3 comments/ 58415 views/ 5 favorites A Dish Best Served Naked Ch. 01 By: Trimpostinger *This is a story in three parts that will only makes sense if read in order. *This is Part 1 * My name is Susan, and this is a story that you probably haven't heard before. They say that revenge is a dish best served cold, but I found out that revenge is actually best served naked. Allow me to explain. I'm 5'10'', about 155lbs, 36-28-36 with natural C-cups. Most women who see me hate me because of my body, while most men can't pay attention to a word I say. You might think having the body of a Victoria secret model is a great thing (actually, most models are B-cups), but it isn't easy. I know none of you will have pity on me, but it is very difficult for me to lead a normal life. I pride myself on my brains more than my looks, since I earned one and was born with the other (though my work-out schedule kind of means I earned them both). But every time I get promoted at work (usually by male bosses), everyone whispers that it is because I'm sleeping my way to the top, or that top management just wants a pretty face in the staff meetings. Eventually, none of my people respect or listen to me, and I have to change jobs. I dress as modestly as I can, but it's not like I can wear bulky sweaters when it is 80 outside (I live in California), and burlap sacks aren't in style. And even with my modest attire, dating becomes extremely difficult. I work too many hours to meet guys socially, so I usually end up going on blind dates that my friends hook me up with. And of course they show the guy a picture they took of me at the beach or with me in a bride's maid dress that they had picked out for their weddings, so my date is always looking at my body while I try to talk to him about sports. I had finally met a good guy at my last job, but blew it . . . literally. I work in finance, with a specialty in helping smaller companies go public and then ensuring their stock goes up by working close with sales and marketing. I was on a team with this nice guy from marketing, and we fooled around a bit on road trips once we got a few drinks in us. He had the ability to look me in the eyes, which few guys did. But in the end, it was the eye contact that did us in. We were at work in the kitchen getting coffee and our eyes met. Something clicked and we quickly went to one of the private bathrooms around the corner. I was giving him a blow job when (because we forgot to lock the door) his boss walked in. We were both fired that day (of course) and it sent me in search of a job. It also left me with a quandary as to what to do with my resume. I had worked at that company for 4 years, and should have had a lot of good references, but if any prospective employer called them, they would get quite a story that would keep me from getting hired. But by not putting it on, I had a 4-year gap. Still, I thought it was the better option. My search for a new job involved me combing the stock market for local small companies that appeared to be underperforming. That is where I found Brough Tech. It was small video game designer that worked on contract. They were constantly innovating new ways to render graphics and customizable story lines, but since they only worked on contract, their name wasn't on the final game. Still they held patents on all their new innovations, and won dozens of lawsuits every year from people trying to steal their work. But no one had ever heard of them. I scheduled a meeting with their marketing manager and impressed him with my claim to be able to double their stock by the end of next year. I said they could fire me if I didn't. I met with their accounting department and likewise impressed them. I explained the 4-year gap in my resume by saying that I had took time off, supporting myself by playing the stock market, but when I saw this company, I had to look into it. It was a lie, but they ate up the flattery. They were ready to give me the job right there, but my position would be reporting to the president, and he was out for the next month. He was definitely a man I wanted to meet. He was the reason the company was so successful. The few press releases I read on the company talked about his negotiation skills with the Japanese game makers and his multiple appearances in court for their lawsuits. The remaining staff at Brough Tech dragged their feet for a while, but when they found out that Jim Brough had his trip extended and was now headed to Asia, they caved and offered me a job. I drove a hard bargain though, securing major incentives based on the company's stock performance. My first few days were actually fun. I introduced myself around to everyone and was impressed with the employees. The company was 80% male, which would usually be a problem, but since they were almost all nerds with four computer screens going at once at their stations, they had little time to worry about me. In my experience guys like that never gave me problems because they were either not interested in girls or only interested in digital girls. Or they just didn't know how to talk to an attractive female. There were programmers, testers, and investigators. The third group played competitor video games trying to find instances in those games where Brough Tech's patented code might have been used. They got paid a lot of money to play video games all day, and since they kept finding infringements on Brough Tech's patents, and kept rakingsuit money, Jim Brough kept that portion of the company very happy. Whenever I talked to anyone about the elusive president, I always got a cold shoulder. On paper he looked like a great leader and very generous. They didn't balk at my salary request, which I had expected to be negotiated down, so I could only assume it was a common salary. The environment was very good. Dress was extremely casual. Most of the people played games all day, and those that had to crunch numbers, always came up with good results. I finally met my confidant in the legal department. They had two full time lawyers on the payroll. One veteran to handle all of the litigation, and a 30-something up and coming lawyer to handle most of the paperwork. The younger one, Terry, was a handsome single guy who was always talking about his softball team or waiting for basketball to start or some other sport. When I mentioned racquetball, he let me know he played, and three days later left work a little early to the local gym, and I beat him 3 out of 5. I had worn conservative gym clothes: loose shorts down to mid thigh and a lose t-shirt, but I was still used to guys staring at me when I bared any skin. He definitely watched me quite a bit in the first two games, but his eyes followed my racquet in an effort to judge my skill. "So tell me," I started when the first round of light beers came in the bar attached to the gym, "what's the deal with the president of this company?" We hadn't showered yet, and sweat still dripped slowly from his forehead. I watched it roll slowly down his nose and then finally drop into his lap. He didn't flinch at the question. We sat there staring at each other, for almost a minute before he finally said something. "Okay, you'll find out eventually, it's just you didn't hear about it from me." My ears perked up at this. "The man is a pig. He is a sexually obsessed man. His trips to Asia bring tons of money to this company, which is good, because his expense reports shell out thousands of dollars to hookers in Hong Kong and Tokyo." "He isn't the first person to lie on his expense reports about things like that." "Who said he's lying," Terry responded, taking a sip of his beer. "He puts it under entertainment. No receipts." "You don't work in accounting, how do you know?" I challenged him. "You're not the only person I've had drinks with," he replied. I thought for a moment I might have competition for him (assuming I wanted him), but I couldn't imagine any of the older women in accounting being his type. I ignored this for now and focused on my main concern. "So he likes to have fun when he is out of the country. It's legal there, what's the problem." "You don't understand," Terry argued. "He spends half his time thinking about computer code, and the other half of his time thinking about sex. But he doesn't just think about it, he acts on it. All the time. We have all seen him escort hot women in skimpy business outfits into is office for an hour long meeting and then later say that it was a potential customer." "This is a male dominated business," I argued. "Companies that know what their doing hire hot saleswomen." "And do these hot sales women request 200 bucks from you after making their sales pitch?" "Not typically," I admitted. "We have had five or six women quit in the last two years because of sexual harassment charges. Jim is way too legally smart to ever get hit with them, and he usually settles out of court anyway. That is why the accounting department is filled with ugly old women. He's chased away everyone else." I thought about this for a while. I was not going to be chased away. Jim Brough was going to have to be an integral part of my plan to double the company's stock, and I would have to work closely with him. If he was as big a pussy hound as Terry made him out to be, I would just have to include other people in the meetings I had with him. "When he lays eyes on you," Terry continued, "he is going to come on to you harder than anything you've ever experienced, and -- don't take this the wrong way -- but I imagine you have a lot of experience with guys coming on to you." "I will keep things strictly professional," I told him. "From the little I've seen of you so far, I have no doubt of that, but I bet you dinner downtown that he will in some way suggest an intimate encounter between you two during your first private meeting together." I had just thought to myself that I would not have any private meetings with the president, but if dinner was at stake . . . "Okay, you're on, but I get to pick the place." "The winner picks the place," Terry qualified. "That's what I said," I smiled, toasted my bottle toward him, and took a long swig. *** Jim Brough was back in the next Monday. I walked into his office a bit tentatively. He didn't see me right away as he was reading something on his computer. If he was like anyone else in the business world, he had 1,000 emails to go through since he was out of the office. I cleared my throat, and he looked up. Seeing who it was, he smiled pleasantly. "You must be Susan," he said, rising from behind his desk and walking around to shake my hand. His eyes never waivered from mine, and gave no indication that he was checking me out. