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Problems

By: litpervgrrl



I am more than a little bit phobic about sex. I blame it on my Catholic upbringing. I’ve never had sex without throwing up afterward. I’m scared of getting pregnant; terrified of catching a disease; but mostly just creeped out by the idea of another person touching my privates. It really makes my skin crawl.

I don’t want you to get the impression that I’m a prude. Throughout high school I masturbated all the time, raiding my brothers under-the bed porn stash for inspiration. When I was 18, I bought my first vibrator.

Oh I lost my virginity, and it did little to increase my enthusiasm for the forbidden act. In my second year of college, I hooked up with a guy I thought was cute at a party. We were both a little drunk, and it was clumsy, awkward, uncomfortable, and over mercifully fast. At least I made sure he used a condom. The next month was torture. I got an AIDS test, I made a gynecologist appointment; I fretted and worried and counted the days till my period. The relief I felt when the test came back negative, and my period came on schedule didn’t encourage me to go out and have sex again. 

For the next two years, I studied hard, and got good grades. I didn’t exactly have to fight off the guys; I am exceptionally tall, I don’t have big boobs, and I wear glasses. In the mean time, my pent up lust increased to the point of bursting. I remember masturbating in my dorm room, my ear pressed against the wall, listening to my neighbor fuck her boyfriend, tears running down my cheeks in frustration. My sex toy collection steadily increased.

In my senior year, I started dating Charlie. He wasn’t a ‘nice’ boy; he had a pierced tongue, and played in a band, and smoked pot, and most importantly, he didn’t pressure me to have sex with him. He was a hell of a kisser though, and eventually I worked up the nerve to ask him if he would like to watch me masturbate. 

I liked watching him stroke himself with his eyes glued to my spread pussy, a slick purple vibrator sliding in and out. It was really only the second time I had seen a penis in real life. I liked the way his come shot out the end of it (safely away from me), and the noise he made when he came. It was really pornographic. My clit twitching, I had an amazing orgasm as he watched.

Needless to say, it quickly became a habit. I loved watching him get off, and he got off watching me. Overnight, I had an amazing sex life. One time he asked if I would use my hand on him, and to my surprise, I didn’t mind. I wore a latex glove, and pumped his penis until he cried aloud and his sperm splashed all over his sexy smooth chest. I liked how hard and smooth his penis felt, and how tight I could squeeze it. I like varying the rhythms, slower then faster until his balls contracted and the head turned bright purple. And I loved making him come.

So that’s the way it was. We’d watch porn together and masturbate; or he’d jack off while I toyed for him; or I’d put on a glove and lube up his stiff cock and give him a hand job. Life was good.

I could tell he was nervous. We were hanging out in my apartment, we had just had a couple beers, and this was the time of night when we would usually get naked and watch each other get off. He was being quiet, and I could tell something was on his mind. I was afraid that he was going to ruin everything and ask me to have sex with him. When he finally asked, I nearly laughed aloud. “Would I like to fuck him in the ass?” I’d love to! My cunt was dripping just thinking about it. 

I let him pick out the toy. He chose one of my smaller dildos, a blue silicone one that looked like a mermaid. I was wet just thinking about it. He asked me to be gentle. “I’m a virgin at this”, he said. 

He got on his hands and knees, his rump thrust obscenely into the air. His cock swayed rigidly between his legs, his balls were tight. A clear drop of precome leaking from the swollen purple tip of his cock got stuck to his belly and hung there in a shimmering arc like a sticky thread of spider web.

He looked back at me, eyes glazed over with lust. “Please fuck me, Andrea.”

I put on my latex gloves and started applying lube. He moaned and his little asshole winked as I dripped cool lube onto his anus. We were both incredibly excited.

I was gentle, and I took it slow, but he was so relaxed that it slipped right in. Before we knew it, the toy was buried to the hilt in my boyfriend’s tight ass.

“How does it feel?” I asked.

“It feels great” he whispered “now try fucking me.”

Gingerly at first, then harder and harder as he encouraged me, I started sliding the dildo in and out. I would withdraw it almost all the way out, then slide it back in. He would hump back against me, fucking back against my thrusts. I twisted the toy inside him, and he moaned satisfyingly. I was amazed at how wet I was, my juices were literally running down my thighs onto the sheets. I stopped holding back, and fucked him with a vengeance, ramming the dildo up his ass until my arm was sore and my shoulder ached. He was jerking off now, in time to my thrusts, and when he came, he arched his back and shouted, and the jet of semen hit him in the chin.

I couldn’t wait to get off. Leaving the blue cock inside him, I physically rolled him over and squatted over his face to give him a prime view. It took about two seconds of tugging on my clit before the orgasm started. I felt my toes curl and my pussy spasm, and I just let the waves roll over me again and again until I was done.

“That was amazing” I said, and he agreed.

“Let’s do that again.”

We did do it again. And again and again. Fucking his ass became a regular part of our sex life. I had no idea what I had done to make me so lucky.

Eventually it was over. He met another girl, one who liked normal sex, one who would touch his penis without needing to wear gloves. I don’t know if she fucks his ass, and I don’t ask. We stayed friends; we write Christmas cards and call each other on our birthdays. I guess that’s about the most one could ask.

After I graduated, I moved to New York. Do you have any idea how hard it is to date boys in New York when you aren’t really into the bar and club scene, and when you let the occasional guy who does ask you out know up front that you don’t put out? My love life was completely nonexistent.

After six months of frustration and jilling off to memories of fucking Charlie from behind, I decided that desperate times called for desperate measures. I placed an ad in the Village Voice.

“Tall, slim twenty something female seeks cute guy. I’m not a prude but I don’t like sex. Maybe we can have some fun together.”

I got a lot of responses. They were all from guys who were out to convince me that they were the one who was going to teach me to love sex. I didn’t get a single message that warranted a callback. Disgusted, I fell back on my two favorite indulgence; porn and dildos.

I knew my ad was still running, but I hadn’t bothered to check it in a week. There were six new voice messages, down to a trickle from the previous weeks. Five were the same old messages from the same old guys with the ‘wonder cocks’. One was from a girl.

It made me sit down and think. I’d never really thought much about lesbian sex. The idea of a tongue in my pussy ooked me out almost as much as the idea of having a penis in there, and it wouldn’t matter if the mouth belonged to a male or a female; it was still dirty. But I had seen a lot of lesbian porn, and I had nothing in principal against the idea of being with a woman. The message was brief, but her voice sounded nice. “My name is Laura, and I’m 25. I know you were looking for men, but I thought your ad was interesting, and I wondered if you would like to talk.” And she left a phone number.

I decided to give her a call: what the hell.

My heart was racing as I dialed the number. A combination of excitement and dread, I guess. The whole personal ad thing was stupid, humiliating. A girl answered the phone, and I almost hung up. No, it wasn’t Laura, it was her roommate. Could I hold on?

I held on, and Laura got on the line. We introduced ourselves, and there was an uncomfortable pause. I took a deep breath. “Listen” I said “there’s a couple of things I’d like to let you know right away. I’m not a lesbian. I mean I’ve never dated a girl before. But I’m not opposed to the idea and you sounded nice so…” my voice trailed off.

“Go on” she said.

“Well”, and I hesitated, not sure how to put it “I’m really not comfortable with physical sex. I’m not just talking about penises. I guess I have a bit of neurosis about it. I don’t like other people touching my… my vagina. But I do like to play.”

“How do you feel about touching other people?” she asked.

I laughed a little. “Well that’s a fair question. I guess I wouldn’t mind touching if I wore latex gloves. But I wouldn’t be able to go down on you” I was blushing furiously. “That’s probably not the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.”

“It’s ok” she laughed “I have some hang-ups too. I think I’d like to meet you, if that’s what you would like.”

It turned out that we didn’t live far from each other. We agreed to meet at a bar a few blocks away.

It took me a long time to get dressed, and I’m not a fussy dresser. I was nervous and excited. I wanted her to be attracted to me. I wanted something to happen. What, I wasn’t really sure.

I spotted her right away. She was way cute. Everything about her was small: she was about five foot nothing and really skinny. Her hair was dyed bright red and done up in pony tails, she had freckles on her cheeks and flashing blue eyes, and she wore blue jeans and scuffed up Doc Martins. I loved her hands: she had little hands with clean, neatly trimmed nails. It looked like she worked with her hands and took good care of them. They were girl hands that were pretty but not pampered.

Right from the start we got along really well. Things only seemed awkward for a moment, and then we were chatting away like old school chums. We drank two beers together, and the topic of sex and relationships never came up. Then we were buzzed, and it was late, and we both had to work in the morning.

It was cold outside the bar. I took her hand in mine, and she squeezed back.

“Laura” I said “I had a good time tonight. Do you think you’d like to go out again?’

“Yeah” she said “I would.”

“Hey, would you like me to walk you home?” I cursed myself: what a dorky thing to say.

“No, you don’t have to do that. It’s totally out of your way. But if you don’t mind, I’d like a goodnight kiss.”

And so I kissed a girl. I was happy to discover that it wasn’t very different from kissing a boy, and at least as nice. I slipped my tongue into her mouth and held her tight. It seemed to last for a very long time. Then we both became conscious that we were in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Call me!” She waved and headed off. I was still reeling from the kiss. I hurried back to my apartment. My clit was throbbing, and I couldn’t wait to get home to my toy drawer.

