Still listening to the feminine music of my wife’s click clacking high heels and the rustle of petticoat against her black silk stockings, I was wondering what to say to her. A foul mouthed and ugly man in the street had just come up to us and told me that my 48 year old wife, now a successful barrister, had been a prostitute. The fat little freak even claimed to have taken her virginity when she was 18. It was impossible, but as we walked along the streets of her old University City, I found myself asking her: ‘Was that awful man telling the truth?’ Her silence said it all. I looked down upon her little womanly figure, attractively displayed in a tight fitting black silk dress and matching jacket. There was a hint of rouge on her powdered face, but I could see that she was blushing. My thoughts were very confused. Caroline and I had met when she was 28. She was making a lot of money as a brilliant young barrister and needed help with her accounts. I had not fancied my chances with her, as I was rather shy with women. Standing only five feet eight in my stockinged feet, I am hardly he man material and am not well endowed. But I do come from a good family, like Caroline. We had much in common, including making a lot of money. The age difference of nine years did not seem to matter at that time. Caroline could not walk very fast in her tight dress and on such high heels. I grabbed hold of her, anger in my voice and pushing her against a wall: ‘it is true isn’t it. You let that bastard fuck you.’ Caroline hung her head in shame while I studied her delicious boobs and wondered what that little creep and god knows how many other men had done to them. I thought of the cleft between her slender thighs and wondered how many pricks had invaded her womanhood- and were they all as foul as the one who took her virginity. Now it made sense why she had a shaven pussy and maybe other reasons for the stockings, suspenders and other expensive lingerie. As I thought these thoughts, I felt my own sex stirring. Pressing Caroline against the wall, I had a terrible urge to pull up her dress and fuck her hard against the wall, where everybody could watch us. ‘Why did you never tell me?’ ‘Because it was in the past?’ she whispered to the pavement. ‘When did you stop?’ ‘Harry, matter?’ ‘Yes it bloody does you whore.’ I said menacingly, fighting my desire to squeeze her breasts until she screamed in pain. I wanted to fuck her so bad now that I knew she was a common whore. ‘I stopped six months before I met you. I came down here at weekends when I was in pupilage as a barrister. I had to earn my own money, daddy was a gambler, he lost so much.’ I was not really listening, I just wanted to fuck the whores bald little cunt. I wanted to ram my fist right up her hairless hole and make her squirm for being such a posh fucking little slut. I calmed down enough to drive us back to the hotel. Feeling all mixed up, I went down to the bar, leaving Caroline to do whatever she wanted, watch TV, or go to bed. I was very pissed when I pulled the fat debt collector’s card from my suit trouser pocket and punched in his number on my mobile. He said he would tell me all about it. It was late, but I couldn’t imagine his sort going to bed very early. It rang a few times and I was expecting the message service to kick in, when a slightly drunken voice answered: Fred Jackson.’ Drunk as I was, I did not know where to start, so I stumbled in’ you spoke to my wife and I this evening. You said you took her virginity.’ There was a moment of hideous laughter; ‘That’s right me Lord. Fucked her good, I did, made her bleed, made her moan and made the little bitch cum, Natural little whore, for all her hairs and graces.’ As I listened, I did not know whether I wanted to be sick, or wanted to cum. But my free hand was touching my cock through my trousers. ‘She said she came to you for an interview. How did you know she would be so good?’ Fred’s answer was immediate, punctuated by more lustful laughter: ‘because we made the stuck up little bitch strip and we fucked her good. She was done up to the nines and bleeding well asking for it. Real class she was, just like tonight. She wore little suits; you know skirts, jackets and frilly blouses. Could see right through her blouse we could, wore them fancy petticoats all up her body, round her tits, lace all over the place, and round her knickers and suspender belts, proper little slut really giving a man a hard on and she got fucked real good for that. Me mate Kelvin and Wayne were there, I fucked her and had her cherry and me mates fucked her all nice and slimy. We did her always, two at a time, just so'’ she knows what the jobs about. Then me mate Kelvin- he’s got some lovely tattoos- he shaved her fanny because the punters like to see the pussy proper without a load of hair in the way. They like to give it a slap and squeeze the bitch’s clit, and Sexy Sonia has such a lovely clit and almost no hood. One of the best fannies I’ve ever seen. Lovely mound, I gave it more than a few slaps, it deserved it, more than flesh and blood could stand, Fuck me what a slit and what a slut. We had her on the street that night. Punters had never seen a classy bird on the streets before. She looked a treat in a little yellow skirt and jacket, tripping along on high heels and in her black stockings. The perfume and make up fuck me you could tell she went to finishing school. And that cut glass accent made the men want to fuck the bitch’s brains out. By the way, did I tell you, me and me mates made your wife cum a lot when we fucked her and slapped her about? As I said, natural little fucking classy whore. Well we had a laugh when we put her on the streets. She looked proper terrified standing there in a skirt just above her knee, when me other tarts had skirts around their arses. Your little wife had black silk stockings and my Christ what legs, when me other botches had fat legs and fishnets. Your sexy Sonia was something else and that’s why she got fucked so much and so hard, by so many hard men. The first night was a real laugh, We almost had to push her out of the car and tell her to walk along the road and hitch her skirt up for the passing cars. She looked a treat, so shy she was. Looked like she was going to her doom .It was November and dark. This old car comes along, we knew straight away it was ‘Psycho Sid,’ He was safe enough, but he had special needs. We knew he would test your bitch. If she could stand that smelly old bastard, she would stand anybody.’ My imagination was running riot and my prick responded accordingly. I wanted to hear more and asked him if he would like to come over for a drink at the bar and maybe something else, for old times sake- a debt to be collected. He got my drift and was off the phone and outside the pub ordering a taxi