0 comments/ 73009 views/ 4 favorites Legal Tender By: BelindaCath Dedicated to Steve * Part 1 "You WHAT?!" "Honey," he said, his eyes wide and pleading. He put his hands out in front of him, palms down, as if urging me to take it easy, to slow down. But I felt the world suddenly spinning out of control. He tried to grasp my shoulders. "Please... you don't..." "How could you!" I said, fully aware that I was no longer looking at Dwight -- my shoulders slumped, and I sank onto the ornamented wooden footlocker we had paid so much for a month ago. "What were you thinking?" I said, my voice weak. "On God's green earth, what were you thinking, Dwight?" "Honey," he said. "Katie, ... I thought, I guess, I don't know...I did it for us." "For us?" I asked, turning to look at him. "You falsified legal documents for us, Dwight? Do you have any idea what this is going to do to your career...to us?" His eyes were bright and wet. I could tell he'd been crying for some time before he had come home and dropped this bombshell on me. Normally, my heart would be breaking for him: the big, broad-shouldered guy rarely showed me his weak side. But today, I was too angry to think. "Katie," he said, reaching for my hand. I instinctively pulled it away and instantly regretted it, but I did not offer it back. I didn't know what to think. I needed time. "Katie, I did it for us. It was wrong, but I did it for us..." "For us?" I repeated listlessly, standing up without knowing where I was going. "For us..." With a shake of my head, I walked toward the door without a conscious thought. I was, for the moment, dead inside. Everything —this room, this house, us -- it seemed so empty now. So meaningless. "I need time," I said, my voice steadier now, quieter, and even a little more intense. "I just need a little time to think." "Katie, baby..." His voice was muffled. He had slumped to the bed, his hands covering his face. I didn't hesitate. I let my feet take me out of the room. Dwight had the good sense not to follow me out as I walked out of the bedroom, and down the hallway. I caught a glimpse of myself in the antique mirror I'd been so pleased to spend too much for at Bellique's two months ago, and I was shocked to see my face so drawn. As I reeled down the hall, feeling, oddly, as if I didn't even exist any more. I found some small surprise at the fact that my feet made any sound at all on the hardwood floors. I strode through the living room, past the leather couch and chair, past the bud vase and ottoman and assorted knick knacks I had been so proudly collecting in order to impress all who visited of our lives of quiet luxury. Without thinking much about it, I heard him call my name once, twice, three times -- each time more feeble, more resigned, more defeated. By the time I picked my keys up off the credenza and headed out the front door, I could barely hear him at all. **** I drove aimlessly, pointing the Volvo along whatever path seemed to offer the least resistance and the most opportunity for reflection. Since I was barely looking ahead as I drove, I found it easy to look back ... Though we might as well have come from different planets, Dwight and I had met over five years ago at one of the most unusual bonding events known to modern culture: a Rocky Horror show. Ever the rebel, I'd come as Columbia, dressed in the sluttiest outfit that I could muster. It hadn't been the only performance I'd attended, nor the only one I'd dressed for, but whatever possessed me to leave my seat and head up toward the stage seemed to liberate me, and I found myself transported into another heretofore forbidden world as I performed under the movie at the front of the theater. And it was there that I met an unbelievably buff bronzed god posing as Rocky Horror himself. After the movie, we ate at a coffee shop, both of us wearing sweats that permitted us passage into normal society, but I know that I could think of little else but his tight, smooth, muscled body under those loose and formless garments. The feeling was quite apparently mutual, and it took little time to find myself breathily shedding my clothes under his greedy hands, his mouth busy on mine, consuming me with his lips, the evidence of his lust pressed hard against my thigh as he devoured me. We lay sprawled on his four-posted bed, my hands all over him: gripping his arms, clutching at his back, seizing his ass. Whatever propriety I had pretended to live my life according to previous to this evening, I abandoned completely under his ravenous spell. And finally, naked beneath him, I felt him impale me, his hips thrusting against me, his need to release himself through me and inside me conveying me into a world of abandon and desire unlike any experience I have ever felt before. And when he came, plunging himself inside me, I felt him empty himself into me with a hunger that I knew would not abate when sense and reason came again. And as much as we forestalled that moment, cavorting wildly through the night, it finally did come upon the light of dawn when we fell