Secrets and BetrayalsPart 2 His Betrayal Alicia s Story
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Betty’s Betrayal Part 3 free porn video
That weekend Mr. Thompson would send me text messages. Some were simple, “whore”, “slut”. Others a bit more threatening, “i own you and you’re family”. And yet others tender, like a kiss emoji. My mind was all over the place. What was I to Mr. Thompson? Property? A pet? More?
I was so confused as I lay in bed each night, reading and re-reading his texts, replaying the last two weeks in my head. I felt gross, used, disgusted as I thought of him blackmailing and fucking me. But then I thought of his kisses and tender words, and would get turned on. Then I got wetter thinking that he controlled our relationship, whatever it was, fully and completely. I would lay in my bed at night, on the verge of tears, but in ecstasy, playing with myself, cumming so hard I had to scream into my pillow hoping my parents couldn’t hear.
On Monday I was again standing in heels, my pearl necklace, and nothing else as Mr. Thompson entered his office. He smiled at me, said “Good morning whore” and sat down on his couch with his newspaper. I strode over, my heels clicking on the hardwood, feeling sexy, yet still much like a whore. But today I felt like his whore. Yes, I knew deep down he was using me, but his affection made me think there might be something deeper. Love maybe?
I dropped to my knees and undid his belt. I pulled out a half hard cock and took it all the way in my mouth. I ran my tongue alone the shaft, feeling it harden more and more with every second. Unlike other mornings though, where Mr. Thompson berated me, humiliated me, made me feel like a worthless whore, today he read the paper while I sucked his cock.
I wanted his attention. I moaned, I bobbed me head up and down, I even slid my mouth off his old cock and whipped my hair around a few times. But still no reaction.
I was angry, frustrated, humiliated, so I stopped. I climbed on top of Mr. Thompson to show him I was more important than the paper. I took his hard old cock deep inside my smooth pussy, shaved fresh that day for him. I rocked back and forth, pushing the paper down, trying to rub my tits in his face. But he seemed so damn occupied. I began to rub my clit, pushing harder and faster into his cock. After what seemed like forever he finally put the paper down and grabbed my hair and neck with his meaty hands. “You are such a whore, I didn’t even look at you and you still wanted my cock. You dream about my cock don’t you slut?”
“Yes sir” I managed to eek out. I was so wet, and so close, I would have agreed to anything.
Soon, with my air restricted, my fingers rubbing my clit, his hands around my neck, and him calling me filthy names I shuddered and came all over his thick cock inside my young pussy. He held my hair and head up as the rest of my body collapsed in sheer exhaustion and bliss onto his big belly. He was so warm, and his caresses along my skin so gentle, I began to hug him. “Good whore. But I didn’t cum yet you bitch”
With that he threw me to the other side of the couch and pulled my head backwards over the edge of the armrest. He slid his right hand over my throat and proceeded to shove his cock all the way in, without mercy. “Play with your clit whore, I want to feel you scream on my cock. I want to cum down your throat while you scream whore”. I began to furiously rub my clit as his grip around my throat became tighter and tighter. I couldn’t breathe, his cock and hand cutting off my airway. I began to buck up and down, still rubbing myself, as he forced his cock deeper and deeper.
Finally I felt his grip tighten so much o thought I would choke to death, as he began to squirt his warm cum down my throat. I of course began to cum and and shake again as I felt his warm cum squirt down my throat.
He pulled his cock out of my mouth and rubbed it all over my face, smearing my makeup. He learned down, kissed my lips gently, and then spit in my face. “Get back to work you fucking whore”
At lunch Mr. Thompson called me in. “Betty, I am going to Chicago tonight for some meetings. I’ll be a few days. You’ll be coming with me for administrative duties. Do you understand?”
“Um...yes, are you sure sir?”
“Yes Betty, I’ve already cleared it with your parents. Take the rest of the afternoon off, but you’ll need to do some shopping. I’ve emailed you a list of items you need to buy and bring. Use the company credit card for things you don’t have. I’ll have my car service bring you to the airport in the morning.”