The next day at work, I had an emergency conference with my friend Steve over lunch. “I’ve never been in a situation like this. How long do I wait before I call her?”

“Call her.” Steve said.

I called her when I got home from work. She wasn’t there, so I left a message. I then proceeded to mope around the apartment, pretending not to wait for her to call. A little after eight, the phone rang.

It was Laura, and she wanted to know if I would like to hang out. She suggested the bar we had met at the night before. I took a deep breath and mentioned that I had beer in my fridge. She said she’d be right over.

We had a beer, we kissed, we kissed some more, and then we moved onto the bed; kissing and touching and rolling around. Under my jeans, my panties were soaked. She reached up under my shirt, tweaking my erect nipple through my bra. I really didn’t want to fuck this up.

“Listen.” I said. “Stop for a second. I’m really excited, and I want to do things with you, but there are a lot of things I’m just not comfortable with.”

“It’s OK.” She said. “I’m not exactly… normal either.” There was a long silence, and we both looked at each other. “Would you be comfortable spanking me?”

“Spanking you?”

“Yes.” she said, and I realized I was holding my breath. “What I’d really like is for you to beat my ass, like really hard, while I masturbate.”

“I’d love to do that for you.” We got naked fast. I was drooling with lust for her taught little body. Her breasts were small and conical, pink nipples pierced with thick barbells. Her pussy had a soft triangle of dark hair over it: on her tummy just above the pubes, there was the tattoo of a butterfly. She bent over my bed, presenting her firm, pale butt for me. It was beautiful.

“Spank me” she whispered. I raised my arm and slapped her ass. Her flesh jiggled and I left the red imprint of my hand on her ass. “Harder. Don’t hold back.” 

Her pussy was aroused, her labia pouting open and glistening with moisture. Her ass wiggled provocatively at me. I slapped her again and again, as hard as I could, turning her cheeks red, while she rubbed her clit.

I couldn’t keep it up long. It hurt my hand too much. “Don’t stop” she groaned, keeping a finger on her clit “use a ruler or a hairbrush or something.”

I got the hairbrush from my dresser. “Would you like to use a vibrator while I do this?”

“Fuck yes!”

I handed her one of my favorites. She slipped it right up her pussy and started fucking herself while her other hand kept busy with her clit, her face half buried in the sheets.

I beat her ass with the back of the hairbrush. I hit her as hard as I could. I started counting my strokes, but I lost track around twenty. She was gasping, sobbing, but always telling me not to stop.

Finally she gasped “I don’t think I can take any more.” I lowered my aching arm, and let the hairbrush fall. Her ass was a mess, all red and covered with angry raised welts. I had broken the skin in a couple places, and a trickle of blood ran down the back of one thigh. Her hands were busy between her legs, eyes shut and forehead knotted in concentration. 

“Could I fuck your ass while you do that?”

“Please” she said “Do it.”

I grabbed another dildo from the drawer, and squirted lube all over it. It happened to be the blue mermaid that had been Charlie’s first choice. I was so excited I didn’t even bother putting on my gloves. I gently spread her poor abused cheeks, revealing the delicate brown rose of her asshole. I pressed the dildo inside her.

It was hard work getting it in. She was a small girl, and the resistance from the toy in her pussy made it harder. I took it slow and eventually I had the whole thing buried in her ass. I could feel the buzz and the frantic movement of the vibrator in her pussy, bumping against the dildo in her ass. I grabbed a fistful of her scarlet hair and pulled hard, twisting the dildo and fucking her ass mercilessly, and when she came, it was with a violence that almost scared me. She kicked and thrashed, her eyes squeezed tight and her face locked in silent ecstasy. 

When she was done, she rolled over, and the blue mermaid popped out of her butt. “Where do you keep those damn gloves?”

“In a box in the top drawer.”

She ran over to the dresser and put on a pair of gloves with a snap. I lay, exhausted and melting with sexual excitement, naked on the bed as she came back with my ‘Hello Kitty’ in one gloved hand. I knew what she was going to do, and somehow it didn’t bother me at all. I wanted her.

She urgently pushed my legs apart, exposing my sopping wet puss. My clit was throbbing like an over inflated balloon, ready to explode at the slightest touch. She buried two slippery, latex-covered fingers in my hungry cunt, going straight for my g-spot; and at the same time, pressed Hello Kitty to my needy clit. I came like the ocean. I don’t know how long I orgasmed, but when it finally slowed down, I realized I was sobbing. 

“Are you ok?”

All I could say was “Wow.”

Wow indeed. Laura told me that I was great, and that she probably wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week. And when she could sit down again, she told me, she would probably bring a riding crop for me to use. Until then, what did I think about a strap-on?

I thought that sounded pretty great.

End

Problems



This is just a flash story. Nothing too serious about it. I know half of what he has done will be borderline illegal and things cannot be done this way in real life but hey, this is the fantasy world!

The story has been updated and I must thank Sue, my editor for taking time out and making the story much better structured than it was earlier. If there are any mistakes still left be sure they were introduced by me when I did my "creative" thing with the final edit version from Sue.

I have been celibate for the last four years of my life. In those last four years I haven't had sex with anyone except the five sisters. And, before you ask, I am not a fat slob who is unlucky with women. I am what many have described as quite the eye candy. I am Six feet tall with washboard abs, a decent size dick, a killer sense of humor and a wife more beautiful than Ava Gardner. Yes, I have a wife. Now you know why this story is in the Loving Wives section of your favorite website.

I discovered four years ago that my wife was stepping out on me. Why did she step out on me, you ask? I have no idea and to be brutally honest I don't give a damn. I am 40 now. Yesterday, Amy, my youngest daughter got married and now I have no obligations left in the world. The only reason I endured the life of a cuckold was for the sake of my two daughters, who deserved better than a broken home. Nothing had changed for me, except for the sex, I was still as affectionate to my wife and daughter as I ever was. I was more concerned with giving my two darlings a complete set of parents.

How did I get away with refusing sex to my wife for four long years? The miracle of medicine. I am a research scientist with a federal agency and I know of a drug that can create the effect of erectile dysfunction and has no side effects. We use the drug to tame violent sex-offenders in custody. No, I am not going to name the drug here or anywhere else for that matter, it is a controlled drug, after all. So, for Kelly, I've had an erectile dysfunction for the last four years and it has not bothered her much, she is quite happy playing house with her boss Dennis.

Today, after the relatives left, I sat down and took stock of what needed to be done. I had already sold the mountain cabin and the ranch to give a cash gift to my eldest daughter and, unknown to my wife; I had also sold the house we lived in and given a marriage gift of cash to Amy yesterday. We had till the end of the month to pass on the house to the new owners. Both these sales monies were deposited into the joint account that Kelly and I had and the cheques given to Mandy and Amy were cosigned by both of us for sentimental reasons. Kelly did not ask me where the money came from as she had taken little interest in our finances. All that she knew about our finances was that she had a heavy-duty credit card which was paid in full on the first of every month. In her eyes we were very rich. We were very rich indeed, until such time as I decided to become poor. I had been systematically moving all of our money into the names of the girls for the last four years and although neither of my daughters had anything to worry about regarding their future, I was broke. I had already cashed in my 401K and spent every dime of it on Amy's marriage. In short, I was legally broke with nothing done illegally.

Kelly had rushed off to take care of something after her brother left and I knew exactly where. She was going to the Holiday Inn room number 102 to meet her lover. I knew that they planned to be there all day and she was to come back in the evening around 5. That was not going to happen; we were going to meet in another half an hour. I got into my car, which was pretty much all that I owned now and drove down to the Holiday Inn. Calmly I knocked on the door of room 102. It was Dennis who opened the door and he was taken aback to see me instead of the room-delivery that he was expecting. I walked in and he was alone in the room. I sat down on the sofa and look at him. Not a word was exchanged between us as yet. I was carrying a simple briefcase and nothing else.

Kelly walked out of the bathroom in a teddy and found me sitting on the sofa and Dennis sitting with his head in his hands on the bed. Did I tell you Dennis worked for his father and the house, the car, and all those things that mattered, were either in the name of the company or his wife. Come to think of it, in the case of his divorce he was flat broke too. That was the reason he had his head in his hands. Kelly was defiant as she looked into my eyes. "I am sorry you found out. I had to do something once I found out that we were never going to have sex again. Dennis means nothing for me except an erect cock and he knows it. He is a gentleman and has never sneered on you or spoken lightly about you. He knows that the only reason I am with him is your condition." She knew how to say the right things at the right time. But then, that is what you expect from a receptionist, isn't it. Quick thinking on her feet when faced with a call that the boss wanted to dodge.

"How long?" I asked.

"Three years. Have you seen any change in me in the last three years? I still love you just the same as I did when you were able to have sex."

"I am sure I am still able to have sex." I said to which she replied that she did not know if just getting her pussy licked was sex enough for her.

"Okay, lets imagine a dimly lit bedroom, a few candles and soft music. Both of us are naked, I am on top of you looking in your eyes and telling you how beautiful you are, how you make me complete and how my soul is bare in front of you since the day we met. I have a strap on dildo around my waist and I am making love to you enthusiastically and lovingly. The false penis, costing around $5000, feels just like the real thing including its throbbing and the false sperm that it ejaculates when I push the buttons in my hand. This is scenario one and this hotel room is scenario two. Which would you chose?"

