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My Naughty Wife Rochelle

My Naughty Wife Rochelle

by Jerrydylangarcia
19 min read
4.55 (3100 views)
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Turning back the clock of time before Rochelle got married...

Rochelle was born in the Tri-State area, but before she turned one, her family relocated to the iconic San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles. She grew up embracing the quintessential Valley Girl lifestyle--or, if you prefer, the charm of a Jewish American Princess.

When she was a teenager, she underwent a nose job, to enhance her appearance and soften her distinctly Jewish features. Rochelle attended an all-girls prep school, and for the most part, her teen years were uneventful. She maintained a wholesome reputation throughout her high school years. Her virginity was still intact when she graduated.

At eighteen, Rochelle left home to attend UCSD in San Diego. Nestled near the Pacific Ocean, the university's culture was deeply intertwined with its coastal surroundings. Though the campus itself sat perched on a hill, the allure of nearby beaches like La Jolla Cove, Black's Beach, and Windansea Beach was impossible to ignore. The laid-back beach scene provided a stark yet refreshing contrast to the rigorous academic demands of the university. For many students, Rochelle included, the Southern California sun and surf became an integral part of their social lives, offering a much-needed balance to their studies.

It was here, amidst the golden sands and crashing waves, that Rochelle began to truly find herself. Surrounded by a vibrant mix of people, she connected with girls who were unapologetically open about their sexual experiences and desires. The co-ed environment introduced her to countless guys, each encounter fueling her curiosity and self-discovery. Slowly but surely, Rochelle's libido stirred to life, awakening a side of herself she hadn't yet explored. The world felt wide open, and she was ready to dive in.

Rochelle looked hot! She had frosted hair with brown as the base color and blond highlights creating a beautiful, sun-kissed look, had a nice tan, and was friendly and outgoing. Whether she was dressed for her classes in tight shorts and a flimsy top, mostly without a bra, wearing a skinny bikini that left little to the imagination, or dressed for a night out, she look gorgeous. She would either wear short skirts or tight jeans that showed off her small, tight ass.

Staying in her dorm room and massaging her pussy with her fingers wasn't exciting enough anymore. Guys were noticing her, and she was noticing them. She started to flirt more, and she seldom wore a bra. She was acting naughty, and she wanted people to notice her. She wanted to stand out at a campus in Southern California-she had a lot of competition.

Her boobs, although not large, were shapely, and her nipples were often erect. Sometimes this made her self-conscious, and other times she like having guys aroused by her appearance. It depended on her mood-naughty or nice.

Over the course of the first semester, shy Rochelle became Naughty Rochelle. Naughty Rochelle switched from cannabis to cocaine. She also liked to drink. Light beer during the day at the pool or beach but stronger drinks at night. Part of the reason she drank was so she could feel less inhibited and use it for an excuse if she acted provocatively.

She never "slept around," but she had several one-night stands. Rochelle had her share of boyfriends and fucked most of them on the second or third date. She even got pregnant a couple of times.

Rochelle sunbathed topless and sometimes even nude. Walking distance from her university was Black's Beach. Black's Beach is a permitted nude beach in a secluded area. There are no bathrooms or lifeguards, just the beach. It is one of the largest nude beaches in North America.

Getting there wasn't easy. The path to the beach was steep, scattered with rocky obstacles, and unlit at night. But that didn't deter Rochelle. Whether with friends or on her own, she made the trek regularly, armed with a towel, a pack of smokes, and dressed in casual beachwear that suited the scene. The vibe was always relaxed a quintessentially "chill" atmosphere. The beach drew a diverse crowd, not just students but people of all ages, all united by their love for the sun and the freedom to tan without lines.

Once she got set up on the beach, the clothing would come off, first the top and then the bottom. She would lie on a towel with her legs parted just enough that her vagina was exposed to the world. She wanted her entire body to be tan.

Initially, Rochelle did not have a lot of sexual experience. She had lost her virginity to her first college boyfriend, Cal. It was a mistake, and the relationship only lasted a few weeks. Chalk it up to cocaine, alcohol and being horny.

Rochelle wanted to be better in bed. There weren't any courses on how to fuck in her course catalog. But there were magazines; Cosmo and Glamor with articles like "How to please your man" and "How to be a better lover." She was a quick study and reading these articles was usually followed by her masturbating. She was very good and experienced at it.

