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Ignored

By: sexy_cdn_curler



Stacy Matthews was a very pretty girl with her sandy blonde hair and her sparkling blue eyes but no one ever noticed her. Her petite athletic body was always covered by long baggy jeans and either a long sweater or long shirt. No guy ever thought of her in the way she wanted. She has only ever had one boyfriend and that was her now best friend Kyle Michaels. They were only 15 and nothing went passed kissing. Kyle and Stacy remained friends despite Kyle's relationship with Karrie Simpson, an all-American cheerleader and last years Jr. Prom Queen. 

Being eighteen and single with no prospects was not Stacy's idea of leaving school with a BANG!!! Even with the support of her best female friends, Sam and Kelley, edging her on to change her image to get noticed but she was too self conscience and didn't want to change. Then the day came where her life would change. The Valentine's Day dance arrived and Stacy was asked to the dance. It was her first time going to a dance with a date. And it was the one person she would have never guessed, Kyle. Kyle was alone on Valentine's Day because Karrie was out of state at a Cheer competition and Kyle thought he treat his best friend. 

Stacy wore a red-halter dress that split up the side of her leg, red pumps and a red beaded choker. Her hair was wavy and hung softly over on her shoulders. Kelley and Sam dressed and made Stacy up to blow the mind of the whole school and when Kyle arrived at her house he did a double take. He readjusted his eyes several times to see this vision of beauty. He didn't say anything he took her hand and lead her off the stoop to the awaiting limo. Kelley and Sam were already at the dance. 

Kyle tried not to look at Stacy's chest but he was drawn to it. Never in a million years did he think he would be attracted to his best friend, but he was. He would look and then look out the window just as fast as his look was at her chest. He did that until Stacy spoke to him.

"I know this is weird seeing me like this, it was not my idea. Kelley and Sam dressed me up. I wanted to wear something less revealing." 

" Stace, don't be embarrassed. You look HOT!!! I so don't feel right saying this but you are HOT!!!!. Why don't you wear more flattering clothes? You should stop dressing like a boy. Do you know how many guys are going to be staring at you? All of them!!!! You are HOT and don't deny it!!!"

"K, this is not me. I am not like this. I don't dress like a slut and I am not a slut."

"Stace..." Kyle starts as he leans towards her, "try it for a night. Drive the guys wild!!! Give them what they de...." Then he kisses her to show her what he thinks of her.

"Oooooo....k...." Stacy manages to say through the long and soft kiss from Kyle. As she thinks: Man do I miss this!!! As she continues making out with him as they drive in that long stretch limo bound for the school gym.

The long sleek black limo carrying the newly attracted friends stopped in front of the red brick building that housed the sign Maple Wood High. The two bodies emerged from the car and walked arm in arm to the gym. Kyle whispered into Stacy's ear: "Knock em dead!"

Most of the student body was dancing to some up beat song when Kyle and Stacy walked into the gym. They had made a pact that the first slow song was theirs and until then they can hang with their other friends. Stacy walked over to Kelley, Sam and some other girls while Kyle joined the guys Hockey team. 

"Michaels, you had to bring the tom-boy!" remarked Jason Durham, the Star athlete of the school. "You could have gone stag, like the rest of us while our toys are away, but noooo." 

"She has been my friend since we were kids and I think I lucked out! Take a look at the bombshell in the red dress by Kelley and Sam." The Hockey team glanced over and looked at Stacy. They couldn't believe their eyes. The tom-boy was a bombshell. 

"Way to go Michaels!!! But I hope for your sake Karrie doesn't find out that Matthews is hotter then her. Cause if you lose Karrie, I will get the best fuck in the world back and you would be stuck with nothing."

"Who's to say that when I fuck Stacy, Karrie will find out. I can have the best of both worlds. Popping the cherry of a hot and soon to be slut and have the best fuck every day."

"I may tell her."

"Well here is the deal, I fuck Stacy tonight, none of you guys tell Kerrie and we can gangbang Kerrie after the next game. We will get her so drunk and she won't even care. Deal?"

"Deal!" the whole Hockey team yelled. 

All seven slow songs were heaven for Stacy every single guy was looking at her even the young teachers, Mr. Evans, Mr. Thompson and Mr. Smith. She did it in one night she had changed her reputation. Kyle held her tight, played with her hard and smooth ass, and kissed her neck and lips every song all the way along. Stacy replied by accepting his soft and smooth lips by moaning softly and sweetly. She could feel his dick pressing on her hot and wet pussy. She wanted it, but she wasn't sure if she really did. 

Kyle and Stacy continued to make-out on the way to the limo, in the limo and on the way home. Half way home Kyle slipped his hands into Stacy's bra and took out her large and full white tits and started to massage them. 

"Kyle stop! I can't! I'm not ready!" Stacy managed to say unlocking from Kyle's lips.

"Stacy, you don't tell a guy to stop now. We are not fifteen anymore!"

"I can't have sex yet. I am not ready!" She pushed him off of her and moved to the other side. "Don't try it again Kyle!"

"Stace, who do you want to take your cherry from you? Some guy or someone you have known since childhood?"

"You! Yes, you! But not now. Later on my terms. I need to be ready. And even though you get it every night from another girl I will save my self for you. You can do what ever you want, where ever you want when I am ready. Ok?"

"Ok!"

Stacy left the limo very sombrely, pulled her dress back down and entered her house. Her parents were already asleep so she quietly went down the stairs to her room and closed her door. At the same time, Kyle was jacking off with Stacy's panties that he had slipped off her. She noticed but didn't care. The limo drove away as Stacy watched out her bedroom window. 

Stacy walked to her bed, laid down on it, still in her dress, and started to slither out of it. She lifted the neck part over her head and pushed it down over her large and full breasts. She then, undid her bra, letting herself roam free and then pushed it all to the floor. She reached over to her night stand and shut off her lights. She pulled the covers over her body and started to furiously finger herself. She panted and moaned as she went faster and faster. For several minutes she went harder and harder until her climax came. She screamed into her pillow so it wasn't so loud. Breathing heavy she reached to the floor, put on a t-shirt and started off to dreamland where she would be fucked furiously to her hearts content. Now she was ready, she thought. 

In the morning things had changed. She knew that even though her pussy wanted to be hammered repeatedly by a large cock, her responsible side still says "We are not ready." She got out of bed, ran into the shower, put the shower on high so that the jet stream of water would massage her already throbbing pussy. After that she went back to her room, put on the same style of clothes that she wore every day and went off to school, all the while still horny. Stacy knew that she was thinking about sex and sex and more sex and that she had to stop or she would not be able to work. Walking into the school all the senior guys and the rest of the male student body were staring at her. She knew that now she could have any guy she wanted but she knew she was not ready. She saw Kyle making out with Karrie by her locker and she knew that by lunch they would be fucking behind the hill, like they do every day. So what!! He wanted her and only her last night and even though it was by default she didn't care. 

Stacy got through most of the day fine. She put sex in the infinite void in her brain and concentrated on her work. It was so easy cause she spent her spares with girls and all of her teachers that day were female. She avoided the other sex as much as possible. However her sex drive kicked into high gear when she walked into Mr. Thompson's class room. Mr. Drew Thompson, 23 tall, with bleached blond hair with brown roots, sexy green eyes and a built body. Any school girls dream. Every girl had a crush on him but too bad girls this guy is engaged. Damn!! Stacy was one of the girls with a huge crush on him but you could never tell, she could still look him in the eyes, unlike the others, and talk to him without giggling. Today though, would be different. She saw him at his desk and all her hornyness came back. She put her books on her desk and ran to finger herself in the bathroom. She returned just before the bell, climaxed, composed and ready to finish her day.

She was fine, she didn't have to look even once at him. They were writing a test on Hamlet so she could concentrate on her paper. The only time she had to look at him is when she needed to give it to him at the end of class. Half way through the class, Stacy was finished. Being an English wiz does that. She got up from her desk, handed him the paper and then he said looking into her sparkling blue eyes:

"Miss Matthews, you must remain until the end of class. It is not fair to the others if you leave." 

Now Stacy knew that she had to stay but she really wanted to go. But she understood. She took out a Romance Novel and started to read. As she read, there was something going on in Mr. Thompson's head. Now, Drew Thompson was engaged, but he was not dead. Stacy Matthews was his best and brightest student and now he knows that she is also so very hot and ready for popping. He wanted to fuck a student but most of the girls were sluts, he wanted a fresher one for his own picking and seeing Stacy last night made his dick rise to the occasion. He didn't want to wait he was going to fuck her today after class. Just make her seem that she is in trouble, seduce her slowly and then go in for the kill. This virgin will be his cock hound soon enough. Thinking those un-pure thoughts made his dick rise. Oh No!! He stood up, his dick hidden behind his desk and said to his class, 

"I will be right back I need to get these handouts copied for you all. I will be just next door. Be good. I can hear you." He place the paper strategically over his large bulge, quickly left the room, dropped the paper in the copier, set it on print and skipped into the boy's room where he locked himself in a stall and jacked himself off to a naked photo of his finance. He may have been jacking his ten inch piece of meat to a pick of his woman but he was picturing Stacy giving herself to him. When he came he shot his hot and heavy load into the toilet below. As he walked back to class he tried not to get back up too fast. When he arrived in the class he saw that all the test papers were all on his desk. Showtime!