asleep in each other's arms at long last. **** We lived together for two years, were married on the second anniversary of our Rocky Horror debut, and soon found ourselves building a life for ourselves that would have been almost impossible for me to have imagined before all this began. I had spent my formative years outside of New York City, crowded into an urban sprawl of uniform row houses amidst capillaries of teeming traffic. The town I lived in was part of a expansive complex of businesses, restaurants, car dealerships and arcades whose only divergent identity was marked by whatever sign certified which particular village one was actually in at any given time. My parents, like so many others around us, seemed so resigned to this lifestyle that even something as simple as an acknowledgement of it seemed impossible, and I thus I and others like me lived my days in accordance to the rules, from elementary to junior to high school to state college, eventually graduating as a school librarian, whose career it was to place the accumulated knowledge of the world into neat little organized rows. Dwight had come from a long line of aristocrats and private schools, and I found myself surprised to find in those occasional unguarded moments he granted me that such a life was to him equally packaged and programmed. He became a lawyer, like his father, and his father's father, and he, too, was well on his way to a life of accumulation and attainment when he acquired me. Despite our differences, we clicked, and I soon found myself blissfully transformed into his universe of wealth and status, and though I initially felt somewhat invisible to his parents and their crowd, I found myself becoming more perceptible as I happily pursued my newfound ability to possess whatever luxuries and status I could. I don't like to admit this about myself, but all of my teenage disgust with the world of the American royalty disappeared like air from a balloon. Whether it was buying our new home in our expensive neighborhood, or filling it with lavish furnishings, or even the Volvo I was now driving, my quest for instant social status probably taxed him to the limit Even though Dwight was well on his way to his family's life of plenty, he was still only a junior lawyer in his father's firm. He never protested, but I know I was running him ragged. And so, I realized, as surely as I was driving the Volvo down the road, I had done this, too. I had pushed him to the limit. Dwight might have been the one who broke the law, but it was my obsession that drove him to it. And I knew what I had to do. **** Among my diminishing options, none were bigger than Kevin Chance. A few weeks after Dwight joined Massey, Chance and Ferguson, he invited me to come in during the morning so that I might admire his new office. Wishing to impress his future partners, I dressed conservatively in a light wool skirt that reached below the knee, Since the weather was a bit cool for September, I chose a matching jacket. My one concession to female intuition was a light silk blouse that really was a bit too sheer for an office, but I thought it would be fine under the jacket. It was Dwight's favorite. Dwight introduced me proudly to each of his office mates, and after the amenities he took me by the arm and escorted down the hall to his office. As we walked down the hall he showed us the partners' offices, and I could see his ambition was barely held in check as he introduced each partner in turn -- I could tell he was envisioning when he might be occupying any one of those offices in due time. When we reached his office, the three other young, enterprising men he shared the room with jumped to their feet and made brief, energetic introductions and told me one by one how proud they were to work with Dwight, how he was fitting right in, and they saw great things in his future, but I could just as easily see that each of them considered the others not compatriots, but chum -- the kind sharks hunger for and consume as they hunt for larger prey. Just as quickly, each of them made excuses that they had to perform this task or that, and we soon found ourselves alone in the office. When Dwight pointed out his desk I complimented him earnestly: I was so proud of him. As I told him this our eyes met, and he scooped me up in his strong arms and pressed me to him spontaneously, locking his mouth on mine. I enjoyed it immensely, and as I felt my own internal temperature rise I shrugged, and he got the hint immediately. Never losing his lips' hold on me, he took off my jacket and ran his hands over my back, letting his thumbs slide forward until they touched my breasts, sliding slowly up and down... It was then I looked over his shoulder and saw a stranger standing in the doorway, and I tried to break Dwight's hold on me. Thinking it was at first just a sign of my increasing passion, Dwight became more demonstrative, and before I could separate from him, he had quite visibly cupped my bottom and pressed himself hard against me. "Dwight," I said, my voice a