Rochelle's frosted hair made her look very sexy and inviting. Some of her closest friends started calling her "Frosty." Although she liked the name, Rochelle never referred to herself as "Frosty." People did not know her assumed she was called "Frosty" because she loved cocaine.

Men that had cocaine earned her immediate attention. Cocaine made Rochelle horny, and her drinking made her flirty. After a few lines and a couple of drinks, she would become even more sexual. This often led to her having sex. It depended, once again, on her mood.

When she was in a playful mood, she would encourage her friends to do lines off her flat stomach, or if she was with a lover, she would invite them to do blasts off her vagina or tits. She would get really wasted and would put coke on her lovers' cocks and suck them until her mouth was numb. She did this so she did not have to taste the guy's cum, and it kept them hard for a longer period of time.

She liked to wear sexy outfits, inside and outside of the bedroom. Since she did not have deep cleavage, she wore sheer blouses with no bra or skintight tee shirts that showcased her nipples. Either way, she was always sexy and beautiful. She was always desirable.

One of her first college boyfriends was Jake who was 5' 11" and had blond hair. He used to be a lifeguard, and he surfed. He was from Santa Cruz, and they met on campus. He wasn't very intellectual or studious, but he was a decent enough screw. His cock was not large, but it was just fine for Rochelle.

One night, her boyfriend and her headed down to Black's Beach. It was after 1 am. They had had a lot to drink. The moon was almost full and there was not anyone else around. She was feeling both mischievous and horny simultaneously. It was a bit of a walk, but they were both in good shape.

She set up a blanket on the sand. It was dark and the sound of the waves crashing set a romantic tone for what was about to happen. The beach was not crowded. There were some other couples there-some engaging in sexual acts and others just enjoying the wonders of nature.

She climbed on top of him and started kissing him. She unbutton her blouse, as the moonlight illuminated her breasts to his delight. His hands found her boobs and started to massage them. Rochelle was getting aroused and wet. It had been a few days since the last time they had sex, and her pussy was yarning to be penetrated.

She unbuttoned his shirt and started massaging his forearms and his chest. This only made her hornier. She repositioned herself so that he could suck her nipples. They were very sensitive and aching to be sucked.

Rochelle was impatient. She released his hardening cock out of his underwear and gave the tip a kiss and a lick. Rochelle sucked the tip of his cock as a precursor to him fucking her. He moaned. This was straight out of an article in "Playgirl".

"Don't cum in my mouth or this will be your last blowjob from me," she demanded.

She meant it. The idea of his cumming in her mouth freaked her out. How much cum would he release, a little bit or a mouthful? She had no idea, but she wasn't ready to find out, at least not that evening.

He said nothing.

"Fuck me-I am so wet...shoot a load of cum in my wet pussy," she continued.

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She did not mind having her pussy filled with her lover's cum. The feeling of his cock swelling right before he came, was exciting to her. She couldn't wait to orgasm.

She removed her shorts and her panties and laid her panties over his face. She had worn them all day, so they smelled like her sweat and her cum. They smelled like Rochelle, and he did not make any effort to remove them.

She took her hand and used his cock to massage her aching clit. This just caused her to get even wetter. She was anticipating his cock in her juicy hole. She longed to be fucked that night.

In the distance, she saw a couple of guys drinking beers and walking towards her and her boyfriend. She ignored them and focused on having the edge of his cock pierce her waiting hole. She was going to try to squeeze in a few orgasms and start walking to the dorm before the guys got close enough to see what was going on.

Rochelle straddled herself over her boyfriend so he could use his back and stomach muscles to thrust his cock in and out of her, and in turn, she could use her vaginal muscles to squeeze his dick and help him cum. He started to moan, and she squeezed even tighter. He started fucking her faster, and harder. She started to experience an orgasm, and he did not slow down.

"Oh Fuck," she said has he thrusted his dick into her wet pussy.

Although she desperately needed to have sex, yes need and not just want, she felt that Jake was inexperienced and focused mainly on his own pleasure. She conveniently forgot that she was inexperienced as well, and they were both learning together.