"Class dismissed," he yelled. As all the students got up and filed to the door. "Not you Miss Matthews. I need to speak with you about your last assignment." Stacy was shocked, she never failed anything in her life and now she had done so bad that the teacher needed to speak to her. Oh Great! Stacy stayed at her desk as Mr. Thompson locked the door behind the exiting students. Stacy was too busy playing with her hands to see him lock the door. He walked over to her and sat down in the desk beside her.

"Stacy, you are not in trouble so don't be scared. I just want to tell u that I was so moved by your story that it made me cry. A story of love and devotion that could be a lesson to us all. Where did u come up with that?" 

"Made it up. It is how I feel love should be."

"You are a very talented writer. Do you share a love like that with someone?"

"No I am alone. I have no one to share my feeling with except myself."

"Oh, I see. Have you every given though to writings stories with more of an adult theme. You are talented enough." 

"Mr. Thompson what are you saying? Why would I do that?"

"I am just saying..." Mr. Thompson started to say as he removed his sweater to reveal a tight fitting white t-shirt that revealed his larger and bulging pecks and his smooth and sleek six-pack. "Do you find it hot in here?"

"A bit?....." She answered with some uncertainty looking at his hot and sexy body. Her eyes lifted to his face and she looked deep into his eyes. She could feel herself getting hotter and she removed her track jacket and then pulled at her shirt to keep it from sticking from her. "You were saying?"

"Oh Yah." Mr. Thompson recovered looking at her black bra covering her large chest. Feeling his dick rising, he had to go for it. "Stacy, you are so creative and talented. I need your opinion on a story. Can you read it to give me some ideas?" 

"Sure." She answered.

Mr. Thompson went over to his desk and opened the bottom drawer. When he lifted the paper out of his desk he saw Stacy licking her lips and squirming in her chair. He handed he the paper and told her to read it. He explained that it was a story he wrote. Stacy took the paper and started to read it. Her eyes opened wide when she read the hot and steamy sex story. While reading the part:

She deftly undid his zipper and pulled out what turned out to be a very large cock, and at

the sight of it Amber dropped to her knees and greedily began to suck the huge member,

while Mr. Fields leaned back against the wall not believing any of this was happening to

him!!! Just as he was about to cum Amber looked up and asked if she was really doing

D work? He shook his head no and mouthed the word "A". At that point she went down

hard and sucked until he shot a huge load down her waiting throat. As he became limp in her mouth his breathing returned to normal, and Amber stood up, cupped her tits, and

began to twist the nipples, making them stand out like two thimbles. Immediately Mr.

Fields' dick began to stiffen again, so Amber hiked up her dress, slipped off her panties in

one easy motion, and then after sitting on the edge of his desk with her legs held wide

open exposing her wet pussy, she merely licked her lips and nodded of her head to

indicate he was stick that big prick deep inside of her!!! She came once just from his

initial thrust, and he pounded her cunt with fast piston like strokes until she came over

and over again, until finally he groaned and emptied his hot load, deep in her boiling

pussy.

Stacy started rubbing her clit very fast and furiously not even noticing or caring that Mr. Thompson was watching her and hovering over her. He removed he had from her clit rubbing and undid the zipper on her jeans. Stacy' s head told her to stop but she didn't care she just nodded for the ok. Jason Thompson pulled her jeans and panties down to her ankles and moved his head closer to her hot, wet and ready pussy. He put his tongue in her virgin pussy and started to explore. Stacy moved and shifted every time he hit her clit. 

"Relax, sexy. Just relax don't rush it. Just sit back and let me do all the work."

Stacy obeyed and moaned louder and louder until she got her first real climax all over this hot teachers face. She slipped out of the chair and fell to the floor. Stacy then lied there awaiting her next experience. Jason completely removed her pants and then took off her top. He grabbed those large and full tits, stratled her body and kneed those baby in this large and manly hands. He kept at it until his cock was ready to be released. 

"Sit up and take off my pants and boxers, NOW!" He ordered. She removed them to his ankles and then came face to face with her first real cock. "Now jack me off with your hand while rubbing your clit." Stacy took this eight inch piece of meat in her and started to rub it back and forth at the same speed she fingered her clit. "Faster, Faster, Harder. Bitch!!! Harder Harder!" Jason ordered. She went faster and faster and panted louder and louder. After five or so minutes of panting, rubbing and jacking, Jason came on her face and tits. Stacy took a step back after she was covered in cum.

"Stacy, that's what we do now get back here and put my cock in your mouth and suck me off!" Stacy backed off and ran to the door. 

"No, I don't want it. Stop. Leave me alone." Jason caught up to her, forced her to her knees and pushed his cock in between her cherry red lips. He started to slowly fuck her mouth so she could enjoy and take over and boy did she. She took her hands and wrapped them around his body and slid her cherry red lips over his hard-on faster and faster until he came in her mouth. He held her mouth on his dick until she swallowed it all up. 

For his next trick he put Stacy on his desk and made he sit with her pussy open and he quickly shoved his dick into her small tight virgin pussy. She screamed like no one else had ever screamed, but no one heard it cause he smothered her mouth. It didn't take many long and slow strokes for Stacy to reach orgasm. She shook and trembled for quite a long time, but that didn't stop him. He took his dick out, turned her around and fucked her now very red pussy from behind. With every stroke he went harder and faster until he came inside her. He took his now limp dick out, slid on his clothes and told Stacy to do the same. 

After she got dressed and ready to leave Mr. Thompson said to her:

"You tell no one about this and come every 2nd day after school and I will give you an A. Got it. And u better protect yourself, I don't want any kids and I refuse to use a condom. Got it!"

"Yes...." She managed to reply as he ran out of the room.

Well there sessions did continue and they got longer, more frequent and hotter. He did what he wanted to her and she was his slave no complaints and no objections. She was getting to be the slut she was destined to be. She dressed like it. She slept around and was loving it. There last time together was to be after the graduation dinner in a luxury suite. 

Jason Thompson looked around the gym to find his fuck buddy. He looked all over the gym until he heard some noises coming from under the bleachers. He went to investigate. There she was, screaming lightly, her sleek black dress up around her neck revealing her magnificent body, being fucked furiously by Kyle Michaels and sucking off Jason Durham. And it was not complete, Karrie was coming over to join their orgy. She walked passed him and he grabbed her by the arm, no complaints. He slipped under the bleachers with them and took Karrie with him. The threesome didn't notice. He ripped his pants down, took is dick out, it rose instantly, pushed Karrie's dress up and fucked her standing. They all fucked to their hearts content. But would they ever get caught?

The End

Ignored Secretary



There is a secretary at work that is somewhat of a 'shared girl', meaning that her secretarial services are split, or shared, between a couple of offices at my end of the building. She is probably almost 10 or 15 years older than me, making her to be about in her mid to late 50's. Her name is Amy.

Amy takes very good care of herself. She is always eating right, at least at work, and drinking water. She always talks about going to the gym before work at some insane hour like 4:30 or something of that nature. A time of day when any less fanatical person would be sawing logs, not putting in miles on an eliptical machine.

Whatever her workout regimen was, it worked. She was smokin'. Amy always dressed conservatively, but the very well endowed features of her womanly physique shown through anyway. In fact, I am not so sure that she didn't subtly dress in a way as to hint to the treasures she was allegedly covering with her clothing.

Her hair was a faded type of brunette with a hint of silver poking through. Just enough to hint at her age and the fact that although she could be someone's mother, she was definitely not a grandmother. Her full, buxom breasts always filled out whatever top she was wearing and they always seemed just a little too tightly confined in that lucky garment whose material was pulling just enough on the buttons. It was almost as if she was making a subtle show of them...

Her legs were well toned and muscular enough to say she worked out; however, not so much as to scream Mrs. Olympia. She frequently wore skirts that were above the knee and wrapped her very nice legs in stockings.

However, beneath her skirts, slacks, or whatever else she wore, was the feature that brought it all together. Her heart shaped ass. The kind of ass that firmly jiggled as she stepped down. the kind of jiggle that comes from well toned muscle. An erotic and sensual lure to just about any man that draws breath and stands upright. Not that Jell-O like wave that comes from too many desserts while watching TV and not enough activity.

Finally, but definitely not lastly, was her face. Perfectly clear complexion, rosy hue and always alive with activity. Amy was a very pretty woman and all the peices fit together very nicely. Completely and tightly like a well drafted and constructed project, Amy was very attractive for any age. 

Amy and I got to know each other very well over the years that she worked between the four offices in my area. We spent time chit-chatting at the copier and had split more than a few lunches at our desks while trying to complete some last minute projects. 

