The Voice Student Ch. 01

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Have you ever woken up in the morning and thought to yourself, “What the fuck did I DO last night!?” In this case, it was more along the lines of “WHO the fuck did I do last night!?!” I had that thought last Saturday, wiped the sleep from my eyes and looked around the room. Hung over, I told myself to quit yelling inside my own head. Maybe it was just one too many shots of tequila and an overactive imagination. Nope — I was still in Room 1215 of the Washington, DC Downtown Marriott.

I looked under the covers and discovered I had nothing on. I distinctly remembered putting pajamas on last night. Upon further examination, I discovered that there was bright red lipstick smeared on my cock. Apparently, I had a great time the night before. Then the fog inside my head began to lift and the events of the previous night began to work their way back into my brain. As the memories flooded my swollen head, all I could think was “FUCK. I am SOOOOOO fucked!” It was going to be a looooooong day.

I suppose I ought to back up a bit and tell you how I came to this totally hung over state in a hotel room a stone’s throw from the White House. It was all Emily’s fault. Although I am quite certain most people would blame me.

My name is John. I am 32 years old, married, with two kids. I am 5’10”, weigh 165 pounds, with curly, blonde hair and green eyes. I am a professional tenor and voice teacher in Richmond, Virginia. By day, I teach housewives and the occasional home school student who wants to learn how to sing. After normal school hours, I work with middle and high school students who want to study (or THINK they might want to) voice as a college major. I have an excellent reputation for preparing high school students to participate in scholarship auditions and competitions.

Emily is my star student. She is a senior at one of the local high schools. She waltzed into my studio as a 15 year-old sophomore and sang beautifully. Em was a raw talent, who loved music more than breathing. A little slip of a girl, Em stood 5’0″ and weighed right at 100 pounds. She had pretty brown eyes and thick, pouty lips.

Her mother Brenda explained to me that while she would love for me to teach Emily, her pending divorce had left her in a tough financial situation, and $200 a month was just more than they could really afford. In fact, after staying home since the age of 20 to raise Em, Brenda was looking for a job for the first time in her life. Brenda seemed like a nice lady in a tough spot. It was late February, and all she really wanted was for her daughter to be ready for an audition in March and state solo and ensemble contest in April. I agreed to teach Em for free if Brenda would help me out at the studio. I needed a part-time administrative assistant in the worst way, but didn’t have enough work to justify hiring someone for more than about five hours a week. Brenda jumped at the chance.

Brenda was 5’3″, with curly, blonde, shoulder length hair. She had a nice body for a 35 year-old mother of three, and pretty brown eyes. She would have passed for seriously hot except for the sadness that her divorce had brought into her life. She turned out to be incredibly helpful, and my business grew as a result of her freeing me up from administrative duties to concentrate on doing what I enjoyed most – namely singing and teaching. By the end of Emily’s junior year, I was not only teaching her for free, but was paying her mother a decent, living wage.

Musically, things could not have been going better. Emily placed a respectable third at the state solo contest her sophomore year, and easily got into the top show choir and chamber ensemble at her school. She starred in the high school’s production of “Annie Get Your Gun” her junior year and was named the outstanding singer at the state contest that year. We were primed for a great run at several music scholarships her senior year.

Last September, Brenda showed me the flyer for a contest she really wanted Emily to win. It was at Georgetown University, which was where Emily had decided she wanted to study. Georgetown runs about $30,000 a year, and Emily’s dad had not been real faithful to the divorce decree. The contest had two purposes. First, it was an audition for the performing arts school at Georgetown. Second, the contest was endowed to pay for a full, four years of tuition and fees at the prestigious, Washington, DC campus. For a girl like Em, it was truly the opportunity of a lifetime.

We entered Emily in the contest and began preparing furiously. The contest was to be held the week before Christmas, and we had to have a full repertoire ready. I bumped up the difficulty level of Emily’s music, and pushed her even harder in her lessons, accepting nothing less than perfection in her rhythmic accuracy, diction, tone quality and intonation. One night in late November, she almost broke down, saying “I can’t DO this! The notes are too high for too long!” I Bornova travesti assured her she could, and we went back to work on “The Queen of the Night” from Mozart’s The Magic Flute. While that aria was beyond almost all high school (and undergrad) students, I knew that if she could just FINISH “Queen of the Night” cleanly in the final, she WOULD win the competition. I told her that the competition was going to be incredible with some 18 year-old going home with a $125,000 scholarship. She took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, smiled and said, “Well, all right then.” We went back to work.

