1. Harsh Times


    Date: 4/10/2017, Categories: Wife Lovers, Author: squiffy, Rating: 8, Source: LushStories

    I sauntered into the living room of my marital home, wearing just a pair of shorts. Sitting down on the couch next to my wife, I felt a cold blast from the air conditioner in the corner of the room. I sighed, put an arm round Tina, and whispered words of comfort in her ear. The weather was too hot for my liking, but the heat was the least of our worries. Tina and I had been married only six months, and already we’d fallen on hard times. We were both out of work, claiming state benefits, scraping by, and praying for a bit of good luck to come our way. But we couldn’t wait any longer. Our financial situation needed an immediate solution. The bills were mounting, final demands had been issued, and we would find ourselves homeless within a month if we didn’t take action. As a last resort I picked up my phone and contacted the local drug dealer, Jamal Bravo, a big Rastafarian with whom Tina and I had become acquainted down the local pub, to ask if he needed any help distributing his product. I’d bought quite a bit of weed from Jamal over the past few months and hoped he would be able to help me out, maybe put a bit of work my way. I hit the dial button. Jamal picked up on the first ring and in a Jamaican accent said, “Yah, wat can I do fo’ yu?” “Jamal,” I replied, “I need an earner, mate. You got anything going? Anything at all, I’ll do it. I got bills coming out of my arse.” Jamal sucked in through his teeth. “Nah, man. I got nuttin’ fo’ yu, blood. Mi is branching out inta other ...
    areas o’ business. It not men dat I is looking fo’, if yu kna’ wat I mean.” “I understand that, but I’m desperate. I wouldn’t ask you otherwise. Tina’s in bits, mate. We’re gonna be out on our arses before too long.” Jamal went quiet on the other end of the phone, thinking something over. Finally he said, “Yo’ Tina, meh could use a ooman like ‘er. Dat fine body o’ ‘ers could mek big dolla.” I felt a sudden surge of elation, sexual arousal, then fear, realising where this conversation was headed. I hesitated, stuttered, and then said, “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” “Dat’s de only way I can help yu. Yu either tek it o’ leave it.” I said nothing, just stared at Tina, my eyes roaming over her bikini clad figure, roving eagerly over the supple perfection of her young, slender body. When my eyes lingered on the full swell of her breasts beneath her bikini top, I knew Jamal was right; my wife’s body could earn us a fucking fortune. Jamal continued, "Yu sittin’ on a gold mine dere, blood. Dem young gurls is in demand. Wi ‘ave punters queuing round de block fo’ a sniff o’ 'er young pussy-ole." I wasn't about to admit it, but I knew that Jamal was on to something. Though Tina was twenty-five years old, her face and body were those of a teenage girl. She looked no older than eighteen or nineteen. She looked beautiful, innocent, delicious, and seriously fuckable. My mind was suddenly flooded with wild images of old men, black men, fat men, fucking my wife, rough and ...
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