My Depraved Slut Wife, Carla Ch. 01

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This is fiction although I do admit to performing some of the sex acts herein with a number of women. Characters are all 18 or over. This may start out as a “Loving Wives” type story but it really is all kink and BDSM, which will become apparent in later chapters.

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When I met my ex-wife, I fancied myself as a dominant man. Being so tall and husky, with a deep gravely voice and deep blue eyes, I tended to attract women. I was at a munch when I first saw her. She was standing by the bar a long, black, very snug dress. The neckline was conservative, but it was her crimson red lips and her matching high heels that suggested to me this woman had a sense of style about her.

I strolled over to the bar and said hello and she said hello back.

“You here alone?” I smiled.

“Not if I can help it,” she said.

Five minutes after that, we were in my Flex making out like teenagers, our hands roaming everywhere – over clothes, under clothes, kissing sloppy and kissing gently. I was finger fucking her pussy and sucking her nipples when a bunch of women came out of the bar to have a smoke. We weren’t that far away and our windows were down because of the heat, and let’s just say the woman I was finger fucking like a crazed teenager was yelling, “Fuck my cunt, fuck my cunt.”

Two of the women started walking toward my car when I heard one of them say, “Is that Carla?”

Apparently, it was because Carla stopped yelling about her cunt and told me to get her out of here, which I did just as I heard the woman yell to her friends. “It’s that cunt, Carla. Can you believe that slut would show her face?”

I will admit that, like most men, when I meet a woman for the first time at a bar, I am hoping she will be a slut. I don’t mean a normal three-hole slut. I am talking about a bukkake loving, cock-crazed, depraved whore who craves rimming ass and if you get her drunk enough will open her mouth and dutifully, if not joyfully, serve as your personal pissoir. But when you hear about what a slut a woman is from other women, you know the girl is bad, very bad, which of course to men like me is very, very good.

“Thanks,” Carla said. She was putting on more lipstick and primping at her hair but didn’t seem to mind that her dress was up at her waist. She was sitting bare-assed on my leather seats and I had no doubt she was dripping her juices everywhere.

“No worries,” I muttered. Our make out session had been incredible but driving away like that did give me pause. Something was niggling at me about Carla; it was as if some tiny voice of sanity was trying to speak to me through the pee-hole of my very hard cock, “Don’t do it, don’t do it.”

I was about to ask Carla where I should drop her off, when she patted my leg and said, “Don’t worry, I’m not a tease. Take me to my place and you can do whatever you want to me.” Then she slowly slid her hand up my leg and lightly rubbed my cock all the way to her place.

Her apartment was small but clean and most of her furnishings were simple designs, some of it from Ikea and other things that I figured Tipobet had to be “finds” at garage sales and thrift shoppes. I sat down on her deep green sofa that had giant bird claws for feet while she disappeared into the kitchen. I could hear her searching through cupboards, slamming doors, and swearing under her breath until she announced, “I found it.” She appeared shortly thereafter was a bottle of Johnny and two bourbon glasses.

She set the glasses on the walnut coffee table that had a peacock painted into the stain. We had two quick shots and when she poured the third, she shifted toward me and said, ” Okay, I don’t want to know your name. I don’t care if you are married, have kids, or are afraid of zombies. I don’t want to hear about your children or how you played hockey growing up or any kind of shit like that. In fact, I prefer you don’t talk to me at all.” She held up her glass and looked at me. I picked mine up and clinked hers and said, “Cheers.”

Carla poured another and angled body toward mine. “So, if you can accommodate that you can fuck my holes, I will suck your cock and balls and you can throat fuck me until I drool all over myself. If you suck my pussy, you must suck my ass and if you do that, I will lick and kiss and suck your ass like you have never had before. There’s a whole lot more I will do, but that’s enough talking for now.”

Carla stood up and pulled her dress up over her head. The only thing she was wearing was a belly button piercing of a happy-faced, red devil. She pushed the table off to the side and positioned herself in front of me, turned around, bent over and reached around to spread her ass cheeks apart. “This is the only other jewelry I wear,” she said. Stuffed in her ass was a butt plug with a shiny pink stone covering her anus.

“Let’s go.”

I followed her into her bedroom. Her bed was a king size poster bed and there were ropes and leather restraints at each corner. She crawled onto the bed and it made a crinkling noise: water-proof lining under the sheet. I yanked off my pants and my shirt and stepped out of my boxers and crawled in right after. Her legs were already open and I decided sucking her pussy was a good place to start

Carla was not the kind of girl who just lays still. While I sucked her she rubbed herself, played with her beautiful big tits, grabbed my hair, tugged on my ears. Apparently, she was the only one of us allowed to talk because all the while I was feasting on her soaked, very tasty cunt, she was talking shit to me: “Eat my hole; Slurp it up, Suck my gruel.” She called me a pussy eater, cum drinker, worthless wimp, a piece of meat. She had the nastiest mouth I had ever heard and, as I found out later, I was experiencing her warm up.

I am not sure how we both synchronized what happened next, but without so much of a word or a gesture we moved into a 69 position and while I was inhaling her juices she was deep throating my cock while running her forefinger in circles around my asshole. “Now fuck my mouth,” she ordered, and so I did, slowly at first, but she kept telling Tipobet Giriş me to go faster, do it harder and before long I was holding myself up with outstretched arms, no longer sucking her pussy, concentrating on hard banging her throat.