bit forced, "you should introduce us." Dwight turned and I saw his jaw drop and his skin visibly redden. "Oh," he said, stumbling a bit. "Um... hello, Mr. Chance. I didn't hear you..." "No," he said, a smile breaking out over his handsome, tanned face. He had a full head of dark brown hair, and bright brown eyes that positively twinkled as he spoke. "It didn't seem that you did. Please accept my apology." I felt totally disheveled. I knew we hadn't done much of anything, but not only could I tell that my blouse was probably not completely tucked in, but I was becoming increasingly aware of his stare, which was lowering by the second. I could feel my nipples betraying me, and knew the sheer blouse and bra were probably doing almost nothing to disguise my arousal. I blushed and moved behind Dwight who, damn him, was so oblivious he brought me back out beside him again. I felt I was on display. There was no way that Dwight could know, but he was offering me up to Kevin on a plate. He was so caught up in impressing his boss, gabbing and making small talk, that he never saw how, each time he'd glance away, Kevin would let his gaze drop. And he also never saw the way s Kevin's eyes would eventually rise, not to his own, but mine. Upon subsequent visits, I had the uncanny feeling that Mr. Chance always seemed to find time to make an encounter. Often, they were brief: a "hello," or even a nod from across the office. It wasn't just my overactive ego at work: at his firm's Christmas party he came upon me as I left the bathroom, and I had the distinct feeling it was anything but chance that he had stumbled upon me. We chatted amicably, and I had the odd feeling that it was he who was a little nervous. It was remarkable -- he was a one of the three heads of a powerful and influential organization -- and it was equally empowering. "If you don't mind my asking," I said, reaching forward to touch his hand, "you look kind of young to be a full partner, Mr. Chance." He smiled, looking down at my hand, briefly, which I didn't move as quickly as I could have. "The 'Chance' in our firm's title refers to my father. I moved up when he died in a car accident. I was in my thirties then." "I'm so sorry," I said, genuinely. "I had no idea..." "It's quite all right," he said, sipping his drink. It looked to be something like scotch. "It's just that one typically pictures such old fogies at the top of a firm like yours." He gave a small chuckle. "I guess that's a compliment," he said. "But I think we're not quite as ancient as you might think. I'm forty-eight, and Carl Massey just turned fifty. His father, too, handed him the reins." "Oh," I said, smiling. "That leaves Mr. Doyle...?" "Yes," he said, laughing. "Mr. Doyle is an old fogey." Noticing I had no drink, he invited me back to the bar, where we talked for some time before Dwight discovered us and came over. Rather than being jealous that we were together, Dwight seemed overjoyed, as if he had just discovered an hidden asset. Today, I realized, that asset could be realized. **** I sat in the parking lot of Massey, Doyle for about a half hour before I came up with my plan of action. There was no way I could walk into the office: too many people up there knew me. And, while Dwight's secretary knew my voice, Mr. Chance's didn't. I just had to get by her. Dwight was always telling me about cases the firm was handling, and I knew that Mr. Chance was working on a custody case that had also hit the local newspapers. Without letting myself think enough to weaken and back out, I called the firm and identified myself as Kelly Nordstrom, the daughter in the case. I hoped that while the secretary would be familiar with the husband and ex-wife's voices, the daughter would be removed enough that it would let me by. And I was right. I knew there was a problem inherent in my logic, and it cropped up almost immediately. Once Mr. Chance himself picked up the phone, I hurriedly identified myself and waited for the backlash. "Ms. Hanson," he said. "Apparently you don't feel there have been enough problems already with you and your husband, that you need to misidentify yourself when you call in claiming to be one of my clients." "I realize the impropriety of calling you in this manner, Mr. Chance," I said, my voice soft and pleading. "Please understand that I wouldn't have taken such a step if it weren't a last resort." There was a pause, and then he spoke in that firm, resolute voice good trial lawyers have. "Ms. Smith, I think we can cut to the chase here. What your husband did was illegal, and such an action can and will not be condoned by our firm. We will be discontinuing his service with our firm, and that, as they say, is that." I felt my voice crumbling as I tried to speak. That was it, then: an end to everything. "Mr. Chance," I said. "You've worked with Dwight. You know Dwight..." "I thought I did," he said, his voice steady and strong, but a little quieter. "If you know him at all," I said, "you have to know that he would never do a thing like this again. He's... he's