My husband Rock likes to describe his role in our lives like this: Imagine a zealous and perpetually horny but clueless and incompetent pimp who falls...in love with his one and only whore. He wants her always in whore mode and whores her out, but almost always forgets to charge for her services. He enjoys getting her properly used - fucked always and often, sometimes hard and roughly.What is my life like, day-to-day? Imagine me as a somewhat classy call girl. Graduate educated, living in upper. But I was also blessed with the probably largest teenage tits in the city. My firm double-D breasts were the main reason that sometimes it smelled unmistakably of boy sweat and fresh sperm in this cellar.It was very common that there was a bit of hanky-panky happening on the beer benches in this basement room. I usually sat against the wall in the semi-darkness with three guys around. One guy to my left, one to my right and another guy in front of me. One by one, they stuck their tongue in my. I willingly went, I had to see his magnificent cock to make sure it was the right one.He stopped at a liquor store and grabbed a six pack. We arrived at his house and we ended up in the living room. As we sat on the couch enjoying our beer, our conversation led to more discussion of our night and what would happen. I took my hint, I went right into the fantasy at the point where my wife and I were sharing his cock. How we would lick it and take our turns sucking his cock and taking his balls in. ” For us? Excuse me? I didn’t sign on for anything like that. Sure, I had been curious in the past about being with another woman, but right now I needed a cock-bad. And I really think that my curiosity had been just a phase, because I hadn’t thought about it in years. I turn back toward the car, resigning myself to my favorite vibrator, but feel an iron grip clamped around my arm. “And just where do you think you are going?” I would swear there was a chuckle in his voice. “Um, I think this.