We talked enough that I knew her husband was a drunkard and showed very little physical interest in Amy and she knew that my wife and I kept our eyes open and our 'heads up' for anything coming down field. She also knew that we kept no secrets from each other and that we communicated openly about everything that we did. 

Her life was a complete contrast. Amy told me repeatedly how closed minded and self centered her husband was. She always had such grand plans during the week. She would talk about things she wanted to do, experiences she wanted to have, a place she wanted to go for dinner. Her banter grew more excited, more urgent as the weekend approached and Friday afternoon came.

I would wish her luck, but I always knew what the result would be. Inevitably she came back to work on Monday, crestfallen. Sometimes the tell tale tracks of tears cut across her firm cheeks. Her plans dashed by her husband's drinking, or some manufactured excuse for him to slip away from her.

On those blue Mondays she always needed a shoulder to cry on. I was happy to oblige. You see, ususally secretaries have their inner circle of people that they can confide in and usually they are other secretaries. People who can understand their lingo and experiences. It helps you get through the day.

For Amy that circle did not exist. Partly because she was not in the main secretarial pool and assigned to specific offices so they looked at her as outside of their clique. Mostly, I believe, because even though she was their elder by a few years she did not give in to 'secretary spread' or any of the other diseases of complacency or aging that plagued her conterparts. She stood out. She was pretty, attractive, desireable and above all she was smart. 

That is why I found her interesting.

More than once I had cut and spliced a mental pornography together featuring Amy in some contrived office scenario. The plots were admittedly thin, but, then again, how thick does the plot have to be? The little movies always got me hard and I took care of business. That was what was supposed to happen, right?

Everything was humming along fine at work. My little movies were entertaining me and I was able to function as a human being. Until the day came that Amy showed up with the little red mark on her cheek.

She had tried to conceal it and, in the end, that is what probably drew my attention to it. Maybe she used a little too much concealer on purpose. Maybe she let her eyes well up on purpose, maybe not. Whatever the reason, she caught my attention that Monday.

I called her into my office on the pretense of taking some dictation (oh, the irony..). I had her sit down, her notebook in hand, her legs crossed very daintily as she sat in the chair before my desk. Her skirt and customary hosery were perfect, maybe the skirt was even a little shorter than usual...

Her white satin blouse had a slightly plunging neckline that revealed just the faintest hint of her plentiful cleavage. It was just enough to be seductive; to whisper sexy and not cross over the line and scream 'whore'. The little choker style necklace she was wearing just added to the hint of the passions that burned beneath her clothes. Camouflaged but not completely hidden. A trick in the seductive arts that an experienced woman knows how to play.

I told her that I had brought her in to talk to her privately, that I had noticed the little mouse swelling and redness on her cheek. I asked if everything was ok?

The floodgates opened. She placed her face into her palms. Her silent sobbing just barely audible with the air condictioner fan humming away in the corner. The tick of the clock on the wall seemed interminable as she cried. 

What had I done? Amy was crying in my office. She sobbed silently. Her chest heaving, shoulders scrunched forward. If she could have reduced herself into a ball of lint and rolled under my desk I have no doubt she would have done so. I wanted to help her. I wanted to find out what was bothering her and help. Instead, I felt like a heel. I hadn't been the one to strike her, but I was the one that made her cry.

I did the only thing I could think to do. The natural thing that way down deep inside instinctually tells a man what he must do when he sees a woman crying and in pain. Perhaps it was what she was baiting me toward after all. 

I knelt beside her and placed my hands on her forearm. I comforted her, stroked her hair and told her that everything was going to be ok. She hiccuped a few more sobs and then dropped her hands.

Her eyes crested over the tips of her fingers like the moonrise over snowcapped mountains. The eyeliner and mascara trailing faintly down her cheeks. Carried in the rivulets of her tears. More tears, waiting to breach over her eyelids and join their sisters working their way down her face to her neck, sat ready to go.

At that momet, that precise moment, in her vulnerability I saw her at her most feminine. I saw her at her most beautiful. I could feel the stirring in my loins. Something about her vulnerability was sexually exciting to me.

I took her hand and began to tell her everything was ok. I stroked the side of her face, wiping away her tears using my index finger like an impromptu squeegee. I cleared her short cut hair from her face and she cupped my hand in hers.

I saw the look that set it all in motion. The look and the posturing of her head and neck that sent out the signal. The signal like the landing lights put on for the pilot flying in at twilight, guiding him in to home. The look that said 'kiss me'.

Before I could think about it I leaned in toward her lips. She accepted me as I lightly landed my lips on hers. She opened her mouth and I felt her tongue proding inquisitively at my own lips. I parted them and our tongues met, swirling around each other as I held the back of her head in my hand and she placed her hand on the side of my face.

Her kisses tasted like strawberry. Strawberry mingled with the saltiness of her tears. There was also the familiar hint of electricity you feel when that special connection is made. The connection that tells you all things are possible, if you dare to proceed.

I dared and she lead me.

Our kiss lingered serveral moments. Each of us taking the time to thoroughly explore one another. I broke the kiss and stood up, taking her hand in mine. We kissed again, this time wrapping our arms around each other and drawing ourselves closer.

At that moment I was very aware that my cock was growing. It was stirring and there was no hiding it or stopping it. I was also aware that the most obvious sign of my sexual arousal was pressing against her leg.

She drew me closer.This time she broke the kiss and looked up at me, her 5' 1" frame considerably below mine.

"It seems as though you are excited. Does my misfortune excite you?" She looked me straight in the eye as her hand twirled around on my chest, playing seductively with my tie.

In that moment I knew that I had misread her all these years. Sure I had seen the confidence in her walk and the way she spoke, but I had always believed that she was propper. That she was classy, that there was no way she could be a temptress. I was about to learn how wrong I was about her.

My wife is a very seductive woman. The kind that emits a sexal energy that draws you in, makes you want to be possessed by her. Very dominant and in control, her sexuality is overt and commanding.

Amy was the flip side of the same coin. She oozed sexuality with her very feminine frame and mannerisms, but, unlike my wife, she was not the type of dominant personality that you wanted to take you. 

Amy had a submissive vibe that was alluring, a vibe that she obviously knew how to play. A vibe and an attraction that played the other side of the feminine seductress role. The kind that appeared vulnerable, luring you in. The kind that screamed out 'take me', making you feel like you were chasing her down like a cheetah on the Serengeti. All the while she was the one actually stalking you from the shadows, waiting to pounce while you were distracted by the lures she had put forth, shimmering to attract you.

She knew how to play her cards well. She parted the top of her blouse slightly and drew my head forward to her bossom. As her top opened up I could see that she was wearing some style of support bra that held her breasts up and out while leaving her nipples uncovered. 

Her breasts were magnificent. Easily a firm and well cared for D cup. Her nipples and areoles were large and inviting, daring me to suck them.

She kept bringing my head forward and I opened my mouth taking one of her large, inch long nipples into my mouth. I began sucking as I fondled the other breast with one hand. I grabbed her ass with my free hand and pulled her closer to me. She responded by grinding her hips into me, focusing her gyrations on my cock.

She began moaning, "Oh, yes. Suck my tit. It has been so long, no one sucks my tits anymore." She continued talking, "My husband never sucks my tits."

I was more than happy to do that for him.

She cooed into my ear, sucking on it and sticking her tongue in it between her words, "I can feel your hard cock on my leg. Do you want to stick it in me? Do you want to fuck me? well, do you?"

I did not voice an answer to her question.

I let her tit fall from my mouth, still moist with my saliva. Her nipple distended even more from the force of the suction I had been applying. I spun her around, bent her forward at the waist. She instinctively placed her chest across my desk, assuming the perfect doggy style pose. She looked back at me and began to sway her ass back and forth, taunting me. Inviting me. Challenging me.

My instincts to breed her, pushed on by her seduction, took over. I was on auto-pilot now.

I raised her skirt slowly, rolling it up over her ass, gathering it up in a heap on the small of her back. I could see then that she was wearing a thong. A garter held up her stockings. Right in the center of my gaze was the sweet peach of her vagina. Her excitement evident from the soaking stain and the aroma of her musk.

She spoke, softly and pleadingly, "Do you like what you see? Do you want what you see?"

"It has been so long since anyone has fucked me...My husband drinks too much to bother with fucking anymore. Will you fuck me and make me cum? Please?" The tone of her voice and the sexual pleading in her doe eyes were killing me.

The questions seemed all that much more naughty, sordid, with her bent over my desk looking back over her shoulder at me. Her eyes were burning with temptation, her ample tits pressed against my desk blotter. Her legs spread oh so slightly and her ass high and waving at me.

All of it was too much for me to even pretend at being able to resist.

I drew aside her panties to reveal a neatly trimmed bush, not shaved, but well taken care of. The lips of her pussy were swollen, opening like a new flower before the sun, the dew of her excitement gathering on the petals of her lips. I traced the edge of her pussy with my finger, a ghostly light touch, just enough for her to feel my presence at her threshold.