"Of course, the first scenario with you."

"Then why are you here?"

"I did not think about the strap-on idea and if you are so smart suggesting it now, why did you not suggest it before I became frustrated enough to take up with Dennis?"

"Because my darling, before you took it up with Dennis, I did not need a strap-on. In fact, I do not need a strap on still." With that I opened the briefcase and took out Prosecution's evidence number 1 - a picture of me sporting a hard-on and the Gucci hat she bought a week ago to wear at Amy's marriage. Sure, I looked funny wearing a woman's hat with a hard-on but not as funny as she did when she saw the picture.

"When did this problem go away?"

"Oh, the problem has not gone away as yet. Ah, you mean the hard-on problem? That never existed - I was faking it with the assistance of a little drug I know. I stopped taking it a couple of weeks back." I turned to Dennis and spoke to him for the first time in four years. "I hope you are not getting bored. I will be out of here in another half an hour and then she will be all yours."

Then I turned towards Kelly who was really confused by this time. "Now, let's discuss our problem. I think I will discuss the events leading to our problems here.

My problem was that I found out that my wife was stepping out on me. I found that out 4 years and 2 months ago.

Then you had a problem and your problem was that your husband was suddenly impotent.

Then I had a problem and my problem was that my wife did not care for me enough to consider it a problem that I was impotent.

But that is all in the past. I solved the biggest of my problems by taking my medication. I wanted to be away from you sexually whilst we were still together and I had to stay together with you till the girls were married. Now they are married, my problems were resolved by my attorney yesterday drawing up our divorce papers. Now we come to your problem - How are you going to support yourself on the meager salary that you get. I am broke and I am moving to India after the divorce is final. I am sure I can find a job there with the technology boom that they have."

Then I turned back to Dennis and said, "You must be feeling left out of all these problems that I have been talking about. I am, however, in a rather giving mood today, so I will give you a problem too ... just to ensure that you don't feel left out. I am not angry with you for cuckolding me, nor am I a vindictive bastard that I would try to hurt you on purpose. The detective agency that I used to gather evidence for divorce was Paul Drake Detectives. I had no idea that Paul was your brother. He talked about this with your wife a week back. I have a message from your wife that your keys to the house won't work. There, you have a problem of your own now." Dennis was lost for words and he was too broken even to shout at me or threaten me. As for Kelly, she was just sitting in a corner looking at me with an expression of disbelief and a tear in her eyes.

"And lastly, you have to move out of the house by the end of the month. I cannot thank you enough for suggesting selling it to give gifts to our precious daughters. I am sure they are not going to have too many problems in their lives due to this generosity of their mom and pop. Have a nice life!"



Problems and Opportunities



CHAPTER 1

As the world financial crisis bit deep at local level, clients were cutting back and new business had slumped, hitting the business of accountancy partnership Brown and Dempsey. Smiles and some cheer persisted as did the worry lines on faces each time someone in the offices cleared his or her desk.

Thompson Harris felt the threat personally when called into the managing partner's office for coffee. He left the meeting, face ashen. As last senior accountant to be hired, he'd been told he would be losing his senior PA and was asked to hand over his company-lease car at the end of the day.

"Am I fired David? Give it to me straight."

"Let's say you remain hanging on Thompson. Times are grim and the cutbacks because of recession will be extending well past you. I'm sorry buddy but you know I have to do what I'm doing."

Thompson decided it was useless fighting. He'd have to adapt to the times. What the partners were doing was picking off the weakest links. Being last on he'd been given core business but he'd failed to add cream... the new clients he had been expected to generate personally. In the three months he'd been on board he'd not added one major client to his personal list and only two minnows. 

Thompson's mouth tightened when he arrived back at his office to find his PA Kelly Copeland clearing her desk. God David and his razor gang were efficient.

"Kelly I'm..."

"Don't. It's okay Tommy. It's not your fault."

He waited helplessly, watching her finish.

"Well it was a real pleasure working with you Tommy and I really mean that. I like you more than you realize. I've been told a junior clerk will be drafted to replace me here."

"Her stay will be temporary. I'll be pushed out soon."

Kelly bit her lip and gave Thompson and look he'd not seen on her face before. Sympathy? Perhaps but he'd guess it reflected genuine concern. She was finished packing and held out her hand and he moved in rather like clockwork, his mind slowed right down and emotions static, to shake her hand. Then Kelly gave a little cry and raised her lips and Thompson worked in a kiss to her cheek. That was proper but his also pulled her a little tighter against him, thinking she'd appreciate that. Other than that he didn't know what to think.

"Goodbye," Kelly said thickly, and left with her cardboard box topped by her handbag, not looking back. Thompson heard her sniffing.

He left the office early at 4:30 in contrast to his usual departure time of 6:00. He thought of leaving his car keys on his desk but decided that was the action of a loser and so handed them smiling to Dave Dempsey's PA who said grimly, "Thank you Tommy." 

Eye contact between them was very short.

Thompson knew he was simply one of a long line of victims of the economic squeeze but that didn't make him feel any better. He paid off the cabbie and entered the house. The house would have to go because they'd be unable to keep up with the mortgage repayments.

Melanie a schoolteacher was already home. She smiled at his early arrival time but her greeting died on her lips when she caught the look on his face.

Thank god there were no kids yet, thought Thomson as he told Melanie he was being eased out of his job and what had happened that afternoon.

She burst into tears and ran from him.

Well that figured.

Two months later the jobless Thompson left that house, now empty, for the final time and took the keys in to his attorney. The property had sold, for a much better price than expected. He was still one of the victims of economic depression though, having lost his home, his wife and twelve days earlier his job. Melanie was living back home with her parents and had filed for divorce. The only surprise about that was she'd filed without giving him a chance but then the heartless bitch would believe she saw the writing on the wall. He'd never thought they were suited but she'd probably thought she'd attached to the only guy of substance she'd managed to find and had pushed successfully for marriage. Well after the split of assets she'd find as a divorcee she was much better off financially than when she'd proposed marriage, very much better off.

* * *

An only child, with his mom deceased and his father remarried and living in France, Thompson had struggled with loneliness at first. He purchased a reasonably cheap studio apartment, figuring he could be out of work for perhaps two years so had budgeted accordingly and had taken over his medical insurance plan from the company.

It was a ground floor studio apartment of approximately 600 sq ft comprising the main room, a granite finished bathroom and a tiny separate kitchen. The small dining alcove in the main room was now an office. He was attempting to write a handbook, 'Finance for New-Start Business Operators'. A publisher had expressed 'possible interest'. Thompson was even smiling again and knew his emotional crisis was passing and he was healing.

The block had twenty-eight units and already Thompson knew most occupants at least vaguely and was reasonably friendly with more than a dozen of them. For the first time in his life he was developing relationships with people as if his life depended on it. As a result he was earning petty cash from some of the occupants helping them with their tax including two couples operating 'cash and carry' businesses. One of his older female associates had offered sex but he'd taken a rain check on that. With his confidence returned Thompson knew he only had to wait and keep active and something would turn up.

It did.

"Hi Tommy," said a sweet-sounding voice.

Thompson was out in the tiny garden in front of his apartment that gave direct access to the street. He was dressed just in shorts, weeding around cabbages and wondering when the first one would be ready to harvest. He knew the voice.

"Hi Kelly," he grinned, straightening up.

She smiled. "You never returned my calls so I asked David's PA for your address."

"Thank you for those calls. I listened to each one of them several times. But it didn't seem right to respond."

"I then stopped calling."

"Yes, as other callers did, not that there were many. Unless the message had the suggestion of a job offer, and none ever did, I just shrugged and turned away."

"Being jobless is not a criminal offense Tommy."

"I have accepted that now and actually have become cheerful again. We humans are capable of being very adaptive if we try. Are you here for sex?"

"Tommy please."

Kelly had lost her smile but she stood firm. Thompson felt ashamed.

"I apologize. If you can believe it I didn't mean that. I... Oh dammit. Please come through for coffee."

"I think I understand Tommy," Kelly said, coming through the gate and offering her cheek.

It was kissed lightly and old Mr Bentley went by with his dog Ruff-Ruff and called, "Good morning Tommy. Good morning miss. You are bound to brighten young Tommy's day."

"Mr Bentley this is Miss Copeland, a former work associate of mine."

"Hi Miss Copeland. We asked Tommy to be chairman of our Residents' Committee but he turned us down. I'm telling you that to indicate just how popular he is around here although he's only been with us three months."

"That's interesting to know. I love the look of your Wheaten Terrier Mr Bentley."

"Thank you Miss. I'll tell Ruff-Ruff he's admired when we get to the park seat."

Kelly took Thompson's arm as they walked up the path and inside. "So you are Mr Popular around here?"

"They are good people. I turned down the deputation explaining that the principal role of the chairman was to deal with complaints and that I desired to escape negativism for the moment. They understood and were very good about it, so good in fact that I felt I was gaining a de facto family."

"Oh that's lovely for you Tommy. David's PA indicated your wife is divorcing you."

"Well who could really blame her except me? But enough of that, coffee? Don't walk through the far wall; the apartment is rather small."

"Why it's lovely Tommy. This hardwood floor is pristine."

