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Afterwards, it was like it had never happened. Jillian might almost have believed that she had not sold nude video of her lesbian wife Brielle to her rich friend Joel, and that she had not willingly watched him masturbate to fantasies of raping and impregnating Brielle, and even gone so far as to put a condom on his dick for him to masturbate into.

She might have believed that – had the condom not been sitting there on the side table, tied off at the top, filled with Joel’s sperm. She might have believed that – had she not promised to feed that sperm to her wife, in return for Joel’s money.

After Joel had put his cock away, they talked about simple, familiar things – television, movies, world events, pet peeves. Anything but Brielle. Anything but the condom full of cum. It was a nice conversation – a fun conversation, a pleasant diversion from the anger that Jillian still held towards Brielle for her flirtation with the homophobic beliefs of her church.

Jillian was still sitting at Joel’s feet, looking up at him as they chatted, and she was again surprised by how *nice* it felt to be in that position. From time to time when Jillian said something particularly funny – funny enough to make Joel laugh – Joel would reach out and ruffle her hair, as though she were a child, or a pet, and it just made Jillian glow with happiness all over. She knew under other circumstances it might have been patronising or humiliating – but there was such honest affection and approval in Joel’s body language that she couldn’t help but enjoy it. 

She found she wanted to make Joel happy. It was in many ways such a simple relationship, with none of the complexities that came with sharing a life and a house with a full-time wife. She showed up at Joel’s house, she gave him nude pictures of her wife, and Joel treated her like a princess. 

Take this dress, for instance – the ridiculously expensive dress that Joel had bought just for her. When he looked down at her from the couch, she kept expecting to catch him looking straight down her cleavage – which was displayed with considerable emphasis by the dress. And yet he was always looking at her face, searching her eyes for happiness, for delight, for amusement. 

It felt intoxicating – and yet somewhat irritating. Was there something wrong with her breasts? Did he not even enjoy this dress he had bought her? She found herself beginning to subtly draw attention to her tits – running a finger across her cleavage, pushing back her shoulders to thrust her breasts forward, breathing in deeply – and when she finally spotted his eyes drifting downwards towards her bosom, she felt a small thrill of success.

She didn’t want Joel to be sexually interested in her, of course – she was a lesbian – but it felt nice to be *noticed*.

But eventually Joel said, “It’s late. I’m having a lot of fun – but I really should sleep. Can I show you to a guest room?”

Jillian allowed herself to be led upstairs to one of an intimidating number of upstairs rooms. It was larger than her own master bedroom, with a sprawling king-size bed made up in what could only be exceptionally expensive sheets. She thanked Joel, and closed the door, and undressed for bed, removing the dress and the shoes and the bra.

She left the panties on, though, before crawling under the soft, warm sheets, and falling asleep almost instantly.


She woke less than an hour later, biting back a scream.

Her mind was a confused nightmare. What had she done? She’d betrayed her wife – sold pictures of her to a man. She’s agreed to feed her wife a man’s cum. She was sleeping in a strange bed, instead of at home with her wife. But her wife probably hated her. Her wife didn’t want to be married to her. Her wife didn’t want to be a lesbian.

She was crying, and she didn’t know how to stop. She put a finger in her mouth and bit down on it, to stop herself from making noise, and rocked back and forth, sitting up in bed.

Finally she admitted there was only one thing that would make her feel better. She got out of bed, and crept down the hall, and opened the door to Joel’s room.

The room was huge. She could see the shape of Joel under the covers.

“Mmm?” he said, sleepily. “Who is it? Jillian?”

“I can’t sleep, Joel,” Jillian said. “I just… everything’s so fucked up with Brielle. Can I – can I sleep here?”

Joel sat up in bed and tried to focus on her. Jillian suddenly realised she was topless, and blushed, covering her tits with her hands. It was dark, and she was sure Joel couldn’t see her properly, but still…

“It wouldn’t be right, Jill,” said Joel. “You’re married. We shouldn’t share a bed.”

Jillian made an unhappy noise. He was right – for so many reasons – but she couldn’t bear the idea of being alone all night.

“Please?” she whimpered.

Joel paused, thinking – and then said, “Under the bed, there’s a thing. I was going to get a dog at one point, and then changed my mind, but I kept this. You could sleep here, but not in my bed.”