The studio Christmas party was at our house the Saturday night before the big contest at Georgetown. My wife Christy was (as usual) the perfect hostess. Christy is about 5’6″, weighs 115, has long, flowing, thick black hair, amazing legs, and a PERFECT set of 36C breasts. She teaches theatre, and has a thousand watt smile.

The party was a nice buffet with an open bar for the adults and all the soda and tea those underage could handle. We sang Christmas carols, had a gag gift exchange, and just hung out. Dressed in a beautiful spaghetti strap, red cocktail dress and matching heels, Christy took fabulous care of our guests and flirted shamelessly with a couple of the hot dads and husbands. I even noticed her taking Emily’s father on a guided tour of our home. She led him upstairs and we didn’t see them for a few minutes. Em sang her contest repertoire to end the evening, and finished with “the Queen of the Night.” It was good. Not where we wanted it to be, but very good.

I looked around to see her parents’ reaction. Brenda was beaming, but Mike was not in the room. I looked over at the staircase and saw Mike and Christy stepping down on to the landing. Christy’s face was flush, and Mike (who hadn’t even been in the room for his oldest daughter’s performance, was beaming from ear to ear. I new that particular grin. I usually had it plastered to my own face for a couple of days after my usually prudish bride deigned to give me a blow job. She did NOT do it nearly often enough for my liking, but when she did, she had oral skills that would make a seasoned professional whore blush. Seeing that grin on Mike’s face made my blood boil. I stood there and seethed, all the while showing our guests out. Mike had the audacity to say, “Thanks for the invitation John. It was worth coming just to meet your lovely wife.” With that, he kissed Christy on the cheek and was out the door.

When the last guest had left and we were finally alone, I let my wife of 12 years have it with both barrels. I confronted her about Mike’s lengthy tour and she denied it. I pressed some more and she admitted to giving him a blow job. “I’m sorry honey. I had just had a little too much to drink, and he had this way of wording things that just made it sound like a good idea.”

“Where did you do him?” I asked.

“Our walk in closet.”

“Let’s go there right now.”

“Okay. But don’t be too mad at me. It’s never happened before, and I promise it won’t happen again,” Christy whimpered.

I took Christy to the closet and said, “You would dare suck another man’s cock ten feet from our bed when you hardly ever suck mine?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not sorry enough”

I pulled her to the bed, sat down and through her over my knee. As I mentioned before, Christy was a prude (or so I thought) and our love life had been VERY vanilla. I was so mad I lifted up her skirt and began to spank her hard with my hand.

“You’re hurting me,” she cried.

“Good. You deserve it,” I replied. “And now, you are going to get on your knees and beg my cock for forgiveness.

“The hell I am.”

“Yes, you will or I will tell all our friends about you being a whore in our own home. Did you swallow him? I didn’t notice anything on the carpet in the closet.”


“Liar. You never deign to swallow mine — WHEN you are gracious enough to even give me a blow job.”

“All right. I swallowed, he didn’t really give me a choice. He held my head in place when he came. It was awful”

“I don’t think even YOU believe that.”

“Okay, I swallowed. I had never done it before with anyone, and I wanted to try it.”

“And…?” I asked.

“It was, well, salty.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to have something to compare it to VERY soon.”

I pulled her up and threw her back into the closet. “On your knees,” I said.

“But I said I was sorry,” she protested.

“I won’t believe you until we’re done. Now get on your knees and start really apologizing.”

“Okay.” She fell to her knees and unzipped my pants. My cock was already fully aroused, making it hard for her to pull my eight thick inches out of my pants. It finally popped free and she leaned in to kiss it.

“Uh-huh. The balls are going to need an apology too,” I spat. Knowing resistance was futile, Christy went beck inside my pants and pulled Buca travesti my tight ball sack out. She then kissed each ball and the tip of my cock lightly, whispering “I’m so sorry. I’ll never go down on someone else’s cock and balls again.”