just..." "Ms. Smith," he said, somewhat abruptly. I felt the complete futility of my effort then, suddenly: I might as well have been trying to call a warden and ask that my son be released. "I appreciate what you are trying to do. But our firm has zero tolerance in this matter, and there's really nothing I can see that..." "But there is," I said, almost before I could believe it was my mouth saying it. Yet suddenly, at that crucial moment as I spoke the words, I fully realized the panic that Dwight's job loss was going to create, the turmoil that would become our lives, the shame and the loss and the hysteria and the anger... "Excuse me, Ms. Hanson?" I realized I could stop now -- I could simply excuse myself and say I had tried, and there would be nothing more to say. I would get off the phone, return to Dwight, and we could deal with this. There would have to be changes in our lives, of course: no more country club or prestigious cars or upscale living. Our neighbors would gossip of course -- we'd be the butt of jokes, the catchword of the day. But if we just stayed strong, just didn't let it get to us... "Mr. Chance," I said, and for the first time I felt I had a little strength in my own voice, "is there somewhere you and I can talk?" There was a pause, and Mr. Chance took his time to reply. It seemed interminable, but he finally spoke. "Ms. Hanson," he said. "I cannot emphasize how serious this is. I understand that you have a serious problem, but I don't think that compounding the error with more lapses in judgment will help you in the long run." "I think it will, Mr. Chance," I said, adding, "and I can make that point more convincingly in a private meeting, at your convenience. It can't be in your office. You name the place. And I believe I can satisfy your demands." There was a long silence on the other end, and then Mr. Chance spoke. "Tomorrow. At Bistro la Claires's. Seven o'clock." **** Dinner at Bistro la Claires' was meant to carry an implication that went beyond its elegance; in short, the mere fact that they were sitting here on short notice signified the substance and magnitude of Massey, Chance and Ferguson's place in society. The waiting list went beyond lengthy to almost impossible, but somehow here we sat on a Tuesday evening, the lights low, the meal before us.. I had thought about wearing a variety of revealing outfits, but chose to play it a bit more conservative than my initial instincts dictated. While I have received a lot of compliments on my legs, I chose a long, clingy, lipstick red silk dress that covered me to my ankles, yet a knee-high slit let me expose my legs upon occasion. And, while the dress covered my shoulders and arms to the wrist, I knew its low cut bodice, accented by black lace, bared and accented what I'd always been told was a pretty ample cleavage. I could tell I had assessed its effect correctly as I observed Mr. Chance's reaction as I was led across the floor of the restaurant to his table. More than his gaze followed me to the table, but I made sure to never lose contact with his eyes. I looked across the table at Mr. Chance, whose features bore a resemblance to a younger Roy Scheider, with short, dark hair and lean features that gave him an intensity that magnified when he locked his piercing brown eyes on you. He sat quietly, listening, his forbearance forcing me to nervously sputter on and say far more than I would have liked. I had hardly touched my shrimp crepe Florentine (which he had taken the opportunity to order for me), fully knowing that were I not successful here today, I would never have a meal like this again. "Ms. Hanson," he said, interrupting my babble. Rather than be hurt, I felt immensely grateful. "You've something you want to tell me. Something, in your own words, that would be 'convincing.'" I sat for a moment, realizing fully that this was the moment. I drew a breath, telling myself that if I took this course, I could not turn back. But if I didn't, I knew, Dwight's and my life would be forever devastated. Conversely, there was always the chance that taking this step, too, could ruin our lives. I chose my words carefully. "Mr. Chance," I said, my voice as firm as I could make it. "What Dwight did was extremely bad, and we both know it." I paused, and knew it was important to look him straight in the eyes as I spoke this next sentence. "I'm prepared to do something equally bad to save him." Mr. Chance looked at me, unblinking. He was probably a masterful lawyer, I thought; I hadn't seen a single break in his composure. The forefinger of his left hand slowly traced a circle in the tablecloth beside his plate. Legal Tender "Ms. Hanson, are you saying what I think you're saying?" I paused, and met his gaze. "I am." "Ms. Hanson, what Dwight did was illegal. Our firm cannot sit by and ignore..." "Punish him," I said, interrupting. "Sanction him. Demote him. Scold him. Lower his salary. Do what seems appropriate, but don't fire him. Please." I said the last word gently, dipping my head slightly, in the initial gesture