"It was a mess when I arrived. Teddy our maintenance guy told me how to bring it back into shape. I was very interested and tried my hand at it and continued on to paint the kitchen and then modernized the bathroom. I had not worked like that before and that made it hard going and I made mistakes. Teddy showed me how to undo what he called my fuck-ups."

Kelly laughed and said Teddy sounded quite a character.

"True, he spent most of his life at sea and came ashore broke and with an artificial leg, having lost it in an accident when drunk at a port in China. He's only just turned sixty but looks fifteen to twenty years older."

"The contrast to you. You look younger and healthier than when I was working with you. Do you think about me Tommy, I mean since your wife began divorce proceedings?"

Thompson looked away and Kelly breathed, "I thought you would."

He mumbled, "Look around. I'll get coffee."

There wasn't much to see. Kelly said the bathroom looked fabulous and he obviously was a natural-born craftsman. She they came across a print out of the draft of his first eight chapters of his textbook.

"Ohmigod, may I read?"

"Yes but it's a dry old textbook. Accounting for dummies."

Thompson leaned against the kitchen door jam looking at Kelly. He knew she would turn twenty-six soon and was one of five children raised on a cropping farm three hundred miles northeast of where they were. Kelly's long wavy brown hair framed her face as she bent over the text. Her hazel eyes would be fixed on what she was reading. Thompson could see her lips moving. She had the wide and open face of a rural-bred woman and he knew from the way she lifted things and the set of her shoulders that she had great upper body strength from working those early years on the farm and from horse riding and she still rode most weekends.

Although Thompson had always maintained a professional relationship with Kelly, never touching her, they'd flirted a little and he was a great admirer of her body, especially her breasts. Er an admirer from the distance. Whenever Melanie had rejected his sexual advances he'd often thought about burrowing between Kelly's boobs, knowing she'd pull his head in harder and would greet the advance warmly. 

Oh yeah? Dream on Tommo. Your callous remark about her visiting for sex had been beautifully handled but she'd been appalled and had stayed on politely but this would be the first and only time she'd visit. He'd never see her again.

Thompson carried over her coffee. 

Kelly looked up smiling and her lips parted slightly. Thompson couldn't help himself. He kissed those lips.

"Hmmmm" Kelly murmured and made no effort to pull away.

Christ what was this? He pulled away and sat with his coffee.

"I've waited a long, long time for that," she said, placing the printout on the table.

Thompson said inanely, "You have?"

Obviously that didn't require a reply and he didn't get one. Instead Kelly said she'd read sufficient to be able to say it was well written and ought to appeal to the right people seeking understanding and requiring working solutions.

"You sound like a professional book reviewer."

The smile he received warmed him and that intimacy was broken by a door knock.

"Hi Tommo. Our sink drain is blocked," said the woman, using another variation of his name that people tended to do. Well Thompson for a first name seemed to throw some people. "We've tried to get Teddy but he'd not answering his phone. You know my Kurt is useless at doing handyman things."

"Fine, I'll be up in a few minutes Kathleen. I need to grab my tools."

He returned to find Kelly standing. "I'll go now. I only called in to say hi."

"That's fine. I really appreciated you calling and I apologize again for my appalling comment."

"I suppose if you thought it you had a right to say it to avoid being dishonest."

Thompson shuffled and allowed Kelly to walk to the door leading to the garden he'd left opened.

"Oh, the other reason why I came visiting. We are working a four-day week at present and my work-free day this week is Friday. I'm going home for the long weekend as I also have Monday off. Pack a bag and I'll call around 5:30 Thursday afternoon to take you on a visit to show you my childhood."

"Y-you wish to fraternize with me?"

"Good heavens Tommy. You're not really a monster. Bye."

He stood at the door watching Kelly move through the gate. She turned and blew him a kiss and received a feeble wave in return.

She shouted, "Oh, finish that textbook and then start a novel. You're had the experience and pain to motivate you into writing a ripper."

He called, "Good suggestion" and waved more enthusiastically.

* * *

Kelly called her mom Della.

"Hi lovely lady. I've decided to come home this weekend."

"Oh that's lovely dear. Have you wangled a day off?"

"Friday and Monday and I'm bringing a guy. May we have the guestroom?"

"Yes of course but there's been no mention of a guy in your Sunday emails. You keep saying they guys you go out with only do that for one purpose."

"Guess what mom?"

"Oh I'm so pleased for you. I do want my baby married."

"Mom just go easy with him and tell that to daddy huh? I know him well but this will be the first time I've been to bed with him."

"And he knows about this?"

"No mom. It's a surprise for him."

Della laughed and said her baby had always done things a little differently.

"Will any of the other be home this weekend?"

"Only Maggie. She and Cliff have had a spat and his mother is caring for the children because Maggie has some deep thinking to do."

"Christ is it that bad?"

"Darling that word..."

"Sorry mom."

Kelly finished the call, feeling very sorry for Maggie, and Cliff too. He was a really nice guy while Maggie, her oldest sibling, could be such a bitch at times, always wanting everything her way.

Sipping wine, Kelly wriggled her toes thinking about Tommy or Tommo, as some fellow residents appeared to call him. Although he'd toppled from his position and lost his beautiful wife he'd arrested his free-fall and appeared to be doing very well, all things being considered. Living in a poorer part of the city must have knocked him badly but he appeared to have wisely bunkered down for the duration.

God his comment was she visiting for sex had sent her hormones flying but if she'd screamed yes he would have banged her once, or hopefully multiple times that day, and then he'd told her to leave and never to return.

But then again she knew he'd always had a certain look in his eye for her. She'd seen him looking at her chest and legs and all but licking his lips. And she'd behaved dreadfully when hearing he was being divorced... she'd felt like running through the streets of the city yelling the bitch was divorcing him and now he was all hers. Except that wasn't how it worked, was it? He'd be resentful at being divorced and might never trust a woman again, er at least not for a while.

Kelly then worried about asking her mom for the guestroom. God how presumptuous could a gal get? She shouldn't have done that but now if she called her mom with a change of plan her mom would lose confidence in this guy who was coming to stay.

"Oh crap!" Kelly yelled. She was being too over-eager. She'd always acted professionally with him and he with her. Now that was the way to go, not like some crazy heifer with her hormones feeling ready to explode.

She waited all through the week to receive his call canceling. Thursday was the worst day because she knew he'd be really thinking about leaving the comfortable little hole he'd dug for himself. Probably it would be the first time he'd been faced with leaving home since he'd moved into the apartment.

Turning into Tommo's street Kelly thought it was unbelievable he hadn't called to say he was too busy to accompany her. She nosed the Honda in against the sidewalk and breathed a little easier. She could see the backdoor was open and a wheeled travel bag was down below the steps. She tooted and a few seconds later she saw his smiling face and her heart rate bounced.

"Steady you randy babe," she cautioned, steadying on the pavement and faking an ass-scratch so he'd see she was relaxed. Actually he looked really surprised. God he's thinking she had herpes, Kelly wailed silently, really having little idea about what she was alleging. God if he thought he had problems what about her?



CHAPTER 2

"Hi," said Thompson, looking very relaxed and pleasant. "So my therapy is about to commence?"

"Actually I'm looking to start an affair."

Kelly couldn't believe she's just said that. What the hell was wrong with her mouth shooting off like that?

Thompson, face impassive, asked gently, "Have you any idea of what you're saying?"

"No I mean yes. Put your bag in the trunk and please drive."

He climbed in and adjusted the seat back as far as it would go.

"Lovely coupe."

"Yes, mom and dad bought it for me."

"It must have been new."

"It was."

"And you're very nervous so please kiss me."

"Oh," she moaned, flinging herself at him until stopped by her seatbelt. He wasn't yet buckled up so moved over and kissed her sweetly.

"Still a little nervous?"

She nodded dumbly.

"Then allow me to fondle your tits."

Her mouth opened and she nodded dumbly and he reached across for her left hand breast, shook it a little and squeezed.

"Oh god, that's it. I feel better. I'd become almost terrified."

"Great, then feel my dick and we then began acting like equals."

Thompson had to place her hand there but there was no resistance. Her fingers explored and she whispered, "You pack plenty Tommy."

He grinned, started the vehicle and waited for directions.

"Belt up first."

"Oh that explains the warning light. I'm still a little dazed."

"Me too," Kelly said telling him which highway to head for.

After an hour on the road and agreeing to take a break for burgers and coffee after three hours, Kelly said with a slight tremor to her voice, "I hope you don't mind but I asked mom if we can have the guest room and she said yes."

"Will your dad mind?"

"No."

"Then I think that's a great idea. You sound if you wish to be fucked."

"Tommy please."

"Say it baby. I don't think it's a good idea you swinging emotionally between pillar and post like this."

"Yes I wish to be fucked."

"Louder."

"I wish to be fucked!"

"Me too," Thomas yelled and they both laughed loudly, expelling nervous energy.

"You're a gutsy young woman Kelly."

She turned and gave him the look.

"Be certain that I'm worth it Kelly."

She didn't reply and he didn't glance at her to attempt to read the answer.

They sat at a booth, hip, thigh and knee pressing against each other. Both had decided on a steak sandwich.

She gurgled, "I feel I'm on an incredible journey."

"That's fine but don't lose too much time eating. I don't want to arrive after midnight and be in your mom's bad books."

"I called when in the restroom and told her at out rate of progress we could arrive round 11:30. She sounded very excited and told me to drive safely. I said you drive faster and more competently than I do."

