Speaker 1: Welcome to Sexy Stories after dark Ah. I knew something
was off about her the second she walked into my
husband's studio, like a note that almost hits but doesn't
quite land where it should. I was born in Queen's,
raised on noise, grit, and people who said what they meant.
I've seen every kind of woman there is, the loud ones,
the quiet ones, the ones who think they're better than you,
and the ones who don't have to think it. They
lived it. You were either street wise or you weren't.
This girl, she was so unstreet wise, so privileged, it
wouldn't be surprised if the sissy little bitch floated over
the sidewalk instead of walking on it. Trust me, this
girl had never had to live with her feet on
the ground. But I could feel something else underneath. Her
name was Charlotte Sinclair, eighteen, freshly legal. She carried herself
like the world owed her something. Blonde hair tied back
in a perfect ribbon, A tight little uniform from one
of those posh uptown academies. Pearls. Yeah, she wore actual
pearls in Manhattan. Who does that anymore? Rich girls from Uptown,
that's who. Girls who'd never had to take the subway
at midnight or step over a piss stinking drunk passed
out on a stoop. She stood in the doorway, owning it.
I've come for the music, lesson, she said, voice crisp, polished,
practiced almost a demand. My husband Vinnie didn't even look
up at first, just kept cleaning his trumpet. Yeah, he said,
you're late. Her jaw tightened. She looked like she was
going to scream at him, like he was one of
the staff. But she kept her pretty little trap shut,
gave me a sideways glance, and walked in like she
owned the place. There was nothing I could stand about
this prissy princess. She looked like the kind of girl
who if you put a cock in her face, she'd
try and bite it off rather than suck it off.
But as I watched her from the kitchen, something looked
familiar about her. As she took her trumpet out of
the case and tuned up, I noticed something in her eyes.
That's where the perfect persona slipped. Every now and then,
when Vinnie turned away, her expression would change. She lifted
the trumpet to her lips like she'd been doing it
her whole life. Licked her lips and began to play.
That was one good thing about having a husband who
gave music lessons, all the fresh young things I could
purve over from the sidelines. Even though I hated almost
everything about this little blonde bitch, I'd give my left
tit to strip her and play with her instrument. Vinnie
corrected her posture, stepped behind her, adjusted her shoulders. She
caught me watching her once, just a glance, but her
eyes held mine longer than they should have, and for
a split second, that perfect prissy expression cracked. There it
was again, that's something underneath, and I swear to god,
she smirked. After the session, she packed up as if
she were on a schedule. Didn't linger, didn't flirt, didn't
do any of the things girls like her usually do
when they're trying to get attention. She just left too quickly.
I stubbed out my cigarette and grabbed my coat. There
was something about this girl that I couldn't quite put
my finger on. Where are you going? Vinnie asked out.
I said, he didn't question it, he never does. I
went on instinct, a hunch, and followed her, just like
I expected. The little bitch walked like she expected the
world to move around her. She headed downtown, past the
polish store fronts, past the places she should have been,
and into streets that didn't match her at all. Graffiti,
flickering signs, dirt back on every corner, the kind of
blocks where people mind their business because they've learned it's
safer that way. Now I was interested. She slowed, stopped,
looked around, and then she walked straight into a place
that definitely wasn't on her little Upper east Side map.
A sex shop. The old Neon sign above the door
was buzzing. Half the letters were barely working. The kind
of place you only go into if you know exactly
what you're looking for, or you're ready to find out.
I stood across the street watching that perfect little girl
in her pressed skirt and pearls disappearing behind a blacked
out door. I smiled, who are you, Charlotte Sinclair, You
little slut. She was hiding something, and I was going
to enjoy finding out what it was. Us. The next
time she showed up for a lesson, I was prepared, ready,
and I'd done my homework. She walked in like she
owned the place, handed me her jacket and asked for
a mineral water, like I was the matre d. I
smiled and nodded as she paraded in to see my husband.
As soon as her back was to me, I tossed
her jacket in the corner like a rag. What is
this the fucking rits? I walked in behind her, stood
in the doorway and stared at her as she began
to unpack her trumpet. I'm not playing for an audience,
she said, shoeing me away with a hand. Well, that
would be a fucking first, I said, with a laugh.
Her face screwed up into a grimace as she moaned,
excuse me. No, I'm not excusing you from anything, I replied.
She turned to my husband yelped, are you going to
let your wife speak to me like this? Have you
forgotten who my mother and father are? No, my husband said, uninterested?
Have you? Then he passed her the photos. The blonde
Princess's eyes went so wide I thought they'd shatter in
her sockets. Where the fuck did you get these? She snarled?
I laughed harder. Now I knew i'd seen you somewhere before,
I said, seems we both have things we don't know
about each other secrets. You see. I'm into kink. I
love fucking and getting fucked. I'm a dirty bitch, and
I also love visiting the sex shop downtown, love checking
out all the nudie booths and the fresh teen snatch
they have behind them. Charlotte went red, and because of that,
I know something about you. I know your secret. Isn't
that right? Naughty nicky Charlotte growled like an animal. I
knew I'd seen her before, and I was right. She
was the prime piece of meat that writhed around on
a pole behind a screen in the back of the
sex shop two nights a week. When you gave little
privileged Charlotte Sainclaire a black wig, fishnets and stilettos, she
became naughty Nicky, the top earning slut dead beats could
whack off to in the back room. She looked like
she wanted to deny it, look like she wanted to explode.
But the evidence was right there, pictures I had someone
take when she was last in her little booth. There
was no denying it. It was right there, in glorious
black and white money. She screeched, I can give you
fuck money, I snapped back, I know what I want?
What she snapped back, Mommy and Daddy can never find out.
They won't, I snarled, All you have to do is
play along, because the only thing I want is you.
What the hell? She said, mouth open and eyes wide.
Get your fucking clothes off, I demanded, But keep those
knee high socks on. They make me wet. My husband
laughed and began undoing his belt. She went to stomp
her feet and whine, but I beat her to it
and said, do as you're fucking told, or these go
straight to the front desk of your father's office. She squealed.
I trapped the little rat in the one place I
wanted her, right in the palm of my hand. The
bitch was a sight with nothing on, perky tits and
a nice tight ass. She had attitude, and I wanted
to make it my job to break her. I stripped
to got my huge tits out, pulled down my panties
to expose my cunt and fat ass. What have I
got to do, she sulked. It's a music lesson, right,
I said, Well, it's time to play an instrument. My
husband was naked and climbed on the couch and leaned
over the back, exposing his asshole. I moved fast, grabbed
the little bitch's blonde hair, and forced her to her
knees and dragged her to my husband's waiting asshole ever
played the old rusty trombone, I asked as she struggled. No,
she said, trying to fight away first time for everything,
I said, slapping her around the face. Get your fucking
mouth in there and eat his ass, I demanded. All
I heard her try to say was gross. Then I
slammed her face. If you want to hear the rest
of this X rated, uncensored sexy story, go to the
supercast link in the episode's description. Join up and you'll
get three extra long, extra filthy episodes a month, plus
a personalized sexy story about anything you want. You can
live out your fantasies with me. Join Sexy Stories after
Dark today, See you soon.