The lady’s name isn’t “Murphy,” that’s a nickname I gave her soon after we met online. She’s Irish, and wears her thick, red hair mid back – something that really turns me on. From one of her more intimate photos I noticed that she’s a ‘natural’ redhead but mostly keeps herself shaved down there something else that turns me on immensely. Although she disputes it, I think Murphy is beautiful. Her flaws are the stuff of humanity; an ass that’s a little big, beautiful breasts that have some forty year sag to them. These things appeal to me. Women without flaws are like a white wall. Murphy’s wall compels you with its fine art treasures so richly displayed.
Murphy is one of the classiest women I’ve ever met who prides herself on acting the slut when conditions call for down and dirty. The woman can carry herself like an heiress, smile sweetly and turn the corner, take a cock into her body and ride it like a Cajun whore from the back alleys of New Orleans. Then, she can turn the next corner, again smiling sweetly, leaving people raptly unaware of the gel melting down her thighs.
What I savor most is that while I like Murphy, respect her, desire her and sometimes ache for her, I don’t love her nor does she love me. Murphy is a woman whose compelling desire is to be used and degraded by men and I ache to use and degrade her with the greatest of respect. I love the paradox of Murphy and deem it astounding that sexually, she is an Irish subordinate. There aren’t a lot of those women around; she’s like rich chocolate milk served in a fine gold, Eucharistic chalice. How could I not want her? Loving her would put me in competition with her husband and I don’t wish to compete with him, I want simply to fuck his wife and send her home to him used goods. Well used. I want to be grateful to him for blessing our union if only for a night or a weekend. I want him to be grateful to me for fulfilling their fantasy. It’s symbiosis. She wants to be used and degraded. He wants her to be used and degraded and I want to use her. We’re the perfect storm. If my wish is granted at the bar, by mutual agreement, I will give Murphy fifty dollars for our time together and she will hand it to her husband and he, in turn, will give it to charity. The point isn’t the money, except to make a cut-rate prostitute of Murphy, to give her that extra trashy bit of sluttiness, out there doing her “pimp’s” bidding.
My flight is quick and comfortable. As a bonus, the airline bumped me up to first class because I fly with them often. Crossing Lake Michigan, I looked out over a gorgeous afternoon sky. Approaching Chicago, I glanced down sadly at what once was Meig’s field and silently cursed Mayor Richard Daily for bulldozing it for land development. On landing I hired a rental car, a bid Dodge Challenger similar to the one I own at home, checked into the Hyatt Regency, changed and then headed south towards Hickory Hills where I had a job lined up the following afternoon. After doing a ‘dry run’ to the job location, I completed my journey to the bar where the course of my fantasies will turn on a virtual coin-toss of a decision.
Murphy was at the bar, sipping a drink and a man had just left her with the unhappy expression of a man just blown off by a pretty girl. Pretty she was, in a black cocktail dress, black stockings that I hoped were lace top thigh highs, and high heel pumps. The dress had a matching black jacket with silver lapels and cuffs and ample cleavage was there to enjoy. “Is this seat taken,” I asked easily, knowing that Murphy would recognize me from photos. I gave Murphy a kiss on the cheek and whispered, “You look amazing! Thank you for being here.”
“Thank you,” she whispered in return and I took my seat.
“Margarita”? I asked and Murphy smiled that I remembered her drink. I ordered one for her and a rum and diet Coke for me. About seventy five percent of my body wanted to sit Murphy on the bar and eat her sweet pussy right then and there. The other twenty-five percent wanted to turn around and scan for Murphy’s husband but I resisted both impulses. We began some small talk about how was my trip and how the Chicago Cubs were doing and in about ten minutes although I never once saw Murphy’s eyes leave mine, she said, “Let’s go out to dinner. I’m not sure which part of my body reacted more dramatically, my heart hammering in my chest or my cock straining at the seams. I had decided to give Murphy a surprise and handed her two black business cards onto which I’d printed instructions. The first card instructed Murphy to approach the man whom I’d nod to and give him the second card. The second card read, “Dear Sir, I am a subordinate and have been instructed to escort you into the men’s room and give you a blowjob. Please do not say a word, just lead the way to the men’s room.” I directed Murphy to flip over the first card which had further instructions directing her to return when finished and to deposit his ejaculate into a shot glass that would be on the bar waiting for her.