I felt so excited. I was being invited on a business trip. I opened my email and found the following:
“Whore, you will need to buy and bring the following
-A short black dress with a low cut top
-Red 8” heels
-Tight blue jeans
-A tube top
-A short slutty skirt
-Lace underwear only”
I went to the mall and was so wet shopping for these slutty clothes. I found a perfect black dress. It hardly covered my pussy when I stood and had a plunging neckline. My young tits looked amazing in it:) I was so turned on I sent Mr. Thompson a picture from the dressing room and began to touch myself. When he wrote back that it was the perfect dress for a whore like me I came so loudly the clothing attended came to check on me.
The next morning I was dressed in my usual skirt, blouse, necklace, and heels. When the car came around it felt odd not to start my day naked. The driver took my bags and I got in, and realized Mr. Thompson was there. He leaned over and kissed me. I was stunned, because what if my parents could see, but I was now so turned on I kissed him back. “I’ve been waiting to do that all weekend Betty”. My heart skipped a beat. Was I falling for this fat old man?
As we drove, Mr. Thompson rubbed my legs, and I rubbed his crotch. I could feel him getting harder. He looked at me, kissed me again, and whispered “Put it in your mouth right now whore”. I looked at him, stunned.
“But what about the driver? He can see.”
“Jorge? Don’t worry about Jorge. This isn’t his first show.” I wondered what he he meant by that but I was so horny now I wanted him inside me. I could see Jorge watching, as if he knew all along what would happen, as I leaned forward and undid Mr. Thompson’s belt and pants. His meaty cock sprang forward and my red lips wrapped around it. Mr. Thompson ran his fingers through my hair, forcing my mouth deeper and deeper on his cock. He thrust his hips up each time to bury it as deep as it would go in my mouth. I was gagging, all while he asked Jorge about how much of a whore I looked like.
“What do you think Jorge, one of the better ones?”
“Yes sir, by far” he replied in a thick Spanish accent.
Soon he came down my throat, and I had become an expert at swallowing every drop. I rose from his lap, my lipstick smeared and hair a mess, but with a smile. Mr. Thompson smiled back. “Well done slut. You’re becoming almost professional at this.” I blushed. “But now poor Jorge is horny, isn’t that right Jorge?”
“Yes sir, very” he replied in his thick accent.
Mr. Thompson grabbed me by the hair and pulled my face close to his. He kissed me on the lips, then looked at me and said to Jorge, “Pull into that gas station there Jorge. You can have her in the bathroom for 5 minutes. Consider this your annual bonus”. I looked at Mr. Thompson and mouthed “please no”. He just laughed and whispered to me, “Whore, this is only the start of a fun business trip. Now run along, I have some calls to make”.
I was in shock. Suddenly I felt Jorge take my arm as he led me into a filthy gas station bathroom. Jorge was in his fifties, pudgy, and balding. He pushed me to my knees and grabbed me by the hair. His cock was already out, thick, almost as long as Mr. Thompson’s, but musky, like he was poor and hadn’t showered in days.
I wretched, and he slapped me across the face. I was in shock. I whimpered and when I did he shoved his cock down my throat, all the way, making me gag. He pumped and pumped, and pulled my hair. I thought he was going to cum when he pulled me up by my hair and turned me to face the filthy mirror with its graffiti and scratches. He reached around and tore open my blouse and ripped down my bra, exposing my tits.
I had to grip the filthy sink to keep from falling over. I felt him pull aside my panties and shove his big cock inside my unprepared pussy. He pushed my face into the mirror while he fucked me from behind, grunting and calling me “puta”’the whole time. Tears ran down my face as the light flickered. It felt like forever before he began to cum inside me.
He pulled back, pulled my hair so I was facing him, and spit in my face. Then he pushed me into the corner by the toilet. I watched as he zipped himself up. What had just happened?