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner to interview you, but if you don't mind I'd like to get to know you. Please take a seat." He motioned to one of the two chairs in front of his desk and then moved to close the door behind me. It appeared to be an innocent enough gesture. He was simply assuring our privacy since we were going to probably talk about my work history and salary. But with Terry's warning in my head, I couldn't help but think he was protecting against more. It was a large office, and Jim was a large man. He was maybe an inch shorter than me and a good 75 pounds heavier, easily coming in at 225. He carried most of it right above the waist, but his arms and legs looked pretty big too. He was in no way muscular, as it was the muscle in his head that made most of his money for him. And if he enjoyed using the muscle between his legs as much as Terry assumed, he probably had to pay for most of it. I knew I wouldn't touch him willingly. I sat down in one of the chairs before his desk just as Jim took his seat. "I looked at your resume," he started, pulling a sheet of paper from a vertical file on his clean desk. "Very impressive. I have only one question: What have you been doing for the past 4 years?" Jim looked up from his paper at me and fixed me with a gaze that said, I will know if you are lying. I lied anyway. "I took some time off. I spent a lot of time trading on my own, and that is when I found your stock and saw a lot of potential there." He looked at me unconvinced. "Are you lying to me? I can tell when women are lying to me." I didn't say anything. The look in his eyes was making my skin crawl. And the way he said that he can tell when "women" are lying to him instead of just saying "someone," was eerily sensual. "If I took your social from payroll and did a search to see if you've been paying social security on a regular basis, ie, from a paycheck, would I find out that you were holding a job the past four years?" I thought about arguing that I had set up a bimonthly account to pay my social security so I wouldn't have to pay one lump sum at the end of the year, but I actually had no idea how to set something like that up and was not positive that this ingenious software man hadn't already done what he said he would do. "Who did you work for?" he asked, taking my silence for agreement. I thought about lying, but if he could do what he said with my social, then I'm sure he could track the source of that payment. "Dayin Software," I replied. "And why did you leave?" he continued with the tough questions. "I just wanted more," I replied. "I know Jack Dallas," he said bluntly, and the shock on my face let him know that I knew him too. He was the one who caught me in the bathroom giving head. "If I called him up and asked about you, what do you think he would say?" I was silent, 99% sure that he had already done so. I had been impressed with this man's business record in such a cut throat industry, I have no idea why I thought I could slip my checkered past by him. "In fact," he started, standing up from behind his desk and moving around to sit on top of it, about three feet from me, "I called him up last night. What do you think he said?" It was remotely possible that he was bluffing, but if he didn't know it was sexual -- and how many firings are? -- why would he be making such a big deal about it. But if he knew Jack's name, then there was nothing stopping him from actually making the call once I leave the room. He was trying to make me uncomfortable, and it was working. For some reason I thought I could turn the tables. "He caught me having sex at work," I replied blatantly. Jim made no obvious response other than a slow grin. He had already known this. "And this is what you want more of?" he asked, shifting a bit and spreading his legs so that I could see he was developing a hard on under his stomach bulge. It looked like I owed Terry dinner. I had two choices at this point. I could get up and walk out of the door, or I could fight this man. There was an awful lot of money at stake because if I achieved my claim, I could pull in an almost six-figure bonus check. I knew I probably wouldn't be able to make that anywhere else. Could I endure a little sexual harassment for six figures? And if I walked out now, and tried to sue him, like I'm sure other women had done, what would I have? I lied in my job interview because I had gotten fired for having sex on the job. All Jim had done was get the truth out of me. That was hardly sexual harassment. "No," I responded to his almost forgotten question. "I wanted more opportunity." "You mean you wanted an opportunity," he corrected, hopping down off his desk. He was now pointing at me without using his hands, his peaked pants only a couple feet from my face. He stood there for a second longer than he needed to and then moved back around his desk and sat down. "You were fired, weren't you?" I nodded. "But that is behind me now. I am ready to move forward. In fact I believe that with your help I can improve this company-" He waived me off with his hand, not accepting the change of topic. "So I am to believe that I won't catch you have relations with anyone here at work?" "That is correct, sir." "Then why have you started playing racquetball with the most attractive single man that works here?" Did this man have cameras in the office? How did he get his information? But, I was underestimating him again. "That is purely a social relationship." Jim slowly shook his head. "It seems that we have an issue of trust here." "You can trust me," I said. "What assurances can you give me? You are a very beautiful, smart, and confident woman. You obviously have a fear of vulnerability, or you would not have lied on your resume. You need to be vulnerable. You need to be able to make mistakes. I demand it of my staff." It sounded like this guy was quoting a team building textbook. Could it be that his hard-on was only coincidental? Could he actually be trying to coach me? "I can make myself vulnerable," I offered, only then seeing where this path could lead. "How vulnerable?" he replied. I'm sure if I could remember those team building books I had read, there were ways to show your vulnerability, but they only things I could think of were sexual. My mind played with the ideas of showing this man my underwear, or more. I thought of telling him of the full details of what got me fired. I even thought about taking him on a date. He was a married man, but he clearly had no problem spending time with other women. "Would you let me tell the rest of the company why you were fired?" he asked. "No," I responded quickly. He frowned. "Then how are you willing to show your vulnerability? How do I know the next time you make a mistake you aren't going to try to hide it or blame it on someone else? How do I know you will be accountable for your actions? What can you do to prove to me that I can trust you?" Again, all I could think of were sexual things. "You leave me with little choice," he said. "I'm afraid I am going to have to let you go." Six figures. "No," I finally caved. "I will tell you exactly what I did to get fired from my last job." If this guy wanted a verbal Penthouse letter, I could give him that much. I mean he already knew. Jim smiled, but he shook his head. "That isn't good enough. You would only tell me because I already know. That is not making you vulnerable. I need you to show me what you did." "Show you?" I asked incredulously. He nodded. "I'm sorry, but there has to be something else," I said, a desperate tone to my voice. "You show me what got you fired, or I tell the rest of the employees." I now had two choices. I could quite, or I could give this man a six figure blow job. I imagine there are few women on the street that if a stranger walked up to them with a valid check for $100,000 and all they had to do was spend 10 minutes giving a guy a blow job, that few would say no. Still I hesitated. "We've only just met," Jim said, "and I can tell that you can become a valuable member of this company, but until we find that we can trust each other, I don't know how this can work." I was just about to cave and tell him I would do it, when he kept going. "However, I am willing to give you an option here. You can not think of another way to demonstrate your vulnerability, but I will present you another option." He opened the top left drawer of his desk and peered into it. He shuffled a few things to the side, and then gave up and began to remove things. He first pulled out a can of whipped cream, then a pair of handcuffs, then a bottle of lubricant. I was aghast. Finally he pulled out what he was looking for: a vibrator. "That is my other option? You want me to masturbate for you?" He said nothing. It was up to me. When I was in high school I