"Oh, my god...That feels so nice! Play with my pussy, no one does anymore but me." She hisses through her teeth, her breath slowly sucking in as she savors the long absent touch of a man on her engorged slit.

I knelt at the altar of her sex, a pilgrim paying homage. 

I could feel the heat and smell the musk of her pussy as it was readying itself for mating. It was intoxicating. I blew lightly, stirring her pubes and raising slight goosebumps on her flesh as I continued to trace the outline of her lips with my finger. I kissed her softly. First on the cheeks of her ass, then at the shelf where her legs gave birth to her ass. I continued kissing along her inner thigh to the moist, warm target between her legs.

I lightly kissed around her soaking pussy, tasting the her sweet juices for the first time. I sucked on the lips as my tongue dives deep, exploring new territory. Her juices flowing at an alarming rate, soaking my chin, lips and cheeks.

All I can smell is her pungent aroma as I begin working in earnest on her clitoris. I lavish attention on the long abandoned center of her excitement.

She reacts immediately to my ministrations. She begins to moan so loudly I am affraid some one might come knocking on my office door! She is also obviously aware of her lustful wails as she sticks her mouth in the crook of her elbow and lets forth a muffled scream, her face twisted with pleasure. 

Her body convulses on top of my desk, my day planner and assorted pens and pencils fall, scattering across the floor. Her legs stiffen, she arches her back and raises her head as if she is trying to howl like a wolf, but no noise escapes. Her body is all but frozen as her orgasm really takes hold, just some slight twitching of her muscles as I continue eating her pussy and sucking on her clitoris.

"Wow! No one has ever done that to me before! I mean, my husband tried a few times when we first met, but..." She sounded crestfallen admitting that her husband could not please her, her voice trailing off to nowhere.

"This isn't about him, this is about us." I tried my best to not sound judgmental as I marveled worked on her pussy.

I released her clitoris and looked at her pussy as I insert first one finger, then another. Her vaginal entrance is very tight and resists the foreign digits. I feel her muscles relax slightly and my fingers 'pop' in. The suction of her underused organ is unbelievable, almost as if she was a woman in her late teens, unfamiliar with man-cock penetrating her. I work my fingers around, trying to stretch her a little to prepare her for my girth.

"My God, Amy, your pussy is so fucking tight!"

"I told you it has been a long time. I don't even finger myself much anymore, I don't want to get myself all worked up and not have anyone to help me out. Fingers can only satisfy so much for so long, you know." She looked at me. Her look seemed to be a mix of regret and desire.

"You know, if you are not comfortable with this we can stop..." I gave her an out as I stood up behind her. 

She rose from the desk and kneeled before me without uttering another word. She caressed my cock through my pants. She moved closer and began tracing the outline of my cock with her lips. I wondered whether she would leave any lipstick on my slacks. That might be tough to explain.

Amy had a little bit of rust on her moves. I could tell that at one time she was very gifted, but she had fallen out of practice through no fault of her own. She was a little out of practice, but she was quickly getting her groove back.

She drew down the fly of my pants with her teeth and then sat back as if contemplating her next move. She fished my hardened cock out from my boxers and regarded it. My cock was not the biggest in the room, only about 7 inches, but it was very thick. Thick and capped with a wide, blunt mushroom head. My cock would swell and seal the pussy of my lovers so well that my juices remained inside them until I withdrew. Nothing leaked out around the sides like those thinner cocks.

Amy marveled at the girthy snake before her. She licked the head tentatively at first. One quick lick. Then she looked up at me.

" I hope you don't mind but it has been a while since I have done this. Probably about twenty years!" She giggled nervously, then lowered her head onto my cockhead.

She had a little difficulty with the width at first, but soon enough she was rendering a world class blowjob unto my cock that would make any man happy. She was a fantastic cocksucker.

She blew me for a few minutes; alternately working on the head, taking the whole organ into her mouth and sometimes just licking around the head, shaft and my swelling balls. Her soft mouth felt wonderful and I truly lack the words to describe how great she was.

She stopped sucking my cock and stepped out of her underwear as she returned to her position draped over my desk. She rolled her skirt up over her ass and simply looked at me. The soft look of her eyes giving me all the permission I needed. She looked wonderful.

My cock needed relief. I needed to be in her. I was going to fuck her and I was going to cum inside of her.

I positioned myself behind her and began sliding my cock up and down along her eager slit. The lips of her pussy wrapping around the mushroom head of my cock, coating me with her juices. I continued to work the doorway to her center, teasing her with my size.

She looked back at me, took hold of the edge of the desk and ordered me, "Put your cock inside me!"

I began pushing forward slowly entering her. I could feel the seldom used muscles of her vagina stretching to accomodate me, gripping me as tightly as if her own hand was down there squeezing my shaft tighly. The heat of her pussy was immense, volcanic and, yet, softer than imaginable. 

She rolled her hips up to meet me, opening herself up even more to allow me in as far as possible. I reached bottom, the head of my cock rubbing against her cervix. The taught grip of her pussy, the warm moist heat and the heavenly smoothness made me want to just ram myself in and out of her. I wanted to fuck her so hard she would be screaming. I wanted to show her how good fucking could be, what she had been missing. What she had been needing and longing for.




Ignored Secretary



I knew I couldn't fuck her with reckless abandon. Not here. Not this time. So I decided to take her on a slow, grinding, forceful journey back to a familiar land. Or, in her case, to a strange new land driven by my wide cock plunging steadily into her, pushing her to another orgasm.

I took hold of her hips and began to work myself in a circular motion, keeping my cock as deep in her as possible. I kept the pressure forward, my hips trying to drive through her as I rolled my cock around inside of her like I was some sort of deviant churning butter.

The pressure of my wide cock in her practically virgin canal was intense. I would semi-withdraw from her and I could see the lips of her pussy clinging to my cock, following it as if begging it not to go. I would force my cock forward again, banging into her cervix, resuming the constant forward pressure.

She widened her legs more, rolled her head around on my desk and bit her lower lip. She was constantly moaning, groaning a low growl of pleasure as I fucked the shit out of her. Her knuckles were white from the grip she was putting onto my desk.

I withdrew a little again and slammed forward as hard as I dared while also trying to be as quiet as possible. Her ass jiggled. I gave her a light slap on the ass.

I asked her, "Whose pussy is this now?"

She didn't answer at first, just continued her low sex-growl as her orgasm approached. Her body starting to stiffen, her head raising off the desk, her back arching. The silent wolf was returning.

I gave her one good, hard slap on the ass. The clap of my hand striking her ass was unmistakable.

"Whose fucking pussy is this now??" I asked as loud as I dared. 

I could hear people outside the office door on their way to lunch, no doubt. Well, go ahead mother-fuckers, I am geting laid right here. Go eat your fucking tuna salad.

"Y-Y-Yours...!" She moan-sighed as she came. Her pussy clamping down on my cock. She stiffened her whole body...Do you have any idea how hard it was trying to fuck against her well toned muscles? Her body was locked into a state of pleasure. I kept forcing myself forward into her, churning my cock around inside of her, winding her up.

I continued fucking her as she came down from her peak. The seed in my balls boiling forward and up into my cock. I could feel the head swelling against her love tunnel, the shaft expanding to provide a rocket groove for my cum as it would soon be launching forth in ropy strands into her belly.

She sensed my impending release. "Cum inside me, please?." That did it. I had never really had any one ask me like that before, in THAT tone. I would not disappoint her.

It was AWESOME. I could feel every seed, every sperm cell, as they spilled forth into her womb. I came and came and came. Her extra tight newly fucked pussy milking every drop from my balls. I swear she must have worked every ounce of my essence up the shaft of my throbbing cock and into her underseeded womb. It was as if her pussy was sating its desire and thirst for the nectar it had been missing.

After I had delivered my cum into her my cock would not fall out. She was still so tight and my head so swollen it was as if we were locked together. I pulled back and drew myself out. An audible 'pop' echoed in my office as my cock escaped the suction of her pussy. A torrent of our mingled juices followed, running down her thighs toward her shoes.

She quickly took some kleenex from the desk, wiped the juices off her thigh and pulled up her panties. She then took my cock in her mouth and cleaned me thoroughly. My member began to harden again.

"Oh, My! Again?! Really? My husband never..." She laughed and stroked my cock as she looked at me.

I tucked myself back in, "Maybe we will save that for later."

She turned to leave my office, stopped and turned, "Lunch? Tomorrow? A friend of mine has a place down the street..."



Ignoring the Bells



"Damn it! Now you are not cutting that tree down!" I yelled from my porch for the fourth time. There was a woman and two men about to cut the tree down that stood on the right side of our yard. One of the men, the taller one, had had enough of my mouth and tore off his goggles and angrily came towards me. I walked down the porch steps to meet him, to show him I wasn't afraid of him and his pretentious, masculine frame.

