Chapter 2: The First Profile
The phone call with the service was brief, clinical, and devoid of any salacious detail, which somehow made it feel more real. A man named Marcus handled it, his voice a calm, professional baritone that asked direct questions about preferences, security, and health. Two days later, a single, encrypted link arrived in Tom’s secure inbox. They opened it together on his laptop in bed, the pale glow illuminating their intent faces.
The profile was stark: a first name, Bill, and a list of attributes. Six-foot-two, athletic build, handsome face, divorced, no kids, discretion guaranteed. Tom scrolled down. Char’s breath caught in her throat. The listed endowment was 9.5 inches long with a 2.5-inch diameter, and a clinical note added he had 'exceptional stamina and recovery'. “Jesus,” Tom whispered, a mix of awe and pure competitive shock in the word. The accompanying photo wasn’t explicit, just a torso shot of a lean, powerful abdomen leading down to a shadowed V that hinted at serious weight. Char felt a familiar, slick heat between her legs, her finger unconsciously tracing the lace edge of her panties.
Bill's listed endowment was 9.5 inches long with a 2.5-inch diameter, and a clinical note added he had 'exceptional stamina and recovery'. “Jesus,” Tom whispered, a mix of awe and pure competitive shock in the words. The accompanying photo was explicit, a torso shot of an abdomen leading down to a semi-erect huge, powerful cock hinted at serious weight. Bill was something to behold!
Tom watched her face, saw the dilation in her pupils. “We make the call now,” he said, his voice tight. He tapped the contact number on the screen.
The phone rang twice before a calm, resonant voice answered. “Bill.” Tom put it on speaker. “It’s Tom. And Char.” Char’s throat felt dry as she whispered a greeting. They reviewed the sterile facts: his height, his athletic build, his divorce.
Tom’s thumb stroked her knee under the sheets. “The profile mentions exceptional… endurance.” Bill’s chuckle was warm, confident. “It’s accurate. I understand discretion is paramount.”
Char found her voice, surprising herself with its steadiness. “Our rules,” she stated, her eyes locked with Tom’s. “You never touch me unless Tom is present, watching.” Tom nodded, his expression fiercely proud.
“If I say ‘stop’, everything stops instantly.” “Understood,” Bill replied, no hesitation. “Completely.”
“And afterwards,” Char continued, her hand moving to Tom’s thigh. “Tom reclaims me. Always.” A low growl rumbled in Tom’s chest. “That’s non-negotiable.”
“Of course.” There was a pause, a shift in the digital air. “May I ask a procedural question?” Char tensed. “Go ahead.”
“The first instance,” Bill said, his tone professional yet intimate. “I’ve found it eases tension if the wife… acclimates to me orally first. It builds comfort.” Char blushed deeply, her core clenching.
Char squeezed his leg and then said, “We think that’s a perfect idea.” The words hung there, a plan made solid. They set a date for the following Friday at a discreet hotel.
Tom ended the call then said, "You are such a "Hot-Wife" in waiting!
The room was silent save for their breathing, a heavy quiet that pressed against Char's skin. She could feel the phantom weight of the phone call, Bill's measured voice still echoing in the space between them. Her hand, still on his knee, tightened almost imperceptibly.
"So," he said, the word cracking the stillness like thin ice. "Friday." She nodded, her throat too tight for speech, her mind replaying the clinical numbers: nine and a half inches, two and a half inches thick. A shudder, part terror and part liquid want, coursed through her. She prayed she could handle it!
"You're shaking," Tom murmured, his fingers sliding up to her thigh, warm and familiar. "It's real now." "I know," she breathed out, finally finding her voice, small in the dim light.
"What if I can't... what if it's too much?" He turned to face her fully, his eyes capturing hers. "Then you say "Stop", and it stops. That's the rule."
His thumb brushed the inside of her leg, a promise and a claim. "And after, I get you back." The thought of that—Tom taking her after, reclaiming her—sent a sharp bolt of arousal straight to her core.
She let out a shaky laugh. "You're already hard, aren't you?" "Since he said 'acclimates orally'," Tom admitted, his grin sharp in the glow from the laptop.
He guided her hand to the stiff outline under his sweatpants, and she felt the solid, familiar length of him. "But this is all mine," she whispered, leaning in to kiss his neck, tasting salt and certainty. "And Friday night, you'll watch me earn it back," she said against his hair, her voice firm with possession.
They didn't sleep for a long time, their hands and mouths mapping the territory of this new pact, the hotel room waiting like a blank page.
Tom exhaled sharply. “We should… practice,” he said, the words a warm rush against her ear. He repositioned himself above her, the solid heat of his body a comforting anchor. “If part of the fantasy is the visual,” he began, his knees settling outside her thighs.