had dated a really sweet, smart, and funny guy. But when I let him get to second base, he turned into a real jerk. My mother told me that God gave men a brain and a penis, but only enough blood to operate one at a time. A Dish Best Served Naked Ch. 01 Jim was a brilliant man, there was no way I was going to trick him or beat him at his game unless I got his blood flowing somewhere else. So far, if I had been tape recording this conversation to use as evidence in my sexual harassment case, all that the court would hear was that I lied in my job interview, admitted to having sex at my old job, and I suggested that I masturbate for him. I needed to put the odds back in my favor. Jim was leering lustfully at me now, but then looked confused when I walked around the front of his desk and did not picking up the vibrator. "We need to trust each other," I said, "so I will show you what I did to get fired from my last job. Undue your pants." I wondered if Jack had told Jim what kind of sex I was having at my old job, but if the idea that my new boss was going to get his cock sucked was a revelation to him, he hid it well. He only pulled his pants and boxers down far enough to give me access, for which I was grateful. I didn't want to see more of his hair, pasty body than I had too. I knelt in front of him, my feet extending back under his desk. I leaned forward and reached for his cock with my hands. He leaned forward and tried to look down my blouse, by my modest attire offered him no cleavage. "Aren't you going to take something off?" He ended the question with a sharp intake of breath as my slender fingers caressed his cock. "Do you want to see what got me fired, or not?" "I, uh, wh-" he struggled as I slowly rubbed him up and down. He finally just nodded. Sure enough, his brain had gotten him this far, and now the reverse of blood flow left him a stuttering moron. Lucky for me, my brain was still working. His cock was not that big, maybe five inches, but his sac was huge. It looked like he had a hairy throw pillow attached to his crotch. I switched to using my left hand to stroke him and reached under him to pull out his ball sac with my right. I moved them around in my palm like a card shark playing with his chips. Jim's head rolled back and stared at the ceiling, moaning. I leaned over his cock then, and drooled a mouth full of spit on him. I kept up my let handed motion, but moved my index finger to curl over the top of his dick. I moved it side to side as the rest of my fingers stroked him up and down. I was sure this would make it feel like he was inside my mouth and my tongue was flicking back and forth. He responded as if that was the case, anyway, moaning even louder and leaning further back in his chair. With his mind completely unplugged, I kept stroking him, adding more saliva to ensure the illusion, while my right hand snaked back to the top of the desk and felt for the handcuffs. Never leaving his cock or slowing down, I brought the cuffs in front of me and looked at them. They looked real enough, but they were both closed with no key. Applying pressure to one cuff, I saw that it had an infinite adjustability. By closing it in on itself, the locking half of it swung all the way through and came around the other side, now open. I did this as silently as possible to the other cuff as well. I could have played the tuba, and it would not have disturbed my new boss. I reached under his sack again, lifting and pulling, and careful no to let the cold metal of the handcuffs touch him until it was too late. I needed to hurry because his leg was starting to shake, and with a sac that big, I would get drenched. I squeezed him extra hard, and he responded, standing up a bit from the chair and arching his back. I slid the open cuff under his sac and quickly closed the top latch tight, surely pinching some skin. This did startle him and he finally looked down to see what I was doing. I didn't give him time to react, though and secured the other open end to a brace under his chair's armrest. "What the-" he started, but I pushed him away before he could grab at me. He rolled several feet until he bumped up against a low book shelf along the back wall. His immediate reaction was to spring out of his chair, but he felt a very painful pull when he tried to get up. He spent a few uncomfortable moments examining the cuffs, but there was nothing he could do. The cuffs on his dick were behind his balls, and those testicles were way too big to work the cuffs off. Even with the lube on his desk, he wasn't going to have any success. He was a kid with his hand stuck in the cookie jar, but the only way to let go of the cookies was with painful surgery. "I don't have the keys!" he shouted at me. This I hadn't known. Who has handcuffs but not the keys? "Where are they?" I asked. "At home," he replied, rolling his chair toward me with his feet. I moved to the other side of the desk. "Well then call your wife and have her bring them to work for you," I said with little sympathy. "It would be good for you to show a little vulnerability." "You fucking bitch!" he shouted. "Watch that language," I said. "I could sue you for that." That comment got him to shut up quickly. I had expected the cry of, "You're fired!" to come from him, but now his brain was working. He couldn't fire me for handcuffing his cock to his chair. I would take him to court, and while I would have to explain why I lied in my job interview, he would have to explain why he had taken his dick out of his pants. I turned to let him mull it over, not concerned that he might not get free for a while. He had a staff meeting in 15 minutes. He would figure something out. I opened his door and left it open as I walked into the hallway. Terry was pretending to busy himself by the fax machine, not close enough to the president's office to ease drop, but close enough to catch me when I left. He saw the rather smug look on my face and must have heard Jim scream, though perhaps not exactly what he said. "What happened?" he asked. "I owe you dinner. Pick a place." "He did?" Terry was shocked. At that moment I wasn't sure whether he had expected to lose and had only made the bet as a ruse to take me on a date. Either way, he had been right. "Go see for yourself," I said. Terry's brain must not have been working either, because he did go to see. Jim was halfway to the open office door, scooting in his chair, his handcuffed and still very erect cock plain to anyone who looked in on him. "Holy shit!" Terry exclaimed, and then quickly shut the door. He turned to look at me in amazement, but I just shrugged and walked back to my desk. I was sure Jim would find a way to get revenge on me, and I would probably have to do something to show my vulnerability, but for now, I just laughed to myself. Continued in Part 2 A Dish Best Served Naked Ch. 02 *This is a story in three parts that will only makes sense if read in order. *This is Part 2 * I didn’t get fired. In fact, Jim didn’t say a word to me for weeks. Eventually everyone found out what had happened, and I quickly became the office hero. People spoke more openly about his womanizing now and how I had finally put the creep in his place. Things appeared to be going okay. Jim had been served a large piece of humble pie, and maybe he wouldn’t do anything after all. I was wrong. Two weeks after the “incident” (ie me handcuffing his balls to his chair), I found a camera under my desk. I never would have found it except that I brought a clock radio to work, and when I crawled under my desk to plug it in, I saw the camera. It was a web cam aimed at my crotch. I was luckily wearing pants that day, and I was pretty sure it had been several days since I had worn a skirt. I got one of the nerdy software guys to inspect it for me, and he was able to disconnect it easily enough. In the few days that followed, no upskirt photos of me circulated through the office, so I assume I dodged a bullet. A few days later I was in the ladies room and heard a slight whirring noise as I prepared to sit down on the toilet. I had second thoughts and decided to hold it until lunch when I would go out. After hours, when I knew Jim had left, I took the same guy from software, and we found the camera in the ladies room. It was much better quality than the web cam under my desk, and I had heard it focusing as he had tightened the frame when I was sitting down. The next few days I was paranoid at work. The weather was warm outside, but I was wearing pants and turtle necks to work, scared that there would be cameras at all angles trying to get a shot. I thought about installing a security system at home too but hoped he wouldn’t get that bold. I talked about it with Terry during our racquetball sessions. “You know he is never going to let up,” he told me. “You got him better than he ever expected. No one is even sure how he got himself out of those cuffs, but I wouldn’t be surprised if his wife found out. He will not sleep until he has paid you back.” But how, I wondered. Cameras were easy to defend against. His next tactic was not. I heard a dog back in the office the next week and heard a woman scream. “Stand back, ma’am,” a very bravado voice called out. “We got a tip for a drug bust?” No, I thought. No one here would be that stupid. Then I panicked. I quickly dug deep into the drawers that I never use, lifting up papers and pulling back hanging folders. There, in the back, was a zip-lock bag of what looked like flour. Of course, I had never seen it before. I could hear the dog coming my way from down the hall, and I had to get rid of the evidence. The cubicle next to mine was empty, as my neighbor was on vacation, and I threw the bag into her garbage. I was back at my desk playing innocent