Jillian got down on all fours and fished under his bed. She quickly found what he was talking about. It was a dog bed, designed for a large dog – a Labrador, or bigger – with a soft woollen interior, and slightly raised walls. She could just about fit in it. And there was a small pile of warm blankets next to it.

“Is it okay?” said Joel. “I know it’s weird, but…”

“It is,” said Jillian. “This will be great. Thank you.” She pulled the dog bed out until it was entirely exposed, lying on the floor next to Joel’s side of his bed. She climbed into it, curling up in its soft embrace, and pulled the blanket over her.

“That’s good,” said Joel. He sounded like he was already falling asleep again – but even in his sleepy state, he chuckled. “You know, women usually have to *earn* the privilege of sleeping with me.”

Jillian felt herself falling asleep too – but her last thoughts before unconsciousness were to wonder how, exactly, a woman might go about “earning” that privilege…


It was the best sleep of her entire life.


She woke to the smell of bacon and eggs. They were on a plate on the floor next to her. She sat up, smiling, looking around for Joel, to thank him.

He was sitting on the bed, freshly showered, fully dressed, looking at her and smiling – but when she sat up, he hastily averted his eyes.

She realised why, and blushed, and pulled the blanket back up over her naked tits as quickly as she could.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I brought your dress in from the other room, and your other clothes that you arrived in. Enjoy your breakfast. I’ll give you some privacy.”

And he rose, and left the room.

But Jillian couldn’t help but notice the way his cock had tented his pants as she had accidentally exposed her tits to him – and couldn’t help but feel a small kernel of satisfaction at that response, somewhere in the back of her mind.


She ate breakfast, and dressed, in her original clothes. 

“You’re not taking the dress?” asked Joel, disappointed, as Jillian made her way downstairs in the significantly-less-sexy outfit she had arrived in.

“Joel, that dress is worth at least a thousand dollars,” said Jillian. “I can’t wear that home. I’d have to explain to Brielle where it came from, and…”

Her voice trailed off, as she realised the unstated implication of what she was saying. She couldn’t tell Brielle where the dress came from, because if she explained *any* of what had happened last night, Brielle would never understand. 

Brielle would, in fact, think Jillian had cheated on her.

Which was ridiculous of course, because Jillian hadn’t *done* anything. She was a lesbian! She had just visited Joel, and chatted, and she certainly hadn’t slept with Joel.

… although she had rolled a condom down on Joel’s erect, exposed penis, and watched him masturbate to nude videos of Jillian’s wife…

Brielle wouldn’t understand, certainly. Brielle wouldn’t get how… comforting, and refreshing, and… well, how *exciting* the whole night had been.

So Brielle simply wouldn’t know. And unfortunately, that meant that Jillian had to leave the sexy dress behind.

“Keep it for me,” said Brielle. “I can wear it next time I visit.”

“The panties, too?” asked Joel, teasingly, and Jillian blushed. Calling attention to the fact she was leaving him a pair of her used panties made her feel embarrassed, and dirty – and yet, that was exciting, too. Like an in-joke the two had. A harmless game. Joel would probably just wash them for her. He certainly wouldn’t use them to masturbate…. But even if he did, wouldn’t that be… well, a compliment, of a sort? 

“The panties, too,” she said quietly, her cheeks red.

“But you’re taking this, right?” asked Joel, a more serious note in his voice. He held out a Tupperware container to her. She was momentarily confused – then saw what was inside. The condom of his sperm.

She paused. This was *definitely* wrong. It was slutty, and gross. But…

“Four hundred dollars, right?” she asked.

“On this occasion,” he said. “With the option of more in the future.”

She paused again – and then took the Tupperware container from him, forcing a smile.

“Send me proof,” he said, as she took it.

“Yes, sir,” she replied. And the “sir” was meant to be ironic, sarcastic, humorous – but as soon as she’d said it, it felt like something else. It felt… submissive. But it was too late to take it back now.

“Good girl,” said Joel, in the same sarcastic, humorous tone – and just the same, it, too, felt like something more.

Something that made her blush deep inside, with a warm glow of happiness.

She didn’t know how to process that. She didn’t know where these strange new feelings were coming from.

So she turned, without a further word, and left.


All the way home, she thought about throwing out the condom. Chucking it out the window, or putting it into the bin as soon as she got home. 

