Cathouse Tuesday!

"I hate my work. The selling, the deal making. Everything centered around the church. Influence here, influence there. Insiders, outsiders. The church. The whole thing is bullshit. I want out."

"Bullshit?"

"Yes, bullshit. I listen to them talk and can't stand to be a part of it any more."

Porter started taking vacation time. He spent the days on the computer. The first steps were out of character for someone raised Mormon.

"I want to be away from people. We have the money. Maybe a little ranch or farm. Let's just do things, whatever we want.

First he dragged me to a couple of RV dealers. The high end stuff was mind blowing. Porter would never consider a used car, but he decided on a five year old motor home that some old people had owned. I think their dog pissed everywhere. Otherwise, it was like new. The dealer put in new carpets and flooring.

We had about a week before everything was ready. In the meantime Porter had a plan. Suddenly there was a pile of maps and travel books. It wasn't as much a vacation as it was a treasure hunt for remote and unusual property.

The motor home life was pretty good. I enjoyed it. Porter wanted sex every night. It was good although my mind remained on bigger things. "Bigger things!" He thought he was wearing me out. I knew what I needed to wear me out.

One night at a desert campground where we had to use generator power at bedtime he went down on me. It was enough to make me cum. Maybe this was a new Porter. I could see some little changes. He liked the control he had over me with his face in my pussy. Sometimes I'd lay exhausted after he made me cum several times and he wouldn't try to fuck me. This was evolving in my favor.

Miles and miles went into the rear view mirrors as we traveled from Utah into neighboring states. We had been out almost a month when we stopped by a particularly interesting place in Nevada. We couldn't tell which was Bureau of Land Management land and which was private ranch property. We just decided to get off the road at what seemed to be an abandoned house. In front of the old building was a large place to park almost like a parking lot. We got set up for the night, showered, and I got my pussy eaten.

The next morning we found the property boarded up pretty good. The building needed paint and some minor maintenance. We walked towards the road. It has once been a major route before the Interstates ruined so many small towns. Not that there was a town nearby. This was way out in the desert and about a hundred yards off the highway. About 75 feet in was an old sign concealed by what was once shrubs growing under it. We tried to moved the branches to read the paint peeled and faded from desert sun.

"Something ... something ... CATHOUSE!"

Prostitution is legal in all counties in Nevada except in the counties containing Reno and Las Vegas. We had found an old whorehouse. An old sign was laying in the weeds. 'FOR SALE BY OWNER" with a phone number. Porter had an evil grin.

"What are you thinking?"

"We wanted an unusual place. Think about it. An old whorehouse. We could fix it up a little, turn it into a curiosity. No one is around for miles. It's what we've been looking for."

"Really? That's what we are looking for?? An old whorehouse?"

"Cathouse. The sign says cathouse."

"Oh, God Porter. I don't know, a cathouse, whorehouse, what ever you call it sounds a little unseemly."

Porter took my arm and led me to the old house. After several trips around the place he found a window where he could push up enough to break the lock. My uptight husband was becoming a burglar as he went in head first.

"Holy crap, Jenna. You've got to see this place."

"I'm not crawling through a window."

In a few moments I heard a back door open. Porter motioned me in with a big smile on his face. The place was musty and dusty. Even though the two words rhyme that is not a good thing. I looked at the floor where my feet were standing knowing that whores had stood in the very spot years earlier.

"I think some cleaning up and this place would be alright." My husband was like a kid.

The place was 1970's, 1980's, early 1990's at best.

We were in the kitchen. No water in the sink and there was no way the avocado green fridge would every run again. Did I feel a little twinge of interest? Porter was nodding his head looking for my approval. Then he went on.

"Look, we could pay one of those clean up companies a couple of thousand and let them clean for a week. We'd have to redo carpet and maybe repaint, but is it really that bad?"

"Not if you overlook the fact that it looks like a whorehouse."

On one wall of the kitchen was a board hanging with women's names listed. Four of the names still had pegs in the hole next to them as if the women were still working. In front of the kitchen was a huge living/party room still with dusty sectional furniture and a full bar. Not full with liquor. That was long gone, but a set up full bar ready to go.

