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August 24, 2013

My Whore Wife

I sat next to him in the bar knowing exactly who he was. His name was George. He was not a good looking guy, large nose, rough complexion, stocky build but clearly quite rich. And, it was also clear that he had been around. This international business scene put a mark on some men. He was worldly, cynical and a bit worn down.

I struck up a conversation with him discussing why he was here at a bar in Ukraine. As expected, he spoke perfect English. He told me he did business here from time to time. He was a consultant who helped new companies start up and make connections to the west.

He asked what I was doing here. I didn’t lie. I told him that I was passing through, having a few business meetings and then onto Moscow. I asked if he had ever been to Moscow. And he replied that he had often. “Women are great there,” I said forcing the conversation in a direction I wanted it to go. “Gorgeous.” I knew this. You see, I met my new wife Aliona there a few years ago. She is a beautiful brunette with a long thin back, nice legs and the world’s best ass. She is loyal, loving and genuinely wonderful. When we met she was in her mid-thirties and had been single all her life.

The only thing was that she loved sex. She is fantastic in bed. Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining, but after dating for while, I started to think about how she got that good. She told me that she had about 20 partners over 20 years. By American rules, that meant much more, maybe double. I wondered if it was the same with Russian women. So I began to ask her about her past.

She had no problem telling me everything. In fact, she seemed quite proud of her history of sex. She counted her lovers like beads on a rosary. I became obsessed with her ex-lovers. This one name George, who she called her Dutch man, intrigued me.

She always said he was a good guy but a bit dirty. He had been her lover for 5 years but she had others during that time as well. But what got me was that he was willing to finance her life, pay her bills and buy her clothes, etc. I always wondered what he got in return. To an American ear, this sounded like prostitution. But Russia was different. Men covered bills for their girlfriends all the time. But he was not Russian. He was Dutch. Did he see it the Russian way? Or, was my wife a really whore to him?

He was based in Kiev now, So when I had a chance to come to Ukraine on business, I hatched the idea that I would hear this story from his own mouth. I tracked him down and followed him to the bar. “Yeah, and horny, but expensive. I like them better here, just as gorgeous and fewer expectations.” “You ever date any girls in Moscow.” “Sure, lots. One for quite a while.” That was it. I knew he was talking about her. My dear, Aliona.

“What happened?” “I don’t know. It was never serious. I liked her at first, she is beautiful like a classic movie star, very stylish, smart and what an ass. But in the end, we knew it was not forever and it became a very simple relationship. I just came into town and fucked her about once a month. I had an apartment there, well she did, but I paid for it. I paid her bills and bought a few gifts when I came to town.” “That sounds expensive.” “Not really when you add it up. I was in town 3-4 days at a time, that’s $1000 bucks in hotels rooms. Add $400 a night for whores and that’s $2600 bucks, so I saved a $1000 a month really. I had a nice clean apartment and gorgeous piece of tail waiting for me there.” “So you thought of her as your whore?” “For the last few years, yeah. I mean basically, I fucked her and she took money. What you do you call it?”

I just nodded. It was amazing to me that he was talking about my wife. I could barely imagine it, but it was true. Now the key question. “Was the sex good?” He laughed out loud. “I never fucked better. She was the horniest bitch, I have ever met. The nastier it got, the more she liked it.” “What do you mean nasty?” “Let me tell you. I would fly into SVO and send her a text that I was in town and be there in an hour. She would text back telling me what she was going to me… suck my cock, lick my balls, and let me face fuck her. She loves that.”

I almost fell out of my chair. “You’re kidding. Did she do it all?” “And, more. That was the tip of the iceberg, my friend. I would walk in the apartment and she would greet me with a cigar and scotch wearing lingerie, you know those little baby doll outfits with tiny panties, and wearing high heels… $400 high heels.” “Wow, I can never imagine.” “Russian women like being sexy unlike fucking American girls. They all want to be men. Russian women are women. They dress sexy, do their makeup and want to please their men. Anyway, before I even got in the door, she dropped to her knees, pulled out my cock and started sucking and licking. She loved giving head. It actually made her wet. After a bit, we go into the bedroom and I’d sit on the bed. She’d get down and start sucking my balls telling me how much she missed me and appreciated all I did for her. But we both knew the score. I paid, she sucked and fucked. It’s fair. I didn’t ask about her life, she didn’t ask about mine.”

