Preachers Daughter Ch 8 and Preachers Wife 1
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The Preacher's WifeChapter 8 free porn video
"I'm going to fuck the cook tonight," Steve announced.
"What?" I said, astonished.
"Yeah. It's time. I do it now and then. She's old and lonely and I'm the only man who takes her to bed."
We called the cook "Lassie." Her Thai name was Rasri. She was about 50 years old, short and stout and unmarried. She adored Steve – and she was jealous. He gave her weekends off and bought her bus tickets to her parent's house in the country because he didn't want her around when he brought his bargirls home with him. He had a guilty conscience. I stayed at Steve's house only Friday and Saturday nights so I didn't see much of Lassie. That was fortunate because I was a competitor in her eyes and she ignored me most of the time, affecting not to understand when I tried to speak Thai with her.
"Well, thanks for telling me. I won't crawl into your bed tonight."
"You can go out if you like. Or invite somebody over."
"No, thanks, I'll just watch television – while you're upstairs screwing the cook." I was a little put out. Steve and I didn't have sex often. We did fun things every weekend, but it was usually a Thai bargirl or two who ended up in his bed. And I usually ended up with one of his friends who wanted to screw a round-eye for a change. "Why don't you fuck her during the week when I'm not here?"
"I do sometimes, but Nuu doesn't approve. And she's very nosy." Nuu was the frowning, skinny, strait-laced maid.
"Well," I said sarcastically. "I suppose keeping the servants happy is the top priority around here."
Steve kissed me on the cheek and laughed. "Come on, Becky. You've got a good heart. Lassie needs a little love. I give it to her."
I was miffed, but, when Lassie appeared that evening all dressed up to go out to dinner with Steve, my heart melted. She was so excited. How could I feel bitchy when Steve was making his dumpy cook happy? Lassie was no threat to me as the house whore (as I called myself) at Steve's house. And I was no threat to her. I accepted that Steve distributed his sperm widely. Why did I care if he screwed the cook? I determined that I would win her over with my skills developed as a preacher's wife: humble, selfless service, and smiling efficiency. I oohed and awed over Lassie's new sarong. :
But my disappointment that I was sitting home alone while Steve romanced the cook lngered. After they left, I got a bottle of gin out of the liquor cabinet and poured a large glassful of it over ice. "To hell with the tonic," I told myself. I sipped the gin straight while watching an inane program on television.
The telephone rang. It was Bradley – he of the talented tongue. "Steve tells me you're along tonight. Would you like some company?"
I started to say no, but then I thought, "Why should I sit around and mope while Steve is out having fun with his god-damned cook." So, I invited Brad over. He wasn't much to look at but he was no slouch in bed. I later heard Steve and Lassie come home from dinner. They went to Steve's room, she chatting amiably in sing-song Thai.
The next morning I got up early and took a tray with coffee and tea up to Steve's bedroom. I knocked on the door. "Coffee? Tea?" I asked.
"Come in," Steve answered.
Steve and Lassie were in bed together. They had a sheet over them and Lassie quickly pulled it up over her large, saggy breasts. I poured a cup of coffee for Steve and handed it to him and then poured a cup of tea and gave it to Lassie. She wouldn't look at me. She sat up in bed and bowed her head as she took the cup of tea. The Thai are very status conscious and it made her uncomfortable that the round-eye Memsahib was serving coffee to her. I made her even more uncomfortable by going down on my knees to hand her the cup of tea. In Thailand, a person of lesser status keeps his head lower than the person of higher status. I was, thus, demonstrating respect for her.
I gave Lassie my warmest smile and for an instant, our eyes met. She flashed an expression of triumph and pride and then shyly looked away. I patted her and kept smiling. Now, we understood each other. I gave her my permission to own a piece of Steve as a wife in his harem, so to speak. She acquiesced in my position as another wife. We never had any problems between us after that. We shared Steve – and we were united in wanting more of him that he wanted to give.
A few weeks later, as were sitting on the upstairs terrace of Steve's house, he asked me, "Have you ever had group sex?"
"If you're asking if I have had two dicks stuck in me at the same time, no I haven't. Why do you ask?"
"We invited to a join a group tonight. To party at a friend's house – and for sex."
"How many people in the group?"
"Four men and two women. We'd make it five and three. They've all done it before but they would like us to join the group. I know the guys. They're friends. Two of them are married and their wives don't know about this. I don't know the two women, but I'm told they're Americans. One of them is married, but her husband doesn't know. And the other is a college girl whose parents live here. She's home on summer break. So, it's hush, hush. To avoid scandal."
