Loved by Proxy

She could walk on water by Summerhill Lane

Loved by Proxy

Warning sexual language and content 18+ please

Scene One:  The Depression.

Imogen’s birthday was coming up in a few days and she was depressed, not just because she was getting older but because she was in separation from her beautiful husband and would most likely spend her big event all alone.

She didn’t care about birthdays that much.  Correction, she didn’t care about her birthday.  Growing up, her birthday wasn’t considered a special occasion, an excuse for a party and a good time.  There were no gifts or well wishes and she had accepted that as the way of it.  Now, a birthday was just a ticking of the clock, a waving of the hand good bye to youth, and another step in the wrong direction of life. 

‘Stop it Imogen, she said to herself, you are youngish still, beautiful, sexy, desirable, adorable and smart.  A divine feminine, a sexual goddess. Always wet and ready.

One man had called her a femme fatal and said she had broken his heart.  He had fallen in love with her in an instant, and also wanted to tie her down immediately.  She was having non of that.  Even her beautiful husband said that fucking her just once would and could change a man forever.  Was he talking about himself she wondered?

Scene Two: The Hotel

She arrived at the hotel at 3pm and was checked in immediately.  The penthouse suite was the best she had ever been in.  There was a hot tub in the far corner of the room and the bed was a king.  Her instructions were to take a bath, have a rest, because she would need it for the night’s activities, and to meet him in the hotel dining room at 7pm sharp.  He sure liked giving her detailed instructions including what to wear.  Dress yourself with maximum care to sexual appeal, backless little black dress, high top boots and absolutely no panties are permitted.  These details made Imogen soaking wet in anticipation.  She could hardly hold herself together and her body went orgasmic all by itself.

Scene Three: The Letter

The hostess seated her at a table for two, very romantic and private placed in a little alcove away from other diners.  Imogen sat there for a few moments, all nerves, pins and needles waiting for her beautiful one to walk into the room, kiss her lips, say happy birthday, and take the chair opposite to her. 

She heard his steps approaching.  He sat in the chair across from her, looked into her eyes and handed her an envelop. 

The letter read:

darling slut wife, I apologize for not being with you tonight to celebrate your birthday, but I am giving you a present.  He is sitting across from you now as you read this.  He is my gift to you and you are to think of him as representing me.  He is my proxy.  I chose him especially with you in mind because I know what excites you and what you need.  Do not feel hurt.  I am your master first and your husband second.  Obey and enjoy.  Also, you should know that this man is in desperate need of your sexual healing and you must think of this as your duty as a healer and not just another fuck. 

Imogen sat there stunned faced.  To say she was disappointed would be an understatement.  She was shocked and crushed yet again.  How could he be so cold and cruel.  Anger and rage took the place of need and desire.  She was going to fuck this guy to kingdom come.  He better watch out Mr. Proxy!

To be continued….

Published by summerhilllane

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