Chapter 6 – Part 10, Fucking the Enemy

This is chapter 6, part 10 of the Pleasing María novel. If you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual activity or violence, or by strong language, please exit this site immediately. To view the Table of Contents of the novel click here. To go directly to the first chapter, click here. To read the latest novel post, click here. This is a rough second draft.


Chapter 6 – Part 10, Fucking the Enemy

As rebuttal to the Pol’s video report, a yellow journalist, obviously a right-wing-nut, published an exposé about the political parties in a community magazine. She gave several anecdotes of trading sex for votes, but didn’t name the politicians. She managed to sneak-in to an event dressed as an escort, and took photos. The faces of the politicians were blurred, but the lobbyists and escorts were shown.

There, in full whore glory was María, sitting on a stool, blouse down on one side with a man’s hand enveloping her breast, skirt up to her waist, legs spread, and her shiny stretchy panties perfectly molding the split oval of her vulva. The man rested his other hand on her thigh, just an inch from her vulva. One of my co-workers brought the glossy magazine to work, smirking as I saw the photo for the first time. His homunculus shrieked in mockery at Bunk, telling him his wife is a cheap whore, fucking old men for free for a pimp politician.

I didn’t care about the photo, but rather that María had misled me about the extent of her sexual activity at the events. I thought the events were public and dignified with some sexual horse-trading hidden away in back rooms. María never told me about the wild after-parties described in the magazine. As I read the exposé, I thought the Pol had corrupted her completely. He made her a cheap whore, trading her body for votes on policies she didn’t even care about – she did it for the Pol’s all-night ride.

María’s behavior had clearly been crazier than she told me, as was evident in the article photos. She must have additional outfits stored somewhere, because I never saw them in our house.

I contacted the right-wing-nut, Yellow, and invited her for lunch. I expected a dour crusader wearing a tin-foil hat, a female version of the Preacher. Instead, she was bright, witty, and articulate. We hit it off well, like old friends. She was mid 30’s, pretty, well-shaped, with long shining hair.

She began describing the event but I interrupted and asked, “Tell me about the after-party.” María had never mentioned this.

“The former is the gala party, both men and women are dressed to the hilt, and everyone is on their best behavior, except for some minor excursions of couples to back bars. The press is allowed access. When the gala party breaks up, the fun party begins. Many of the men stay, still dressed-up, but a new group of women comes in. It’s a booze, dope and sex party.”

I asked her about María without any suggestion I knew her. She replied, “I know María well, she seems to like me and lets me tag along with her. That’s how I get the photos. She’s the most beautiful and flamboyant of all the women there. She’s also the biggest … uh, whore, flirting with all the men. I saw her with many different men, they put their hands all over her and she went with them into the back bars.”

The journalist talked with such animation that Josey spoke-up, “she was more than an observer.” I asked her if she participated herself in such activities at the party. After hesitating, she spoke and I had to lean-in to hear her. “I had been completely faithful to my husband until the party. The place was so electric and buzzing … everyone was drinking and the waiters kept my glass full.”

“Were there cocaine, drugs?”

“Yes, but I didn’t directly see any at first, but there were several other rooms where the couples went. That’s where the escorts went with the men. To get in the party, I wore what my husband calls my ‘slut’ dress. It’s so short it barely covers my … uh… my bottom. I was there dressed as an escort, but avoided contact and took photos with a purse camera. This man saw me and came to talk. I knew who he was, a junior politician, on the young side and handsome. He leaned against me and he smelt so good. He put his hand on my hip, and I pretended nothing had happened. Then he slid his hand between my legs and I pretended nothing had happened.”

“And you were already wet.”

“You don’t mince words, do you? He led me to a back room and we … I can’t believe I’m telling you this, you’re practically a stranger. I hadn’t felt that good in a long time, I guess my husband and I are bored and boring. But this was different – this guy felt different, like full of purpose or commanding or …”

“Powerful?”

“Yes powerful. It was shameful what I did with him, what I’d never done with my husband. Even worse, I gave him my phone number, and he gave it to a coupla’ others. I give work excuses to my family and I go with them. As they … uh … well, as they do me, they tell me stories of the people and the politics, stuff I never heard before that I use in my reporting.”

“And you called María a whore!”

“I’m not a whore, I don’t do them for that. I do it because it’s exciting, they’re powerful and they, uh, do me with power. If my husband discovers I’m a groupie, a political slut, well, I don’t know what will happen.”

“A groupie? Are you still going to the parties?”

“You don’t miss much, you should be a reporter. Yes, I go whenever I’m invited, which is always to the after-party. I don’t get invited to the gala affairs, that’s for the young women like María. I don’t have the right profile.”