I felt the fear. Porter was flipping out over the place. I might live out my years in a former whorehouse. We took the hallway to the right. Four bedrooms, each with a private bath. Beds and furniture with the beds made as if they were going to open for business that night ... with thirty years of dust and mouse droppings on them.

Down the other hallway. Four more bedrooms with private baths. They all looked like someone just walked out and left them.

"Jesus, Jenna. This place was built to be a cathouse."

A room on the back was a laundry with two old washers and two old dryers.

Back in the main room an old photo album in a corner leaning against a wall caught my eye. There was a couple of photos of how the place looked back in the day. Cars from the seventies parked out front. The place was pretty. The next pages were scantily dressed women looking like hookers. Each was labeled with a woman's name. Names that were obviously not their real names. The last page was a price list.

Straight sex: $25

Blow job: $15

Sex and blow job: $35

Bareback $50

No Anal!

I showed the book to Porter. We looked at the women and imagined them working there.

"Eight bedrooms. Eight baths. This place was definitely built to be a whorehouse."

Porter reflected on what he had just said. That evil grin reappeared.

"What do think? Home sweet home?"

"I'd have to be crazy." I gave my stupid husband a look.

"Let's at least give the number a call. It's probably not even in service. The sign looks like it was put up about the year two thousand."

Porter had one bar of service on his cell phone. The keypad beeped as be entered the number. A woman's voice came on the other end of the call.

"Hi. Is this still the number for the person that has an old sign on some abandoned property in Nevada?"

"That was Mom. She died in 2007. I'm not even sure the property is still standing."

"We're in the driveway now. Pretty dismal, but it's still here. Is it still for sale?"

"I'd sell it. We've been paying taxes on it for years. There's ten acres that goes with it. What do you want for it for?"

"We were kind of lost last night and pulled up the drive to park our motor home. It seems like a good spot for that."

"Fifteen thousand."

"What?"

"Fifteen thousand. That's fifteen hundred an acre. The local rancher wanted it for ten. I hate the bastard. That would burn his ass if I sell it to you. Interested? Come into the city. Mom would shit if she knew I was selling, but, again she hasn't shit since 2007."

We looked the address up with our maps app. Pretty swanky neighborhood. The daughter must have really wanted to unload. It was only a little over an hour away. We had given our information. She had the deed signed when we got there. We had gone to a branch of our bank and handed her fifteen thousand in cash. We paid a little extra to get the deed recorded on the spot at the Recorder's office. We owned a whorehouse!

The seller didn't say a lot until after we got the deed.

"Dad died when my little sister and I were young. The church didn't do squat to help us out. Mom found out that selling a little pussy on the side would pay the bills. She started out picking up men at hotels in town. Regulars would call the house then stop by."

"You said the Church?"

"Yeah, we were Mormon. Daddy never missed a Sunday of taking us. They had their hands out for the ten per cent tithing when Daddy was alive. Put your hand out for a little help when you need it and you can draw back a stump. Our Bishop that Mom asked for help just the same as said that if she would fuck him on a regular basis they would help with rent and some groceries. Mom told him she rather fuck some stranger and take the cash to buy her own groceries and pay her own rent. That was the end of us being Mormons."

"That's why we are here. Porter just got fed up with the Church. We want to drop out and be by ourselves."

"The old cathouse will do that for you. Not a lot of traffic out there with the Interstates taking over. Mom stuck it out as long as she could then shut it down."

"Did your family live there?" I had to know.

"Live there? Honey, I worked there. My sister, too. Best job ever. Since then we've lived on all the money Mom made when things were good."

We filled the motor home with groceries and went to what would be home some day. The cleaners scrubbed everything and took the old carpet out in a dumpster. We kept the old beds and threw out the old mattresses and springs. Painters came in. The heat and a/c needed replaced. Plumbing and electrical upgrades and Porter was into it for another forty thousand.

Locals that saw us working stopped by to see our progress. Some men were old customers, some women had worked there in their younger days. Passersby stopped that had seen the place in operation years before. Then Porter decided to repaint the sign. He added a line that said "Cathouse Tours." You have no idea the reaction. Then newspapers ran an article. The county made us take out a permit to run the tours. The clerk said for another fifty dollars we could go full scale. Much to the delight of my husband we now owned a fully licensed whorehouse.