Jorge smiled at me. “You really are the best whore he’s ever had”. He opened the door, as I covered myself in case someone could see. He pulled in a small duffle bag. “Mr. Thompson says to clean yourself up and change into this. We will see you in then car”
To be continued (if you wish...)
I was so confused as I lay in bed each night, reading and re-reading his texts, replaying the last two weeks in my head. I felt gross, used, disgusted as I thought of him blackmailing and fucking me. But then I thought of his kisses and tender words, and would get turned on. Then I got wetter thinking that he controlled our relationship, whatever it was, fully and completely. I would lay in my bed at night, on the verge of tears, but in ecstasy, playing with myself, cumming so hard I had to scream into my pillow hoping my parents couldn’t hear.
On Monday I was again standing in heels, my pearl necklace, and nothing else as Mr. Thompson entered his office. He smiled at me, said “Good morning whore” and sat down on his couch with his newspaper. I strode over, my heels clicking on the hardwood, feeling sexy, yet still much like a whore. But today I felt like his whore. Yes, I knew deep down he was using me, but his affection made me think there might be something deeper. Love maybe?
I dropped to my knees and undid his belt. I pulled out a half hard cock and took it all the way in my mouth. I ran my tongue alone the shaft, feeling it harden more and more with every second. Unlike other mornings though, where Mr. Thompson berated me, humiliated me, made me feel like a worthless whore, today he read the paper while I sucked his cock.
I wanted his attention. I moaned, I bobbed me head up and down, I even slid my mouth off his old cock and whipped my hair around a few times. But still no reaction.
I was angry, frustrated, humiliated, so I stopped. I climbed on top of Mr. Thompson to show him I was more important than the paper. I took his hard old cock deep inside my smooth pussy, shaved fresh that day for him. I rocked back and forth, pushing the paper down, trying to rub my tits in his face. But he seemed so damn occupied. I began to rub my clit, pushing harder and faster into his cock. After what seemed like forever he finally put the paper down and grabbed my hair and neck with his meaty hands. “You are such a whore, I didn’t even look at you and you still wanted my cock. You dream about my cock don’t you slut?”
“Yes sir” I managed to eek out. I was so wet, and so close, I would have agreed to anything.
Soon, with my air restricted, my fingers rubbing my clit, his hands around my neck, and him calling me filthy names I shuddered and came all over his thick cock inside my young pussy. He held my hair and head up as the rest of my body collapsed in sheer exhaustion and bliss onto his big belly. He was so warm, and his caresses along my skin so gentle, I began to hug him. “Good whore. But I didn’t cum yet you bitch”
With that he threw me to the other side of the couch and pulled my head backwards over the edge of the armrest. He slid his right hand over my throat and proceeded to shove his cock all the way in, without mercy. “Play with your clit whore, I want to feel you scream on my cock. I want to cum down your throat while you scream whore”. I began to furiously rub my clit as his grip around my throat became tighter and tighter. I couldn’t breathe, his cock and hand cutting off my airway. I began to buck up and down, still rubbing myself, as he forced his cock deeper and deeper.
Finally I felt his grip tighten so much o thought I would choke to death, as he began to squirt his warm cum down my throat. I of course began to cum and and shake again as I felt his warm cum squirt down my throat.
He pulled his cock out of my mouth and rubbed it all over my face, smearing my makeup. He learned down, kissed my lips gently, and then spit in my face. “Get back to work you fucking whore”
At lunch Mr. Thompson called me in. “Betty, I am going to Chicago tonight for some meetings. I’ll be a few days. You’ll be coming with me for administrative duties. Do you understand?”
“Um...yes, are you sure sir?”
“Yes Betty, I’ve already cleared it with your parents. Take the rest of the afternoon off, but you’ll need to do some shopping. I’ve emailed you a list of items you need to buy and bring. Use the company credit card for things you don’t have. I’ll have my car service bring you to the airport in the morning.”