“What’s the right profile?”

“Young, hot and sexy, and a serious slut. A well-defined sub-genre of the political class. I only fit the last category.”

“You easily fit the second category too.”

“Thanks. If you were a politician, I’d owe you … uh…”

“Go ahead and say it, we’re adults here.”

“… a blow-job for that compliment.”

“Where do I sign up for that?”

“I can’t believe I’m telling you all this. I like talking to you, you’re easy, like talking to a woman.”

“I guess that’s a compliment. How often do you get invited?”

“Once or twice a week for the past coupla’ months.”

“And your husband doesn’t catch on to this?”

“He’s a typical man, oblivious to everything but his interests. I dress up to go out, tell him it’s an editorial meeting, and he doesn’t even notice my heels or lingerie.”

“And when you come back a little, uh, used?”

“He’s too busy on the Internet, probably watching porn. I clean-up before returning, I have a handler.”

“A handler? A pimp?”

“No, no, the lobbyist that handles my invitations. I store my sexiest clothes in his place, I shower, and he handles my gifts from the politicians. And he’s always the last, well, OK, the last, uhh you know, of the night.

“All the regular girls have a lobbyist handler. María’s handler is [the Pol]. He has several girls, and they’re all spectacular beauties. María is clearly his favorite, though. He’s the only politician that handles women. All his girls act like they’re in love with him. I figured-out [the Pol] handles his own girls because he pimps them out to lobbyists for contributions.

“I get special treatment because I’m the enemy. I go to the Democratic affairs, the men are better there, they’re more powerful, and they know how to use that power with women. It’s hot. They like to do me because they’re doing the enemy. They tell me stories about the politics and people, usually in the opposite party, because they know I’ll write them. I criticize them in our magazine as corrupt. We have a tacit agreement I won’t print names, only stories, and no photos of politicians. They tell me these stories and they do me really hard. I know I shouldn’t do this, it’s wrong for my family and wrong for my job.”

“But you can’t stop?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to.”

“You’re addicted. Maybe María is addicted too, and without your constraints of family and job, she can go crazy.”

“Probably, she certainly lights up a party and drives pure sexual energy. Do you know her, you seem quite interested in her?”

“Yes, she’s my wife of many years and we have a son together.”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean what I said about …”

“No apologies needed. I know what she does. She’s the mistress of [the Pol], she fucks for him, buys him votes. She’s a free woman, but I worry I’ll lose her.”

“She’s his mistress? Does she live with him?”

“She stays with him the night of those parties. Otherwise, she stays with me.”

“But how can you do that, knowing that she’s, uh … uh”

“You can say it – that she’s used by those men at the party, and later stays overnight with him. He drugs her with coke, and fucks her all night. When he brings her back the next morning, she sucks his penis in my bed to say goodbye. This happens once or twice per week.”

“And the other days …?”

“She lives with me and we act like normal people. Almost. She now refuses any sex with me. I can do it because she’s my life, my reason for existence. If I lose her, I lose my life.”

“That must be tough for you. She does those guys for votes – does she believe in what they’re voting on?”

“I doubt she knows what the votes are for. In general, she detests the Democrat’s platform.”

“Then she’s a real whore, screwing for stuff she doesn’t support?”

“How is that different from you? You think the Democrats are from the devil, yet you only fuck Democrats. That’s totally hypocritical. Besides, María does this for [the Pol’s] attention and affection. She doesn’t care about politics, she just wants the all-night fuck he gives her.”

“Why do you allow it? Do you support the Democrat’s?”

“I don’t care much about either party. I support [the Pol] because he promises to help the poor. He uses women to get publicity and support and votes to help the poor. You’ve seen his other women. They’re all married. I guess their husbands have donated their wives vaginae to help his agenda. In my case, I have no choice; María decides on her own.”

“I think you’re lucky to still have María – [the Pol] told me he was going to marry her.”

“You know [the Pol]?”

“I don’t think any woman really knows [the Pol], except maybe María. Let’s just say he knows me intimately.”

“I guess you’ve heard about the Ride?”

“That’s part of the intimately.”

“I can’t believe it, you too?”

“The political whores line-up for that experience. I was first in line.”

“Is there any woman he hasn’t corrupted?”

“Only the women he doesn’t want. He really wants María, watch out.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, looking obliquely at each other, each in our own thoughts. She played with her cutlery and glass. I asked if she had more photos of María at the party, and she promised to send them to me.

Finally, she asked, “Your son, he’s not yours, is he? I saw a shadow in your face when you mentioned him.”