Most of the questions on the tour came from the women. It was surprising how many of them had hooker fantasies. A few local wives said if we ever started prostitution they could use a little extra cash. We were caught up in a whorehouse mentality. Women seemed emboldened by being in a place where women would fuck clients. Several on tours would get down right nasty in comments to Porter. I was getting my pussy eaten a lot they way they kept him worked up.

By five o'clock we would lock the doors and it would be just the two of us. I was wearing a dress for Porter to take me in to town for dinner. Since I was an unofficial madam he wanted me to dress sexy. Porter was locking the door as I started for the car. An expensive car zoomed up the driveway.

"Hey, you aren't leaving are you?" A tall thin man about Porter's age unfolded from the car.

"The last tour was at four. We lock it up at five."

"Tour? You're not really a cathouse?"

"No, we fixed the old place up and give tours. We don't have prostitutes." I told him.

"Wow! I couldn't imagine what you would cost."

I felt self-conscious talking to a man about being paid for sex. Porter started the trouble.

"What do you this she'd be worth?"

"At One-Fifty I'd be here every week. It would be cheaper than keeping my wife. She left about a month ago and things down there are starting to build up. That's why I was hoping you were open."

I was puzzled, but wet. One Fifty. Maybe not first class, but one fifty?

"I need to warn you. The wife left because she said I kept going in too deep."

The tall slender man laughed and winked at me. I think he was just playing with us. That got Porter's attention. God, he was thinking about renting me out.

"One fifty you say?" He was laughing to cover his bluff.

"That would be bareback. I don't see any point in wasting a perfectly good load in a condom. She looks like she'd have a sweet little cunt."

I don't think either man was bluffing. Like a card game I seemed to be the prize. We would see who's bluff gets called. I put my hand out to take the keys from my husband. He put them right in my palm. I unlocked the door and turned to the stranger.

"Come on inside."

The word "cunt" had stirred me to my very being. Porter didn't object to him using it with me. We left my husband in awe standing in the living area. I led this new stranger to our bedroom and almost to the bed before deciding not mix selling my pussy with our marriage vows. A quick few echoes of my high heels on the tile hallway led us to the next room.

Once inside I turned abruptly to him and held out my hand. "One Fifty ... "

He put a hundred in my palm and counted out three twenties.

"I hope you aren't expecting change." I taunted.

"No, I'm sure this is going to be worth it."

I very matter-of-fact and very business like way I removed my dress. I left on a tiny g-string that my husband liked me to wear now when we went out. I hadn't put on a bra or slip. Porter enjoyed the looks I got, as did I.

Standing there with my pussy barely covered in front of my new stranger made me feel like a whore. His use of the word cunt had that little jingle going in my head again.

He took off his shirt and shoes as I sat on the edge of the bed. He stepped up to me as if I was to remove his pants. I reached for the belt buckle and unzipped his fly. When his pants hit the floor I was face to dick with what had to be a ten inch cock. No wonder his wife left him. I couldn't wait to see what I could do with it. I gripped near the base and took the head of it into my mouth. I sucked up and down on it a couple of times to be sure it was wet even though I knew I was wet enough already for him to enter me.

That was my first time with a man's cock in my mouth. I stood up to remove my g-string and laid back with my thighs spread and my cunt slightly open for him. My experience with my fourth man in my life to fuck me was going to make me a whore. The head of his cock went in okay. I felt my pussy lips stretch to let him in. I had him inside me maybe halfway when he made me cum. My vagina welcomed the extra width. The depth would me what would get me. I was sure as hell going to try for it all.

Porter was probably in the hallway just out of sight in the darkness watching his wife fuck another man. This had become his passion. To see his wife fucked like this. It was his idea to buy a whorehouse and dress me like a whore. Like dozens of women in this house before me I was fucking for money.

My cunt was running out of room. Not a pussy now. A cunt devouring cock for cash. I had never felt so free, so validated. Women are born to take cock. I was in the midst of taking one that was going to redefine my womanhood both in size and purpose. Whether most women bitch about it or not I was feeling my purpose and it was feeling good.

