The Dream Jar

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is written as a counterpoint to "The Nightmare Jar", submitted simultaneously. The story contains scenes of extramarital and unprotected sex. If that is not your thing, please feel free to move on. Civil comments welcome.

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When he heard the key turning the lock in the front door he reached for the remote and switched off the television. He turned on the couch to look over the back, towards the hallway. She was already inside, and reaching for the ceramic jar on the hallway bookshelf. He watched her lift it down, placing the garishly decorated piece on the hostess table and remove the lid.

It was an ugly jar, gaudily crafted with a waterfront beach scene, in garish blues and yellows, and it clashed with the sensible decor in the rest of the room. They had found it at a garage sale and had both hated it on site, joking and laughing at how ugly it was at first, until he had mentioned that the scene depicted on it looked liked the their beachfront dream home setting, the place they imagined they might someday be able to afford. On a lark they purchased it, after haggling the price from five down to three dollars. When they got it home Laurie had cleaned it and placed up on the high shelf of the bookcase, announcing it was their 'dream jar', and that all extra cash would be put inside.

That had been five years ago, almost six, when they had been married only two years. For the first two months they joked about the loose change and single bills going into the jar, until the joke lost its humor, and the jar lay idle for almost three years. He remembered those times with wistful melancholy as he watched her pull an unruly wad of cash from her purse, humming merrily to herself, and flip through it with practiced fingers, flipping bills face up as she ordered, and counted, and then recounted it before stuffing it into the overfull jar. He watched in silence as she extracted the tally sheet, knowing she was adding tonight's earnings and totaling. She smiled, and he watched her work the lid back on, and replace the Dream Jar back up in the bookcase. Then she looked his way, to see him observing her actions.

"A good night," she said, dropping her purse on the small table and making her way to him. "I didn't think you'd still be awake; I'm a little later than usual."

"Almost two hours," he agreed. She came to the back of the crouch and leaned down to kiss him. She pecked him on the lips, but he took her hand and held her stooped down, and gave her a proper welcome home kiss, his tongue dancing lightly into her mouth, their lips caressing each other with the practiced familiarity of lovers.

"M-mm," she hummed as she broke the kiss. She pecked him one last time before standing. She smiled, her hand still in his as he hung it over the back of the couch. "That never gets old," she smiled. "It still amazes me that you want to kiss me when I get home."

"It's the least I can do, considering how hard you're working."

"You're cute," she smirked. "Believe me, it's not all hard work!" She pecked hi on the lips again and stood up straight.

"You had a good night?"

"A very good night," she answered, stripping off her blazer and stepping around the couch. "Had two specials, that's why I'm so late." She draped the jacket on the arm of the adjacent easy chair and stood in front of him, unbuttoning her blouse.

"Two?" he asked. "Wow, excellent. "

"Yep, sixteen fifty tonight, baby. One of the specials was a big tipper." She removed her blouse, exposing her bare breasts. She never wore a bra on work nights. "Almost ready for another account." They already had several savings accounts in different banks, keeping the cash deposits under ten thousand. She tossed the blouse on the chair with the jacket, and he saw the trails evident on her chest. As much as he was conflicted about how she earned the money, the sight enticed him, more so because he knew she enjoyed showing him the effects of her efforts.

She undid the zipper of her skirt, reaching behind her back; the action thrusting her breasts forward at him. Her nipples were dark and swollen. "I had about eight regulars," she related, and his cock twitched in his pants as the words conveyed images in his head. "But I only swallowed half of them," she continued, wriggling her hips slightly to push the tight skirt off her hips. There were no panties, although she had worn a pair when she went out. Her shaved sex glistened with more than her own wetness. "The rest wanted it on my face and tits," she told him unnecessarily, the evidence quite obvious.