"What did she say to that?"

"She went oooh."

They laughed.

On the final leg and during another a quick stop for coffee Kelly told Thompson about Maggie. "I'll talk to her but perhaps you could have a little chat as well. She may offer to show you our horses. Maggie is the real rider of our family."

"Horses plural? I thought it was a cropping farm?"

"It is. Dad has 2700 acres and it is cropped on rotation so we always have some areas in resting in pasture so he breeds horses."

"Why should I talk to Maggie?"

"You have a wonderful way with people. I've seen it at work and I saw glimpse of it when visiting your apartment. You of course think people only relate well to you because you're there. So how does that explain your popularity in the office and why I was so proud to be working with you?"




Problems and Opportunities



"Who says I was popular?"

"My jealous female equivalents would be one example but only one. David of all people would have hurt at giving you the push."

"That fucking assassin?"

"He was pushed by his partners to do it. Another seven seniors went after you."

"I-I I'm dumbfounded."

"And so you should be."

As they resumed the journey he said, "Go to sleep. I don't want you falling asleep we do it tonight."

"Oh thank you kind sir. I assure you... I'll be wide awake and revved up when that time comes."

"Do you do it much?"

"Nowhere as much as I'd like. A guy comes along and I soon find I don't like him so I exit from his life."

"You mightn't like me once we do it."

"Shut up Tommy. Get it into your head that I more than like you."

"Are you sure?"

"God Tommy how thick in the head can you be?"

They arrived almost on the dot of 11:30 and Kelly's parents almost ran out to meet them. They went to the driver's door and appeared surprised that their visitor was the driver.

Thompson grinned at the way they greeted Kelly, thinking yes she was the baby of the family and still treated that way. He'd been told Maggie the eldest child was thirty-four.

Oh boy, didn't the mother give him the once over before walking up and kissing him.

"I recognize you from the photo in Kelly's bedroom. You're her former boss."

"Photo?"

"Mom!" Kelly almost whined.

Arnold her wiry father's handshake was more than firm and Thompson made sure his grip was firm enough to avoid being judged the handshake of a city wimp.

"Come in," Della said. "I have light supper waiting. Maggie has gone to bed, crying again."

"Mom I'm hoping Tommy can sort her."

Della looked in surprise at Thompson but nothing was said. Thompson was beginning to like Della already. A non-nonsense woman he figured and probably very capable and that was where Kelly had picked up on.

At last they were alone, the bed awaiting them. Kelly swallowed. 

"Er which side do you want?"

He looked almost bashful. "Depends where I drop when we finish."

Kelly swallowed. "I-I'll use the bathroom."

Thompson knew it was up to him to break the awkwardness between them.

"Please allow me to undress you first. That can be one of the greatest things about having sex... the thing one may remember later with vivid memory."

Kelly groaned softly and lifted her arms. 

Thompson hugged and kissed her deeply, undoing the back buttons of her top at the same time. She kissed back and slowly her mouth opened and their tongues touched without passion as to be expected.

He hauled off her top. "Are there any rules?"

"N-no."

"So even in the butt okay?"

"Tommy. Y-you can't speak to me like that."

"Sorry but I just did. Please answer."

Kelly hesitated and then said, "Anything goes."

"But not necessarily tonight."

She echoed almost with relief, "But not necessarily tonight."

With help he freed her bra.

"You have incredibly lovely tits."

"Thank you," she said, pulling his head down on to them and sighing as he licked and she pulled in hard against him as his tongue slowly ran over a hardening nipple.

"Ohmigod, your touch is incredibly wonderful," she whispered.

When Kelly returned from the bathroom Thompson was on the bed on his back, hand wrapped around his boner.

Smiling, a little red-faced but appearing calm, she climbed up beside Thompson and then straddled him, facing away, and went down on his cock, sliding almost six inches of it in the one movement.

"Jesus," he croaked as he licked her pussy for the very first time.

Either that was his reaction for Kelly taking so much of him in the initial gulp or the sight of her trimmed and open pussy presented right in front of his face. 

They didn't complete the sixty-nine but went straight into a slow missionary. Thompson was reaching for a condom but Kelly said softly, "Don't bother. I'm taking a risk with you anyway."

That was neither explained either but presumably she considered she was filling the shoes of his wife in respect of sexual service.

"This is adultery; I'm not divorced yet."

"I know. Just love me and fuck me beautifully Tommy."

It was lovely, slow and accompanied by petting and soft whisperings and they both climaxed less than thirty-seconds apart.

Kelly used the towel she'd brought from the bathroom, handed it to Thompson and sighed and yawned, still on her back where he'd left her; He remained on her right side and leaned over and they exchanged a long, soft goodnight kiss.

Kelly awoke Thompson in the morning, hitting his nose gently with a condom still in its packet.

"Roll this on and give it to me up the butt. I've had dildos up there but never a cock."

"What say we wait till we are hot and raring to do it? You climb on now and do me cowgirl."

"Whatever you say my seducer."



They went hand-in-hand to the kitchen for breakfast, feeling a little self-conscious.

An attractive brunette with beautifully wavy hair said, "God look at them mom. Aren't they beautiful? You never allowed me to have sex in this house with the men I brought home. Kelly always was your pet."

"Perhaps Della know more these days and moved on?"

If Della was surprised that Thompson had chosen to call her by her first name she didn't show it. "Thank you Thompson. That's more accurate than you possible imagined."

The sisters kissed and then Maggie stood and closed her black lace robe tightly, emphasizing her rather large breasts said, "Hi Thompson. I'm the oldest sister Maggie."

"Hi Maggie, black suits you but I guess flaming red looks even better?"

"And bright green. Is Kelly any good at sex?"

"Maggie!"

"It's okay Della. Last night was our first time together so we were both a little nervous and a tad awkward. But nevertheless I was very satisfied with out combined performance. Your sister is such a lovely young woman. I also admire her intelligence and her sweet disposition."

"God Kelly. You have snared a smoothie in Thompson. Do you mind if I call you Tommy or Tommo."

"No, go ahead. I'm used to both names. I hear you are thinking of dumping your husband?"

There was total silence.

"You have good information. Why do you ask?"

"In case you don't know I've been dumped by my wife. Perhaps we should have a chat about it sometime. I have no idea if I can clarify anything for you but I'm willing to try if you'd like that."

"Do you ride?"

"I can stay on a horse if that's what you mean."

"Well we'll ride out and inspect some of the farm. You can come Kelly."

"No just you two go."

"Have I being set up?"

Thompson laughed and said of course she had, that combined Kelly and he were an awesome think tank. Here comes Arnold."

The women listed but heard nothing and then heard Arnold grabbed the doorknob on the back door to steady himself to remove his farm footwear.

"How did you hear dad before we did?" Kelly asked, mystified.

"I saw a moving shadow on the wall opposite the porch window and guessed it would be him. Were you expecting someone else?"

They all laughed.

* * *

As they reached the stables Maggie said, "What would you prefer to do Tommy? Stay here and have sex in the tack room or go riding and inspect some of the farm?"

"Maggie unless you are joking I'm off back to the house."

"Keep your hair on. Help saddle up."

She called and three of the seven horses in the corral came over.

Maggie placed a halter on a mare she called Biddy and then asked Thompson to choose from the other two. He asked for the quieter one and Maggie place a halter on a black mare.

As they rode off Thompson asked, "Ready to tell me about what you feel about your husband Cliff.

"Don't you want to hear about his excessive drinking, bouts of bad temper and the way he looks at other woman and I know he's had it off with some of my friends?"

"No, that's unnecessary. I'm more interested to hear the truth about what you think of him because therein probably lies the problem."

"So already I'm the one at fault?"

"Did I say that?"

"No but..."

"But nothing Maggie. Stop horsing around and start talking. You have me at your disposal and so use me to consult about your problem."

"God you're bossy. Well we used to get along fine. There were scuffs and arguments of course but then we are both abrasive people. God we used to fuck. We'd slam into it at the slightest pretext and use to stay most of Saturday in bed doing it. And then our first child came along and then Cliff seemed to change."

Thompson cupped an ear and said, "Who changed?"

"Oh I suppose I changed as well. It's called ageing isn't it?"

"Yeah and its related to creeping paralysis."

"We used to play tennis but he stopped because he was developing a beer belly and losing fitness. I kept on playing mixed doubles and then Cliff began complaining about me being fucked by some of the guys. You know how guys talk. But it's hard when you come in from tennis hot and sticky and heart still pounding and have a couple of quick drinks. You feel like sex."

"I didn't know that aspect of tennis. Couldn't you have rushed home and have sex with your husband?"

"Yeah, right, except he'd be away somewhere with buddies drinking."

"So you no longer think he likes you?"

"Yes, that's it. No it's not, um only some of the time."

"Do you love him"?

"Most of the time."

"Then why do you want to leave him?"

"Fuck Tommy, do you have to be so brutal."

"Sorry but I can't see anything brutal in that."

"Cliff was away, the kids were at preschool and Cliff's mom came into the house and caught me and Cliff's best pal fucking. So I fled here, embarrassed and ashamed."

"Okay, moving on. Tell me first what do you like about Cliff and then what you dislike about Cliff and then give me ten reasons why you think he should stick with you."

They rode for three hours, Maggie breaking in to point out features and then after unsaddling and attending to the horses and letting them go they walked over to the barns to inspect the machinery.