I nodded.

“How do you feel about raising another man’s child?”

“I don’t feel anything. They’re María’s genes, men’s genes don’t matter. He’s my son and I love him.”

“Does he know?”

“Of course not, he’s a kid. I’ll probably never tell him, what for? He has María in him, I’d die for him. Are all your children from your husband?”

She nodded, I could see her brain working. Josey said, “she’s not finished, look at her fidget, ask her what’s wrong.”

“I think something else is bothering you, what is it? We know our worst secrets now, you can tell me.”

“Thank you for letting me tell you all this. I’ve had no one to talk to, I’ve been terrified my husband will find out. He seems to be blind, but now I want him to know what you know about María – I’m a slut. Worse than that, a political junkie slut.”

“Are you sure you want to do that? You’re beautiful and sexy – I can easily see some of those politicians will be interested in something serious with you. María loves being the mistress of a powerful man with unlimited money to splurge on her. Wouldn’t you like that, to be the hot, secret mistress of a politician? Why tell your husband, that might destroy your marriage?”

“Well, yes, that’s already happening. I have a strong mutual attraction with one guy, and he’s asking for an exclusive relationship. But I feel like I’m drifting away from my husband and family, maybe like María. I still want him to know what I am and what he might lose, I owe him that much.

“Maybe your husband justs pretends ignorance like I used to do. Maybe he enjoys the pain of your cheating. Or maybe he’s terrified of you, most men are afraid of free women. , ur…”

“That sounds like the voice of personal experience … sounds exciting … care to tell me about it?”

“That’s a little too close, sorry. It’s kinda’ embarrassing for me, unless you’re a shrink. I’ll just say that I always find it exciting when María gets a new lover. Maybe as exciting for me as María. That might work out better for you than telling your husband you’re a whore.”

“I can’t believe you’d suggest that after what’s happening with María and [the Pol].”

“I guess María has convinced me that all women need lovers, especially married women. I’m OK with that as long as she doesn’t leave me, that’s the hard part, worrying that whichever lover isn’t getting too deep into her. The Pol is sucking her into him. When she’s with him, I don’t exist. I don’t think even our son is enough to hold her. If [the Pol] really decides to take her, she’ll leave me.

“I’m sorry, I must be depressing you. You didn’t answer my question. Are you going to be a politician’s mistress?”

“You’re the first man I’ve met that admits that women need lovers. Thank you for that. I’m going to say yes. I’m going to be a mistress, gawd, what an adventure! You know, you’re the first man I’ve been able to really talk to in my life – you’re not a closet gay by any chance?”

“If María leaves me, I might try that first before killing myself.”

“Oh no, call me, I’ll take you. Could you be interested in a woman like me, a political whore to Democrats?”

“I would be honored to have you. I just realized that all the serious women in my life have been sluts, every one. My first girlfriend in high school cheated me with my second best-friend, a black kid. So I gave her to him.”

“You’re a strange duck. Would you let me have lovers?”

“As many as you want, as long as you don’t suck me into you, then leave me. That’s what terrifies me.”

“Are you terrified of María?”

“I’m terrified I’ll lose her if I try to control her. And I don’t want to control her. It’s exactly her independence, her freedom from conventional morality that makes her so exciting to me. And to other men, I guess. How she hurts me is incredibly delicious … it’s hard to explain, you can probably guess … I think you’ve jumped beyond conventional morality too.”

“Or maybe I’m a common slut. The after-party is still pretty respectable, people are dressed-up, booze, social drugs, men and women escorts nude or half-nude in outfits running the gamut from super provocative to downright vulgar. The after-party is for sex, and the lingerie and outfits work to excite the mostly older men. The politicians have already chosen their targets and made their deals, now it’s delivery time. The sex is mostly quickies in the back bars.

“But there’s more. If María is the queen of the after-party, then I’m the queen of the after-after-party. That’s where all the nasty stuff happens, after the respectable folks leave.

“I might as well tell you. It’s all tits and ass and pussy. I line up men to, uhh, for whatever they want, as many as want it… I flatter myself to say I’m a slut. Wanton whore is better. I get tips and gifts for special favors, but it’s not about gifts, it’s about pure adrenaline and testosterone. I’ve been done serially by groups of men that stand around me watching. I don’t understand why I do it. The more vulgar my actions, the hotter the fire burns in me. Afterward, I always feel awful and guilty. My husband is a good, decent man, and I hate that laying in the bed with him afterward, he never figures-out what I’ve done.”

“Sounds like you want to be punished. Is María at the after-after-parties?”