"Listen here missy," he snapped at me. "This is my job, now if you got a problem with it, talk to the guys at the city hall."

He towered over my 5'2" frame. I looked up at him, narrowing my eyes at him angrily. "And don't call me missy," I hissed. "You will address as me as Molly, you got that?"

"Do you -"

He was interrupted my a car door being slammed. It was Daddy. He had come home from work and had parked in the driveway. He could see I was upset and came over to me.

"What's the matter, pumpkin?" Daddy asked me.

"This guy wants to tear down our tree," I pouted.

"Sir," the tall man addressed my Dad. "My boss says I have to cut down this tree because there's going to be a new house built next door. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"Who says it has to be cut down?" my Dad asked.

"The guys in city hall, and my boss. I have to. I'm sorry, sir. I didn't make this decision, I was merely following it through."

Daddy looked at me. He knew me too well, "No pumpkin, this is his job. There's nothing we can do, and I don't want you to give him a hard time about it. Okay?"

I pouted and stomped up the porch steps. I slammed the front door and went up to my room and cried lightly. I just hated it when Daddy took anyone's side but my own, even if I was in the wrong. I could hear my Dad and the tall man talking, as my window was open.

"I'm sorry about that," my Dad said.

"Oh it's alright - she's a feisty thing," the tall man joked.

They chuckled. "She is at that," my father said.

I couldn't help but smile slightly at that. Then of course they went into some dull discussion about the weather and so forth. I laid on my bed and flipped through a teen magazine. I was at the far end of my teen years. I was eighteen and out of luck. I had a job I didn't care for, a girlfriend who I had had a fight with a few days ago and no boyfriend. I threw the magazine across the room. I thought about guys and what it'd be like to have another boyfriend. My ex-boyfriend and I broke up five months ago and I hadn't seen anyone since. But as I said, I thought about guys. About their bodies, their cocks, their deep voices and I got horny. I couldn't help it.

I took off my clothes and laid down my bed, my legs spread. I like to play with my tits while I play with my pussy. My nipples were standing out, and my pussy was wet. I ran two of my fingers up and down my clean, cute little pink slit. I closed my eyes and sighed. I thought about this guy that I worked with. I wished it was his hand instead of mine. I've been wanting to fuck him ever since I first met him. I rubbed my little button of a clit, then slipped my index finger into my slippery hole. It was just waiting for a cock. It seemed like it was always waiting for a cock. I had only had one cock before, maybe a dozen times or so, and boy did it feel good. I jerked off quicker and quicker and came twice.

I pulled my finger out and slipped it into my mouth. The juice tasted good. I giggled. My friends and I had talked about that. They diagnosed it as "gross", but I loved it. I was still panting from my orgasms when I heard a knock at my bedroom door. I tried to make my voice sound steady and not sweaty.

"Yeah?"

"Honey, I'm going to the store for a few things. You need anything?" my father asked through the door.

I giggled, "Could you pick me up some tampons Daddy? Oh, and a bra too?"

I knew he was blushing. "Well sweetie, I-"

"I'm just kidding Daddy, I don't need anything."

I heard him walk away, down the stairs and out the front door. The crew outside was still busy slicing down our tree. About twenty minutes later I heard the saws stop. Now it was time for them to haul the stuff away. I was just glad it was quiet! I got under my blanket and decided to take a nap.

It was about 5 o'clock in the evening when I started to doze off, and I was awakened about a half-hour later, only this time it was the doorbell. I growled and got out of bed, putting my clothes back on. I went to the front door. It was the tall man from before. I stepped out onto the porch and shut the door behind me, so our cat couldn't escape. 

"Molly," he said. "I'm sorry for being so rude earlier when we were arguing. I should've kept my temper in check."

I was surprised at his apology. And also touched by it too. It sounded so sincere. I smiled, "Well, thank you. I'm sorry too, I know you were just doing your job."

He smiled, his forearm leaning against the house. He had a cute smile, and his blue eyes were fixed down on my face. 

"Anyway," he started. "My name is Fred."

We shook hands.

"It's nice to meet you, Fred."

I couldn't help but giggle at the way he was looking at me. I got the feeling he had a little bit of a crush on me.

"What are you giggling about?" he asked.

I looked up at him, "Fred, I think you like me."

"You bet I do. I think you're an awful pretty little girl."

"Little?" I said. "Why, I'm 18."

"Oh that's good," he said. "Because I wanted to ask you, would you like to go out to dinner sometime? You know, just so I can make up for the way I acted."

I grinned from ear-to-ear. I said yes and we agreed to meet at 7 o'clock on Friday for dinner. Everybody was pretty much done with their job, hauling away the tree and so forth, so Fred had to go. 

I walked into the house. That was the last thing I had expected, for him to ask me out. But I looked forward to it. He looked much older than me. I hadn't gone out with an older man before, but I was open to it. Especially his kind. Now that I thought of it, he was very attractive - it's hard to notice that when you're seeing red. I once thought of his large frame as pretentious. Now I thought of it as sexy and manly. He must've been around 6'3" or 6'4". He had nice arms and a nice big chest, the kind that could really protect a girl. His hair was black and his eyes were a sky-blue color. He had a cute smile too. He must've been between 35 and 45. It was hard to place his age. I ran up the stairs to decide what I was going to wear for Friday night.

Friday night came and I had decided on a spaghetti strap dress on my 5'2", 100 lb. frame. I had pulled back my long, wavy brown hair with barrettes and put on a little make up, including mascara around my green eyes. Fred and I agreed to meet at the front door of the restaurant, and he looked so handsome as he got out his car and came towards me. He had on black slacks, an ironed white button-up shirt, a blue striped tie and it looks like he had shined his shoes.

"Hi Fred," I greeted him.

"Hello there, have you been waiting long?"

"No, I just got here a few minutes ago."

We went in the restaurant and the hostess sat us down to a booth. As we had met on a Monday afternoon, we talked about our week and so forth.

"All that physical labor you must do must be exhausting," I said to him.

"Not so much anymore. But you should've seen me when I first started, I was a sight," he chuckled.

The waitress came by to take our orders. She collected our menus and went on into the kitchen.

"You look very handsome tonight," I said.

"Thank you. You look very pretty tonight, that's such a pretty dress, you look just adorable in it," he said with a smile.

I blushed, "I'm glad you think so."

"I'd be silly not to think so. I'm sure you have all the boys at work crazy, and here you are, going out with some old guy like me."

I giggled, "Oh don't be silly, you're not old at all. In fact, I bet I can guess how old you are."

"Go ahead," he said with a grin.

"39?" I suggested.

"No - but I appreciate the compliment. No, I'm 46," he said. "I hope you don't mind."

I shook my head, "No, not at all."

I looked down at his hand and noticed something unusual. His skin was tanned from being out in the sun, but around his ring finger was a pale circle, as if he'd been wearing a ring while he worked under the sun, and then took it off for tonight. I mentioned it to him. 

"What this?" he asked. Pointing to the pale circle of skin. "This um, I, I -"

I grabbed my purse and got up and left. As I stepped outside and started to walk to my car, I heard him call my name a few times. I turned around. He ran to meet up with me.

"Molly, sweetie, I'm sorry I never said anything about it. I knew you'd never go out with me if I told you I was married," he said.

"You're damn right," I said, and started to walk again.

"Look, you don't understand. This marriage has been over for years, I-"

I cut him off as I got in my car and slammed the door shut. I backed out of my space and squealed out of the parking lot. I couldn't believe this. Why were men like this? And I absolutely loved that excuse that the marriage "had been over for years" and yet he remains married to her!

The night had gotten chilly and it had started to rain and all I wanted to do is go home and curl up in my Dad's arms. At home, it was just him and I. My Mom had passed away when I was a toddler.

When I got home, I was glad to see my Dad was still awake. He was in the living room reading a newspaper and could see I was upset. I curled up next to him on the couch and told him about my date being married. I didn't mention that it was Fred, I just said it was my date. I rested my head on his shoulder and sobbed gently. He wrapped his arm around me and just listened quietly. I sighed when I had finally told him the situation.

"Honest Daddy, I didn't know he was married when he asked me out. I would've never gone out with him if I had known that," I said.

He gave me a squeeze, "I know that honey. I'm so sorry pumpkin."

We decided to go out that night, to get my mind off of things. We went to the bowling alley for a while and then came back home around 10 o'clock. He cooked my favorite meal, which was French toast and bacon. He really was just a great Dad. Who else would do these kind of things for me?

Around 11 o'clock we decided to say good night and went to bed, but I couldn't get to sleep right away. Although I hated Fred and I hated him not telling me everything, I still lusted after him. I had been looking forward to our date so much that the week just dragged on, and then when it finally got here I was disappointed. Still I couldn't deny that I was physically attracted to him. He was one of the most handsome men I'd seen in a long time. And he was funny, charming, cute. But he was married, and I had to keep telling myself that. I turned over in bed and told myself to forget about him and go to sleep.

