The Chair

The Chair- Two

Holly

Four months later, in the vibrant city of Miami, Holly found herself kneeling in the middle of her own bedroom, her ample breasts pushed together by her own hands, eagerly awaiting a climactic performance from a young college student. Her gaze remained fixed on the man standing before her, his eyes glazed with lust as he jacked his c*ck in front of her, the anticipation building to a crescendo within her. The student, barely able to contain his excitement, let out a guttural groan as he reached his climax.

"Aww, yeahhh," he groaned, throwing his head back. "Yessss."

His c*m arced through the air, wet, warm and sticky across her cheek and chin, some even finding its way into her welcoming mouth. She eagerly lapped it up, moaning for the camera and rubbing it into her t*ts. She grinned at the guy and stuck her tongue out for more. His body jerked and shuddered, and he gasped as he wrung every bit of c*m from his c*ck right into Sharon's waiting mouth. He moaned again as she grabbed his hips and took him into her mouth, sucking and lapping him and teasing him with little flutters of her tongue on the underside of his head.

"Oh, f*ck, yes," he gasped. She grunted as his hands dug into her hair and forced his c*ck deeper into her mouth. She gagged as he hit the back of her throat; she had never been the best at deepthroating, even now. She did her best to keep her tongue moving on his c*ck as he shot the last of his c*m down her throat. Thankfully, he didn't take long and pulled out, chuckling at her red face as she gasped for air. He tapped her chin with his softening c*ck, grinning down at her, and finally pulled away.

Jon, her husband, could barely contain his excitement as he recorded every moment from his vantage point in the corner. He had a library of such clips, a testament to their shared love of voyeurism and exhibitionism. Swinging had been their secret hobby for years, but this latest twist added a new layer of excitement to their relationship.

The student's tremors subsided, and Holly took a moment to appreciate the warmth of his c*m on her skin. She glanced up at Jon, who gave her an approving nod before turning his attention to the young man. He offered a crisp $100 bill, a silent gesture of appreciation for a performance well done. The student took the money with a smile, his cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and satisfaction.

As the college kid left the room, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hallway, Holly couldn't help but feel a twinge of dissatisfaction. She had become so accustomed to these encounters that they had lost their thrill. Rising to her feet, she made her way to the bathroom, the sticky residue of his pleasure still clinging to her. The mundane task of cleaning up was a stark reminder of the reality behind their steamy escapades.

---

The walls of the bedroom, once a sanctuary of marital bliss, had become the backdrop for a series of increasingly raunchy encounters. The scent of s*x lingered in the air, a potent reminder of the lines they had crossed in the name of adventure. Holly studied her reflection in the mirror, the c*m drying on her skin, and felt a sudden sense of tiredness from it all. She had allowed herself to become an object of desire for others, a living prop in her husband's pornographic fantasies.

Jon remained in the bedroom, his eyes still glued to the screen of his camera, replaying the moments they had just shared. He was lost in a world of pixels and pleasure, oblivious to the turmoil brewing within his wife. The bathroom was a haven of white porcelain and chrome, a stark contrast to the decadence of their bedroom. As she rinsed her face and chest, the water washed away more than just the physical evidence of their latest tryst. It cleansed her of the guilt and doubt that had begun to cling to her like the c*m had moments earlier. She thought of her husband, who was now scrolling through their collection of homemade adult films.

---

The first few times had been exhilarating, a thrill that had reinvigorated their stale marriage. But now, as she stood there, feeling more used than loved, the excitement had waned. The realization settled in her chest like a lead weight, making it difficult to breathe.

Under the soothing caress of the shower's warm embrace, Holly felt a sense of relief as the tension of the evening began to dissolve from her muscles. Her eyes fluttered shut, savoring the brief solitude before the sound of the shower door sliding open pierced the tranquility.

"Jon," she sighed, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation.

He stepped in, the cooler air from outside the shower enveloping her momentarily before the steam reclaimed him.

"You were incredible, as always," he said, a note of pride in his voice.

"This is the end of it," she stated firmly, her eyes snapping open to meet his.

"What are you talking about?" The surprise on Jon's face was palpable, even through the shower's mist.

"We've discussed this," Holly said, her voice unwavering as she rinsed the shampoo from her hair. "It's over."

"But you're so good at it," he protested playfully, squeezing one of Holly’s t**s. "You’re so hot, and so good at all of this, babe. You’re like my porn star wife. You're basically a pro."

"I am not a porn star," she replied, her voice clipped and final.

"Okay, okay," Jon backpedaled. "But what about Rodney? He's been missing being in on the action. We can get him back in here. You two worked great together, remember?"

“Ugh,” Holly grimaced. “Gross.” Her stomach twisted at the mention of the other man. She couldn't believe they were having this conversation again. "Rodney is not an option."

"Holly, come on," Jon's tone grew more urgent. "You're the best at this. Why are you being like this?" He paused, another thought crossing his mind. "Are you still hung up on Sharon?" Jon crossed the line. Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped around him, the water cascading down her body.

"Because I'm not your f*cking porn star, Jon," she snapped. "This isn't a game."

"Holly! Come on, babe!" Holly said nothing, clinching her teeth and pushing past Jon.

"Holly, what the hell?"

She pushed away, rushing past him, and dried herself off and dressed in pajamas before going down the stairs to the living room.

She was tired of fighting about it, she was tired of participating in homemade porn; she was tired of dating other men while her husband dated other women – she missed her sister and Sharon was all she could think about in the last four months. She fought back tears, looking out the window, feeling Jon approach her from behind.

“Holly,” he whispered.

“Just leave me alone!”

Thirty minutes later, Jon appeared, dressed and ready to go out.

“I’ll be back later. Might be in the morning,” he said to Holly on the couch, her back to him. She nodded her head and grabbed the remote.

She had no idea which girlfriend he’d end up with, and she didn’t care. Holly’s s*x drive had all but disappeared after Sharon’s death. She’d put on shows for Jon, having s*x with random men he found, so he could film it and get off on it. After a couple of months, she said she couldn’t do it anymore. Jon always found a way to make her feel guilty, convincing her to perform one last time for him. She foolishly obliged him and went along with it, thinking that it was the spark they needed to get their marriage back on track.

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