“Show me how you did him,” I moaned. She smiled and slid her tongue out and around the tip of my cock, slowly and sucked as she pulled her tongue back into her mouth. Heaven. She bent down further, pressed tight on my urethra with her thumb at the base of my cock and lifted not one, but both of my swollen balls to her lips. She started kissing them slowly and gently, then alternately sucked each one into her warm mouth. As she let one go to suck on the other, a small pop escaped her lips with each ball.

I moaned in ecstasy when she took both into her mouth at the same time and started sucking in earnest. While she did this, she started giving me a cruel, merciless, fingernail tease of the soft underside of my cock, working from the base to the tip. When she thought I might cum, she clamped down on the urethra at the base till I calmed down, then started the merciless ball suck and hand job again, all the while humming with my balls in her mouth.

I groaned in torment when she pulled the balls out of her mouth, let go of my cock, and started grazing my shaved balls with her perfectly manicured fingernails. She looked up at me, smiled an evil smile and said, “I think he wants to forgive me. If I suck him like I know he loves it, and promise to do it more often and swallow, do you think he will forgive me?” “He may,” I replied coolly. “But he may require a different type of apology from your pretty little ass later.” “Ooh. I’ve always wanted to try that,” she cooed. “Then we won’t do it tonight, for sure. You’re being punished. Open your mouth. Normally when you blow me, you do it in a way that gets you off. Not tonight. I’m going to fuck your face, not let you torture my cock with your teasing mouth and nails.”

Christy gulped a little and thought for a minute. “If it will REALLY make this over between us, I’ll do it. But please don’t hurt me.”

“No promises. I’m about to be VERY greedy. Open wide.” She did as she was ordered and I immediately grabbed the back of her head and impaled her mouth on my fully erect, thick member. Ignoring her gag reflex, I made sure she learned how to deep throat a man that night. I pounded into her mouth again and again. Angrier than I have ever been in my life, I pulled out, dragged her out of the closet, threw her face down on the bed, flipped the dress up, and ripped the panties down.

“Oh please, don’t,” she cried. “I won’t do it again. Just don’t put your cock in my ass right now. I’ve never done it before.”

“Tough shit!” I drew back and SLAMMED into her virgin asshole with no compassion whatsoever.

“Oh, my GOD that hurts!!!!”

“I do NOT care!” I said in rhythm with each thrust deeper into her bowels.

I kept pile driving my formerly prudish wife until I exploded deep inside her previously virgin asshole. I grunted as I let loose every bit of juice I had in my full balls. She moaned, whimpered, and fell silent.

“I won’t do it again, I promise.”

“I know you won’t. You’re forgiven. Just don’t do it again, and don’t ever SPEAK to Mike other than in public again,” I instructed her.

“I won’t.”

“Okay, go get cleaned up, take a bath and come to bed.”

Christy wobbled off to the bath, whether from a bit too much red wine or the pounding of her previously virgin asshole. I went to the bathroom down the hall and showered, and returned to bed before Christy did. I lay down and waited for her.

Christy came to bed a few minutes later and started to go to her dresser for a night gown. “You won’t be needing anything that’s in there tonight,” I chided. “Come to bed right now, just as you are.” She said, “But I thought you were done punishing me.” “I am. I don’t have punishment in mind.”

I reached up and pulled her gently on to the bed beside me. I lay her on her stomach, reached in to the night stand, grabbed the warming oil and began giving her a much needed and deserved sensual massage. For the next half hour I pampered her entire body with my hands and the warm oil, alternately relaxing and arousing her with a graze of a finger her or a blow of hot breath there.

When I knew she was ready, I got behind her between her legs and lifted her hips up. I grabbed a couple of pillows and placed them under her before letting her hips back down. I then snaked my way back down her legs and placed my face right behind her delicious smelling cunt. I placed one well lubed finger inside her and reached up and towards the front of her body till I found that lovely little spot that just makes her tremble. With my other hand I reached back to the night stand and got out a thin, slightly angled vibrator. I turned it on low and inserted it along with my finger. Konak travesti When IT hit the spot, I knew I could move my finger.

I left her simmering on low in her pussy and pulled a VERY well lubricated finger out of her pussy and placed it against her asshole. I gently slipped it in, not wanting to hurt this time. I worked it gently in and out of her, stopping every so often to lick her freshly cleaned asshole with my tongue, and then force it inside her for a moment.