I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. One of my girlfriends called me and asked if I wanted to go shopping with her. I said sure and showered and dressed. I wore a light purple sweater and a purple and white plaid miniskirt - I never knew what kind of guys I might meet today at the mall.

My Dad was going out golfing and I saw him off. I sat on the couch and was waiting for my friend to pick me up when I heard the doorbell ring. That must be her, I thought to myself and got up to answer the door. It was Fred.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"I know what I did was wrong last night, and I'm sorry. Please, may I come in for a minute?" he asked, looking sadly down into my eyes.

I nodded and let him in. We took a seat on the couch and he started to talk about his marriage. How they hardly saw one another, and when they did, they always bickered and fought. They were so in love when they married, but the love was dead, he said. 

"I could've never asked you out if I had been in love with her," he explained.

I felt sorry for him. I really did, but there's nothing I could do. I didn't date married man and that was that. He nodded.

"But I also came over because I wanted to tell you that the company I work for is looking for a full-time secretary down at the office. I remember last night you mentioned you were unhappy with your job - would you be interested in the secretarial position?"

I smiled, "Of course, definitely. How do I go about getting interviewed?"

"I'll take care of that," he said and pulled out his cell phone and called his boss. "Yes....Yes Mr. Sommers, I know a great girl who would be great for the position," Fred spoke mid-conversation. "Tell her what, sir?....Okay, I will...Thank you, you too...Bye."

"Well, Molly, you've got yourself an interview! Monday at 10 a.m.," Fred said with a grin.

"Thank you so much, Fred. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this," I said.

"It's no trouble." We sat there for a minute in silence. The attraction was undeniable and the tension was thick. "Oh I forgot," he said. "There was another reason why I came over."

"What's that?" I asked.

He leaned in and kissed me passionately, slipping his hands around my waist and pulled me towards him. I fought meekly at first and then gave in. I didn't want to fight the feeling anymore, I wanted him too badly. He pulled me up onto his lap in a straddling position. We made out and he undid a button on my sweater.

"Oh Fred," I said. "I can't help it, but I want you so bad."

"I want you too baby. You look so sexy today, so sweet."

Just then I heard the doorbell ring. That must be my girlfriend. I ignored it and we continued making out. The bell rang again, and again we ignored it. I heard her car start up and leave. I was glad she was gone.

Fred unbuttoned my sweater and slipped it off my shoulders. He cupped my tits in their lacey white bra.

I moaned, "That feels so good. And I feel you're cock underneath me."

"Of course baby. I've been hard ever since we met."

We made out for a while more. I eventually slipped out of all my clothes and he slipped out of everything except his boxer shorts. His cock was sticking straight up.

"Let's go up to my bedroom," I said.

He followed me up the stairs and I closed my bedroom door behind him. I knelt down before him and pulled down his shorts. His cock was big - the biggest I'd ever seen, maybe 7 or 8 inches. He stroked my hair and encouraged me.

"I know it's big sweetheart, but I know you can take it," he said.

I wrapped my lips around his cock and started to suck on him. He groaned and tilted his head back, moaning. I gave his cock head kisses, then blew him more. Then I lifted up his cock and started to suck on his balls.

"Oh fuck," he cussed. "Yes baby, do it for me."

I licked his balls and gently took each one in my mouth. I moved my mouth upward again and started to blow him again, slurping and slobbering all over his meat. He softly eased me off of his cock.

"Here sweetheart, let me lick that sweet little slit of yours now. Lay on the bed."

I laid down on my bed and spread my legs. I could feel myself dripping wet. He stepped out of his shorts and knelt at the foot of my bed and pulled my body towards him and started to lick at my pussy.

"Ohh," I moaned. "Yes, that feels good."

He lapped at my pussy juice like a kitten drinking milk. He seemed so hungry for me and my body and everything that had to do with sex. I was that eager too. I clutched his hair and sweated heavily. I arched my back and came hard within a minute or two. I laid flat on my back again. God that felt good.

He hooked his arms under my back and under my knees and moved me up on the bed, so my head was resting on the pillows. I spread my legs again and he chuckled. He arranged his big body between my legs.

"I'm scared," I said. "I've never had a cock so big."

He leaned down and kissed me and whispered, "It's okay precious, I'll be gentle."

He gently pushed in his cock and I let out a yelp. He slowly pushed himself into my pussy. While he did this, I admired his body. How big his chest was and his arms and how muscular his legs seemed to be.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?" he grinned down at me. I nodded. He chuckled, "I like what I see too. I love it, in fact."

I smiled and spread my legs wider. He finally was all the way in my body. He started to pump slowly and I got into it really fast. His cock felt so good in my body. I whimpered and moaned and told him to give me more and give it to me faster.

"More, precious? Okay baby," he said.

He started to pound me hard and my tits jiggled. He stopped and sucked on my tits some, and then went back to fucking me. I'd never been fucked like this before in my life. I could feel each of his strokes, and each one left me hungry for another. He fucked me even harder and I could tell he was about to cum. I looked up at his face and I came immediately, my pussy hugging at his cock and quivering. He felt this too and shot his warm load into my slit.

"Yes, yes, cum for me baby," I urged him.

After both of us cumming, he gently slipped his cock out of my pussy and laid down next to me, both of our chests heaving and our bodies sweating. I could tell the poor man was absolutely exhausted. I giggled. I heard a car door slam outside. I jumped up from the bed and looked outside. Dad was home - and our clothes were scattered all over the living room floor. Jeez!

"What's wrong?" Fred asked.

"Ssh," I said. "My Dad's home."

I ran downstairs and scooped up all our clothes and ran back upstairs. Just as I shut my bedroom door, I heard the front door open. I sighed in relief. 

Fred chuckled, "You're something baby."

I locked my bedroom door and dumped our clothes on the floor. I crawled back into bed with him. I cuddled up against his naked chest and started giggling and he started to laugh too.

"We just have to be quiet," I whispered.

He chuckled in a low voice. He wrapped his arms around my body and pulled me to him. Our lips were only a couple inches apart. "I won't let you get in trouble, baby," he whispered and kissed me deeply. We talked in whispered hushes.

"Now look," I said with a giggle. "My Dad may be 5'5", but he's one tough cookie - and there's no telling when he'll leave the house again."

"I don't care sweetheart. I could stay here all day."

We kissed again. His body was still sweaty. I ran my hands up and down his chest, "You look so good, Fred."

"Nah, I'm just some old man, baby."

"But you sure make love good," I giggled.

"I do with the right girl. With a girl like you, precious," he said, stroking my sweaty hair away from my face.

I smiled, "I'm going to see what Daddy's up to."

I dressed and peeked out in the hall. The coast was clear, or more accurately, the hall. I stepped out of my bedroom and closed the door behind me. I heard the tv from downstairs and followed the sound. Dad was lying on the couch watching the tube.

"Hi Daddy, what's going on? I thought you were golfing."

"Eh," he said. "I think my ankle is acting up. That damn Edwards from the office is not going to get the satisfaction, though. I'm going back to the greens after my ankle has rested some."

"Really?"

"Oh you bet, pumpkin. That cocky bastard isn't going to get the satisfaction. I'm going to meet him back at the golf course at 1 o'clock."

I looked up at the clock. That was about two hours from now. I wished my Dad good luck with his ankle and with his golf game later in the day and went back up to my bedroom. 

What was I going to do with Fred? We couldn't make love - our sex was too noisy. I had Fred up in my room and my Dad downstairs. Little did my father know, I had a grown man in the house right above his head. I explained the situation to Fred. He agreed that our sex was too noisy. We decided to watch a movie and snuggled into bed together. Throughout the movie I quietly blew him a couple times in just my bra and panties. By the end of my movie I was covered in dried and wet cum - and I never felt better.




Ignoring the Bells



About 15 minutes after the movie was over I heard Daddy leave the house. Then I heard my Dad pull out of the driveway. Fred and I agreed to take a shower together and we enjoyed each other doing that. Washing each other up and toweling each other off. We dressed and I walked him to his car.

"Bye baby," he said.

"Bye sweetie," I said and stood on my tiptoes to kiss him.

"It's hard to tear myself away from you, sweetheart."

"I feel the same way too," I said, looking up at him.

He got into his car and drove away. I went back into the house. Even though I had just showered, I decided to take a bath. My pussy was sore from taking such a big cock. I filled up the tub and squirted in some bubble bath. I eased into the hot water. Surprisingly, I felt very little guilt about sleeping with a married man. I was enjoying being with Fred and I wasn't going to deny myself happiness.

Monday morning came and it was time for interview down at the main office where Fred worked. I was interviewed by Mr. Sommers. He asked me questions about my employment history and we talked about the job position. It'd be 40 hours a week and I'd have two weeks of training - most of it to learn the computer system.

"Molly," Mr. Sommers addressed me. "I'm a man who makes up my mind quickly and I've decided that I'd like you for this position. When would you be able to start?"

I smiled, "Thanks so much. I'm willing to start right away."