when two men and a dog came around the corner. They were dressed as cops and quickly ordered me to stand up. I say “dressed” as cops because when I looked close at the badge of one of them, it had no badge number. The one without the dog pushed me up against the cube wall and made me stand as if he was going to frisk me. Knowing this had come from Jim, I was sure the frisking would turn into a type of strip search once they found the planted drugs. But they weren’t going to find them. The fake cop with the dog spent a long time looking through only one drawer – the one where the bag had been – but he couldn’t find anything. The cop near me had his hands poised to start his search, waiting for a signal from his friend, but it never came. A crowd was growing by my cubicle, and I saw that one of the security cameras was turned in my direction. Jim was ready to catch the whole thing on tape. “I don’t have anything,” I cried. “Shut up and face the wall!” the one next to me said. “We’ll tell you if you are hiding anything.” Terry showed up soon, and it was a good thing too, because after the guy with the dog had still found nothing, he turned to his friend, “Search her.” “On what grounds?” Terry called from the crowd of about ten people. “You stay out of this,” the guy near me replied. “I’m a lawyer,” Terry replied, and both men froze. “You and your dog have found nothing. If you got a tip, it must be someone else.” The dog had its head in my trashcan, undoubtedly making a meal of the half a donut I had thrown away. The two guys exchanged nervous glances and shrugged their shoulders. “Let’s go.” They didn’t search anyone else and made a quick line to the exit. The crowd left as I stood stunned against the cube wall. Only Terry hung around, and as he walked up to me, I burst into tears and fell into his arms. “I can’t work like this,” I sobbed. He rubbed my back. “Let’s go to lunch.” It was early, but I nodded my head. At the small diner we talked about options. Terry wanted me to quit. “No,” I replied. “I haven’t been looking and the job market isn’t that strong.” “Someone like you can get a job anywhere you want. You are too smart to stay unemployed.” “But not smart enough to beat Jim?” I asked. Terry frowned at the comment, but I didn’t relent. “I want to beat him. I have to beat him. It’s not just the money, either. It is a lot of money, but I need to beat him for my career. I have never faced a challenge that I couldn’t beat.” “And how will you do that?” Terry asked. “He will not stop until he pays you back, and the longer you wait, the more he will escalate his attempts. He might start attacking you at your home. He might end up hiring someone to almost rape you.” “It will only end when he gets what he wants,” I admitted. “And he wants me humiliated in front of everyone like he was.” I knew it wouldn’t be enough to just go into his office and give him his blow job. Even if he filmed it, he couldn’t show it anyone to embarrass me because he would be in it. “And if that happens,” Terry advised, “then he wins and you might as well quit now.” “But what if I let him think he won?” I said, a plan slowly starting to creep into my head. “What do you mean?” The plan was still forming, but I talked it through. “Right now I am at the mercy of his imagination and formidable intelligence. He will keep coming up with more and more elaborate plans until he gets me, and he will get me his way. What if I offer my surrender and allow him to get me my way?” “And what is your way?” Terry asked. “He wants you exposed and naked in front of the whole company. What are you going to do, a strip show for the whole company at the next fundraiser?” “That’s it!” I had my plan. “I will strip for the whole company at the fund raiser next month. That should be more than enough to satisfy him.” I could see Terry’s eyes widen at the idea of me doing a strip tease, but then he shook those images out of his head and came back down to earth to be my friend. “Well, if you are willing to do that, why didn’t you just let the cops strip you back at the office. There were only ten people watching then.” “And a camera,” I pointed out. “And who’s to say there won’t be a camera at the fund raiser?” “You don’t understand,” I said, the smile on my face hard to control. “I was not in control back in the office. Had I known what was coming, I could have prepared for it by minimizing the potential damages and then going through with it. I could have disconnected the camera. I could have not thrown away the planted bag of drugs in my desk and then ran to the men’s room, forcing them to do the strip search where there were no cameras.” “So how do you control a strip show in front of the whole company?” “You shall see,” I replied, hoping I could pull it off. * * * Jim was sitting at his desk when I walked into his office. I had knocked lightly on his open door and he had grunted for me to come in without looking up from the papers on his desk. I had rehearsed this meeting several times in my head, and with all the different approaches available to me, I wasn’t sure which one would work. I stood there for a few moments, waiting for him to look up. He still didn’t know it was me and was waiting for his guest to ask him a question so he could just grunt his reply and continue reading his computer screen. Eventually, he looked up and his frown increased. “What do you want?” “I want to apologize,” I said calmly. He glanced at the open door behind me, but then shrugged, figuring everyone in the company already knew what had happened. “For what?” “For not taking your previous advice seriously.” As smart as Jim was, he wasn’t used to being confused, but he was now. He didn’t ask me to clarify, and waited patiently for me to continue. “You advised me that I needed to allow myself to be vulnerable in front of the rest of the office. That because I have hid my past to everyone else, it does show that I do not own up to my mistakes. I am a prissy bitch and unless I show myself to be vulnerable, others will not be able to work with me because they have no confidence I will own up to my mistakes, or that I even think I make mistakes. I need to be able to show them I am human just like the rest of them.” As I gave my speech I had to be careful that I didn’t start to believe it. I had been open and honest with Terry about my faults. I just hadn’t worked that closely with anyone else yet to have the opportunity to open up. Whether I believed it or not, I could tell my boss enjoyed it. It was like I was quoting from all of his favorite team building books at once. I thought he might have me repeat my speech so he could emboss it on a plaque and hang it over his desk. But as the savvy businessman inside him became satisfied, the dirty old man finally woke up. He realized that his dislike of me wasn’t because I didn’t play along in his team building exercises or because I didn’t sign up to his business philosophies, it was that I was strutting around his office with a great body (if I do say so myself) and he wanted to see it. “How do you propose to do that?” “At the benefit dinner next month, I will perform a strip tease in front of the entire company.” To his credit, he controlled his shock extremely well. “Really?” I nodded. “I need to show that I am vulnerable, and this is the best way to do it.” “You will strip down to your underwear?” “I will strip down to my skin,” I corrected. “All of it?” Like Terry, he couldn’t believe I would agree to do this. “Every last inch.” I could see his eyes start to glaze over as they moved up and down my body. I wore form fitting slacks and a tight sweater. It had a high neck line, but it accentuated my breasts well. I could tell he was about to ask for a sneak peak, so I spoke first. “In exchange, however, you need to call off your dogs.” “My dogs?” he tried to act confused. “You need to leave me alone until the dinner. No more hidden cameras, no more surprise strip searches. Okay?” “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he argued. “If the intrusions into my privacy do not end, then I will not perform. Understand?” He nodded, not wanting to speak in case he was being recorded and this was just some setup to make him admit that he had been responsible for the previous instances. “Then I’ll see you in a few weeks,” I said, winking and him and sauntering out of his office with my hips swishing liberally. I closed the door behind me in case he wanted to jack off with the hard on I was sure he had developed under his desk. * * * In the weeks leading up to the dinner, with the help of Terry, I started to spread a rumor around the office. I was going to once again humiliate our boss sexually, only this time I would do so in front of the whole company. I made sure the rumor had no idea how I was going to do it, just that it was going to happen. Only Terry knew what I was planning, and he still couldn’t believe that I was going to go through with it. He kept asking me what the trick was going to be, but it wasn’t until the night before the dinner that I finally let him in on the game plan. I had to. It was really a two-person job. The hall where the dinner was going to be was a very old building, and there were pictures up of old swing bands from the 40’s and 50’s. There was a small stage at the end of the rectangular room where a band could play or a small theater troupe could perform. The lighting was simple, but I had already investigated it for my needs. The traditional way to light up performers was with spotlights from the front. That way the side of you that the audience saw was always lit up. If you light the back of someone, you create a very dark silhouette for anyone looking on as they squint into the light. It was a trick many magicians used. I