Homesick Whore

For Michael Lambert it had been a bad year. Very bad.

The death of his wife had hit him hard. She had been the same age as Michael and it had made him suddenly question his own mortality. Those months felt like a long, dark tunnel with no light at the end. He had thrown himself into his work and keeping busy was a small mercy for which he was eternally grateful. He drove himself hard keeping long hours at the office and sometimes even staying there all night; failing to return home to the place which held too many memories.

Friends had told him – as friends always did - that things would get better. Back then it was hard to believe but, Michael realised, they were right. It wasn’t a slow, gradual process as he had imagined it would be; he just woke up one morning and realised that, whilst her memory would always be with him, he could manage to live without her.

Business, of course, was good. Money was available. Michael felt better. Almost energetic. He began to crave companionship – female companionship. Maybe even remarry. But at fifty years old the prospects didn’t seem all that good. The thought of re-entering the dating scene again after all these years, frankly filled him with dread and so he had decided to look for his companion in a different way. A holiday was what was needed, he decided.

He had heard of men finding available women in far off places, of course, but the idea of the flesh-pots of Bangkok or South America seemed seedy and not really his style. After much deliberation, he had decided on Eastern Europe. He would visit Poland.

As soon as Michael met Petra he knew that he wanted her. She had been serving drinks in a tourist bar when he first saw her. She was a little older than the other teenage waitresses and most of the single male tourists were more interested in the younger girls. This suited Michael fine and gave him more chance to talk to the woman that would eventually become the second Mrs. Lambert.

Michael took Petra home and they were married in a quiet, civil ceremony in his hometown. There were no guests, no fuss, no drunken reception, just the coming together of two people who cared deeply for each other.

At first, life was good. Michael introduced his new wife to his friends, family and neighbours. They were invited to dinner parties and barbeques. Michael enjoyed showing Petra off and she seemed happy.

Sex had never really been an issue of great importance for Michael but now things were different. Petra’s sex drive was high. She enjoyed sex in all its forms and enjoyed it a lot. It wasn’t unusual for Michael to come home from work and be greeted by his Polish wife, naked and imploring him to make love to her. Michael enjoyed it too. The feel of Petra’s cool pale skin against his own, the scent of her freshly washed hair, the touch of her slender fingers on his inflamed cock, all drove him to great heights of passion.

But slowly, Petra began to cool and Michael knew instantly that something was wrong.

“I Homesick.” She said in answer to his question. “Want to see my family and friends back home.”

The trip was easily arranged and Michael sorted out his own leave of absence from his company. Things were still going well there and he had employed a good, efficient manager. He could take charge whilst Michael and Petra were away.

They had booked a suite of three rooms at a good hotel in the centre of the city. There had been nothing decided on how long they would stay but Michael was being philosophical. He would let Petra take as much time as she needed.

The first few days were spent touring round old family houses. Now it was Michael’s turn to be introduced. There seemed so many family members and so many virtually unpronounceable names that, very soon, Michael’s head was spinning.

“Not all family.” Petra had said to him on more than one occasion. “Some friends. Good friends.”

Even the younger men? Michael wondered to himself with a hint of jealousy. They did all seem like VERY good friends.

After the first whirlwind week Michael felt physically drained. Petra had announced yet another series of visits planned for that day, but Michael didn’t feel up to it.

“You go.” He had said. “I’ll just take a long, quiet walk, grab some lunch and maybe visit a few museums or something.”

Petra hadn’t argued and, after a light breakfast had kissed him goodbye and gone on her way.

Michael’s exhaustion was greater than he thought and by mid morning he had decided to return to the hotel for a nap. The rooms felt warm and cosy and, wandering through into the second bedroom, Michael felt the tiredness begin to envelop him like a warm blanket. He lay down on the bed fully clothed and within a few minutes was fast asleep.

The strange voices tore him from his dream world. Michael had no idea how long he had been asleep but suddenly he was wide-awake. The unfathomable voices were coming from the bedroom next door and Michael crept silently to the adjoining door and carefully cracked it open. He needn’t have been so careful. He quickly realised that the occupants of the room were so busy they were unlikely to have been disturbed by a truck driving through!

For some reason, Michael was not all that shocked to see his wife in such a passionate embrace with her lover. His mind was suddenly clear. She was a highly sexual woman – he already knew that – and, oddly, it somehow seemed natural that she would take up with an old boyfriend at some stage. Seeing it happening now, Michael thought that it had merely been a matter of time.

He felt strange; not angry or jealous, happy in fact. Happy that Petra was enjoying herself again. And Petra certainly did seem to be enjoying herself. She was naked – as she so often was when at home – and her pale skin seemed to reflect the dim almost ethereal light in the room. Her legs were spread and a young, dark man that Michael had been introduced to previously was between her thighs with his head pressed firmly against her pussy.

Michael saw Petra smile when she saw him peering through the crack in the door. His first thought was to run and hide. He suddenly felt like he had been caught doing something that he shouldn’t – like when his mother had discovered him masturbating when he was a teenager. He could feel the heat of embarrassment emanating up through his body to crimson his face. Thoughts of sperm sticky fingers, an open sex magazine and a wailing mother suddenly filled his mind.

But this wasn’t his mother; this was Petra. She was an open, gregarious, uninhibited woman and he was no longer a teenager. Michael took a deep breath and silently entered the bedroom.