Sometimes, for her to have an orgasm, she would fantasize that she was with someone else; like when she masturbated. Sometimes it was Robert Plant, romancing her with his guitar and voice and then making love to her. Other times, she would fantasize about male models that she would see in a magazine like Playgirl.

She decided to succumb to his desires and started to blow him. A "Cosmo" article stated that it would make her a more desirable lover. Her mouth sucked his cock like a vacuum cleaner. She massaged his balls, and they started to get hard and tight. She knew what that meant-he was ready to ejaculate.

"Not in my mouth," she thought.

She stopped blowing him and climbed on top. She started bouncing on his erect cock and her juiced flowed like running water. It did not take long for him to climax.

"Oh my fucking god, I am cumming," her boyfriend proclaimed.

A deep sense of satisfaction washed over her, settling in her chest like a warm, soothing balm.

By then, the two guys were no longer in the distance. They were now only twenty feet away, and they held empty beer bottles. They were smiling as they watched the couple fuck. Rochelle was sweaty. But she did not mind their watching her. It was a turn on.

Rochelle yelled at them, "This isn't a porn video, and I am not going to make popcorn."

The two guys laughed.

"Perverts," she thought to herself. Rochelle had never even watched a porn video. Since having her sexual awaking and with the right guy, she might!

She was finding herself. Having guys get aroused watching her fuck her boyfriend was new and exciting. Kinky. She liked it.

Back to Jake. Jake was not long-term boyfriend material. He was just her boytoy and she was just using him until someone better came along. And one day soon, she would be in the arms of someone else; a new lover.

_______

A few days later, she was in a large lecture class. She was bored and Jake had been occupied with surfing and his friends. Rochelle was ready to explore her sexuality with another man. Hopefully someone who was more skilled and less focused on themselves.

She was wearing a very tight, thin worn cotton shirt that she had for several years. The fiber of the cotton was worn away and the shirt had become see-through in some places. The shirt had also shrunk, so it was a little too small which made her look even sexier. She had become sex bate.

"Sex bate," she thought as she smiled.

There was a guy in her class that caught her eye, Andrew. Andrew was decent looking with brown hair and eyes, with a medium build. He was only a few rows in front of her and one of her girlfriends had bought coke from him. Rochelle liked coke and she liked sex. She had a bit of a sweet tooth. Her mind wondered.

After class, she purposely bumped into him. He made small talk and asked her out.

"Do you want to do something later?" he asked.

"Sure. "I am 'Frosty,'" she replied.

This was the first time she ever called herself "Frosty." She was being a little playful and having some fun with the nickname. She was more focused on the cocaine than the guy, although coke made her horny, and after all, he was a guy.

Andrew gave her his phone number and address. Rochelle told him that she would be over around ten. By then, he should be done selling drugs and ready for fun. This would also give her time to escape from Jake, who she had plans with at eight. She had become a juggler.

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She met Jake at 8 PM at a student bar. He was there with some of his mates, playing pool. She ordered an Amstel. She nursed the beer until about nine, and then said she had a test. Jake tried to get handsy with her and she leaned into him and announced she had her period. He immediately let go of her and she left the bar. Mission accomplished.

She went to her dorm room and changed into a black blouse, no bra as usual, and tight jeans with beige low-heeled shoes. She sprayed YSL Black Opium on her neck, maybe a little too much. She brushed her teeth and put on some red lip gloss.

When she arrived at Andrews room, she stopped at his door and adjusted her shirt. She wanted her boobs to look just right. She patted her hair and knocked on the door.

"Rochelle? Come in."

He opened the door, and she came in. The room smelled like pot, cigarettes, and incense. She hated incense; it made her sneeze.

"Can you put the incense out please-I am allergic?"

He snuffed out the incense cone. She smiled.

On the table she spotted a mirror and some coke. There were four small lines. He passed her a rolled up 100-dollar bill and she did two of the four lines and made a distinct snort. She was buzzed. She passed the rolled-up bill to him, and he did the same.

He put on some music-the Grateful Dead. She had only seen them once when she was in High School. She wasn't familiar with their music except for "Sugar Magnolia," "Casey Jones," and "Johnny B. Goode".