showed Terry how to work the lights, since I would be on stage, and he confirmed by moving down to the floor where the tables would be, that it was very hard to make out any of my features with the rear lights on and the front ones off. However, from on stage, looking at me from the side, he could see me perfectly. * * * The dinner proceeded as if nothing was different. Drawings for prizes took place, dinner and wine were served. A small band played on the stage. When dessert was being served, and the band was finishing, I excused myself and went back stage where there were some dressing rooms. The band had taken the nice one, but the second room was big enough. It had a couch, a rod for hanging clothes, a desk with a vanity, and a small sink. I had hung my outfit in the room earlier, and I got it now. It was actually something I had worn to work before. It was a white blouse and brown, knee-length skirt with a 4-inch slit. There was nothing too provocative about it. I also had a black and red lacey thong with a matching liquid push-up bra. With the added boost to my bust, I could barely get the blouse buttoned over by chest, but it closed, and I buttoned it one button higher than normal to hide any potential cleavage. . . for now. I spent a few moments in front of the mirror, putting my hair up into a bun secured with a clip and donned a pair of fake glasses. I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like a librarian. A very sexy librarian, but I fit the part. I slipped on a pair of heels and pulled a full length trench coat off a hook and wrapped it around myself. I took a deep breath and then made my way out of the dressing room. I followed the hallway backstage to the edge of the curtains and met Terry. He looked at my trench coat curiously, and I could tell he was wondering if I was just going to do a flasher routine and if there was anything else on underneath. I opened it a few inches to give him a preview and he let out a low whistle. “Not bad,” he said. The band was just finishing up their last number, and I hoped a little banter would calm my nerves. “Not bad? I look killer in this outfit.” “How good do you look out if it?” I frowned at him. “This show is for him,” I emphasized, both of us knowing who I was talking about. “Once you hit the lights on my cue, you are to go back to your seat in the hall.” “That is completely not fair,” he grumbled. I leveled at gaze at him until he relented. “Okay.” The band was done and as they slowly brought their instruments off stage, I asked two of them to move the chalkboard Terry and I had prepared out to the stage. They did, and then I had one of them move a chair and table on stage as well. The band was not completely off stage and I cold hear the people out in the hall mumbling in anticipation. It was now or never. I strode out on stage, my heels clicking loudly on the hardwood. The crowd before me became suddenly silent. I made sure the chair and table were on the correct spots I had marked on the floor and then continued on to the chalkboard. I undid my trench coat and hung it on the wooden frame of the chalkboard. I got a couple whistles from the crowd, but only the tables that sat close could get a good view of my figure, and it was an outfit I had worn to work before. I smiled at the crowd with my hands on my hips and shook my head disapprovingly. “Class, settle down. I don’t want to have to call one of you up to the punishment chair.” That brought a few laughs from the group, though a few others were hushing the crowd, scared they might miss something. I realized they weren’t going to be as rowdy as I had hoped, so I made my move quickly. “Fine, if that is the way it is going to be . . . You!” I pointed toward Jim’s table. The lights weren’t reversed yet, which meant they were shining in my eyes and it was kind of hard to see everyone, but I knew where Jim was sitting. “Me,” I heard his voice call back. It had a playful tone, which was a good thing. I imagine that up to this point he wasn’t sure I was going to go through with this. To be honest, neither was I. “Yes, you. Come up here. And the rest of you, be quiet!” The crowd responded appropriately, and so did Jim. I saw his portly form moving through the tables to the stairs that led up to the stage and the chair. “Sit down and behave.” I instructed. He did, and I could see a big grin on his face. I turned to the chalkboard, picked up the chalk, and began to give a very basic lecture on multiplication. I kept Jim in the corner of my eye, as the board was slanted at 45 degrees, and after almost a minute of my boring lecture, his smile began to disappear and his eyes turned to the crowd curiously. “Eyes up front!” I screamed, and his head jerked around. “That’s better,” I corrected. I turned completely around now, giving him my backside to look at. I pushed my butt out a bit and swished it as I wrote on the board. After ten seconds I turned my head and could clearly trace the line of his gaze. “Don’t look at me, look at the chalkboard.” I put the chalk down and turned to face him with my hands on my hips. “Or is math too boring for you?” He nodded his head, not sure what role he should be taking, but knowing that he didn’t want to watch me do multiplication tables. “How about something more interesting? How about human anatomy?” With that, I cast my eyes above Jim to where Terry was standing out of view and nodded quickly. He hit the lights and the music. In the flash of light and sound I ripped off my glasses with one hand and pulled the hair clip free with my other, tossing my blonde hair about my shoulders. The movement brought a sudden “Awwe,” from the crowd, but it ended oddly as the lights from the stage hit them in the face. I ended my hair tossing with my face toward the crowd as my right hand came up to undo the top button of my blouse. I looked at the squinting faces that were pointed at me and could see that even the tables that were only fifteen feet from the edge of the stage held people whose pupils were the size of pin pricks. Already I could see people shifting their eyes to Jim at the other end of the stage. I made sure the light shining on him was still on, and the one that would have backlit him was off. I swished to and fro a few more times to the music, tossing my hair over my shoulders and twisting my blouse to untuck it from my skirt. I looked at Jim, who had his eyes trained on me, and then back at the crowd to see that most of them weren’t even looking at me anymore. They had been told that this was something to humiliate Jim, and while a few of them still cast an occasional glance toward me, their squinting didn’t last long, and they understood the real entertainment was to watch the facial expressions on Jim. I sauntered toward the dirty old man now, swishing my hips and flexing my legs to force my skirt to slide up my thighs. I stopped at the table that separated us and leaned forward on it. I tossed my hair off to the side so it didn’t hide my cleavage, which he was staring intently at. “Now, naughty boy, pay attention.” A Dish Best Served Naked Ch. 02 I let him soak in the view for a few seconds, hoping for a drop of drool for the audience, but I didn’t get it. . . yet. As I stood up, I saw Terry still standing off-stage taking in the view as well. I scowled at him, confident Jim wouldn’t see the expression, his eyes focused several inches lower. Terry just shrugged his shoulders. I didn’t take that response and deepened my frown. He responded by reaching his hand toward the light controls, obviously threatening to flip them back. I shook my head, and he turned his palms up and shrugged again. I should have expected this, but if I could strip in front of Jim, someone I hated with a passion, letting Terry – someone I actually liked – see me shouldn’t be too bad. I tried to put him out of my mind and got on with the tease. I had picked some heavy jazz music with a good beat and a sultry saxophone. I thought it fit the old banquet hall better than something more modern. I swayed to the music now with my eyes closed trying to get into the mood. My hands went down to my knees and slid up my thighs, bunching the skirt up around my hips and then letting go to lift the long blouse up, revealing my flat stomach and bunching the white top under my chest. I palmed my breasts, my fingertips reaching to my open neckline to pull it further open. I made a playful attempt to push my breasts up and out of the neckline, but stopped just when I thought I might be successful. My hands continued up, caressing my long neck and playing with my hair. I bunched up my hair behind my head and then turned sideways to peak at my “student” through my crooked elbow. I nearly gagged at the sight of the horny older man leering at me in his private spotlight. My eyes shifted away quickly and found Terry examining my form as well. His handsome face looked at me hungrily too, but it wasn’t the slobbering look of a famished beast, but a discerning gentleman in a fine steak house preparing for a grade-A cut of meat. I wiggled my way down and then back up, shaking my “piece of meat” for him, and he nodded his approval. Jim didn’t notice our exchange over his head, and for my purposes he disappeared from view. I now danced for Terry, and images of his sweaty muscular form from our times in the racquetball court flittered through my mind and got me back in the mood. I turned another quarter turn and pumped my hips for him before delicately reaching back and unzipping my skirt. The zipper went a third of the way down the back of the skirt, and I held the top of both sides, gently pulling them apart and holding up my blouse so the slightest image of my thong could be seen before I dropped the skirt to the floor. The white fabric