We decided that I'd start the next day. I called Fred's cell phone and told him the good news.

"Congrats, baby!" he said.

"Thanks, I start tomorrow."

"I'm so glad - then I'll get to see even more of you sweetheart."

Being trained for a job is always hard. But despite that, it was the best two weeks in my life. Because of Fred. I think I was falling in love with him. We made love whenever we could and spent every minute we could together. We just couldn't seem to get enough of each other.

The first day I was without training, I think I did pretty well. For my lunch hour, Fred and I went out to McDonald's and sat in his car while we ate. We kissed and held hands.

"I wish I could go home with you tonight after work," I said.

"Oh so do I sweetheart," he said and leaned in to kiss me.

We made out and I could feel his cock hard through his jeans. I was getting so worked up in that parking lot we sat in and he cupped my tits. We were getting so excited and moaned into each other's mouth, but we had to put a stop to it and go back to work. Sometime tonight we'd really go after each other.

I went back to the office and clocked back in. Sue from accounting told me Mr. Sommers wanted to see me. I wonder why. I hadn't done anything wrong. I went to his office. The door was open, but I quietly knocked on the doorframe. He was pouring over some very important-looking papers. With my knock, he told me to come in.

"Come in Molly, please sit down," he said.

"Yes, Mr. Sommers," I said, sitting down across from his desk.

"Molly, I've really had a joy working with you the last couple weeks. I love your humor, your enthusiasm."

"Are you firing me?" I asked bluntly.

He chuckled, "No, not at all. But I was wondering, would you like to go out sometime, outside of work?"

"For a date?" I asked. He nodded and smiled shyly. I smiled and politely rejected his offer. He said he understood and we went back to work. I went back to the front of the office at my desk. It was a slow afternoon and I thought the end of the day would never get here. Around 3 o'clock a young woman, who looked about my age, came up to my desk.

"Hello, how can I help you?" I asked.

"May I see Fred?" she asked.

"I think he's actually out on 5th street. A tree fell down on some guy's garage," I said. "Is anything wrong?" I asked. Her eyes were puffy and red, as if she'd been crying.

"Just make sure he gets this. He left this at my house last night" she said, putting down a watch.

"Certainly, I will," I said.

She turned around and left angrily. I wonder what she was upset about. I picked up the watch and studied it more closely. It was in fact Fred's. Tears came to my eyes when I pieced it all together. He had told me he was in an unhappy marriage and that I was the only girl he thought of. And yet this young woman who had known him well dumped his watch off - and he was there last night.

My sadness turned into anger and I threw his watch in the trash. I gave myself a good half-hour to cool down and then went to the back hallway and again knocked on Mr. Sommers door frame.

He looked up, "Yes, Molly?"

"Mr. Sommers, does your offer to take me out still stand?"



Ignoring the Signs



(Chapter 13)

"Ignoring the Signs" (circa-1978)

As soon as you walked through the door the unmistakable aroma of weed and the familiar smell of infidelity left you in no doubt that you had entered the Cavendish Club. 

As usual the place was full of desperate people, some searching for everlasting love, most of them just after a one night stand. 

The events over the last few days had left him depressed and emotionally drained. 

The day had started badly and progressively got worse. It started with an early morning telephone call from Stella Mason informing him that his friend, Gary Fowler had been rushed to hospital after sustaining serious injuries in a head-on car crash. Stella said that Gary was in an induced coma fighting for his life, and although he was showing some signs of improvement the doctors confirmed that the damages to his spinal cord were so severe that he might never walk again.

The afternoon didn't get any better. Too many cigarettes and too much alcohol, pacing the floor, picking up the phone and putting it down, trying to build up the courage to phone Caroline Spencer. 

He must have lifted the phone a dozen times before dropping it back into the cradle. 

He knew that if he made the call her father would have probably answered, and given the regrettable circumstances he wouldn't expect the conversation to be friendly.

The more he thought about the unfortunate incident in his bedroom, he was beginning to accept the fact that he wouldn't see Caroline again. 

He was wrong. They would eventually meet up again in 1985, although the circumstances would be very different and a little embarrassing.

After spending the last hour sitting on a stool at the bar, drowning his sorrows in alcohol and wrestling with his conscience, he felt as if his heart and his life had suddenly come to a milestone he would like to forget.

Staring through the bottom of another empty glass, aware that there aren't many things in life that can beat alcohol in a crisis, shaking the glass at the barman in that universal sign for another drink, the sound of a stool scraping across the floor and a comforting hand on his shoulder interrupting his thoughts, the reflection in the mirror behind the bar throwing back the friendly smile of Heather Chapman, her sympathetic voice interrupting his self-pity. 

"You look like someone who's just lost his puppy."

If he ever wanted to spend the rest of his life with a woman who came with all the attributes, then Heather Chapman would be at the top of his list. In her late-thirties, Heather was neither attractive nor unattractive, but what she lacked in appearance she made up in her sincere character, a stunning fit body and a hungry appetite for sex. 

Twice married and twice divorced. A free spirited 'life and soul of the party,' type of woman, enjoying life, obsessed with sex, rejoicing in her single status and making no secret of her preference for well-endowed men, able to balance her private life with a demanding career, drifting between her many lovers without feeling any obligation to make any one of them a permanent fixture in her life. 

No baggage. No conditions. No commitments. No longevity. After two failed marriages and a string of casual relationships, Heather had adopted a new philosophy in life. 'Husbands are for convenience...Lovers are for sex.'

Heather had come to the conclusion that after two unsuccessful marriages to worthless men, her life had now changed for the better. After finding a new direction in her life, she had no regrets and made no apologies for any of her actions. She dated whoever she wanted and slept with whoever grabbed her fancy. 

The regular visits to the local gym and endless nights of yoga gave Heather an exceptional body that no one could ignore. She was an extremely fit woman who enjoyed wild, reckless and physical sex, preferably with well-hung men, who were prepared to go the distance. 

She often joked that she had been with some men where she could have painted her nails and had sex at the same time. It was also rumoured that after she had finished with one of her lovers he required medical attention. 

Her appetite for sex with an extraordinary kinky twist was extremely demanding and clearly not for the feint hearted. And with her preconditions for unconventional sex she could get into positions that made most gymnasts green with envy. During one of their many heated sessions she once asked him to blow a balloon up inside her vagina and when she felt it touching the atrium to her cervix, she masturbated and let him watch.

Heather had a clandestine dark side, often indulging in bedroom water-sports. Her ability to practice urine therapy and demonstrate her skills in the art of 'The Golden Fountain' were legendary. She made no secret of the fact that she was a sexual compulsive maverick, often joking that her bedroom had been fitted with a revolving door. A bedroom fully equipped with a plethora of erotic gadgets and an arsenal of vibrators and phallic toys, she simply referred to as her 'implements of obedience.'

Heather never went anywhere without taking her best friend. 'Trap 2' was his name, a small three-inch long vibrator that fitted discretely inside her handbag. After a lot of audacious practice she had perfected her masturbation technique and would often use her best friend in public place, especially when she was driving the car. 

With a little movement from either crossing her legs or pulling her thighs tightly together and applying a little pressure on her pelvis she was able to bring herself to a delicious toe-curling orgasm. There were occasions when she required a little more stimulation to coax her along the road to climax, so a searching finger circling the clitoris would usually do the trick.

Sometimes in a private moment of reverie when she couldn't sleep or if she was feeling horny, the angry buzz of a comforting vibrator teasing her clitoris and 'Trap 2' wedged in the back door would remove any anxieties. Heather enjoyed the pleasures of anal sex but there were times when some of the larger deliveries couldn't be taken in the back door. So to minimise any agonising pain or discomfort during penetration, 'Trap 2' would be used to widen and lubricate the anal passage. 

She once confessed that she often inserted the magical device inside her anus during sexual intercourse. Someone had told her that if you apply pressure against the prostate gland during intercourse the stimulation from the vibrator pressing against the prostate heightened the intensity of sexual arousal.

He thought about telling her that women didn't have a prostate gland and this ritual was unique only to men. He decided not to say anything. Why should he. Heather enjoyed her sex more than any woman he had ever known, and if she was 'getting off' on her fantasy what right had he to meddle in her recreational pleasures. 

Heather Chapman's sympathetic voice and comforting smile came with an invitation.

The sea front car park above the cliffs of Tynemouth beach was a place he was familiar with, although at two in the morning he was surprised to find it full. 

There's a small gap in the barrier fence at the end of the car park that leads to a small dirt track above the cliffs. But remember it's very close to the cliff edge...said a cautious voice inside his head. 

A brief moment of hesitation and a frustrated sigh, a cavalier impulse kicking away caution, a quick turn of the steering wheel, the tyres spinning over the gravel surface, the headlights beaming intrusively against the steamy windows of other cars, casting shadowy silhouettes of couples engaged in various stages of copulation, the sound of the engine alerting faceless lovers that an intruder had just entered their carnal arena. 

