The Gloryhole (Book 2 of "Mrs. Makepeace - Hotwife Adventures")

By Tia Lascivo

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

Melanie led the way. She stopped outside the third door along on the left side. Cubicle three, apparently, according to the number neatly stenciled in black paint on the wall to one side of the door.

“Here we are,” Melanie said as she pushed the door open. “Let’s go.”

I followed her in and was immediately confronted by the sight of the blonde lady on the DVD cover smiling at a well-muscled black man. The image came from the TV fixed to the wall, the video piped in somehow. From the front desk, I supposed.

I stood and watched the screen for a moment or two, then took stock of the room. It didn’t take long because all I could see in the way of furniture were three plastic chairs fixed to a metal stand. They were blue. Molded. The kind of seats you might find in a bus station waiting area, only these were clean and in a good state of repair. Again, like the rest of the place, it was clean and bright in there, a room like a cell, barely four feet across by ten feet deep and seven high. Then I noticed the apertures in the walls. There were holes of varying sizes set at what looked to be apparently random heights set in the wall opposite the chairs. I didn’t count, but there looked to be eight or nine. I blinked, puzzled at first. Then I felt a rush of excitement when I realized this was more than a jerk-off den. I was in a glory-hole! Those holes were for guys to stick their xxx's through.

When I first realized what the place was for, I couldn’t make up my mind whether I was excited or appalled.

“Jesus,” I gasped, “this is so bloody wrong.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Nov 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370322909

Book preview

Mrs. Makepeace - Hotwife Adventures:

The Gloryhole

By

Tia Lascivo

* * * * *

Copyright © 2016 by Tia Lascivo

All Characters are 18 and Over

One

You do know I’m married?

Melanie looked at me, incredulous, one sculpted eyebrow arched.

Of course I do, she said with a sigh.

Our husbands were eleven miles to the east of us. They were at a Giants game while we sat in Melanie’s car, the store on the opposite side of the street. I threw a dubious look at the door before looking into Melanie’s face.

Well, I don’t think I should go in there, I told her.

Melanie smirked at me and swiveled in her seat to face me.

She heaved an exasperated sigh and said, "It’s just a bit of fun, Julia."

I glanced at the storefront again. It wasn’t that I had any real objection to going inside. If anything, the idea turned me on. It would be fun to visit a sex store, and I was already squidgy down at my pussy because it was a naughty thing to do. The problem was I didn’t know Melanie well enough yet. My biggest concern was how far I could trust her.

My husband… I said, doubt in my tone. I don’t know. He might not like it.

Her eyes went wide as she looked at me with an expression which suggested I was the world’s dumbest wife.

Don’t tell him, she said with a small shake of her head. I never tell Michael.

Melanie grinned at me, eyes sparkling with inner mischief. I ‘d only known her a couple of weeks, but already liked her a lot. She was outgoing and fun. Lively. The look I caught in her face in that moment only made me like her more. It was there, the devilment within shining out through her eyes. I had the sense we were kindred spirits and I had the sudden urge to tell her everything about me, about Mrs. Makepeace. My instincts were telling me Melanie was going to be a very special friend, but I still had to be cautious.

So, keeping my cards close to my chest for the time being, I played it naive and asked, What do you say when he asks where you’ve been?

Shopping for shoes, usually, Melanie said. I’ve got a gazillion pairs, she added with another roll of her eyes. I’m never gonna wear them all. But it keeps my marriage safe.

Safe? I asked, genuinely puzzled.

Every woman has secrets, right? Melanie looked at me, abruptly serious. "Well, at least I do, she said. And so do all of my girlfriends."

I was curious about that comment, so, interest piqued, I asked, Secrets?

Melanie went cagey. She pouted and frowned and studied me for several long seconds.

Yeah, you know, little things we don’t necessarily want our husbands to know about.

What? Affairs, you mean?

Melanie stared at me again. Such an intense look I could just about hear the cogs turning.

Maybe. Some of the girls, Melanie told me.

They cheat on their husbands? I asked, still playing the innocent.

Melanie gave me yet another eyeroll.

She said, You’re kidding me right? Is it like there’s no cheating going on in England? You’ve never heard of it before?

Of course I have, I said. Of course people cheat in England.

How long have you been married? Melanie asked.

Eight years.

Her eyebrows shot up before she asked, And you’ve been a good little wife for all that time?

I heard the incredulity in her tone. Saw it in her expression as she stared at me, blue eyes locked on my face.

I thought about giving her a little snippet of Mrs. Makepeace’s sordid history, of which there was a lot to draw upon. I’d cheated on my husband the day I got married, so there was no way I could be described as a good little wife.

I’ll be an American at this point, I told Melanie. And take the fifth on that.

Melanie continued to stare as she mulled it over. It was an admission in itself, of course. If I had nothing sordid in my past, why would I hide behind the Fifth Amendment?

Melanie smirked. She nodded.

Oh-ho! she grinned. See what I mean? Secrets. Melanie dropped an eyelid against one cheek in a lascivious wink. Don’t worry, she said, a hand on my arm. I won’t tell a soul. I’ve got enough skeletons in my closet to fill a boneyard.

I was intrigued by that, and wanted to ask Melanie a whole raft of questions. Everything she’d said so far only went to convince me more that we had a whole lot in common.

Really? I said, looking at the store again. Is one of your secrets a particular liking for pornography?

She went sly again. Melanie’s slightly uptilted eyes narrowed, the feline expression enhancing the hint of the Asiatic in her looks. Melanie is a very pretty lady, in my opinion at least. A helmet of blonde bobbed hair, exotic eyes and high cheekbones. Blue eyes.

Melanie gave me that look and smirked.

I like looking at porno, she said. But I go through phases. I had a thing about lesbian stuff not long ago. Melanie threw me a glance, her expression laden with the unsaid as she went on to add, Had some fun with that. You know … experimenting. I tried it out for real a couple of times. With a couple of girls.

Desire uncurled inside me and the ache of lust worked through a few gears. I was getting decidedly horny, the need making me reckless. It’s a familiar sensation, a thrill of excitement when I know sex is on the agenda. My libido awoke. Heat flared between my legs when the implications hit me and I imagined Melanie mixing it up with another woman.

I didn’t say anything. I just sat there, carnal yearning swelling my throat while my body responded in myriad ways.

I might buy a couple of DVDs today, Melanie said.

I gulped down to clear my throat of the blockage.

Of what? I asked, the question coming up close to a croak. Lesbian porn?

Melanie shrugged and held my stare.

Big black cocks, she eventually told me.

Two

I’d never been in a sex shop before. The toys I have are all mail order items which I had sent straight to the house. Setting foot inside the store was something