When they arrived back at the house her parents and Kelly were waiting to have lunch.

"Maggie go run a bath," Thompson said. "Maggie will eat latter. I'll send Kelly in with two Martinis and after you've downed those Maggie lie back in the bath and call Cliff and after apologizing and discussing his excessive drinking and you being so foul-mouthed mostly when the children aren't around you then give him those ten reasons. Do you understand?"

"Yes master. It's okay folk. All we've done is talk, mostly I talked, and then I was told what I must do. Apparently it's an advanced form of parenting because when Tommy had finished with me I really felt like a naughty kid. Mom if I need help I'll yell for you to help out because Arnold respects you."

Della glanced at Thompson but no help there. His face was set. "No I'm afraid not darling. This is a major fallout between Cliff and you and I wish you to know that if you can't negotiate a truce and hopefully settlement it is unlikely anyone could help you."

"Mom!"

Thompson said, "Off to the bathroom Maggie."

She sniffed and went.

"Wow, have you had dog training coaching?" Arnold laughed. "I'll make a jug of Martinis and we'll await Maggie to arrive back to lunch with as. We usually sit around on Friday afternoons anyway."

"Make Maggie's drinks stronger than ours. She's doing something she doesn't want to do so needs false courage."

"Right Tommy. You're a good guy in case you didn't know it."

Kelly took Maggie's drinks to her and came back and whispered to Thompson, "Maggie says you were brutal with her, giving her no free rein. I asked her had she attempted to have sex with you and she said, and I quote, 'Who'd want to have sex with that tough-ass; he'd probably ask for his cum back' and end quote."

"Oh god."

"It's okay. That's vintage Maggie. Despite what you might be thinking I reckon she now admires you tremendously."

Forty minutes and a second jug of Martinis later Maggie yelled, "Tommy I need you urgently."

Kelly told the hesitating Thompson to go to her.

Maggie was in the bath making no attempt to cover up and in fact opened her legs.

"What?"

"That last thing I was supposed to say?"

"Come here tomorrow."

"Oh yeah. Fine and thanks. We have a patch in place."

Thompson left licking his lips. It had been quite a shock viewing Maggie's big tits, the nipples of which were resting just beyond her navel but she was a little hunched up at the end of the bath.

Maggie's parents and sister looked up when Thompson returned.

"It must have gone fine. She said they had a patch in place. The thing she'd forgotten was to ask Cliff to come here tomorrow with the kids and his mother if she wants to come."

Arnold asked looking doubtful, "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Yes a very good idea. While we entertain the others Maggie rides out with Cliff to discuss the things they both must do to save their marriage. Basically it means Cliff having to cut back on drinking and Maggie having to er not be away so much socially by herself and then agreeing what they must do to win back each other's respect."

"Sounds good to me," Della said, "but I'm surprised you didn't tell her she must stop put it around the neighborhood."

"Er," Thompson said and then noticed Della's sly smile lurking around her lips.



CHAPTER 3

Kelly and Thompson drove off, homeward-bound.

"Mom is ever so appreciative that you stepped in and did you best with Maggie. She told me you told her Maggie lacks parenting skills and she ought to assist Maggie with gentle suggestions. And Cliff told me I've sound a lovely guy and everything you said to him made sound sense. I'm so proud of you."

"Yeah I felt Maggie was pleased. She attempted to hand me a check for five thousand bucks and I declined with thanks."

"So she told me and I refused to take it on your behalf."

"Good girl. I didn't tell her but I considered I was doing it for family."

"I thought so. I do hope settlement of this big hiccup of theirs lasts a lot longer than usual. It must be unsettling for the kids."

"I agree. They're great kids aren't they? I think Cliff and Maggie should have a better chance of making it work this time because they have agreed to chance fundamentals instead of just relying on the strength of their apologies being accepted. Incredible as it may sound, Cliff told me he had no idea that Maggie was still hotly interested in sex. He said he thought she was just going through the motions to please him."

"That is incredible. What did Cliff think Maggie was doing with his best friend... assessing the quality of his erection?"

They laughed and then agreed it really wasn't a laughing matter, that Maggie's sex drive was her major problem and her selfishness.

"Changing the subject Tommy, shouldn't we be moving in together?"

"I like the thought. We should discuss that proposal over dinner this week. Perhaps I'd be more comfortable waiting until being back in solid employment again. You said your apartment is about the same size as mine. When I'm back on a great income again we could sell our apartments and jointly buy a much larger one. Then when we settle we talk about the next step in our relationship."

"Oooh."

Thompson waved Kelly off, having kissed her a dozen times and twice said how much he enjoyed himself being in her company and being with some of her family.

Making supper, Thompson sat with two tomato and cheese sandwiches in front of him to be washed down with a beer and switched on his phone. He'd not taken the phone with him because there were not enough people calling him these days to make it worthwhile. There were three callers listed, all the same person... Dave Dempsey, the job-terminating assassin.

"Hi Dave what do you want? Thompson Harris speaking."

"Christ, thanks for calling at last. Phil Brown has been diagnosed with bowel cancer. He ought to be okay because the specialist thinks they've caught it early. Whatever Phil wants out. Phil and I have thought the smoothest way through this was to look for an existing senior to buy him out and out of the blue he said you'd be his preferred replacement because like him you are a tax specialist. Is there any chance you could come up with the money?"

"Could be. Who else have you approached?"

"I approach six others on Friday afternoon and called you at the same time. None of the others thought they could commit just now, saying it was best to bunker down during these troubled economic times."

Thompson was told the asking price and knew he could cover it easily with a bank loan, using his debt-free apartment as security.

"Ouch, in these troubled times that's a high figure Dave. What do you think?"

"What I think is I'm losing Phil as senior partner and must replace him with someone I know and can trust."

"You fired me Dave."

"I know but you won't hold that against me will you?"

"Probably not but I'll protect my back from you until I see you displaying genuine remorse. Right here are my terms. You work on Phil to knock down the buy-in price to 60% of that asking price. Phil gives me a 30-day-option to raise my bank loan; I have adequate security. My offer is conditional on all proper procedures being followed in the transfer of Phil's clients to me and that Phil holds adequate insurance in trust with this firm's attorneys protecting us from any claims arising from Phil's past service to those clients."

"Those terms covering client transfer are standard anyway. The 30-day option should be okay but lopping 40% off his asking price is rather steep and he's a sick man..."

"Dave, stop the sob story. You know Phil and I scarcely know one another but business is business. Let me know how you get on. Good night Dave."

Thompson finished supper, cleaned up and called Kelly.

"Hi big boy. Missing me already?"

He laughed and asked which part of him did Kelly think was big.

She screamed with laughter.

That laughter stopped abruptly when he said, "There's a chance I could be in a position to marry you as early as eight weeks away."

"Are you back in employment?"

"Let's say negotiations are underway."

"What... er when... oh how? Please tell me."

"Sorry my lips must remain closed until I have a signed option in my hot little hand."

"Ohmigod, this is really serious isn't it?"

"It's exciting."

They talked and when finishing Thompson said casually, "Oh by the way it might be best for your business health that you don't mention you've commence an affair with me."

"What, not even to my closest friends?"

No definitely not. God where is your judgment Kelly?"

After the call finished Kelly stared into darkness waiting for her reliable brain to produce what she wanted. A few minutes later it clicked and she shrieked in excitement. 

"Tommy's request not to mention our affair means he's been offered his old job back. Probably Tommy's clients are dissatisfied with their new person and are applying pressure wanting him reinstated."

Kelly called her mom.

"Ohmigod Kelly have you guys been in a road accident?"

"No mom, something far more exciting. Where do you think I should be married and how many guests should we invited?"

"Ohmigod he's proposed!"

"No mom, not yet and he doesn't know I'm making this call. I understand he's getting his old job back and he said tonight when he's making good money again we should talk about the next step in our relationship that follows moving in together."

"That's marriage and then grandchildren!"

"I don't think Mr Randy Harris has children in mind yet mother. Chasing me around the bedroom, yes. But talking children is a wee bit premature. Now, where were we?"

THE END



Problems in the Office



You gotta see your husband's fabulous new office, was the way he'd put it. Even now the words ring in my ears as I masturbate to climax on lazy afternoons. Frank Finlay was Peter's new boss. Peter's my husband -- a kind, good looking, trusting soul. Perhaps it is his trusting ways that are the cause of this. If he hadn't been so trusting he would have said something when Frank Finlay, mid forties, a touch overweight, but otherwise big and impressive, had suggested that Peter stay with the HR guys to 'finish off the paperwork', as he took the 'Pretty young bride' -- me -- off to see this fabulous new office that was to be Pete's.

It was late in the day. The offices had closed and most of the staff had gone home. So when big Frank -- Mr Finlay -- showed me into what was going to be Peter's new office, he had to switch on the lights. Then it was adjusting the blinds to best display the view. We were on the forty-eighth floor. It has to be admitted, the view was spectacular. 

"Whatja think?" he asked as he came up behind me and put his large hand on the back of my neck. I wear my hair short. Like a boy. I do some photo stuff with the ad company I work for. The in-house photographer likes my head and neck. And ears, where Cartier earrings are sometimes displayed -- client property, given back after the shoot. 