Ignoring the warning sign, turning the headlights on full beam, navigating the car through the narrow gap in the fence, a careful manoeuvre over the grassy terrain, the suspension protesting against the uneven ground, making sure he avoided the rocks and the muddy area directly above the cliffs.

When Heather Chapman performed fellatio you knew you had been given the best blow-job of your life. 

A well-practiced oral technique, never hurried, slow and meaningful, a prolonged and sustained commitment of intimate acquaintance, always performed with sensuous ease, working the swollen shaft with the skill and finesse of an artist, easing him into her warm mouth, swallowing the length down to the root, blowing him out in whispers of warm air, sweeping her talented tongue up and down the length with flirtatious precision, teasing the bulbous head in a messy sea of oral fluids, a ritual stimulation of oral interaction, a mind-blowing performance to remember.

Heart beats increasing, a visceral surge of adrenaline flooding through veins at the speed of sound, the expectation of coital connection fuelling the fire of urgent compulsion, clothes abandoned on the floor in a heartbeat, climbing into the back seat in an unceremonious manoeuvre of increasing urgency, a hesitant panic and a frustrated curse as she searched inside her handbag for her phallic friend, a sigh, a shuffle and a wiggle, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth as she inserted 'Trap 2,' inside her anal passage. 

There were times when Heathers fitness and compulsive needs proved to be more of a marathon of endurance than a quick fuck in the back seat of a car. 

Shifting her weight on the seat, straddling his thighs and placing both knees on each side of his hips, his back pressed hard against the cool vinyl seat, bouncing up and down, lifting and lowering, easing him in and easing him out, all the way in and all the way out, lifting and lowering, fucking with the stamina of an Olympic athlete, her pendulous tits swinging recklessly from side to side, up and down, wriggling and twisting, grinding and thrusting, easing him into her body, every movement executed with feline dexterity, holding him tight in pubic capture, prolonging the moment, squeezing his cock in a vice-like grip, the liquid heat of passion spilling from the burning inferno between her legs, an outpouring of sweat running in rivers from their naked bodies, gathering in pools of pleasure on the vinyl seat. 

The movement of interaction gathered speed, a shameful voice turning to full volume, her use of the carnal vocabulary always impressive, a running commentary of curses and obscenities spilling from tight lips, moans and groans, blissful cries and screams of euphoria smothered under the perpetual echoes of filth resonating inside the metal enclosure. 

OH MY GOD! OH GOD! FUCK ME! FUCK ME FASTER! FUCK ME HARDER! FUCK THE ARSE OFF THIS COCK SUCKING BITCH, she demanded, her dignity evaporating in the heat of passion, her pleas for Gods help accompanied by a shameful outburst of sinful language never gaining his approval.

A sudden movement and a creaking groan, the intimacy momentarily broken, shuffling uncomfortably on the seat, brushing condensation from the glass and pressing her forehead against the steamy window, blinking her eyes and trying to focus in the darkness.

"FUCK!" She screamed, her eyes lighting up like two flood lamps. "The fucking cars moving down the embankment," she cursed, desperately searching the floor for clothing.

He couldn't remember the last time he moved so fast. Two people colliding in a tangled chaos of urgency and confusion, grabbing her arm and pushing her aside, jumping from the back seat with the speed of a gazelle, trying to squeeze his body through the tight gap between the two front seats, searching frantically for the handbrake, trying to grab the steering wheel, trying to grab anything.

"Please let the tide be out...Please not in the fucking sea." the mantra repeated inside his head, as the car gathered momentum, rocking and swaying with the uneven terrain, throwing them against the doors and windscreen like a couple of rag-dolls, the wheels colliding with a solid object, throwing it sideways into an unrelenting roll down the embankment, crashing into rocks in a deafening explosion of broken glass, razor sharp fragments raining down and cutting into flesh, Heather's painful screams smothered under the screeching sound of metal ripping apart just before the vehicle crashed onto the beach below. 

The welcoming sound of the ocean crashing on the shore broke the mantra, a wheezing sigh of unnerving optimism spilling from a grateful mouth, lifting his head from the steering wheel, brushing shards of glass and debris from his bruised and battered body, staring into the claustrophobic darkness, searching for Heather, looking for a way out of the devastation. 

The haunting smell of engine oil and petrol spilling from the car suddenly fed his panic, his efforts to escape severely compromised by the mangled wreck that no longer resembled a motor vehicle, peering over the front seats into the darkness catching sight of her naked body lying limp and motionless of the floor, her body bruised and bloody from the impact. 

A rush of adrenaline to his heart and lungs gave him a renewed surge of energy, banging his foot repeatedly against the rear door, eventually breaking it free from its hold.

A deep intake of breath before sucking in air through his nose, puffing and panting, hissing and wheezing, grabbing her hands, ignoring the broken glass torturing his knees, pulling her carefully through a small gap in the door, mindful to grab his pants on the way before scrambling onto the wet sand to safety.

It should have been a moment to rejoice if the fuel tank hadn't exploded sending a mass of metal fragments flying into orbit in a halo of orange and yellow flames, the unexpected explosion awakening the sleeping world.

Seagulls squawked in protest above their heads, sweeping and diving in the slipstream of thermal updrafts along the cliff face, before disappearing into the night sky. 

Above the embankment car headlights shone over the cliff top, casting shadowy silhouettes of disturbed lovers standing in a line along the top of the embankment trying to get a glimpse of the tragedy that had just occurred. 

It seemed like a lifetime waiting for the emergency services to arrive. Watching and waiting, shivering in the cold sea breeze, pacing nervously back and forth, staring up at the faceless shadows looking down from the top of the embankment, Heathers sobbing cries a painful reminder that her injuries needed urgent medical treatment, trying his best to comfort her, selfishly slipping into his pants and making a mental note never to ignore warning signs again, the welcoming noise of wailing sirens and a carnival of flashing lights above the cliff top breaking his thoughts and drowning out Heathers painful cries. 

It took less than ten minutes for the ambulance to reach Newcastle Royal Victoria Hospital. 

A doctor examined Heather's injuries while a nurse attended to his minor cuts and bruises, the comfort of the waiting room giving him precious time to focus on the reality of the near death encounter, a voice inside his head nagging away at his guilty conscience. 

'You shouldn't have ignored the warning sign. You were lucky the tide was out. You could have ended up swimming with the fishes. You could be in the hospital morgue.'

He sighed into his hands, cursing himself for his stupidity, knowing how fortunate he was to walk away from the accident without serious injury. Apart from a slight ache in his right leg and a few minor cuts to his knees and feet he was relatively okay. 

Heather wasn't so lucky. She was badly hurt in the accident. 

His guilty conscience got the better of him. He decided to feign a limp.

The dark sky beyond the windows was turning into a lighter shade of grey, the sound of birdsong signalling the beginning of a new day, a fleeting glance at the clock on the white painted wall letting him know it was approaching six o'clock, a squeaking door and the sound of heavy footfalls marching into the waiting room breaking the silence. 

"What the..." snapped the nurse, sweeping her tongue across uneven teeth, removing evidence of chocolate from her mouth and forcing a smile, her eyes wide open and both eyebrows raised, questioning eyes staring at the helpless figure in the chair.

"Not you again," she barked. "Mark Brand, if I'm not mistaken," she added, shaking her head in disbelief, the mere mention of his name breaking her from her mental food orgy. "What is it now, or should I say, who is the victim now?" 

He wasn't in the mood for another lecture from Susan Owen. He just lifted his shoulders in defeat and sighed into his hands. "How is she," he enquired.

The nurse scowled at his arrogance before biting on a chocolate bar, her chocolate coated words unexpectedly sympathetic. 

"The doctors are presently examining her injuries. When they've finished I'll take you to the ward and you can have a few minutes with her in private," she said, exaggerating a wink and pointing a finger at the floor. "Providing that limp of yours improves."

Even after the nurse had cleaned the dried blood from her battered and bruised body and dressed her wounds, Heather still looked absolutely dreadful. 

He pulled up a chair by the bed, held her hand and forced a smile, the silence broken by the occasional whisper of apology and a helpless mouth trying to find some comforting words that would ease the excruciating anxiety.

The swishing noise of the privacy curtain pulled quickly along a rail and the authority in Susan Owens voice announcing that his visiting time was over broke the sombre mood. 

The chair scraped across the vinyl floor as he lifted to his feet and leaned over the bed. 

The kiss was warm and meaningful, holding it long enough until the nurse looked away, a whisper in her ear bringing an unexpected smile to her lips.

"I just had a thought," he muttered, choking back a lump in his throat, looking nervously over his shoulder before continuing. "With everything that's happened... I wondered if you had remembered to remove Trap 2." 

She squeezed his hand, smiled and whispered through swollen lips. 

"Don't worry, I've taken care of him," was all she said. 

Heather Chapman sustained a broken collar-bone, a broken arm, three broken ribs and several deep cuts and bruises to her face and upper body. 

The headlines in that nights evening newspaper read, 'Love on the Rocks.'