"Do you want to go?"
"Yes, I would like to. I've never done this before either. Well," he amended that statement. "I mean, I've done groups of bargirls, but not round-eyes and not with other men involved. I'll go without you if you don't want to," he added.
"Is this a bi-sexual thing?"
"No, I don't think so. Nobody's gay. It'll be guys fucking girls. And Brandon the host told me that rubbers are required for vaginal sex."
I had to think about it. The thought of group fucking didn't exactly make my clit twitch. I like to think of myself as romantic who has to be seduced with kind words and flowers – albeit a lack of kind words and the flowers hasn't kept me out of bed with a lot of men. Group sex sounded so, well, mechanical and soulless. Then again it would be an interesting evening. Moreover, I was a little proud of my tight and lithe body. I looked pretty good for 43 years old and two children. But how would my crow's feet and loose skin look compared to a college girl? Would the men want me?
"Yeah, sure," I finally answered. "Let's go. But tell these guys in advance not to expect a teenager with big boobs."
"I described you for them." Steve said
"What did you say?"
"Fishing for compliments, are we?" He kissed me on the cheek. "I told them that you're the best lay in Bangkok. And that you have a beautiful, slender body and a wonderful smile. Especially when you're cumming."
"I don't recall you enjoying my wonderful smile recently," I said archly. I kissed him back. "Will I be expected to fuck the other four guys? I'm not sure that I can do all that."
"You'll get lots of help from the other girls. They've done this before – and they like it. You do whatever you want. Watch if that's all you want to do. I'll keep a cab waiting out on the street. You can come home whenever you want. And with whomever."
I would have liked Steve to say that he would come home with me if I wanted to leave the party. But he didn't.
The party was fun. The host, named Brandon, lived in a large, rambling house with an enormous living room dotted with cushions and low tables and with Buddhist art hung on the walls. The house was surrounded by a walled garden and a swimming pool shaded by wide spreading rain trees and bright-blooming hibiscus. Steve and I were the last to arrive. We were introduced all around. The four other men there were all in the thirties or early forties and were friendly and pleasant. They were all wearing Bermuda shorts and golf shirts. Very preppy. I suspected they had all graduated from Ivy league schools, as Steve had. We all left our shoes at the door as is the custom in a Thai house ... The two women were a contrast. One was a compact, buxom blond about 30 years old. She was attractive, although her flat nose and curled lip that made her resemble a Marine Corp drill sergeant. Her name was Peg – which suited her -- and I wasn't surprised to learn that her father was a Navy admiral and her husband was a pilot in the Air Force. He was off flying around the world on a mission. Apparently she lived a double life similar to mine as a preacher's wife: the perfect mother and military wife when hubby was around -- and a slut when he wasn't. Except that I had always taken my men one at a time.
The other woman was a girl was about 20 years ago. She had a perfect figure, long, straight, light-brown hair, incredible peachy skin and she looked positively virginal. She had a friendly smile and had just completed her junior year at Radcliffe. Her name was Abbie. Her father was a diplomat in Bangkok and she had come home for the summer. Both women were modestly dressed – Peg, the pilot's wife, in tight white slacks and a white blouse and Abbie in a flowery wrap-around skirt and a loosely hanging royal-purple silk blouse. She wore an orchid in her hair. I was wearing my favorite sun dress, also flowery, with a scoop neck and spaghetti straps. I felt a little under-dressed. I wasn't wearing a bra and the other two women were. I looked quizzically at Steve and whispered in his ear. "Are we at the right place? Or did you bring me to a meeting of the Harvard Club?"
He laughed. "Relax. Brandon loves to cook and we'll have good food and good wine and get down to business later."
I lamented. "That blond looks like she could suck the chrome off a bumper and little miss debutante is drop dead gorgeous. I feel like Grandma Moses. Will you fuck me if nobody else wants too?"
"Don't be silly. You're the new girl. They all will want to fuck you. Enjoy yourself," he counseled. "They're nice people."
"Just don't tell them I went to Oral Roberts University."
"You never told me you went to Oral Roberts."
"It's a deep dark secret."
Steve was right. Dinner was delicious. Crisp, salty prawns and pasta primavera and a Thai desert of custard served in a coconut shell. We washed the food down with an excellent white wine and by the end of the dinner I had overcome my anxiety and become one with the half-drunk and jolly group. Our conversation got racier as we drank. Abbie surprised me when she told a long hilarious and explicit story about her adventures maintaining two jealous boy friends at the same time. She only looked like a virgin. I threw my head back and howled with laughter.
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