of a bow. "Please." I reached my right hand across the table and touched his left hand, leaving my hand upon his. "Dwight is disconsolate. He is repentant, contrite, and full of regret. He knows what he did is wrong, and he would undo it if he could. His actions were wrong, and he knows that, but he did it, for better for worse, because of his ambition to win the case, to impress you." "I would hope that he is." "Mr. Chance, Dwight is not an evil man. He made a mistake, but it wasn't because of poor motives or bad intentions. His aspirations got the better of him." My host sat back and regarded me, respectfully. "Perhaps I should have hired you, Ms. Hanson. You're pretty articulate, and not a bad advocate." "Thank you, Mr. Chance. But I'm speaking honestly, and from the heart." "Unfortunately, miss, there are rules, and there are rules." "Please," I said. "Every successful man has broken rules in his life. You don't always succeed by towing the line." "Ms. Hanson," he said, putting his fork down, sitting back in his chair, and locking his eyes on mine. "These aren't just 'rules.' He falsified evidence. He broke one of the basic tenets of the legal system." "An act you're aware of, and no one else. This is an in-house problem, and your method of discipline could be in-house as well." "An interesting argument, Ms. Hanson, but the mere fact that no one else knows yet is hardly..." "Mr. Chance," I said, and if my eyes were moistening it was not an act. "Let me be frank. I come from nothing, I am not prepared to return there. And," I said, letting my head dip further, forcing me to look up at him from a more distinct angle, "regardless of how this seems, I do love Dwight." Mr. Chase looked at my hand, and then back at me. "Does he know you've come to see me?" I know my eyes grew wider. "Oh, my god. No. And you can never tell him." He pursed his lips, than then reached for my right hand with his left, and re-placed my hand on my own side of the table. He looked back up at me shook his head. "I won't lie to you and tell you that I wouldn't love to take you up on your offer. I can't say I haven't been smitten with you since I first saw you." "Smitten?" I said, doing my best to smile. He smiled grimly. "Smitten." He folded his hands one over the other. "But, Ms. Hanson, I think you're over-reaching. First of all, this is a crime we're talking about." "People commit crimes every day," I said. "You've never run a red light, or dodged your taxes, or..." "This is a far cry worse than running a red light, Ms. Hanson." "I'm aware of that. But you're also sensitive to the fact that this is only known in-house. It doesn't have to be made public." "It's still a crime, Ms. Hanson. And it's an issue of trust." "Dwight made an error in judgment. He regrets it. If you give him a chance, you'll see. And having been caught committing such an error, he will not only never repeat the experience, but having been forgiven, he'll owe you his loyalty forever." Mr. Hanson nodded, letting the smallest vestige of a smile cross his face. "Even if we were to, say, overlook this..." he said, with a small sweep of his hand, "I don't think you have any idea of what you're setting yourself in for." I tried to look worldly. "I may be young, Mr. Chance..." "How young are you, Ms. Hanson?" "Twenty --four." He looked up, as if the sky were a feature of Bistro la Claires'. "Twenty-four. God help me." I put both of my palms together and rested them on the table. "I may be a librarian from a small town, Mr. Chance, but please don't think I don't know a thing or two about this kind of thing." I smiled and slid the finger of my right hand along the lace of my cleavage, doing my best to look sensual. "I think I could surprise you." He held up his hand. "We're talking about absolving your husband of a major crime. What you're talking about is equating that with a carnal experience. If one were to truly offset the offense with something that lurks in my id, the I'm not sure you're truly prepared for what I could do with that." I giggled self-consciously. "I'm not walking into this blind," I said. "I thought about it long and hard," and then, catching myself in the unplanned pun, tried to go on. "What I mean is that I..." He waved his hand. "Besides," he said, "you haven't considered two pretty important things." "What's that?" He looked at me. "Your being here tells me that you have apparently noticed that I have had a fascination with you ever since I first laid eyes upon you in the office that morning. I have tried to be subtle about it, but I do believe I have never met a woman who so captivated me. Should we have this...session," he said, looking serious, "I will not be satisfied with an hour, an afternoon, or even a night. You will be with me an entire weekend, and I can assure you there will be little sleep." I put my fork down, and did my best to look demure. "I will be all yours. All weekend, as you wish. I can be remarkably...giving." He grinned. "You could impress the hell out of me, sure..." He said, tapping the table. "But