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Age 25
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Right, John? It must be funny, thinking about it.

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Right, John?

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It must be funny, thinking about it. She realized she is of a lower class than most of us, so she went to a job where she serves people their money. She is forced to help richer people handle their money. She is forced to sit on her ass and give rich, successful people their money. I bet there's not a moment that goes by that she's not jealous of those rich, successful women that come through her line. She understands her inferiority, so she put herself in a position where she serves those that are better than her.

You saw all of those rich, gorgeous women get their money, and you wished you had married one of them instead. I bet one of those rich sluts saw you sitting there, and they couldn't resist saying hello.

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How could they? How could they resist a stud like you? These rich women, they think they can get whoever they want. It doesn't matter if you're married. And they hit on you. And you were receptive, but resistant.

I bet you kept turning these chatx away, trying desperately to stay loyal to your wife. But then that one slut came along. That one who was irresistible. That one who made it clear she would do anything. That she was a total slut. And you were just about ready to walk out with her. To get in her Porsche, drive to her mansion, and spend some quality time together.

To trade up from this nasty life into the good one, with a nasty slut. A rich slut who could give you anything you ever wanted.

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But then your wife came along to ruin your fun. To drag you back to this crappy place, and your crappy marriage. I bet there's not a day that's gone by where you didn't wonder where you would be if you had left with that slut. I bet there's not a day that's gone by where you stockholm wonder how tight that bitch's chat would be. How much of your dick you could get in her ass. He had actually been hit on once by one of the visitors at Tammy's bank.

He had politely let her know he was married, but, as Jessica said, that had not stopped her. He had no choice but to walk away. He did randomly think about her every so often, wondering her intentions, but those were just passing thoughts. He was jarred from his thoughts when he felt Jessica's hands near his dick, teasing his cock, demanding a response.

Jessica's hands moved from his torso and finally touched the base of his dick. As both of her hands ascended his dick, the sensation of finally slut his cock touched set him off.

In one single, ball-churning stroke, her hands drove him over the edge. As her hands stockhokm just below the head of his dick, cum shot out of his dick like a fountain. Cum spurted into the air before landing on his chest and belly.

He just kept shooting, all the stress in his body now shooting out of his dick. And he must have been very stressed, because his chest and stomach were now covered with his own cum. After almost a full minute of cumming, John settled down, exhausted again. Exhausted, but more relaxed than he had ever been before. He felt like a puddle of jelly after that amazing massage. He glanced over at the clock, noting stockholm hours had passed since the beginning of the massage.

Once again, Jessica had taken all the chat out of him, and his eyes lidded over before falling asleep again. Early on, I was teasing him, preventing him from getting off. So, he had this idea. He would say something bad about you, and I would get him off. He knew that it slut totally appeal to my fetishes, so I agreed. So, every time you hear your hubby diss you, he's doing it to get off.

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He's insulting you so I can empty his balls. He cares more about getting off than your feelings. Just think about that. Tammy immediately questioned this. That didn't sound like her husband at all. But why did he insult her? He wanted the happy ending to the massage, so he insulted her job, then Jessica got him off. Was Jessica telling the truth? Had John worked out some sort of insults for pleasure deal? A buzzing was heard again from another room.

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Jessica rolled her eyes and ran from the room. Tammy rested her head back, exhausted from the hell she and her husband had been put through. Tammy was alerted when she heard yelling. Jessica was yelling at someone.

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She must be on the phone, Tammy realized. The yelling went on for a few minutes before going silent. Tammy heard footsteps approaching. She sensed Jessica's presence, but before she could see her, a needle entered her neck. Everything went black. No response. Tammy suddenly started to stir.

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Her eyelids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds. Finally, she was able to get her eyes open. She was shocked to see it was dark out. I passed out after the massage and when I woke up you were unconscious. I've been trying to wake you up for hours. I thought she had hurt you. I've been awake for awhile, and I haven't seen her or heard any motion. I think she's gone. Just tied up? Listen, can you stockhopm at all? Tammy wiggled her toes. Her legs were too short to reach the ground from a sitting position, and her feet were tied roughly against the legs of the chair.

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The only movement she could make with her feet was by wiggling her toes. She didn't have enough leverage to try to move the chair by shifting her torso. She was stuck. I can't stockhopm.

He jerked his legs wildly and bounced hard on the bed, pulling his arms as hard as he could, but nothing budged. This all seems really secure. We're stuck unless she comes back. Tammy tried to remember the last thing that had happened.

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She remembered Jessica on the bad, next to her passed out husband. She remembered Jessica explaining some sort of deal. A deal where her husband insulted his wife in exchange for sexual relief. Tammy was about to ask John about this when they heard a door slam shut. John and Tammy looked at each other, sharing a look of both dread and relief. Dread that that bitch had come back. Relief that they were not abandoned.