of my top hung down just below the bottom curve of my ass, but my long legs were now revealed as I stepped out of the bunched up skirt on the ground. I turned to face my student and voyeur with a wide stance. I jackknifed at the waist to the strong beat of the music, tossing my hair back and forth and touching the floor with my fingertips. I then slowly rose back up, my hands tracing the inside of my legs, caressing my inner thigh up to the bottom of my blouse, and then let my fingers go underneath to play while my palms hid the action. I turned again and pulled up my blouse to give the long view of my leg well past my thong and up to my waist, bending at the knees and humping the air to the music. I was facing the hall as I did this, and I was happy to see that most everyone was keeping their attention on Jim. A few occasionally back toward me to see what I was doing, and from the darkened silhouette they could judge my level of undress, but I doubt they saw much. Jim was the far more entertaining to watch. His eyes were bugging out of his head with a clear erection pitched in his lap. I think I saw a glint of drool at the corner of his mouth finally, and as I turned to face him again and begun to unbutton the rest of my blouse, the drool ran down his cheek. I couldn’t keep my sexy vibe going in my head with that picture before me, so my eyes went back to Terry, and my fingers continued to reveal the bounty beneath my top. I kept the blouse closed as I went, but after the last button, I didn’t wait to tease and opened my shirt quickly and walked out of it, letting it fall to the ground in my wake. I strutted my best runway walk toward the table, my hips hitting each bass note of the music. Jim was leaning on the table now, and as I got to it, he tried to reach across. His stubby arms weren’t quite long enough, and I stood just out of reach with the table top pressed against my leg at mid thigh. I stood with my hands on my hips, flexing my pelvis at him, watching his lustful eyes play along the edges of my lingerie. He would rip it off me if I gave him the chance. Instead, I grabbed the edge of the table with my hands and pulled it back with a large step. Jim nearly stumbled forward out of his chair, which brought a laugh from the crowd. If Jim heard it, he didn’t acknowledge it. With the table now just far enough away that his finger tips could brush it, I turned to give him a view of my ass swaying to the music just over the table top as my hands tousled my hair again. I waited for a change in rhythm in the song, and then hopped up on the table and spun sideways. It was a five foot table, and I rested my elbows at one end and my heels at the other. To the now slower music I arched my back and let my hair fall to the table, my breasts pointing straight into the air. My legs swapped positions up and down, for a while before I bought my back to the table. My hands caressed my body again, starting at my shoulders, my fingers tracing the lines of my bra over my chest. My hands made it down to my taunt stomach and I allowed the fingers of one hand to dip inside my panties. The fingers slid in and out of my pussy for a few seconds before I withdrew them to taste my juices. One look at Jim’s pants told me I wasn’t the only one who was wet, and I shuddered to think of that liquid on me. Surely that was what he was thinking about. Instead my eyes again found Terry standing in the distance, calmly examining me like an art critic. I’d give him something to look at. I propped myself up on the table again and reached behind to undo the clasp of my bra, careful not to release the straps too suddenly, else the taunt elastic would fling it into the air. Instead I let the tension out and then just allowed the cups lay on my chest with gravity. I went back to the table and reversed the motion of my hands, starting first at my crotch to play briefly and then to slide up and cup my breasts. As they slid up, they took the bra with them and flung it over my head to the floor. With my breasts revealed and my nipples erect, I danced horizontally to the music, thrusting my hips and arching my back. I tried not to look at Jim, but could sense motion from him, and caught a glimpse of him slowly getting up from his chair with his arm outstretched. I sat up suddenly and spun on my butt so my legs were pointing toward him. I extended a heel to his chest and pushed him back shaking my head. My breasts were now facing him for the first time, and he was hypnotized by their gentle back and forth swaying as I moved my head. His butt found his seat again, and I spun back away from him to get off the table in the same manner I had gotten on to it. The table was light weight plastic, and I shoved it toward the edge of the stage so it no longer sat between us. Now that I was closer to him, I figured that some of the light that shone on him, might find its way to me, and the table would act as a good barrier. Now I just danced for him. The music had picked up its pace again and I moved my body to it as fully as I ever had. My eyes made checks on Terry to see his reaction, and I wasn’t disappointed. My hips thrust side to side, forward and back as my breasts swung about in front of me. My hands went inside my panties and over my breast, into my hair and into my mouth. I threw my hair around and bent at the knees. I gave him views from the front, side and back. All the time I kept a half eye on Jim. His right hand was unconsciously rubbing his crotch, and as I looked back at the crowd, I saw that everyone could see it. Surely he knew that I was not going to have sex with him on stage or give him a blow job, so if he was going to get off on this, it would have to be manual. Still, I had more of my plan to unfold. I picked a staccato part of the song to turn back to him again, with my hands on my hips. I widened my stance and slipped my fingers under the thin straps of my thong that lay over my hips. I pushed down on the straps and they flipped over the front of the panties, seemingly peeling the material from my body. At this point Jim nearly lost it. That almost explosion seemed to make him realize where he was. His right hand adjusted to his thigh, as if he hadn’t just been jerking off in front of his whole company. And while he suddenly knew where he was, he also realized what was in front of him. I had told him I would strip down to my skin, and I had done that. If I had stopped there, he probably wouldn’t have complained. With my legs apart, the waist of the thong reached its maximum flex stretched across my thighs. The front of the panties had peeled down about an inch, revealing the top tuft of my neatly trimmed pubic hair. Would I go all the way? Did I need to? I stood there, my hips thrusting forward to the music, my breasts bouncing on my chest. I watched as Jim began to chew on his lip, never guessing I would go this far. I gave him an open mouthed smile, my tongue licking my lips as I playfully tugged down on my thong without it budging. I reached with my thumbs to peel down the triangle of fabric a little extra, tantalizingly showing him half an inch more of my pubic strip. My eyes went over Jim again to see Terry caught up in the moment as well. His eyes locked with mine and he nodded his head. In a smooth motion, I brought my legs together, bent at the waist, and dropped the tiny panties to the floor. Like with my blouse, as I stood up straight up, I walked out of them and my heels and walked directly toward Jim. My hips swayed more gracefully now. I was no longer a stripper, but a goddess, not thrusting but swaying to the music. No stitch of fabric interrupted the curves down my body, and my tanning regimen assured no lines either. I could see Jim barely restraining himself in his chair, his body pulsing with mine as I walked right up to him. I saw the bright spot on the floor that marked the crowd’s vision and I walked right up to it and stopped. From my left I heard a few groans from the crowd which at least gave me confidence that they still couldn’t see me well. Jim was about to rise again but I extended my left leg into the spot light and put my foot in his crotch. I found slight purchase on the edge of his chair and my toes curled up and down feeling the head of his cock. I had seen it before, and I knew it wasn’t too big, but neither was my foot, and my flexible toes gave it quite the workout through his disgustingly moist pants. My left hand came up to fondle my breast and my right went down below to play with my surprisingly moist pussy. I spread my lips for him and gave him an amazing view as my fingers went in and out. I moaned too, unconsciously at first, but more intensely as I realized what I was doing. Meanwhile my toes were getting wetter by the moment. He seemed to suddenly realize what I was doing below his belt, and with his eyes focused on my dripping fingers, I could see the irreversible tide rise within him. It was a seminal moment for him (pun intended). He was in front of his company and was about to have one of his most powerful orgasms ever. He stood quickly and nervously, my foot leaving his crotch and forcing me to step back. He looked for a place to hide, but it was too late. His hands dropped to his dick as the first wave hit him. His thighs and hips convulsed as his legs gave way and he fell to his knees. He let out an odd squeaking sound that the perfect acoustics of the stage sent out over the hushed crowd in the hall. The wet spot on the front of his pants grew to a preposterous size, and he fell into a fetal position. The aftershocks went through him for a few more seconds before he finally lay still. “Lesson over,” I said. Without reveling in the moment any longer, I hurried over to the chalkboard, grabbed my coat and