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For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here

This is a revised version of the story that I published on Smashword starting back in 2014. It is rewritten with much-added material. However, I did have to age up some of the characters so no one is underage in this version.

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Click here for Sexy Salesgirls, Chapter 7.

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I exhort you to be a perfect servant to our Gods. Follow in the example of the beautiful Desiree, who did witness many proofs of our Living Gods divinity. She stood at our Gods’ side when they over threw the False God and proclaimed their Mastery over the world.

—–Second Missionaries 1:1-2

Thursday, June 6th, 2013 – Doug Allard – South Hill

My gut pushed against the steering wheel of my dinky, gray Toyota; the damned seat was broke and wouldn’t push back far enough so I could be comfortable. But with the money Mr. Fitzsimmons was paying me on this job, I’d soon be able to buy a better car. I couldn’t wait.

I was parked just up the street from 2932 Mt. View Ct, a rich neighborhood off Shaw Road on the edge of South Hill. The house belonged to my client, Brandon Fitzsimmons, and he was suspicious that his new wife, a smoking-hot Latina woman named Desiree, was cheating on him. I had been following her all week, and I hadn’t seen any sign of it so far. She would just go to the gym, run a few errands, do a little shopping, and maybe have lunch with a few friends at a cafe. Then she’d head home early enough to make dinner.

But Brandon was paranoid.

I had found the proof that his first wife, Maryanne, had been having an affair with one of his fellow executives. Now Mr. Fitzsimmons was certain his new wife had to be cheating on him. But so far she seemed perfectly faithful. Of course, that didn’t prove anything. I’d have to follower Desiree a little bit longer too be sure. Maybe another two weeks; Brandon was good for the money. He was an executive at a major aerospace company and was rolling in the dough.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it up, a pic of my wife smiling on the screen. “Hey, Tina.”

“The toilet handle broke,” she pouted.

“I’m on a stakeout, babe. Not much I can do, but I’ll pick one up on my way home.”

“Are you still following that rich woman?”

“Yep. This is going to be a long job,” I answered. “Luckily, she doesn’t go out at night.”

“So we’re going to be able to fix the roof then?”

“Definitely,” I answered without hesitation. There went buying a new car. The roof wasn’t that bad, and my gut was dying pressed against the steering wheel. But I couldn’t make Tina understand that. Her solution was to have me hit the gym—I just didn’t have the time for that. “What’re you up to, babe?”

“Oh, I’m with a young stud,” she laughed. “He’s keeping me satisfied.”

It was a joke that started between us years ago. I spent my days following unfaithful spouses, and Tina had thought it hilarious to tease me with the possibility of her cheating. I trusted her though, I had to. Being a private eye made me suspicious of everyone, and I just couldn’t be that way with my wife. In an odd way, her joking helped to ease my fears.

“Oh, is he hung?”

“Like a horse,” she laughed; a buzzer beeped in the background.

“Are you fucking him in the laundry room?”

“I’m washing your dirty underwear. Don’t I deserve a young, hot stud to service me as a reward for doing such a chore?”

“Fair ‘nough, Tina, I—“ My phone vibrated. I had an incoming call. I glanced at the caller ID. “Hey, babe, it’s the client. I’ll call you back.”

“Sure, love ya.”

“Love you, too,” Tina.

I touched my screen. “Hey, Brandon.”

“Any sign of her infidelity?”

“Nope. So far she seems as faithful as a preacher’s wife.”

“Good,” he sighed. “It’s probably just my imagination. I know Desiree loves me.”

“Course she does,” I answered, though I had my doubts. She screamed gold digger to me. If Mr. Fitzsimmons wasn’t a millionaire, there was no way he would be pulling a woman as hot as Desiree. Not as short and fat as he was. “She’s still at home.”

The garage door opened, a white Mercedes pulled out—Desiree was instantly making a liar out of me. I glanced at the clock set in the dashboard. It was about that time for her to leave for the day.

“You’re wife’s leaving the house,” I said, holding my phone up to my ear with my shoulder while I started up my car.

“Where is she going?” he asked, fear tinging his words.

“I’m sure she’s just going to the gym,” I sighed. “She gone every other day at this time.”

“Right, the gym.” Mr. Fitzsimmons made a disgusting, perverted laugh. “She has to keep that ass tight.”

“I gotta go. I need to follow her.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep me updated.”

“I will, Mr. Fitzsimmons.”

The phone went dead. I waited until her car was halfway down the block, then I pulled out after her. She made the left onto Shaw Road; heading to the gym, just like I thought. I followed her anyways, I wasn’t paid to make assumptions, I was paid to find the ugly truth.

* * *

Desiree Fitzsimmons

I pulled into the parking lot of the Feminine Mystique Gym across the street from the South Hill Mall. An engine roared to life, and I glanced to see a silver mustang backing out from the neighboring unit to the gym in the strip mall—the Heavenly Creatures Salon. Mustangs were such tacky cars; toys for those that thought they had money. I grabbed my purse and sauntered into the store in my tight, black yoga pants that hugged my lush rear—my best asset—and a bright-blue sports bra that almost supported my large breasts.