She loved Brielle. Brielle was kind, and good-hearted, and… well, she was devastatingly sexy. Jillian had enjoyed her marriage to her wife.

What she had done with Joel was wrong. She wouldn’t do it again. And she would throw away the condom.

She was going to throw it out before she was even halfway home, but then the radio station she’d been listening to flipped to a news bulletin. Church groups were lobbying to overturn the local gay marriage laws, and remove a range of rights from gay couples.

“Two women who engage in carnal acts with each other aren’t lovers,” said a church pastor being interviewed by the news. “And they certainly shouldn’t be *married*. We already have a word for what it is, and that word is ‘whore’.”

Jillian recognised the voice of that pastor. It was the voice of Pastor George Randall – the head of the very church that Brielle attended. The pastor that Brielle defended whenever his name came up.

Jillian felt a tide of red wash over her. She was angry – furious – at Pastor George, at his church, at all of his followers – and at Brielle, who flirted with these homophobic assholes to gain their worthless, judgmental approval.

The red washed through her, and past her, and by the time she got home, Jillian was smiling on the outside, while her inside was a cold, hard knot of nasty malice.

Brielle met her at the door, and Jillian kissed her beautiful wife, long and hard. She even smiled at the golden crucifix necklace Brielle was wearing. Brielle was affectionate and attentive, clearly eager to kiss and make up after their fight – although she made no effort to discuss the church camp she had been on or apologise for her specific actions.

That was all right. Jillian had been horny all night, and all morning, and she finally had a chance to relieve that tension. She took her wife to their shared bedroom, and stripped her, and fucked her. She was not gentle, and once again she ended up riding her cunt against Brielle’s face so hard that Brielle could barely breathe. Keen to patch over their argument, Brielle let Jillian do what she wanted, and offered no complaint, and Jillian eventually reached a series of back-to-back satisfying orgasms from humping her wife’s face.

No, not humping it. Raping it. That was the thought that made her cum, in the end. She wasn’t fucking her wife. She was raping her.

And as she orgasmed, she looked across at her phone, which she had set up to film everything. Because it just seemed prudent to start increasing her collection of homemade pornography starring Brielle.


As Brielle lay gasping for breath, nude, in their marital bed, her face covered with Jillian’s cunt juices, Jillian got up, took her phone, and went to the kitchen. She recorded what she did there, careful to avoid filming her own naked body.

She got a tub of vanilla-and-blueberry yoghurt out of the fridge, and spooned a generous helping into each of two bowls. Then she took the condom out of the Tupperware, unknotted it, and carefully squeezed Joel’s cum into the left-hand bowl, stirring it gently through the top layer of the yoghurt.

She made sure her phone camera saw this clearly.

Then she put a spoon in each bowl, returned to the bedroom, and passed Brielle the bowl with the cum in it.

“A little post-sex snack,” she said.

Brielle scrunched up her face. “Why are you filming me, Jill?” she asked. “I’m all naked.” But she made no effort to cover her tits or pussy. To Brielle, this was clearly just a game between the two of them.

“Because you look all sexy and slutty,” laughed Jillian. “You’re my pretty little slut, aren’t you?”

Brielle laughed. “Stop it,” she said.

“No,” said Jillian, in the same teasing tone. “Say, ‘I’m your pretty little slut.’”

Brielle blushed, and looked away – but then she looked back at the camera, and smiled.

“I’m your pretty little slut,” she said, in her sexiest little innocent voice. And then she dipped the spoon in the yoghurt, lifted out a large spoonful of yoghurt-and-cum, put it in her mouth, and swallowed – all with a big, sexy smile.

“Perfect,” said Jillian quietly.

And all she could think about was how pleased Joel was going to be to see this video of Jillian’s naked wife eating his cum with a smile – and how the thought of Joel’s pleasure was making Jillian’s cunt wet again, only minutes after her last orgasm.


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5 thoughts on “Story: Selling Brielle, Part 4

    1. Thanks for spotting this issue! The link to Part 1 is now fixed everywhere on the site except the Story Index (and the Story Index will be fixed within the hour – I’m just going to do some additional work on that page at the same time).

      I always want to hear about broken links, so please do report them, but you can also locate specific stories or chapters using the search function on the site. (E.g. a search for “Selling Brielle” should locate all chapters.)

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