Murphy read both cards and looked deeply into my eyes. I tried but couldn’t read hers and I hoped that I didn’t blow my chance with her. Murphy cast a gaze towards the tables at the back of the lounge and then whispered to me. “You’re on. Who”? I had already picked out a man sitting alone down the bar. He was the dictionary definition of the average businessman stopping for a drink before heading home to the missus. I nodded his way and Murphy kissed me on the cheek and went over to him. The man looked confused and read the second card at least three times and then got up, looked around and then headed off to the men’s room with Murphy in tow. I hope that her husband was enjoying the little twist on one of his favorite things to do with her. I asked the bartender for a shot of tequila and freshened my drink with it, leaving the empty shot glass at Murphy’s place. She returned silently about fifteen minutes later, sat down and raised the glass to her lips as though knocking back a shot. She returned the glass to the bar nearly full of ejaculate and smiled at me like the cat that ate the cream and took a big swallow from her margarita. “Now I think it’s time to go I said.” Murphy looked at the shot glass, then at her margarita and then at me. She took a final sip of her margarita, smiled and stood. Again I wanted to scan for her husband but again I fought off the urge and took Murphy’s hand and led her out to my car.
“Wait a minute” she said and walked to a car not far from mine and retrieved a small overnight bag from the trunk. I opened my passenger for Murphy and she smiled and said, “Oh, a gentleman.”
“A gentleman with a lady,” I replied with a grin. Driving up Interstate 55, we chatted like magpies and soon arrived at the John Hancock building and hopped the elevator to the Signature Room on the 95 th floor. I am not taking this sexy woman to an Olive garden! We both ordered sea scallops which were excellent. The view of Chicago and the lake is breathtaking, but not nearly as exciting as the woman across the table for me and what lies in our immediate future.
After dinner, we left the Signature Room and went to the other side of the floor to the Signature Lounge for drinks and dancing. Dancing close with Murphy is a pleasure that I’ll remember long into my elderly years. It’s been said that people tend not to regret things that they’ve done so much as those which they didn’t do. I think I would very much regret not taking Murphy dancing. After about an hour of dancing I gave Murphy one last twirl drew her to me for the faintest of kisses, smiled and whispered, “Don’t you think it’s about time you started earning your keep whore?”
Murphy grinned and said, “OK, take me. Take me out of here I mean.” Murphy wanted to stop by the ladies room and I directed her to place her panties in her purse for the short drive to the Hyatt. Alone in the elevator I pulled Murphy to me in a long deep kiss as I slipped my hands beneath her skirt and grabbed her ass cheeks and pulled her still closer to me. Murphy’s mouth savored mine and her arms encircled my neck as we kissed the entire ride from the 95 th floor to the parking garage. I wanted my cock inside her right then and there but it would have to wait. I wondered if the security guys on the other end of that elevator camera enjoyed the view of Murphy’s fine ass. During the ten minute drive between parking lots I let my right hand explore Murphy’s girl parts, grateful that the big Dodge Hemi had the automatic transmission, unlike my six-speed manual. My right hand had far better things to do than shift gears. The scene reminded me of some passages from the book version of Peter Benchley’s Jaws when Ellen Brody, the police chief’s wife chose to have an affair with Matt Hooper, a marine biologist. He explored Ellen’s vagina from the restaurant to the inn where they would consummate their lust. Murphy’s juices spread over my gently probing fingers and I kissed her deeply at every traffic light.
In the Hyatt elevator, I raised the front of Murphy’s skirt and continued my exploration as she smiled and stared into the security cameras as if daring them. That was one DVR recording they’d not soon forget! Once in our room the game changed from the blue skies of romance to the dark, seething, black and red passions of lust. This bitch was mine and she was going to please me. I directed Murphy to strip for me and to make it quick. I took off my belt and raised it threateningly. Murphy knew that I’d not actually hurt her with the belt because pain was a boundary we’d already agreed upon. Lightly, I smacked her ass, not enough to hurt her but enough to excite Murphy from the imagery. I called her a dirty girl and made her tell me every nuance of her blowjob with Mr. Ordinary at the bar. Sometimes I slapped the belt hard against my hand so that the sound shocked Murphy and sometimes I slapped it lightly to her ass cheeks just enough to make her cheeks pink up.
