley was sensing an impending doom. "Step over to my computer." This was going to be fun. Hayley sat in a rolling chair, still showing some spirit in that she wasn't afraid to look. He logged onto the internet, and went to his own website, www.boughtandpaidfor.com. Tears formed in Hayley's eyes. In bold capital yellow letters across the screen was her name. "H A Y L E Y." And underneath, in slightly smaller print, "Slut wife." As he scrolled down the screen, he revealed that the website included the photos of her breasts he had taken, stills from the video she had just been watching, and stills from a video of her fucking Steven. He clicked on a thumbnail picture. A picture of Steven's cock in her cunt filled the screen. He hit the "back" button, and then clicked on a link for effect. A small square appeared on the screen and a video began of Steven cumming on her face, audio included, with her giggling after he was done.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you about those. I had you bring me all your sex tapes and nude photos a couple months or so ago. Steven took them back, but not before I digitized them. See? Here's a Polaroid of you posing naked. I believe you said that was 12 years ago. Look how young you look. It's too bad the color is fading. But I digress. Here's the point. Your sister is a client. She even sent me a joke e-mail that went out to all her friends, including their e-mail addresses. She told me who your friends are. Who your pastor is. I have clients that go to your church. I know where your husband works. All of them are going to get an anonymous note that lists this website." He let that sink in. Hayley hunched over in her seat, placing her hands over her face. "UNLESS, you do what I want." Hayley looked frozen, probably just beginning to imagine what things he would do with her. "Hey, look, the counter shows 18 people have been to the site already, and I haven't even registered it with the search engines."