Their conversation meandered through the usual topics--classes, mutual friends, the day-to-day grind. It was pleasant but unremarkable, until he turned the focus to her. His words shifted, carrying a quiet intensity that caught her off guard. He told her she was beautiful, his gaze lingering just long enough to make her blush. He leaned in slightly, mentioning how amazing she smelled, a subtle mix of sweetness and warmth. Then, almost shyly, he admitted he'd always noticed her in class. He'd wanted to sit next to her, to strike up a conversation, but he'd never quite mustered the courage--until now.

"You are the prettiest girl in the class. I never thought that we would ever talk. I can't believe that you are here; only a few feet away." He complemented her.

She asked him if she could do another line and did he have a beer. He poured some coke on the mirror. He chopped it up with a razor until it was fine as salt. Her eyes were affixed on the coke. He cut four more lines, 2 for her and 2 for him.

She snorted her two lines and felt high. He placed an open beer in front of her.

"Thanks. This is great."

He returned focus on the mirror and did one of his two lines.

She lit a cigarette and inhaled it deeply only to blow the smoke in his face. In a French movie that she saw in high school, the woman signaled the man that she was open to romance (sex) by doing just that. Andrew was not too sophisticated but eventually figured it out.

They started to kiss. It wasn't a fiery, passionate kind of kissing that might lead to something more--it was hesitant, almost as if he couldn't believe it was happening. He seemed awkwardly shy, his arms hanging by his sides and his hands resting stiffly on the bed instead of being wrapped around her.

If she had sex with him would she be his first? Would the sex be any better than having sex with Jake? She was not interested in finding out.

She pulled back from him, made up another lie and excused herself. This whole thing was a mistake. What next. Well, there was always Jake. By now he was drunk. She needed someone new, someone not in the picture already. Someone who is more experienced.

She left campus, buzzing from the cocaine, and went to a regular bar, "Patrick's Gaslamp Pub." She sat at the bar and ordered a vodka and orange juice. She sipped on her drink as a guy came over and sat down. He offered to buy her a drink.

"I have a drink already. Can I have the money instead?" she said wittingly.

They both laughed.

He was a real man and not a student. He looked 30ish. She had only had sex with two men, both her age, but she was willing to experiment. He was a lot more of a man than either her first lover Cal, Jake or Andrew. The age difference was a turn on for young Rochelle.

He was just under six feet tall with dark brown hair, about 180 pounds, and in great shape. Neither of them knew the other's name. Their conversation meandered through the usual topics--where they were from, their likes and dislikes, and what had brought them to San Diego. If he asked for her name, she'd already decided to say, "Frosty." The thought made her chuckle silently.

After about an hour, he locked eyes with her, holding her gaze with an intensity that felt like he was trying to peer straight into her soul. She was transfixed, caught off guard by the depth in his stare. He was nothing like any man she'd ever been with. Her palms grew damp, and she could feel herself unconsciously softening, yielding to his presence. Rochelle... submissive? The thought startled her, almost as much as the moment itself.

She fantasized about being tied to a bed with her legs spread open, helpless, with him on top of her, kissing her, and ultimately fucking her like no man ever has. Her fantasies were really turning her on. She felt her nipples become more firmer and more sensitive.

The guy got up and paid for the drinks. Is he leaving? He took her hand, and they left the bar without saying a word. They got into his red Alfa Romeo Giulia, an Italian sports car. She never stopped to think about what danger she might be stepping into-she did not even know his name.

They arrived at a small house; 20 minutes from the bar. They pulled into the driveway. He opened her car door, and they stepped into the house. The house was dark and quiet, and as still as the night. She was a little nervous, but he turned on the lights and her nerves calmed. It looked like a typical house, with some dirty dishes left in the sink.

She put her mouth close to his ear and whispered, "Take me. I am yours."

He responded by kissing her like no man has ever kissed her before as if they had been lovers for decades and this was his final goodbye kiss. She melted and fell into his arms.

Cal. Jake. Andrew. Their names blurred into insignificance now, mere echoes of a past she had no intention of revisiting. Her thoughts were consumed by a man whose name she didn't even know, whose house she couldn't pinpoint on a map. Yet, none of that mattered. What mattered was the pull, the irresistible gravity drawing her closer to the unknown, to him.

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