But right now I was wearing a short black Coco Channel dress. Peter had asked me to wear it because, as he had put it, his acceptance to the firm was to be followed by a 'little something'. What the 'little something' was we hadn't been told -- or Peter hadn't -- but we had assumed some cocktails, perhaps, at one of the bars nearby ... or even in the boardroom ... or perhaps dinner, if we struck lucky with the Chairman, the afore-mentioned Frank.

"How would you like to work in an office like this?" Frank Finlay asked me, his hand caressing the back of my neck, fingers curled around it toying with an earlobe -- no Cartier tonight, just a little gold ring through the lobe. A little gold ring he was gently rotating through the hole as he talked. Have you ever had that done? I hadn't! I told him I thought it was a beautiful office. and that the view was divine, and that Peter would love it here. I wondered, as I spoke, what I was supposed to do about the hand on my neck and the fingers at my earring. Should I be showing appreciation for the fact that he was spending time with me? Or the caring way he was making me feel at home in the firm, especially when he must have a zillion other more important things to do? It was as if I was already a part of the team, although Peter didn't start until the first of next month. 

"All our high flier's have started at the bottom," Frank Finlay said next, then gave a little chuckle as he patted mine. "Know what I mean?" he asked, his lips not a million miles from my own. Then my attention was directed out the window, at the evening skyscrapers lighting up, the streetlights and car lights already on. I said that I did -- know what he meant -- although in fact, I had no idea. He asked me if I though that was fair, having to start at the bottom like that, as he gently curled his hand round mine. I thought it was fair, I told him, looking out at the night. 

"Tell you what," he said, "Lot of people don't realise it's important." 

I had no idea what he was talking about, but didn't move as his other hand left my neck and ear lobes and started exploring my other buttock. "Loyalty's important!" he said.

"I'm sure it is," I agreed.

"Hell yes! Sure is," he repeated. 

I nodded some more. But I was starting to feel kinda dazed. It seemed my buttocks, and hip, and tummy round the front, were part of this 'loyalty' thing, because as he was talking about the importance of loyalty his hands were exploring me over my little black dress. 

"Why don't you give him a call?" he said next, as one of his hands slipped lower towards the hem of my dress and ended up underneath, over the skin at the top of my self-supporting stockings. 

Peter has this thing about stocking tops that others can see when you sit down and cross your legs. Says it showed how 'mature' our relationship was. How what I had was for all to see ... but only for him to touch. 

Had he told his boss this, I wondered. 

For the next two minutes, three, maybe five, I was taken round the room and had my attention drawn to certain key points. Then I was standing behind Peter's new desk. His boss was in Peter's new chair. I had Peter's new phone in my hand. He had dialled. It was ringing. But somehow I'd managed to end up between his spread legs. Or maybe he was showing off the casters on the chair? It had come about by a sort of pincer movement. One minute I was at the desk, phone in hand. Next minute he and the chair had me corralled.

"Hi, this is Peter Rutherford," I heard my husband's voice. I turned to look at his boss as if to ask him what came next. He leant forward, I thought to help, but then his hands curled around my knees. He nodded encouragingly, gently running his hands over my knees as he did. I turned back to the desk, leaving my knees in his hands, the curve of my butt not a mile from his face, with Peter, my husband, on the phone. 

"We're looking at your office," I said. It was the first thing that came to mind. 

Pete seemed happy to hear me. 

Perhaps he thought I'd been kidnapped. 

He started to ask me questions about the office. I answered them. He wanted me to be happy with him working here, he said. Yes, I knew that. He wanted me to like what I saw. Yes, I was sure he did. But the problem right now was not so much what I was seeing, but what I was feeling when I saw it. Which right now was Finlay's broad hands turning me to face him. Then his fingers climbing the inside of my legs. I stood with the phone at my ear, telephone wire over my shoulder and snaking back behind me to the bit of the phone that sat on the desk, my feet apart, speaking to my husband, between his boss's legs, who right at this moment had his hand between mine. 

"It's a most impressive view," I said, looking over his Finlay's head at the lit upper stories of some nearby buildings. I didn't want to see what he was doing. His hands slipped over the band around the top of my stockings and onto the skin at the top my legs. Peter started to question me about this and that -- the view, the desk, the colour of the carpet -- but it was difficult to be objective with a man's hands up my skirt. When fingers started to play with what was ineffectually guarded by my brief silk panties, objectivity was not the only casualty. Concentration too became more difficult. 

I am horribly sensitive down there. 

Actually I'm sensitive all over, but one or two places are worse than others. 

This was one of them.

Pete's boss seemed to find the silk of my knickers interesting. He was certainly lavishing attention on the part that ducked between my legs! I tried to pay attention to the phone. "So what do you think of the desk?" Peter asked. I did not see it as my place to tell his boss off, or make him stop what he is doing, as most things in the office appeared to be his. Me included for the moment, it appeared. But even if I had been inclined -- whoops! my pelvis just spasmed, alarmingly, into the fingers that concerned it -- even if I had been inclined to lash out at the man, Peter being on the phone at my ear, and Fleming being his boss, were added complications. 

My pelvis curled in anguish as it tried to get away from fingers that showed little interest in it's apparent discomfort - but when you don't move your legs not much happen. I didn't see how I could. Move them. Not as I was currently positioned. Not without offending Fleming. And I didn't want to do that. I wondered if Peter might have a solution. Should I ask him?

"Solid, big," I told my husband, leaving the finding of a solution to my current problem, to myself, as my hips were pulled towards his boss. Solid and big as well. He started to nuzzle my groin. Fingers were toying with my pussy, a mouth was tonguing my pubis over my dress, a hand was caressing my butt, and while this was going on I tried to find more to tell Pete, about the desk, the chair behind it. I did not mention who was in the chair, or what he was doing, nor what I was doing in response, although it has to be said it was taking up a large part of my attention. And the more he did what he was doing, to the part he was doing it to, the greater the attention he was getting! 

Did I tell you I was ... Ngaaar! ... my pelvis thrust into his mouth like a wild stallion paying no heed to the reins I was pulling back with all my mental might. 

I was turned around the other way. Stroked and fondled some more. Face of the seated gentleman in the cleft of the pert behind of the standing chick. I tried to find some interesting topic about the office that might interest Pete. And that I might be able to tell him about as his boss found other parts of me, to interest him. "Where will you hang your hat?" I asked, rather stupidly, as the hem of my dress was pushed over my hips, and my brief silk panties were exposed. 

"Tell him I like what you wear," said Finlay, out of nowhere, surprising me -- I didn't think he wanted to be involved in the verbal part of this exchange -- as his hand, reaching from behind between my legs ran over the panties' front panel, neatly embroidered with little black flowers.

"Mr Finlay likes ... what I am wearing," I said to the phone, trying to keep my voice calm. I almost said 'my panties'! 

Pete asks some questions about that. About what I am wearing. Or rather, about what it was about what I was wearing that his boss liked. And how his boss liked me. And how we are getting on, together, the two of us. And whether or not I was making a good impression on the man. And wasn't he charming. Then he went on to tell me how much he was looking forward to working with the guy, as the guy he was looking forward to working with used the tip of his right forefinger to gently caress his wife's clitoris over the top of some neat black flowers. Then the fingers started to figure out how to get under the flowers. By slipping in the leg-band of the brief black panties ... which they did, without difficultly ... and suddenly I find that I have other things on my mind than my husbands dumb questions. 

Like, for example, how the fuck was I already so moist. Because although the wifely me, the well brought up me, the Sunday school teacher's pet me, was pulling on the reins of this thing for all I was worth, there was another part of me, the part that had made me wet as hell below, and my nipples hard as heck above, that had its smutty nose deep in the trough. The weakening knees. The pelvic pulse when he touched me right. The gasp as his fingers wormed inside and onto skin. The curl and the arch of my back as the pressure started to build. The inner pressure responding to the outer feel of fingers from this somehow important person in our lives. Someone I'd never even met until today. Yet now I was permitting him licence, to caress me all he liked! Why? 

Why should I let him?

Why didn't I ...

"Mmmm," I grunted non-committally into the phone.

I had missed his question 

On the one hand it pissed me off, being taken advantage of like this, and by someone who should know better. But on the other, I could feel my juices oozing into play. The workings of the hotter parts of body, pumping out approval as it were. And say what you like, there are far worse feelings in the world than the turn on of excitement that kicks into play when bodily urges grab the reins. And the feeling of guilt, the secrecy, the deception involved, were making this no less arousing. However much I wished they would were. "It's good," I gasped, though what about, I wasn't sure. 

My fingertips were examining the surface of the desk. I felt myself being pulled into his lap. I tried to hold myself from going, arguing internally that so long as I was standing of my own free will -- regardless of where his fingers were -- then I was in command of the situation. In control of my emotions. Protecting my modesty ... and stuff like that ... but that once I was settled in his lap -- as I was now, regrettably -- then I had become no more than an acquiescent plaything for this large and forceful man. By definition when that happened -- as it just had -- then I was no longer the respectable wife of one of his staff. Though precisely what it made me, I wasn't yet sure. 

Sheeeee- ite ... I responded wantonly, this did NOT feel make me feel homely in a hot mug of cocoa sort of way. 

"I think it's mahogany," I said. Meaning the desk. My husband just asked. One of my hands lay at its edge. The other hung limp by my side. I tried to ignore the mouth that nuzzled my neck, just below my ear. Not easy. Pete's boss had a heavy, active tongue. Right now it was exploring the inner whorls. I didn't move. Pete asked me something else, I don't know what. I found a multi-purpose 'H'humm' in response, as his boss found the zip of my dress. 