I’m not sure how long I did that, but when she finally gagged and gagged on all her spit, she pushed me off and sat up. She was a mess, cached with spit and her face was very red and her eyes were nearly closed, her eyelids fluttering as if in spasm. A long strand of spit hung down from her chin and swung back and forth as she moved on the bed.

“Fuck,” she sighed. She looked at me and gave me a quivering smile like women do sometimes when holding back a cry. “Fuck, not this shit, again,” she said, but it was too late. Tears began rolling out of her eyes and in a matter of seconds she was weeping uncontrollably.

I touched her shoulder but she shook me off. “Just wait, asshole.”

“Hey,” I said. “No cause for…”

“Please, just wait.”

She kept wiping her eyes with her hands and forearm. Her mascara was streaked across her face and forehead and her lipstick was smeared all over her upper lip and chin. I sat there wishing I had listen to that little voice while Carla calmed herself. I thought she might excuse herself and go freshen up, but she just sat there, soaked in spit and dirty with make up.

Eventually, she was breathing normally. She moved to the side of the bed and patted it. “Lie down now. On your stomach.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She smiled at me and it was a smile that was as provocative as it was pathetic. “Lie down, spread your legs, and let me eat your ass.”

I hesitated.

“I know. I know. I said you’d have to eat mine first but what the fuck. I am a rule breaker. Now let me at your asshole. I love eating a man’s ripe ass.”

This went on all night. We would do crazy, kinky stuff and she would have a cry and then we were back at it. She had me fuck her ass. She seemed to love ass to mouth. I slammed her pussy while she inserted a vibrator in her ass. She gave me long slow hand jobs punctuated with the occasions slap across my cock. I can’t recall how many times I came but I do know she ate my cum off the bed sheets, took spunk on her face, in her ass, and one time she stroked what little cum I had left onto a spoon and looked me straight in the eye as she sucked up the cum like a cook sips a soup to see if it is too hot to eat.

Daylight was beginning to show itself through her bedroom window when Carla finally said, “Time for a shower.” I figured I would shower after her, but her plans were for both of us to shower together. I got into the tub first and she followed and immediately dropped to her knees.

“Babe, I am too sore for another blow job.”

She looked up at me and grinned. “I ain’t your fucking babe,” she hissed, but then in a sweet almost demure voice, she added. “I will drink yours first and then you can drink mine.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you aren’t a golden boy.”

Oh, I understood everything, Tipobet Güncel Giriş but it all seemed so unbelievable to be ending our evening together pissing in each other’s mouths, but that is precisely what we did. She took nearly all of mine, losing only a few drops. Clearly, she had experience at this. I on the other hand couldn’t swallow fast enough and her piss streamed out of my mouth and down my belly and divided into little rivulets as flowed over and around my cock and balls.

Now, you might think that we took a shower after that, but no. She led me back to the bed and curled up in my arms and within minutes she was asleep, breathing on my nipple and softly moaning as a ran my fingers across her back.

Three months later I married the slut. I knew I shouldn’t but one morning at breakfast she told me I had to marry her or no more sex. “You can stay here,” she said and pay my rent but no more pussy or anything for you.”

In the three months we had been together, we never really talked about anything normal. Our relationship was all about depraved sex and while I won’t bullshit you and claim I wanted it to end, I knew marrying Carla would be a bad choice but I also knew I had no choice but to marry her. I was hooked on her.

“If you marry me,” she went on. “I will still fuck and suck other men, maybe another slut now and again, but you can watch if you want or even participate sometimes.” She carried on about all the sex acts she would perform. She informed me that one of my duties as her husband would be to arrange gang bangs and take her to swing clubs so she could be chained fucked by all the men there. There was nothing she wouldn’t do apparently, if I married her.

The day before our wedding, she sat me down, unzipped my pants and got on her knees and starting nibbling on my cock and playing with my balls. She had this way of running her long fingernails along my ball sac that drove me crazy. While she did that she told me there was one more thing I would have to agree to as her husband. Then she lowered her mouth over my cock and took all eight inches down her throat, her eyes staring at me.

“Wha…what is it?” I could hardly speak. I was close to exploding. She removed my cock from her mouth and smiled. “All that other stuff I promised will happen, baby. I will be the most incredible slut a man could want, but in exchange you will have to be my financial slave.”

I had no clue what that meant and my face must have shown it.

“That means I don’t have to work, get $1,000 per week to spend on myself, and you pay all the bills.

In my mind I was telling myself this was ludicrous. I made good money but $1,000 a week would be hard, plus paying all our bills. While I was trying to convince myself to run far, far away, Carla turned her attention back to my cock. She licked my balls and then the shaft; she rubbed her lips up and down, sucked the very tip of my head and finally just choked sucked my cock until my cum shot into her mouth and dripped out the sides of her mouth. She sat up, cum on her chin and lips and said, “Well, you want to marry me?”

“I do. Yes, I do.” I watched her use her fingers to shove the cum on her face into her mouth.

“Good boy,” she whispered.

That was the first time she called me a boy and trust me it wasn’t the last.

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More to come.