I could not believe he was talking about my beautiful wife in such a way. It was strange. In a way, it turned me on. “She had a rule; no blow job was a blow job until I came.” That was true. She is still the same. One of the things I love best about her. “So I would always stand up at the end, her face right there between my balls and asshole. She would put her tongue deep in my ass and jack me off. When I came, I would tell her it was time, and she would take it all over her beautiful face. I never saw anyone who loved cum on her face like Aliona.”

When he said her name, it bowled me over. The reality was setting in. My wife had been his whore. “It was a great way to come into town. We would eat, watch a movie or something. Rarely talked. She liked all these boring Russian movies. I would usually fall asleep. She would wake me up by grabbing my dick again and stroking it. “I would get hard and she would turn around, thrust that gorgeous ass out at me and wiggle around. She loved it from behind.” With me it was always missionary, looking into each other’s eyes, loving and sweet. She insisted on it. This was something different. “I get up over her and start fucking her from behind. She squealed with pleasure. I would ask her if how she wanted it, ‘fuck me hard. I am a slut. Your slut.’ “So I would. I was in pretty good shape then and would thrust it hard in her and very fast. She would reach behind her and pull her ass cheeks open so I could see her asshole. I could feel the heat of it against my belly. “I loved the noises she would make. Like a little dog barking. Eventually, I started calling her my doggy. My slut doggy. It sounds better in Russian. She loved it. I told her to bark louder, and I would buy her some shoes. Russian girls are nuts about shoes. She barked like a dog for me. Can you imagine?”

I could and it made me crazy. I was getting hard listening to the way this man disgraced Aliona. “The trick was to make sure she had at least 2 glasses of wine. Get her a bit drunk, and she would do almost anything. She told me she got fucked in the ass during a cocktail party at a business conference once after 3 glasses of Malbec. She did not even know the guy. She met him on the way to the bathroom. He just bent her over, pulled down her panties and fucked her right in the hallway of the conference center. Of course, she was wearing a $2000 dollar dress I bought her at the time,” he laughed. “I love that story. Dirty girl.

“Anyway, I eventually would have to get into that ass. She had bigger orgasms from anal and anticipating it made her even dirtier. I would slide in that warm ass. It would open right up and take me in. She would tell me to treat her like a whore. That was easy… that was what she was. I would grab her hair hard. Pull it back and put my fingers in her mouth. Then I would shove her face into the bed and push as hard as I could. She would start crying. At first I freaked out about this, but after a few times, I realized she cried when she came because it was so intense. Aliona was fucked up in many ways.”

Hmmm, I thought. I never remember her crying. Does that mean she doesn’t orgasm with me? She always says I am her good guy. Maybe I am too good. “She liked it when I would cum on her asshole, then stick my dick in again and fuck her more so she could hear it all wet. Boy she was fantastic. I miss her. I do” “What happened? Why don’t you see her anymore? You don’t go to Moscow?” “No, I go from time to time. My last time, she told me she had been dating a guy for a month and thought he was the marrying kind. She had found a sucker to take her on for life. Anyway, I didn’t want to be in the middle of that, so we fucked one more time, best ever if you ask me, and I left. We text dirty messages from time to time. She still sends me naked pictures, but I have a new girl here and Aliona’s ass was getting fat anyway.”

I realized now, that she had cheated on me with him. Well once wasn’t too bad. It was at the beginning I guess, a goodbye romp. Was that so bad? “I feel sorry for the poor fucker that married her though.” That raised my attention. “Why’s that?” “Well this girl is not the faithful kind. She fucks around all the time. She writes me and tells me about it because she knows it gets me off. She even blows her boss at least once a week and sleeps with married guys at lunch. She says she like the married guys now because they can keep a secret. They give her gifts and she fucks them.”

I was devastated. My wife was still out there having sex with other men. He took a last drink and slammed his glass down. “Well, good talking to you. I have to head out. Good luck with everything.” He offered his hand. I shook it and he walked out. I had gotten what I wanted. I met George and he was all that I expected. I went to my hotel and was awake all night thinking about this man taking my beautiful girl the way he described. I came three times by my own hand before I fell asleep.

Just as I drifted off I thought, I have to meet the guy from the conference. I wonder what his name is.

By: dunross

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