walked off the far side of the stage. I breathed a huge sigh of relief once I was out of sight. I took a few moments to catch my breath as I tied the coats strap around my waist. I had done it. His orgasm was a bit more humiliating than I had hoped it would be, and maybe this would only force him to get after me more, but I had at least beat him this round. And besides, if his revenge was to take upskirt pictures of me and circulate them around the office, I suddenly didn’t care. I had shown my vulnerability to the rest of the office, and even if they couldn’t see anything clearly, they knew I was taking off clothes and at the end was completely naked. They could make out a dark silhouette, so they could see my curves. Any upskirt was nothing compared to that. As I finally composed myself to walk deeper into the backstage area, I felt my wet thighs rubbing together. I reached down between the folds of my coat and was shocked how wet I was. I flicked my clit a bit and realized I was incredibly turned on and almost felt jealous that Jim was the one who got the orgasm. Continued in Part 3 A Dish Best Served Naked Ch. 03 *This is a story in three parts that will only makes sense if read in order. *This is Part 3 * I had to take the long route back stage to my dressing room since I had exited off the wrong side, and predictably, Terry was waiting for me. "That was amazing!" he gushed. "I still can't believe you did a strip tease in front of the whole company." "Thanks," I blushed. Sure, now I blush. Not when I was naked on stage in front of fifty people, but when I am with one and wrapped in a full length trench coat. "And the sight of Jim rolling on the floor wetting his pants is priceless." "I couldn't have done it without you." I opened the door to my dressing room and stepped inside. "The lights and music were easy," he said, still respectfully standing in the hallway. I looked at him for a while, my eyes drawing a line in the air before him to lead him into the room. He took the bait and sheepishly stepped inside. I closed the door and locked it behind him. He was too caught up in what had just happened to realize what was going to happen. "You probably could have rigged that easily enough yourself," he kept babbling nervously. "Though I'm pretty glad you didn't." It was crowded in the small dressing room with both of us standing so he sat in the chair by the desk, turning it so it faced me as I sat on the couch. "I don't mean the lights," I said, arranging the coat on my legs so my bare knee showed through the slit in the front as I crossed my legs. I could feel the heat of my pussy growing as I watched the man in front of me fidget nervously in my presence. "What, the music?" he asked. "I mean I couldn't have done the strip without you standing there. I wouldn't have been as good. I wouldn't have gotten Jim like I did." "And boy did you get him. I'm sorry I ever doubted your plan. People are going to remember that moment with him filling his pants for years to come. Your tease will be a side bar. I didn't know how a woman like you could strip in front of a crowd and have that not be what people remembered." "Will you remember it?" I asked coyly, shifting the coat so the front slit opened wider and higher up my thigh. "Absolutely," he said. "Good," I replied. "Because like I said, I couldn't have done it without you." "What do you mean by that?" he finally took the bait. "I mean if I had to strip for the slob that is still probably flopping around the stage like a fish, It would have been short and sweet. I wouldn't have put any heart into it and I probably would have never gotten him to explode. But with you standing behind him, voyeuristically eying me up . . ." I lost my breath a bit, "it sent a thrill through me." "Your welcome," he gulped, finally noticing how high the slit had moved up my thigh. "I wish I hadn't been off stage though." I could see sweat standing out on his forehead. "Why is that?" I asked, slowly uncrossing my legs and pulling a Sharon Stone move from Basic Instinct as I recrossed them. The slit in the front of the coat was now completely open to my hips and only my crossed legs kept my treasure hidden. "I wish I had been in that chair." "What's wrong with the chair you are in now?" I asked. He looked about the feet of his chair before he understood exactly what I was saying. By the time he looked up again I was up from the couch and walking toward him. The coat was down and hiding my legs again, but the knot was loose and it spread wide as I sat on his lap, straddling him. His hands dropped to my freshly shaven legs, he gently caressed them from my knee to the edge of the coat. I was bolder and reached for his belt, opening it quickly and unzipping his pants. He kicked off his shoes and I stood up briefly to pull off his pants. I sat down again, now feeling his skin on my ass. His hairy, muscular legs turned me on even more, and I slid back and forth, my pussy leaving a trail of liquid on his thighs. Terry reached for the knot at my waist, but I slapped his hand and instead worked at his shirt. I undid enough buttons to pull his shirt over his head, and his undershirt afterwards. His erection made its reappearance, pitching a tent in his boxers, but I ignored it for now, wanting this to last. "You don't know how many times I've wanted to follow you into the locker room after our games of racquetball," I said, moving my hands through the sparse hair on his muscular chest. "Follow me?" he replied incredulously. "I lose sleep most nights after our games dreaming of what you look like under your shorts and sports bra." I giggled at how I must have driven him crazy, playing in only a sports bra the past few weeks. Not surprisingly, my winning percentage had gone up. "Well, now you know," I told him. "I don't think I remember." "Well, let me refresh your memory." I stood and backed away from him. The knot was now barely holding the coat together, and the "V" neckline of the heavy lapels gave a full cleavage shot all the way down to my navel. I pulled on the knot slowly and opened the front of the coat even more slowly, revealing everything to his searching eyes at once. I enjoyed the way his gaze traced the lines of my curves, not drooling like my last observer, but truly taking me in and appreciating me. It made me feel really hot. "I want you to fuck me, right here, right now!" Nothing else needed to be said. Terry got up from the chair and somehow managed to get his boxers down over his enormous erection. He came into like an avalanche, picking me up in his strong arms and carrying me into a wall. My back hit hard into the old drywall, and a picture hanging next to us fell down. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he palmed my ass to lift me up and enter me. His swollen cock felt great inside my hot pussy, and I helped him out by pushing hard off his shoulders with my hands, our strong, athletic bodies working well together. I bounced up and down hard, my clit stimulated by his coarse pubic hair with every bounce. My breasts shook wildly in front of his face, and his tongue searched out my hard nipples like a kid trying to catch a snowflake in a blizzard. I'm not the lightest woman in the world, and I could tell he was getting a little tired. I pushed off the wall with my shoulders and hugged him tightly as he stumbled backwards for a step and then turned to drop me on the couch. He came out of me, but quickly dropped to his knees in front of the sofa as I slouched forward with my legs spread at the edge of the cushion. He entered me again, with much more force and leverage this time. With his hands frees he reached forward for my ever bouncing breasts. He held them loosely, appreciating their movement and girth in his bowled fingers. "Harder! Faster!" I cried. Sweat was running down his face now as he answered my call. I could also see the growing strain on his face as the orgasm was building inside him. I didn't want it to end quite yet, though. I pushed off the back of the couch with my arms and stood up, pulling him out of me and actually smacking him in the forehead with my wet pussy. He allowed himself to be knocked backwards, rotating his knees to point up in the air with his toes under the front edge of the couch. I stood over him for a few moments, allowing him to appreciate this very intimate view of me. Once I saw a calm expression pass over his face, I knew the moment of no return for him had been avoided. I rubbed my clit for him and slowly slid three fingers inside me. I'd never been able to ejaculate like those crazy women on the internet, but I do produce a lot of thick, white cream that my past lovers told me tastes like sugar. I scooped a good portion out with my fingers and then sat on his chest, proceeding to slowly feed him one finger at a time. He moaned his approval, and hungrily licked each finger clean. "You want more?" I asked. He nodded his head. I sat up to my knees and inched forward till his mouth lined up with my dripping honeypot. It was a difficult angle for him, so I reached down and laced my fingers behind his head to give him support. His tongue was alive with action and tidal waves of ecstasy washed through me as he dove into my love hole, cleaning out my juices and the flicking my clit to produce more. When I masturbate, I don't quite until I get at least three orgasms, and I could feel the first one building now. I come more easily through mental stimulation than physical, and the events of the last half hour had put me on the brink already. He sensed me growing suddenly calm as the orgasm built, and he redoubled his efforts. My hands left his head and clutched at my breasts, squeezing them hard as the crescendo built. His neck was only strong enough to