“Then I need to see.” He gently guided her until she was on her hands and knees before him. The silk sheets whispered under her, a cool contrast to the fire in her skin. “This is how I’ll be watching,” he stated, his voice assuming a low, directive tone she’d never heard in their bedroom.
“Now, show me.” Char glanced back over her shoulder, her blonde hair curtaining part of her flushed face. “Show you what?”
“What you’ll do for him,” Tom said, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. She understood. A strange, powerful calm descended over her nervousness.
She lowered her torso, letting her elbows sink into the mattress, her back arching deliberately. “So he can see everything,” she murmured, not as a question but as a statement of fact. Tom’s breath hitched behind her.
“Yes.” His fingers traced the curve of her hip. “And you’ll look at me.” She turned her head, meeting his gaze over her shoulder, holding it. The intensity in his eyes was a catalyst.
She imagined a different, unknown presence behind her, and a soft moan escaped her lips. “Good,” Tom encouraged, his own arousal evident in his strained voice. “Now, the… acclimation.”
He shifted, moving to sit beside her on the bed. He ran a thumb over her lower lip. “Use your words, Char,” he coached. “Tell me how you’d start.” She parted her lips, taking his thumb briefly, her eyes locked on his.
“Well, a . . . I’d start slow,” she whispered, her voice husky with performance and real desire. “Gentle, almost hesitant.” Her tongue swiped slowly over his thumb. Tom watched, transfixed, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
“Then,” she continued, her confidence building under his rapt attention, “when I feel his cock start to throb, I’d take him deep down my . . . .throat” Her head dipped in a slow, practiced motion, blonde hair cascading forward. She held the pose, looking up at Tom through her lashes. She knew how to deep-throat. She could teach a class on it. Through practice she'd learned how to control her gag reflex. She knew it would drive Bill crazy watching his huge cock disappear down her throat without gagging until her nose was buried snuggly deep in his pubic hair with his balls pressing tightly against her chin!
A ragged groan tore from his throat. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Okay.” He pulled her up, his mouth crashing onto hers, the taste of shared fantasy wild between them. “Enough practice,” he breathed against her mouth. “I need you now.”
“I need you now, too.” she replied!
He didn’t wait for a reply, his hands turning her onto her back with a possessiveness that made her gasp. But she pressed a palm against his chest, stopping him. Her other hand slid down her own stomach, fingers slipping beneath the lace. Tom froze, watching, his eyes darkening to near black.
“This is where the action begins,” Char said, her voice trembling not with fear but with a fierce, newfound ownership. Her fingers found her own wetness, circling slowly as she held his gaze. “Where his gigantic cock fills me with his hot load of cum until his bill balls are pressing hard against my ass.” And you are witnessing the whole time! And loving it all!
Tom’s breath came in a sharp, ragged pull. “Jesus, Char.”
“See, honey? Right here.” She guided his gaze down her body. “And you’ll be watching it, every inch of his big huge cock slowly sliding deep into my sweet wet wonton pussy.” Her own touch grew bolder, mimicking the penetration she described, her hips lifting from the mattress. “Help me plan the details so we both get everything we hope to get and enjoy from this.”
Tom agreed, a guttural “Yes” escaping him as the shared wild fantasy raged between them. It sparked his cock, sending it deep into her pussy in one fluid, claiming thrust that made her cry out. “Just fucking practice,” Char said breathlessly, wrapping her legs around him, meeting his frantic rhythm. “And you well know that practice makes perfect, and I want to be perfect for you . . . . . . me . . . and for him . . . . Bill!!”
The name hung in the air, a spark that ignited something feral in Tom’s eyes. “Bill,” he repeated, the word a low growl against her throat as he drove into her. His rhythm shifted from frantic to something slower, more deliberate, and profoundly more possessive.
“Look at me, Char,” he commanded, his voice dropping an octave into a stranger's timbre. She obeyed, her blue eyes wide and searching his face, which was now a mask of controlled intensity. “You called for Bill,” he stated, each thrust punctuating the words. “You think about his cock while I’m inside you?”
“Tom, I—” she started, but he cut her off with a deeper, grinding push that stole her breath. “Who am I right now?” he demanded, his hand tangling in her hair, not cruelly, but with an authority that was new. A shiver of pure, dark excitement raced down her spine. “Bill” she whispered, testing the name, surrendering to the game.
“Say it like you mean it.” “Ooo Bill,” she moaned, the syllable tearing from her as he hit a devastating angle. A predatory smile touched his lips. “Good.” He leaned close, his breath hot on her ear. “Friday night, you’ll kneel for me first. You’ll open that pretty mouth and show me how grateful you are for this chance.”
His words painted the scene in the air between them, more visceral than any photo. “And you’ll watch, Tom,” she gasped, splitting her consciousness between the man above her and the phantom in the room. “You’ll watch me take his big hard cock deep inside my pussy!”