“No, she leaves with [the Pol] before the orgy starts. Look, it’s late, I need a favor. You want to collect your blow-job? Take me somewhere and screw me, and I’ll double it. Mess me up, my clothes, my hair, my pussy. My husband and I have our weekly scheduled sex on Wednesday at 5:00, two hours from now. I want to meet him with you all over me.”

“A double? Where can we go?”

“There’s a chic hotel two blocks over. The treat’s on me.”

I did it, I cheated María. Yellow started with the penis suck, and discovered my bangle with a wry smile. Her hands explored it, then her right hand enveloped the scrotum ball underneath. She held my testicles like a handle while her left hand steadied my penis against her mouth. I don’t think she ever realized she squeezed my testicles – the low level of pain was exquisite and I felt the rumble of increasing eruption. I asked her to stop – I wanted to finish inside her.

She had the broad hips and slight abdominal pouch of multiple-birth mothers. Beautiful. She was difficult to get started – I had been spoiled by instant-on María, so I spent extra time with my special mouth tricks. Her first orgasm was a shaker, the second softer, and she asked me to get in. I fumbled with my bangle and she said to leave it on. Her hips fit me like they were molded for my body. I thought I could easily get used to this women. The banging of my bangle against her vulva quickly produced another shaker, then she started the series of soft, continuous orgasms. Her previously attractive face glowed, beautified – I couldn’t stop watching her face in the agony of orgasm.

She whispered it was my turn, and her vagina clamped down on my penis on the out strokes. I lost control and pumped out my testicles into her. We lay still for a while, then I rolled off and went to the bathroom. When I returned, she sat on the side of bed, so I set on the carpet at her feet., my head on her legs. She put her hand on my head and massaged with her fingertips. It was the most amazing, sensual pleasure I had never felt before. I thought I should keep this woman, maybe she could be my mistress. Maybe she’s my replacement wife when María leaves me – I won’t have to kill myself. I asked her,

“How many children do you have?”

“Three, one boy, eight years old, and two girls, five and two.” She knew why I asked.

I thought, “It’s perfect, two girls and, with Brett, two boys. It’s perfect.”

She said, “Yes it’s perfect, I can be your mistress now, like a practice run. We already have a good start and if we get on well, I’ll be your wife when María leaves you. It’s perfect.”

Merde, I had thought out loud. She already knew she had hooked me. But she continued,

“But don’t decide now, you need to think it out carefully. I’m a package deal with my children. That’s a major change for you.”

“Have you decided?”

“Yes, I’m ready when you are.”

I wondered how women can leave their husbands so easily? Yellow leaving her decent husband, María leaving me. If men are so awful, why change one for another? Maybe it’s not that men are awful, maybe we’re just fools. We let the most valuable treasures slip through out fingers. María. I was glad she killed my answer. I would have said, ‘yes’ and ‘yes’. Reflecting now, I wondered if it would work out. I didn’t agree with her right-wing politics. As beautiful as she was, she was still a pale-face, and I still had hope of sabotaging the Pol.

She was eager to do part II of the ‘blow-job’ deal, but I took a rain-check. I wanted an excuse to see her again soon, and it was getting late. I had a job to do. I mussed her makeup, disheveled her hair, ripped a hole in her panty, and smeared my semen all around her vulva, matting and gluing her pubic hair. For extra points, I left a bruise on her breast, what is vulgarly called a hicky.

I did it to please another woman, a good woman, a worthy woman, an honorable whore, and I didn’t feel bad at all.

Until she told me she was in her most fertile days,

“Oh, one small detail, I’ll be a package with four children. What gender did you just leave in me?”

“What!”

“You needn’t worry, your genes will be well taken care of with no legal repercussions.”

Bunk interrupted my micro-second panic, cackling I had got the last laugh – a great, no risk fuck. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was infertile, and I heard Josey way in the back saying, “wait, this is an honor. She has chosen you to propagate into the future.” I told her,

“It will be an honor to have my child with you. She’ll be a beautiful, dark-hair, curly girl with big, brown eyes, and her name will be María María and … oh merde, sorry.”

Yellow exploded in laughter, infectious laughter that took us both to tears.

“Fair enough,” she said, “If it’s a girl and she yours, she’ll be María María. That’s not a done deal, my husband still has a shot, in just a few minutes. I need to go.”

“Did you decide just now to get pregnant?”

“Yes, when you said you would be honored to have me. No man has ever said they were honored by me. You said it twice. Did you mean it?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“If María leaves you, I’m coming for you. If I have your girl, I’m coming for you. Be warned.”

“I’ll watch my back.”

End of book content.


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