“Desiree,” smiled Diane Harmon, the owner of the gym. She was a beautiful woman with a porcelain face made all the more inviting by the ringlets of black hair that framed it. She was dressed in a pair of black, spandex jogging shorts and a pink sports bra that showed off her athletic body.

I walked over to the woman, hugging her warmly, and enjoyed Diane’s body pressing against my own. “It’s good to see you,” I smiled, and kissed her on both cheeks; just two friend greeting each other.

“Come on, we’ll be in room five for our private session,” Diane smiled.

Private, personal-training sessions with Diane were not cheap, almost $400 for an hour sweating with the beautiful woman. But she had been highly recommended to me by a former lover, and one session with Diane showed me just why. A few of the women we passed had smiles on their faces, and twinkles in their eyes.

Room five, and all the private training rooms for that matter, wasn’t your typical gym room. Sure it had equipment, but they weren’t the type normally used in a gym. “There’s more than one way to have a cardio workout,” Diane had told me the first time I came here. “There are more than a few, fun ways to get your heart pumping.”

And that first session had definitely got my heart pumping.

“Let’s get you naked,” giggled Diane, locking the door behind us.

Her hands gripped my sports bra and ripped it over my head, exposing my generous breasts. Her white hands grasped them, squeezing my nut-brown melons, her fingers finding my fat nipples; her pinches sent pleasure straight to my pussy.

I don’t know what I would do without this gym. Being married to Brandon was such a chore. I didn’t really like guys, they were okay, but I loved women. I also loved money. Why did all the rich people have to be men? Why couldn’t I ever find some nice, rich lesbian to take care of me? Oh, well, Brandon took care of my wants, and Diane and her gym took care of my needs.

I spun about, and kissed the woman’s delightfully plump lips, shoving my tongue deep into her mouth. Diane had four other, beautiful personal trainers that worked for her, and I scheduled a session with a different one every weekday. But Diane was my favorite; she was so dominant and controlling; so like Brandon but, unlike with my husband, it was hot when she bossed me around.

“We’re going to fuck the pounds right off of you,” Diane cooed, breaking the kiss and slapping my round ass. “Now strip those yoga pants off. I want to see your pretty, shaved pussy all wet and eager for my training!”

I ripped my yoga pants off. I didn’t bother wearing panties—what was the point when I was coming here—and my pussy was wet and dripping, my fat labia engorged with passion. Diane’s hand shoved between my thighs, working two fingers up inside me and they came away drenched with my tangy spice. She held them up to her lips and licked her fingers clean.

“Umm, I’m glad you’re wet and ready.”

“I always am, Dulzura,” I purred. She was my honey, and I couldn’t wait to taste her.

“Undress me!” she snapped; I shivered at the authority in her voice.

I grabbed her sports bra, lifting it up to release her snowy breasts, small and perky, topped with thick, pink nipples that seemed almost too large on breasts those small. I bent over and circled one with my tongue; she hissed an intake of breath, then gasped when I sucked that nipple into my lips. I loved the feel of a woman’s fat nub in my mouth.

Her hands pressed on my shoulders. “I told you to strip me, not suck my tits!”

“But they’re such inviting tits,” I grinned, then fell to my knees.

“I know,” Diane laughed as I tugged her jogging shorts down her hips.

Her neatly-trimmed, black bush popped into view and I could smell her sweet and tangy musk. I couldn’t resist and pushed my face between her thighs and took a nice, long lick across her damp pussy. She gasped and shuddered, then her hand slapped me lightly on the top of the head.

“Not yet! We have to stretch first.”

Watching a naked woman stretch was very erotica. Diane had a toned, athletic body, and she spread her legs, raised her arms, and bent over in so many interesting ways. Her pussy lips gaped open, so invitingly pink, her asscheeks writhed and clenched, and her tits swayed and bobbed. Then she “helped” me with my stretches, running her hands across my body as she guided me from one stretch to another.

“That’s it, Desiree,” she purred, her body draped across my back, her pussy wet on my ass. I leaned forward on my left leg, while my right leg stretched out behind me. “A little longer.” Her tongue licked my ear and her hands teased my nipples. “You’re doing so well.”

Next I spread my legs slightly apart, and I bent over to put my hands on the floor palms down, her fingers wiggling into my pussy. “Hold the stretch,” she purred, working three fingers in and out of me. My muscles stretched, protesting the position, and the blood rushed to my head, heightening the pleasure throbbing in my pussy. “Just a minute longer. You need to be properly stretched; we don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“No!’ I gasped.

Her lips kissed my ass, sliding between my crack, then she swirled it around my asshole. My body shook with excitement and my breath came in ragged gasps. Her tongue wiggled past my sphincter, swirling around inside me. My orgasm neared, so close, just a few more—

Her tongue and fingers pulled out. “Good, and relax.”