I sensed movement in the hall. Porter had moved up to the doorway to get a better look at the length of the shaft trying to enter me. His own cock wasn't going to do me much good for a long, long time. No more Mormon dick for little Jenna! I tried to move my cunt up his cock even though the head was slamming against my cervix. I had to know how it felt to have every bit of this wonderful cock buried in all the way to his balls. He tried to force more in me as seed began to shoot like sticky rope. The sensation took me over the edge.

My own scream echoed in my ears. What he said about have a month of sperm built up must have been true as my cunt was flooded with one hell of a load. We laid with him still in me, my legs spread wide in the air. I wanted to fuck him again. Porter had come into the room. I had to wave him away and down the hall. My client softened enough to slide out. A big puddle soaked the sheets. There was no way I could keep all that in me. He went into the bath to wash off his cock. He came back to sat on the edge of the bed.

"That was great. How about again next week?"

I slid off the bed and got on the floor between his knees. My hand reached towards his crotch. He started to stiffen as I lifted his cock to my mouth. Within seconds I was attempting my first blow job. I sucked his cock for all I was worth. My husband was just outside the open doorway. The sounds told me Porter had to be jacking off as I got as much cock in my mouth as I could and pumped the rest of his length.

With the man now on his back I moved so where I could look into his eyes and still give a good angle of my pussy towards my husband and the door.

"Oh, fuck! I can't hold it!"

His hands grabbed the back of my head. I gulped and swallowed cum, a lot of cum, while trying to keep some in my mouth. I pulled up and showed my first John his cum in my mouth before swallowing, leaving just enough in my mouth to keep the taste.

I wiggled my ass at my customer as I went to use the bathroom. I still had cum in my pussy. I worked what I could out with my fingers and rolled it around my mouth with my tongue. If there were any ghosts of ladies from the past they had to be proud. I know that I was! I didn't clean up any. I wanted to look like a whore that had just been fucked.

My cash customer was still flat on his back on the bed. His cock was hard again. Well, not really fully hard. More like it was trying to tell me it was two o'clock or trying to get me to look at something on the dresser. As I neared the bed his cock was more like one o'clock or trying to get me to look at something near the ceiling.

I glance into the hallway looking for my husband.. I didn't see him, but I knew he was there. My stranger spoke.

"You never did tell me your name?"

"It's Jenna ... "

"No, I mean tell me your real name."

"I did. It's Jenna."

"Jenna's a whore name?"

"It is now!"

I dove on the bed, avoiding his cock and rubbed my tits in his face. He went for the nipples on my D-Cup boobs, which was my intention. I let him do that for a few minutes until he would get hard and have to fuck me. I threw a leg over his body and held my cunt near the head of his cock. Preferably I would have scooted back on it and let him keep playing with my nipples. But, I wanted Porter to see it go in me. From the angle he had a straight in view from behind as I started to get fucked again.

Getting the head started in me required getting up a little on one knee to allow for his length. A few inches in and I was back on both knees straddling him. The first eight inches didn't take long. That much had gone in before he had cum in me the first time. It was the last two inches I simply had to have in me. The width of him felt really good. As I would pull up off his cock my cunt lips would stretch out following his shaft. On the down stroke they would almost fold inward as my pussy had a tight grip as we worked in and out.

Porter had to be out there watching me. I couldn't turn to see him and stay penetrated on this stranger's monster penis. The fading of evening into darkness would have hidden my husband in the shadows anyway. I hoped he was the liking show. I pictured him whipping his Mormon dick and a little puddle of cum on the tile floor of the hall.

Being on top and in control got to me. I was getting more of the rest of cock in me each time I settled down on it. I had already cum twice so when his load blasted in me it would be all bonus. I could feel my pussy lengthen and my uterus move upward. Not an uncomfortable feeling. It was great! I was getting my tits pawed and my cunt pounded in a really good way.

I wasn't thinking of a husband any more. I was the whore. My hundred and sixty dollars were on the nightstand. I focused on the money as the big cock turned my cunt into butter.