I made her beg my forgiveness for sucking that man’s cock and then twist the scene until she bragged wantonly about the salty, savory taste of his cum. “You like cum?” I demanded. “Suck my dick you slutty girl, you Irish slut. I stood at the big window overlooking the Chicago River at Whacker Drive and Murphy sucked me good for all of Chicago to see had someone bothered to look up towards our window. I held her beautiful red hair and pulled her to my cock as it strained in her mouth.
Murphy’s hands wrong my cock nearly until it hurt, and chanted, between slurps, “Is this good?”
“You’re my good girl, suck me like a good girl and I will reward you.” Murphy sucked, sucked and sucked some more. When my orgasm was near, I told Murphy to bend over the arm of a big wingback chair near the window. I prepared to enter her vagina but was so close to orgasm that I changed my mind and pushed the head of my cock lightly against her rosebud.
“No!” Murphy yelled and her body jolted. “No anal sex, you promised!”
I slapped her ass firmly and said, “I promised I’d not put my dick in there but I promised nothing about shooting my cum into it!” With that, I ordered Murphy to stroke my cock until I came and I lightly slapped her ass as my hips slid between her its cheeks but I never entered her rosebud. When the moment came, I pushed the head firmly against her ass and let my cum invade her body’s forbidden zone. When finished, I guided Murphy back to her feet, kissed her hard on the mouth and then sat onto the wingback chair and sat her onto my lap cradling her gently. I stroked her hair and told Murphy she was a good girl but soon would be a bad girl – very bad.
I ordered Murphy to turn down the bed and then go to the bathroom to wash her ass and then return with a warm washcloth and a towel and to wash my genitals before I fucked her. “Shall I call you Master,” she said and I searched her face for sarcasm and found none.
“No, just go and do it!” I said firmly. We fucked until three AM and then fell asleep in each other’s arms. IN the morning we ordered room service and I ordered Murphy to answer the door wearing only panties. She was to allow the man in and to set up the table. Instead of a tip she was to remove her panties, hand them to him and tell him to return in exactly ninety minutes. We enjoyed breakfast and the salty taste of the bacon reminded me a bit of the salty taste of Murphy’s lips and of her pussy as I kissed them both during our lovemaking. I remember one orgasm that had Murphy screaming. Hell I nearly screamed myself once. Murphy was kneeling and sucking my cock. After a few minutes of that she slipped a finger into my ass and began massaging my prostate gland. Having already come twice aI wasn’t expecting much but my cock fired off a round of cum that must’ve come from some ready reserve deep within my body. I’m used to letting go during sex but this was an explosive release that left me grabbing for balance and seeing spots before my eyes.
The ninety minutes went by far too quickly and Murphy answered the soft knock at the door wearing a sheer robe. A very nervous bellman entered out room with champagne and strawberries and said they were on the house. I retired to our trusty wingback chair and let Murphy take it from there. She poured three glasses of champagne and then took a strawberry and deliberately masturbated her clit while the bell hop’s jaw nearly struck his chest. “You’re overdressed, ” she told him and that kid was out of his clothes in maybe ten seconds flat. I savored the champagne and the view as Murphy teased this kid, turning him every which way but loose. She led him to our nearly ruined sheets and pushed him onto his back and mounted him. “Is this what you want?” she asked.
“Oh yes, yes, the kid moaned.
“I was talking to him,” Murphy said, tilting her head towards me. I smiled and that kid looked like he was about to implode and leave chunks of his body throughout the room. He tried to hump but was nearly pinned to the bed as Murphy rode his without a trace of mercy in her soul. “Fuck me you stupid kid, give me your miserable little prick before I grind it off of you!” As many times as I’ve read stories about men jerking off while watching their woman fuck someone else, I was too pussy whipped to do so and I just watched them with interest and enjoyed my champagne.
With a final push down, Murphy pushed the kid over the edge and he warned I’m going to cum!”
“Yeah I know, Murphy said dryly and I could see her eyes glaze over as this kid’s semen flooded inside her body. No sooner had the kid finished when Murphy told him to dress in the bathroom and leave immediately afterwards. There was no guesswork about what she wanted as Murphy pushed a pillow beneath her hips and looked me in the eye brazenly. In a flash I was inside her and pumping. The wetness was amazing and I felt this stupid kid’s sperm being pumped out of Murphy making room for mine. When I came, I came hard. I rolled off and Murphy kept her hips elevated on the pillow. “I want to keep this mess deep inside me for as long as I can.
Guys, I am soooooo jealous of this woman’s husband!