At the head of the bed, her head was whipping back and forth as she began to spew profanities at me. “That is fucking amazing! More, come on, make me your little bitch whore. Please don’t stop. Unhhhhhhhh!!!!!” She came loud and long.

When I was satisfied that SHE was satisfied, I pulled out the vibrator, gently slipped it in to her anus, and pulled myself up her body. I teased her pussy with the head of my now fully erect cock and asked “What do you want for Christmas, little girl?”

“I want that cock.”

“Where do you want it?” I asked as I pulled just the bulbous head in and out of her.

“Buried deep inside my….”

“Inside what?”

“You know…”

“I know, but I want you to say it. What’s the magic word?”


“That helps, but it’s not what I’m looking for.”


“No. Only good girls have those”


“Closer, but only faithful wives have those”

“Cunt. I want that big, fat, long cock in my cunt.”

“That’s what an unfaithful whore of a wife has. A cunt. Have you been a good little whore of a wife?”

“No, I’ve been a bad girl.”

“That’s okay, from now on, you’re just going to be MY little whore, right?” I flared the head of my cock and she moaned, “Yes. I’m your whore from now on!!!”

“No more Pristine Christine?”

“No, I’ll be your little fuck slut. I’ll give you whatever you want in bed.”

I sealed the bargain by burying my shaft deep inside her soaked cunt. I gently rode her from behind until she came again, then stepped up the pace. When I finally got my second load of cum inside her, she tried to get up to get cleaned out.

“No,” I said. “You said you would do whatever I want in bed. You’re my little slut wife now. You’ve never let me do one, particular thing I’ve always wanted to do.” Now that we’ve both cum, there’s a mixture of your cum on my cock and in your cunt. I’m going to pull out and lay down on my back. When I do, get in to 69 position and clean my cock with your mouth while I suck everything out of your cunt.”

“Okay. I promised.” I pulled out, lay down, grabbed her and flipped her around. Like a baby suckles breast milk, I started eating the cum out of my wife’s cunt. She didn’t know what to do and first, but then she moaned and put her head down to my still erect cock and started licking it like it was a sticky, hot popsicle. I sucked and sucked at her lower lips and then put my tongue inside her to make sure I got all of our sweet, mixed juices. Just as I thought I was done, I felt fresh, sweet cum start to tickle my tongue as she moaned on my throbbing cock. She trashed wildly with her hands and slapped my aching balls hard with her flailing. She trashed again, slapped my balls again, and this time grabbed like they were a pillow she was trying to use to keep from screaming. She gave u, let go and screamed as she came hard on my tongue, bucking her pubic bone on my chin in the process. She grabbed my cock like a saddle horn, began pumping the shaft with one hand and twisting the knob with the other. I couldn’t help it. My third orgasm of the night probably woke the neighbors, but I couldn’t help it.

I sighed, opened my mouth and spread her cunt wide with my fingers. Drop by drop, the last of her sweet nectar fell in my mouth. I swallowed every drop. Christy did the same for me, sucking every last bit of cum off my shaft, her hands, and then sucked the tip of my cock to get any cum that might still be below.

Spent, she collapsed, then lazily twisted around and lay in my arms. She kissed me deeply and said, “Wow. I never knew what we were missing.” “Me either,” I replied honestly.

“John, are you sure it’s okay that I’m taking the kids to Chicago early? We can wait for you to get back from DC.”

“No, it’s fine honey. You guys go ahead on Thursday. Your mom’s going to be lonely this year. It’s her first Christmas without your dad. I’ll fly over straight from DC on Sunday morning.”

“You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“No, honey. I could never stay mad at you for long. But I was serious about one thing — don’t ever talk to Mike again.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Now get some sleep. The kids will be home from their sleepovers at nine. If you want to wake me up when you wake up, I would be MORE than appreciative.”

“I bet you would. Good night, my love.”

With that, Christy drifted off to sleep. She woke up at 7:30 AM, grinned, went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and came back to bed. I awoke to the gentle kisses and sucking of my beautiful, brand new, slut of a wife. Pristine Christine was dead. Christy the Cum Slut was born. Long live the slut!

(Look for Chapter Two Next Week — the competition at Georgetown!)

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