I needed to cum so bad.

For the next stretch, I sat down, spreading my legs wide, reaching for my toes. First the right ones, then the left ones. Then she sat before me, her legs splayed, her inviting pussy just in reach if I stretched forward. I pushed past the discomfort, her bush just inches away. A little more, my tongue leading the way, then I was fully stretched out, my mouth buried into her delicious, spread-open clam, digging my tongue in deep and savoring her tangy-sweetness.

“That’s it!” purred Diane. “Hold the stretch! You’re doing so good!”

I worked my tongue through her pussy, gathering ever drop of her juices I could. Soft moans and gasps escaped her lips. My muscles burned and protested, but I maintained the stretch—I couldn’t get enough of her wonderful flavor.

“Just a few more seconds!” she gasped. “You’re doing so well! Oh, yes! That’s it! That’s fucking it!”

A squirt of juices splashed into my face as she came. I rose up, licking my lips clean while Diane fell back onto the rubber mats that covered the floor, shaking with passion, her small breasts jiggling.

“Whew. You’re getting good at holding that stretch,” she praised.

“Thanks,” I smiled, preening at her.

She stood up, and walked to a shelf. “Any plans for the weekend?” Diane asked as she selected a strapless dildo, a U-shaped sex toy with a traditional fake cock on one end, but the other end curved up into a round bulb so it would stay put in a woman’s pussy while she fucked her partner hard. The base was ridged, adding clitoral stimulation to the woman doing the fucking.

“Brandon’s taking me to the symphony,” Desiree answered. “Are you doing anything exciting?”

She threw the dildo to me. “Not this weekend. But tomorrow night I have a date.”

“Oh, with whom?” I asked as I shoved the bulbous end into my pussy, sighing as it stretched me open. I kept pressing until it was fully inserted and my clit brushed the ridges; pleasure tingled through me.

“Kevin,” she answered, perching her butt on a sex swing. “Another promising candidate from the dating site.”

“Is he rich?”

“Like I said, promising,” she grinned, spreading her legs open, ready to receive. “But just in case he’s a complete loser, I’m hitting the club tonight and getting my dyke on!”

“Ooh, that one in Tacoma?”

“Yep, the Clam Diver!” she laughed, then her face became serious. “Now I want a good fifteen minutes of uninterrupted thrusting. Let’s get your heart racing and burn those calories off your ass!”

I smiled and walked over to my personal trainer, then sank my cock into her pussy. The swing added a whole new dimension; she swayed as I fucked her, moving as much as I was thrusting. The pleasure burned in my clit and the dildo pushed in and out of my pussy. I pumped my ass, my fingers finding her breasts; I played with her hard nipples.

“That’s it,” she purred. “Let’s pick up the pace! Ooh, yeah. Just like that. Get your heart racing! Work that ass.”

Pleasure built and built within me, and we were both gasping with our passion. Sweat beaded on my body as I fucked her faster and faster. My clitoris was going numb with ecstasy as it rubbed across the dildo’s ridges.

“I’m gonna cum!” I moaned.

“Good!” she purred. “Fuck me faster! Let that orgasm wash through you!”

“Yes, yes!” I gasped, my hips pumping frantically. “¡Me estoy corriendo!”

My orgasm spasmed through me, so wonderful. I squeezed her breasts as the passion filled my entire being and I threw my head back and howled. I’m sure the other women in the gym could hear me and knew just what had happened inside here.

“Don’t stop fucking!” Diane panted. “Your fifteen minutes isn’t up yet. Just slow strokes now. A little cooling off period.”

“Yes!” I panted, resuming my strokes. The dildo’s ridges rubbed against my clitoris, sending another orgasm crashing through me.

“That’s it! Keep fucking me, slut! Work those hips. Burn that fat off your ass! A little faster! Umm, just like that. You’re doing good! Oh, yeah. Umm, you’re doing very good. Harder now! Really give it to me! Oh, yes! Fuck me! Make me cum, bitch!”

She gasped and screamed, throwing her head back, the swinging rocking with my thrusts. Her legs wrapped around my hips and pulled me into her as she writhed and bucked, pushing the bulbous end deeper into me, the ridges rasping against my clit, and then I was cumming again. So amazing.

“Umm, that was good,” Diane purred, leaning up and kissing me on the lips. “Umm, okay, let’s work on your thighs.”

“Sure,” I grinned as she grabbed her own strap-on. In a minuted I’d be riding her like a cowgirl, working leg muscles. There was still thirty minutes to go, and we had a lot of calories to burn. I pulled the sex toy out, dropping it into the dirty toy bin.

“Come on, let’s burn those calories!” she barked, clapping her hand.

I shivered; this was the best gym in the world!

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 2.

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I have released a part 43 of the revamped Devil’s Pact on Smashwords. Read this post for more information if you’re interested!