Free Married on Mondays by HoneyB

three long driveways that led to second gates.
    To preserve privacy, each of their clients was given a singleuse access code to their destination. Once on the property, they
     were instructed to follow the road leading to their designated house and to park inside the garage.
    The first driveway led to DéJà’s slave chamber, the second to Victoria’s cozy haven, and the third to Foxy’s dreamland. They’d
     invested money, time, and a lot of thought into designing their individual homes for their clients.
    Foxy observed her client on the monitor. Senator Wade Pendleton lowered his tinted window, entered his code, then drove to
     her chocolate-tinted house with mocha trim. The pitched roof cascaded over double-paned windows on the upper level. The lower
     level had two-way mirrors. Foxy and her client could see out, but no one could see in. The murals of a forest, a waterfall,
     and Lovers’ Lake coupled with seeing the trees outside her windows gave her clients an outdoor feeling while they were indoors
     with her.
    Senator Pendleton was a once-a-month regular who billed the government for reimbursement under miscellaneous expenses for
     his fantasy. His having sex with her kept him happy and his being happy made him a better senator. As long as he paid her
     in cash, it wasn’t Foxy’s concern where the money came from. She was not the moral monitor of her clients’ consciences. If
     she were, she’d have no clients.
    Men came to her for various reasons. Some to fuck the way they couldn’t fuck their woman or wife, others wanted her to strap
     on and fuck them in the ass. Then there were the men who wanted an experienced woman, and women who’d discreetly wanted the
     girl-on-girl experience. Some couples, both married and not, wanted a ménage à trois with a neutral person who wouldn’t get
     emotionally attached. The list of fantasies was endless. Senator Pendleton came to her because he didn’t want anyone other
     than his wife to know he had huge balls and a dick the size of a sweet pickle.
    He entered the house through the garage, belting out, “These constituents are getting more demanding by the second I tell
     you. We approve same-sex marriages, now they want us to lower the legal drinking age to eighteen.
    Foxy thought about Dallas’s DUI, wondering why Winton still hadn’t mentioned the charges were dropped. Probably too caught
     up with Nova.
    “All the hoopla about ‘If an eighteen-year-old can go off to war and die for their country, they should be allowed to drink.’
     Just what we need. A bunch of kids with guns drinking and shooting up every damn thing. I blame cowboys for this problem.
     Yep, the wild, wild West started this mess, Foxy. Ya got Johnnie ready for me?” he asked, tossing back two shots of cognac
     from her wet bar.
    Johnnie stayed ready. She’d let the senator take his time and decide how he wanted to act out his fantasy this time. “Relax,”
     Foxy said, loosening his tie. She kissed his neck behind his ear. Trailed kisses to his collarbone.
    “You sure know how to make an old man feel like new money. If I weren’t already married, I’d marry ya. You know that.”
    “Let’s get you out of these clothes and into some warm, soapy, slippery water, so I can bathe you with my breasts,” Foxy said,
     leading him to the whirlpool. Today was a day she had to take charge or the senator would waste his hour talking.
    “Hot damn! Is Johnnie by the whirlpool?” he asked.
    “He sure is, you hot stud, you. I can’t wait for you to rub your big ole dick all over my naked body.”
    “I’ma do more than that. I’ma spank you with my big ole dick,” he said, strapping on his male penile extension before getting
     in the whirlpool.
    Thankfully sex was 98 percent mental. The tailored penile extension fit snugly around the senator’s dick. Each time she stroked
     his extension the warming gel inside the dildo suctioned to his dick, allowing his sweet pickle to grow and stay