Michael watched as Petra’s breathing became more and more rapid as the young man flicked his tongue against her clit. The smile had transformed into a closed-eye look of sexual gratification and the heels of her bare feet drummed against her lovers’ back. Her climax hit hard and fast and Michael watched and listened silently as her back arched and her toes curled in orgasm. As the young man pulled his head back, Michael could see his wife’s wet and open vagina contract and twitch as the throes of climax washed over her body.

Petra’s lover quickly replaced his tongue with two fingers. Michael saw the digits easily slip between Petra’s glistening gaping sex lips and stared fascinated as the man fingered her fast until she came again.

“Mike. What are you doing back so soon?” Petra finally managed to gasp as her body quieted slightly. She was till twitching slightly in the warm aftermath of her orgasms.

“Thought I’d take a nap. But somebody woke me up.”

“Sorry, Mike.”

“Sorry? Sorry for waking me or sorry that I found you with an old boyfriend licking your cunt?”

Petra smiled wickedly.

“Oh, I’m not really sorry for that!” She said. “And by the look of it, neither are you!”

Mike looked down and realised that he was sporting quite a bulge in his pants. So absorbed had he been in his wife’s behaviour, his erection had come as quite a surprise to him. He felt himself blush again.

“Lots of men like to watch while their wives fuck!” Petra continued. “You like to watch. Mike?”

Michael looked down at the couple. The young man’s face smiled up at him, his contours glistened with Petra’s sex fluid. Silently, his head down and eyes staring at the thick pile carpet, Michael nodded slowly. It was true. He did want to watch.

“Is good.” Petra exclaimed. She seemed to have no concern about her husband’s discovery of her adultery.

“Is very good.” She repeated. “Now I make Pavlin hard so he fuck me good!”

While Michael continued to watch, Petra and her lover, Pavlin – Michael guessed that he did not speak any English – manoeuvred themselves into a classic sixty-nine position. Petra stayed on top and straddled Pavlin’s face with her sticky slit whilst taking the young man’s thick cock in her hands and guiding him into her open mouth. Michael silently wondered how Petra was going to make him any harder; his cock looked so thick and swollen already.

Both Petra and Pavlin were moaning deeply as their respective tongues pleasured each other and Petra was looking directly at her husband while she sucked down on the throbbing cock between her lips. Small rivulets of saliva trickled down the thickly veined shaft and mingled in the young man’s pubic hair.

“Now he fuck me good!”

Petra’s eyes never left her husband’s as she gave Pavlin’s cock one final lick and quickly rolled off him. Pavlin gave a low, reluctant moan as his cock sprang free and sat back to regain his composure.

Mike looked on as his wife sat herself back against the iron bed head and once again spread her legs. Her hands gripped the metal rails and she lifted her legs up to expose a very wet, open pussy and her star shaped anus.

Pavlin was on top of her in a second. His cock slid smoothly in to the hilt and Michael heard them both groan as he bottomed out.

The fuck was fast and frenetic. Pavlin’s hips were a blur as he rammed himself in and out of Petra’s pussy. His fingers pinched and squeezed her stiff nipples cruelly but this only seemed to increase Petra’s ardour as she howled and cursed in Polish presumably urging her lover on to fuck her harder.

The room echoed with the sounds of sexual excess and the cloying aroma of coupling bodies wafted through the still air. Michael could feel the hardness beneath his pants and massaged himself through the thick material. He wanted to cum badly. But that could wait, he thought.

Pavlin might have been young, but his stamina wasn’t up to much and after only about seven or eight minutes he seemed on the edge of his own climax.

“Suck me off, bitch!” he cried suddenly, pulling back from Petra and letting his hard, throbbing tool spring back against his stomach.

Michael was more shocked at the man’s sudden use of the English language than he was of discovering the debauched scene in the first place. He was also shocked at his choice of words and even more shocked at Petra’s calm acceptance of being called a “bitch”.

“Cost more.” Petra said simply.

As Michael wondered what the hell was going on, the young man nodded briskly and pushed his cock back into Petra’s mouth. She accepted him willingly again and used her fingers to tease his balls, driving him ever closer to climax.

With a sudden cry of exultation, Pavlin quickly pulled out of Petra’s mouth and kneeled back on the bed with his twitching cock standing proud.

For a moment time seemed to stand still. Nobody spoke. Michael found himself holding his breath and waiting for the inevitable.

Seconds passed. Seemed like hours.

Then suddenly the silence was broken by a long, low moan from Pavlin. His trembling tool twitched once, twice and then a huge stream of cum surged from the tip.

Michael let out a gasp at almost precisely the same time that Petra did. Her face was quickly awash with Petra’s sticky white emission that filled her open mouth and streaked her dark, sweat-matted hair.

Suddenly it occurred to Michael what was going on. His wife had been a whore before he met her. Was still was a whore now. His thoughts soon turned to his hometown. How many of his friends were her clients? How many of his neighbours had she sucked off and allowed them to cum in her mouth? How many of his business colleagues or employee’s had fucked her well-used pussy? Or even thrust themselves into her tight ass?

Too many questions and not enough answers, Michael realised. He had a decision to make and made it quickly.

He turned to walk out of the door and out of Petra’s life forever.

“Where you go?” Petra asked. She seemed to be panicking a little now.

“You’re nothing but a whore.” He said calmly. “A homesick whore!”

As Michael closed the door behind him and stepped out into the corridor he saw another older man about to knock. Suddenly he felt a deep sadness. He knew that he had made the right decision, but he would never forget his homesick whore.

The End