She lifted a leg with her skirt, stooping slightly to take it off her ankle, and tossed it carelessly behind her, missing the chair, her eyes not straying from his now. "Still," she related, "I swallowed enough to feel it sloshing around in my belly." She smirked a little, watching his reaction as he squirmed to ease the tension growing in his pants. "Two others fucked me after I sucked them," she told him, standing with her legs slightly apart, and his eyes followed her fingers between her legs as she delicately spread her folds, allowing the remaining results of her activities to drip down the inside of her strong, muscled thigh. "One was ordinary, but the other; holy shit he was good. Fucking huge, he was, and thick. He really gave as good as he got."

She stepped closer to him, stopping just out of arms length, and he watched her fingers delve inside her, emerging wet and sticky. "But the specials, they were the high point. Ordinarily, a really fat cock would be the high point of the night, you know?" she asked, and he nodded unconsciously, watching her fingers slip inside her swollen, sticky lips. "But not tonight. My first special was early in the evening. Two guys at the same time."

"Spit roast?"

"At first, but then I inspired them to go for the DP package, and they were not disappointed." She turned around and bent over, spreading her cheeks. He saw her back door, red and swollen and wet. "I didn't clean out, so you could see for yourself," she told him, looking back at him over her shoulder and smiling.

"You are a nasty whore," he told her, grinning, his cock bulging in his pants. As she turned to face him again, he unzipped and pulled his cock out, and stroked it diligently, but not too fast; just enough to ease the urge.

"You know it," she replied. "After that was a few more blowjobs. Then the last one was the other special. He brought his wife. A special treat, for her, he said," she related as she lifted a foot to the couch, exposing her wet, sloppy cunt just a foot from his face. She slipped two fingers inside as she spoke. "But it was a treat for me, too," she added. "There's not so much cum in my pussy as usual, so you'll have to get it from my ass," she told him, her fingers digging inside herself. "there's a little, but he made her lick my used cunt while he fucked her. It really got them off when I told her to save some for you!" she hissed a deep breath in through her teeth as she began rubbing her clit, urging her orgasm. "I came three times while she licked my pussy, baby, she was sucking the cum out of me like a dirty slut while he fucked her."

"Get down on your knees, you dirty whore," he told her, and she did, dropping her face to a level with his cock as he increased his stroking, rubbing his pre-cum on his shaft. He felt his climax approaching. He watched her arms tense, rubbing herself harder as she continued.

"But that's not all, baby," she cooed, "he came inside her and made me do the same to her!"

"Made you, you slut?" he was stroking harder now, his explosion imminent, ready to meet hers.

"Fuck, no, he couldn't have stopped me, I wanted to suck her cunt so bad, sucking his cum out, and tasting her cream, she was so messy and wet and nasty!" He grunted then, and scooted his hips forward and she leaned her face down, poised in front of him. "Yeah, give it to me, baby, give your whore what she needs!"

He groaned loudly, and his first blast launched from the head of his cock to splash her in the eye, gluing it shut, and her arm worked frantically as her bellows matched his own, achieving her own orgasm as his second and third blasts coated her nose, her lips, and then he shoved the head inside her mouth for her to suck the rest of his load from his cock, grunting as her mouth drew out his cream, moaning on his shaft.

She withdrew with a wet pop, licking the cum that had coated her lips, and visibly swallowing his thick load, staring at him with her one open eye glassy and wide with passion. She brought her hands to his face, and slipped her fingers into his mouth. As he sucked, she pushed him back on the couch until he was prone, facing up, then she removed her fingers and stood, lifting a leg over his head and straddling him, facing his feet. She reached behind herself and spread her cheeks wide.

"Get that tongue busy, baby," she advised, "your whore has a nice load of cum up her ass."

As he eagerly licked her dirty hole clean, she whispered, "I have a gang-bang scheduled for tomorrow. Don't eat dinner, I want you nice and hungry when I get home." He burrowed his tongue up into her tight hole, tasting the thick, bitter cream of her customers, and imagined them, together, happy and contented in their beach house.