hold his head within reach for a few more seconds, but it was long enough. I cried out in orgasm and fell forward, my hands catching me and my pelvis smacking Terry in the face with my convulsions, smearing my thick cream all over his mouth and nose. My thighs were quivering violently and I didn't think I could support myself. I rolled off to the side to keep from smothering my lover and lay on my back breathing deeply. My hands roamed my body, sliding over my stomach, feeling my erect nipples, and approaching my still throbbing pussy. I got as far as my trimmed landing strip, but couldn't bring myself to examine the oh-so sensitive area. I noticed Terry rise next to me and then moved to stand over me as I had done to him. I appreciated the view, thinking to myself that I had never seen such a picture of masculinity. His penis was still very large, but no longer rock hard. His balls were relatively smooth and lay engorged on his thighs promising a thick stream of cum when we finally got to that point. His chest was glistening with sweat, his hard abs and full pecs rolling up and down with his heavy breathing. My thick cream was still on his face and he made sure I was watching as he meticulously collected it with his index finger and slowly sucked it off. He then knelt over me till his dick lay between my breasts. He had one more finger full to clean off, and when he did, instead of licking it off, he brought it down to my mouth and smeared it around my lips before letting me suck his finger. I swirled my tongue around his digit, tasting my own sweetness. He slowly pulled his finger out and then watched as I licked my lips clean. "Very nice," he said. "Do you have anymore?" "Let's find out." I had regained some strength in my legs and reaching forward to grab his waist and rolled over. He allowed the movement and rolled to his back. I then reversed positions over top of him to go 69. His dick was about three licks away from being rock hard again, but before I even got a chance, I felt him go to work on my pussy again. His strong hands gripped my ass and fingered my asshole as his tongue made laps around my clit, darting into my cunt with each pass. I grabbed his cock to repay the favor, but wasn't able to put much effort into stroking him off as he sent shock waves through my body. I could tell he was enjoying this view of my ass, because he occasionally pushed me forward to like my anus, his tongue also darting into that hole. His fingers played with the moistened opening, and I clenched reflexively at each probe. That didn't deter him, though as he tried to distract my by licking my pussy again. I took his now fully erect cock in my mouth, tasting his precum as I swirled my tongue around his soft head, but I was only at it for a few seconds when he did another quick switch down below, shoving his tongue into my vagina, coming out to lick my clit and then dragging back over my pussy to lick my asshole, only to go back to my clit. It was too much, and I needed both hands on the floor to support me as my body went eerie still again in the prelude to another orgasm. He gripped my ass firmly sensing what was coming and he pulled my body down tight over his face, riding the wave when it finally splashed over me. With each jolt that ripped through me, his mouth played again over my most sensitive area and it triggered another shock wave. I finally found the strength to roll off him again and lay exhausted, my breasts heaving with each breath. He was chuckling to himself at my condition. "You have an amazing ass," he told me, still laying on his back staring at the ceiling. Then suddenly he got up and walked across the room toward the desk. "Get up," he instructed. "I, wha-, huh . . ." I didn't really have breath to answer him. "Get up," he simply repeated. There was no anger in his voice, but a calm forcefulness that I found further arousing. He'd given me a lot of pleasure so far, I'd let him use me as he wanted now. When I got to my knees I saw him walking back with a tube of moisturizer that had been sitting on the desk. "An ass as nice as yours should not remain unfucked." "But I never. . ." I started, but he looked at me with his calm, firm eyes. "Get up." I obeyed. He pulled the couch away from the wall and he moved me behind it, facing the high back. "Just relax," he told me, feeling me tense up. I heard him squirt a shot of moisturizer into his hands and then felt the cool lotion on my hips. He pressed into the back of me, his hard cock vertical in my butt crack. His hands move up and around to my rib cage, gently massaging the lotion into my hot skin. His fingers flowed like silk over my flesh, gently needing the moisturizer into my breasts. It felt great, and the trepidation I was feeling about anal sex was moving to the back of my mind. He got a refill of the lotion and moved to my shoulders, he massaged those as well, releasing all of the tension built up by two intense orgasms. He pushed down on my back and I bent over the couch, letting him work the long line of my spine. After more lotion dispensed directly to my lower back, he began to knead my butt cheeks. He pulled his cock away to give himself access and he worked my upper thighs as well, his ever mischievous fingers curling under me to play with my pussy as well. My forearms were resting on the back of the couch and I felt utterly at peace as he lubed me up. Then, without warning, came the powerful thrust. I hadn't felt him apply anything to my asshole, so he must have given his dick a good coating. I cried out at the sudden invasion and clenched hard. I tried to stand up, but his right hand placed between my shoulder blades kept me down. He tried to thrust in ant out, but I held him like a vice. But what little movement he did get sent tingles through my body. I took a brief moment to explore that feeling, and with that, I unclenched, and he began pounding away. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. It was so much better than a good shit, that it was hardly comparable. Instead of lasting a couple seconds, the sensation just kept flowing over and over. I started moaning loudly and rotating my hips as he thrust. He slapped my ass with one hand and reached under to fondle my clit with the other. The realization of what was happening to me was such a mind fuck that I barely even recognized my next orgasm coming. It hit me like a ton of bricks as my legs went slack. Terry rode out the wave, grabbing onto my hips to hold me up. My anus clenched and released over and over, and I heard him begin to cry out as well. Suddenly his strong hands moved me to the side of the couch and flipped me around over the arm rest so that my back fell onto the cushions with my knees over the edge. Terry had his cock in hand as he stood over the armrest between my knees, slowly wringing his cock and biting his lip. My shock waves were mostly over, and I propped myself up on my elbows to watch his orgasm. His eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth opened in a silent moan as his hand started to spasm on his cock. There was a half second of total stillness, and then his balls exploded shooting forth a thick stream of cum. I watched it arch over my reclined body, and had enough time to shift my head to catch the leading edge of the stream. The rest of the shot laid a thick cord of white from my chin, over my left breast and to the bottom of my rib. He convulsed again twice more and two much smaller shots landed in between my breasts and on my navel. His left hand found support on the back of the couch as his posture slumped from the effort. His erection continued to drip slowly onto my knee over the armrest and ran down my inverted thigh. I scooted forward to sit up on the armrest so his dick was aimed at my chest and slowly rubbed his softening cock, working out the rest of his semen onto my breasts. I felt the shocks go through him as his orgasm receded. His knees were wobbling now, and he put a hand on my shoulder for support as he stumbled around to the front of the couch and plopped onto the cushions behind me. I leaned back and was soon lying on his thighs smiling up into his panting face. He smiled back at me and managed a laugh. "Good for you?" he asked between breaths. "Best in a very long time." And I hoped it wouldn't be the last time for us. He definitely knew what to do with his tongue. "Best two out of three?" I asked, repeating something we often said when we play racquetball. "Are you kidding?" he gasped. "You did me so good, I doubt I'll get another erection in a week." "Naw," I argued. "I could get you up again in 30 seconds." His breathing was back under control now and he looked at my body that lay on his lap. My finger were playing with his cum, swirling it around a tit while my other hand rested on my thigh. His eyes looked intently at my pubic hair, know what lay between my closed thighs, the smell of it still rich in the air. "Yes, you probably could, but let's save it for another time." "Okay," I lamented. I rolled off his lap and swung my legs under me. I got up and walked over to the sink to clean off. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked naked across the room, and I added an extra swish to my hips for him. "Shit, you're gorgeous." I turned to look at him over my shoulder. "Sure you don't want to go again?" He looked down at his limp dick lying on his thigh. "Definitely again," he replied, "just not now." "Have it your way," I said, running warm water over a few paper towels and washing off. "Will you have enough energy for racquetball tomorrow?" "Sure." "Good," I said, turning to look at him, my body wet and glistening. "Looser strips and showers for the winner." He laughed. "I think I'm going to like this." The END