I felt so excited. I was being invited on a business trip. I opened my email and found the following:
“Whore, you will need to buy and bring the following
-A short black dress with a low cut top
-Red 8” heels
-Tight blue jeans
-A tube top
-A short slutty skirt
-Lace underwear only”
I went to the mall and was so wet shopping for these slutty clothes. I found a perfect black dress. It hardly covered my pussy when I stood and had a plunging neckline. My young tits looked amazing in it:) I was so turned on I sent Mr. Thompson a picture from the dressing room and began to touch myself. When he wrote back that it was the perfect dress for a whore like me I came so loudly the clothing attended came to check on me.
The next morning I was dressed in my usual skirt, blouse, necklace, and heels. When the car came around it felt odd not to start my day naked. The driver took my bags and I got in, and realized Mr. Thompson was there. He leaned over and kissed me. I was stunned, because what if my parents could see, but I was now so turned on I kissed him back. “I’ve been waiting to do that all weekend Betty”. My heart skipped a beat. Was I falling for this fat old man?
As we drove, Mr. Thompson rubbed my legs, and I rubbed his crotch. I could feel him getting harder. He looked at me, kissed me again, and whispered “Put it in your mouth right now whore”. I looked at him, stunned.
“But what about the driver? He can see.”
“Jorge? Don’t worry about Jorge. This isn’t his first show.” I wondered what he he meant by that but I was so horny now I wanted him inside me. I could see Jorge watching, as if he knew all along what would happen, as I leaned forward and undid Mr. Thompson’s belt and pants. His meaty cock sprang forward and my red lips wrapped around it. Mr. Thompson ran his fingers through my hair, forcing my mouth deeper and deeper on his cock. He thrust his hips up each time to bury it as deep as it would go in my mouth. I was gagging, all while he asked Jorge about how much of a whore I looked like.
“What do you think Jorge, one of the better ones?”
“Yes sir, by far” he replied in a thick Spanish accent.
Soon he came down my throat, and I had become an expert at swallowing every drop. I rose from his lap, my lipstick smeared and hair a mess, but with a smile. Mr. Thompson smiled back. “Well done slut. You’re becoming almost professional at this.” I blushed. “But now poor Jorge is horny, isn’t that right Jorge?”
“Yes sir, very” he replied in his thick accent.
Mr. Thompson grabbed me by the hair and pulled my face close to his. He kissed me on the lips, then looked at me and said to Jorge, “Pull into that gas station there Jorge. You can have her in the bathroom for 5 minutes. Consider this your annual bonus”. I looked at Mr. Thompson and mouthed “please no”. He just laughed and whispered to me, “Whore, this is only the start of a fun business trip. Now run along, I have some calls to make”.
I was in shock. Suddenly I felt Jorge take my arm as he led me into a filthy gas station bathroom. Jorge was in his fifties, pudgy, and balding. He pushed me to my knees and grabbed me by the hair. His cock was already out, thick, almost as long as Mr. Thompson’s, but musky, like he was poor and hadn’t showered in days.
I wretched, and he slapped me across the face. I was in shock. I whimpered and when I did he shoved his cock down my throat, all the way, making me gag. He pumped and pumped, and pulled my hair. I thought he was going to cum when he pulled me up by my hair and turned me to face the filthy mirror with its graffiti and scratches. He reached around and tore open my blouse and ripped down my bra, exposing my tits.
I had to grip the filthy sink to keep from falling over. I felt him pull aside my panties and shove his big cock inside my unprepared pussy. He pushed my face into the mirror while he fucked me from behind, grunting and calling me “puta”’the whole time. Tears ran down my face as the light flickered. It felt like forever before he began to cum inside me.
He pulled back, pulled my hair so I was facing him, and spit in my face. Then he pushed me into the corner by the toilet. I watched as he zipped himself up. What had just happened?
Jorge smiled at me. “You really are the best whore he’s ever had”. He opened the door, as I covered myself in case someone could see. He pulled in a small duffle bag. “Mr. Thompson says to clean yourself up and change into this. We will see you in then car”
To be continued (if you wish...)
Marisol
- 18.07.2020
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