It is at the back. 

The zip. 

So too were two large hands. Running it down ... all the way. Looking for my bra catch ... finding it ... flipping it open. I hadn't a clue what to do, other than catch the top of my dress as it fell to my waist. And collect my bra as it's fell off my shoulders. I was turned on his lap, one leg unceremoniously hoisted in the air as he lifted me with ease and twirled me around. Before I could do anything but marvel at the move I had a pair of authoritative lips around a nipple. Suckling me more gently than I'd imagined he might. If given the chance. Which I didn't think he had been, but had taken it. 

My nipple, aroused alarmingly anyway, stood up and looked around like an interested pea when divested of its coverings. It was now was at the back of an interested mouth being eagerly attended to by an interested tongue. For some reason I was cupping his head in my hand as his mouth and tongue gently toyed with my throbbing nipple. I had started to bite my lower lip. I could feel the furrows that had formed on my brow. My back was arched. Not heavily arched but lightly, as if at the ready, prepared, ready to curl at the slightest ... ngaaaar! 

Like that! 

"Blue," I groaned, in response to Peter's latest question. I cleared my throat, "I think it's blue," I said with care, my eyes tight shut. He laughed and asked why I couldn't be sure. 

Because I'm astride your boss and naked to the waist and have his mouth on my tit and his hands in my knickers, I wanted to say. But didn't. I tried to turn, to see the wall he was talking about. It faced the chair his boss is in. I was astride his boss and facing the other way. I tried to turn my head while leaving my breasts where they were. The head that was enjoying them moved from my right, to my left, and started to work on that one. Possibly to see if he could make it as hard and engorged as its neighbour. "It's definitely blue," I said, head swivelled around, breast in the mouth of his boss, as I noted that the nipple was every bit as hard as it's neighbour.

"Ghaaaaaagh!" I gasped, as he lightly bit.

"Sorry?" said the phone.

"I just ...ngaaar!" he did it again, "... sat on a paper clip," I gasped, becoming alarmed with my reactions to the man in whose lap I had found myself. "Mr Finlay was showing me ..." (I almost said Frank!) "... some of the things they issue you with." I turned from the phone, putting my hand across the mouthpiece, as Frank's left hand started yanking at my panties. You'll rip the damn things, I want to tell him -- scream at him -- my breasts now tingling and buzzing like fire tenders at a fifth alarm fire. 

"Is Frank there?" said Peter on the phone.

"Yup," is all I could manage, before clamping my hand back over the mouthpiece and letting out a groan as a thick finger slipped inside ...

THAT'S MEANT TO BE OFF LIMITS!

"Wow," said the phone at my ear. "He's still there. That's great. He must really like you. Wow!" For some reason my husband was now whispering. As if not wanting 'Frank' to know what he was saying. I could tell him right off that 'Frank' was not in the least bit interested in what he was saying. He was far too interested in me! "That he should stay so long, spend so much time with you ... wow!" Peter was burbling, soto voce, in the phone in my ear. I could of course have explained to him why Frank was spending so much time with me. But as I considered this, I was also aware that most of my attention was riveted on the finger slipping gently into my vagina. And the feather-light thumb that had started to brush softly over my clit. My pelvis reacted. Thrusts in the air like a very large fish at a very tasty fly! Ngaaaaaargh! I gasped, hand tightly clasped over the mouthpiece.

"Tell you what," said the whispering voice in my ear. "Play it cool. Don't let the boss know we're pleased at the attention he's giving you." At which point I wanted to tell him that HE would not be pleased with the attention the boss was giving ME if he knew what it entailed! "Just tell me some more about the room. But don't let on that you're happy he's there."

Who said I'm happy?

I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!

"Hey, Pete baby," said Frank, mouth off me and onto the phone he had quickly wrenched from my grasp. 

I'd never been happier to lose a phone! 

I had a broad hand on the top of my head. Pushed from lap to the floor. "Some gal you got. Pete. Wow. Hot. Tell me about hot!" I could hear Pete laughing delightedly in the background. His babe meeting his boss's approval. Now I was on my knees. The hand on my head still there. His legs were spread and I was between them, as if in prayer. Then he released the god of war for me to worship. 

"Someone this hot didn't choose you for no reason, Pete. Know what I mean. Means you are quality." The laughter, more embarrassed on the phone. Pete isn't good with praise. The god of war was in my mouth. "Impressed? Me. You don't know the half of it, Pete!" The tip of Thor had just touched the back of my throat. The hand at the top of my head wanted more. I curled my shoulders and straightened my neck and strained my mouth and felt the tip ease into my throat. Felt it descend, knew that he liked it -- my little party piece -- then I took some more and the bastard was impressed. Two ... three ... four. Then I had to get rid of the thing, before I strangled myself. 

He gave me the phone back!

"Pete!" I gasped, out of breath but unable to gulp it in as I needed to do.

I raised the phone in the air, straight armed like a torch, and gulped in the mother of all breaths. 

Finlay grabbed my outstretched arm and yanked me up. 

Now the Statue of Liberty, phone in the air, dress round my waist, panties round my ankles. In one impressive motion I was lifted off the floor and turned around and laid on my back on the desk, legs apart, knees spread, heels on the edge of the desk. In one way this was helpful. It let me describe some additional features to Pete. Like the moulding round the ceiling. The lights overhead. The small red sprinkler heads if a fire should start in the room. Then I stopped for a while. Partly because my distant husband -- where the heck was he, anyway? -- wanted to ask me some more about the room, and whether or not his boss was still sufficiently interested in me still to be in the room.

If only he knew! 

And partly because I can never speak, or do anything in fact, other than groan and squirm and gasp a lot, if I have a well-aroused penis is inside my vagina. And boy! He was well aroused. 

My pelvis angled up, to help, and I opened like a flower that seeks the sun. 

Man, was I aroused! 

"Pssst ..." said my earpiece, suddenly. 

My attention was elsewhere. 





Problems in the Office



My pelvis thrusting into a guy who really knew what he was doing. 

"Is he still there?"

"Who?" I mumbled, trying to catch up with the phone.

"Frank Finlay?"

"Oh. Him. Yes," I said, because I couldn't think of anything else to say. And didn't have any free breath for anything more expansive. Not right now. Besides, it was true. He was still here. About six or seven inches, in fact. Not to mention the finger round the back, doing what I think the French call, 'Exploration de la derriere'. Or something. 

Peter doesn't do that. I don't normally let people do it. 

But Finlay had a way with things like this. Just goes ahead and does it whether you like it or not. Whether I do, or not. On that, in fact, the jury's out. But it sure as hell wasn't making it worse! I groaned again, then yelped. But that was okay. Peter was talking to someone else. I heard them come up. Someone in HR, I think. Maybe a third person now. I could hear voices in the background on the phone. Pete didn't want me to ring off. 

The phone was by my head on the desk. 

I had come. Twice. The first time a bright explosive orgasm which came just after the guy from HR came up to Pete, and Pete told me not to ring off as he'd be right back, and then the phone slipped out of my hand to the desk by my ear, and the feelings of relief did a deal with the feelings of carnal lust and sprayed my inside with a combination of lily-livered surrender and gut thrusting ecstasy as I knew I no longer had my husband as a audile interloper into what was going on in his office to be. I came like an express train. Holding the cry in the back of my throat until my pelvis reared off the desk and lifted mister boss man high in the air. 

Peter came back onto the phone and asked if I was okay. 

He thought he heard a scream. What had happened? Was it me? 

Which is when Frank had come to my aid and said it was an ambulance going past the office, down on the street. 

Why do people believe such piffle? 

Because he's the boss, I suppose.

The second time I came was when he started pumping his great rod into me in a deceptively languid fashion. As if it was a dance. But his prick is so big and wide in the girth that even moving in and out as slowly as that, set me off. And I flipped. This time I had good warning. And Frank took the phone off the desk. And as I bucked and reared and groaned and bit the knuckle of my hand Frank waffled away about something or other either to Pete, or the HR guy. Hell, or the other guy there -- who knew! I exploded again. 

Once I was finished with this time, and my gasps had abated, and I'd stopped behaving like a landed fish on the desk beneath him, he handed me back the phone, and got on with fucking me. So this, what was happening right now, was the third time. I tapped him on the shoulder with the phone. I looked at him, once his mouth came up off my breast, and his thrusts slowed momentarily, so that he could see what the problem was. I think he figured that as long as I was reacting with such enthusiastic ardour to everything he was doing then I wasn't objecting. But that if I tapped him on the shoulder with my phone it meant there was a problem taking shape. In this case, and give him his due he was quick on the uptake, it was the imminent arrival of yet another mind-blowing orgasm from the more lightly-built partner in this erotic and sweaty exchange. 

He took the phone. 

I came, with my ankles locked around him, clasped atop his driving buttocks, as my pelvis made a home for all that went on. And Jesus, that was a lot. I'm not even sure I got the phone back after that. Frank may have said our joint good-byes. 

I came to. I must have passed out. I was on my back, on the desk. Length wise rather than across it. Chest glistening with sweat. So hot between the legs I sent a nervous hand gingerly down to investigate. But that was not the solution I'd been looking for.