there is another significant aspect... "You see, Ms. Hanson, there are three of us in the partnership. It would take two of us to sway the vote.." He was right. I hadn't once considered that angle. I felt a giddy, almost sick kind of sensation at the pit of my stomach. For a moment, I thought of backing out. But I thought quickly of what could happen if I gave in. It wasn't just Dwight's welfare. It was mine as well. One weekend, whatever they could throw my way, could never outweigh a lifetime of hardship. I tried to muster up what courage I could, smiled, and met his gaze. "Do I at least have a choice?" It was Mr. Chance's turn to look surprised. "Choice?" "I mean, between Mr. Ferguson and Mr. Massey," I said. "I prefer my debaucherers to be ineligible for social security." Mr. Chance laughed, and this one seemed to come from deep within him. "Your husband doesn't deserve you." I did my best to smile. "If he were to find out, he might argue for the opposition," I said, my hands folded on my lap as innocently as I could. Legal Tender Ch. 02 After her husband was caught tampering with evidence, Katie Hanson struck a secret deal with two of his law firm's top partners in order to let him keep his job. Part 2 "Good evening, Ms. Hanson." Inside, beyond the open door, the large room exuded luxury: leather upholstery, rich, dark mahogany walls, a marble fireplace, shelves full of crystal... the view beyond the sliding glass door sparkled with the lights of the city landscape seen from above. Everything here spoke of sophistication and wealth, but the muted lighting and deep wood tones gave the room a warm feeling, a cozy intimacy that made the expansiveness of the room seem smaller and less intimidating. Mr. Chance gently took my arm and brought me over to the bar, where a tall, blond man stood, his eyes upon me as I approached. I had worn a soft, low cut cashmere top over high waisted pants that really emphasized my flat stomach and slim thighs. The pant legs flared over a pair of high topped leather boots. My hair was pinned at the top of my head, librarian style (I had thought of this last vestige of prim propriety at the last second, as it also had the effect of exposing my long, thin neck). I could tell the overall effect was favorable by Mr. Massey's continuous stare as I approached. He put down his drink slowly, and addressed my escort. "She's every bit as beautiful as you described her, Kevin," he said. It was then I realized that not only had I never met Mr. Massey, I didn't even know either of their first names until this second. Somehow, this tiny realization made the madness of what I was about to do seem more powerful than it had at any point over the last crazy week—even when Dwight came rushing home to me overjoyed that, though demoted, he still had a job, and even when I received the email from Mr. Chance informing that his end of the deal had been satisfied, and my end was set to begin. And more powerful, even, than at any time this morning as I prepared myself for them. I had had little difficulty in convincing Dwight that I would be visiting my sister for the weekend, and knew there was almost no chance that he would double-check my story. He would be busy all weekend anyway, trying to do his best to handle a huge caseload in order to impress his employers—two of whom stood right in front of me. "Thank you, Mr. Massey," I said, blushing, for lack of anything better to say. "May I have a drink, too?" The two partners looked at each other, and Mr. Chance said, "We'll have your drink ready in a moment, Ms. Hanson. For now," he said, steering me toward a door across from the bar, "I've laid an outfit out for you on the bed in the next room. We'd like you to try it on for us." I blushed again, realizing again that this was really happening. "Certainly," I said, doing my best to smile bravely and look worldly. Mr. Chance opened the door leading to another well furnished room, the centerpiece of which was a plush four-poster bed with one small box on it. **** When I emerged, I felt their eyes upon me, staring. There was no pretense of anything else: no political correctness, no apologies, no glances aside. I don't even think they blinked. I was wearing red silk babydoll lingerie, with matching panties. A bright red bow was placed at the gather below my breasts, and the stretch lace above gathered my breasts together, making them quite apparent through the plunging neckline. When I had dressed before the mirror in the room I noticed I could see the outline of my nipples, and the panties did little to hide anything else. In fact, there was hardly anything that served to cover me, though as I stood there in the doorway I saw that what effort it made seemed only to whet their appetites. Their eyes drank me in, and I found I loved it. Like I had discovered in the slutty Rocky Horror outfit I wore the night I met Dwight, it was unbelievably exciting to be stared at. I moved forward, taking my time. I had taken my hair down, and I could feel it flow onto my shoulders as I walked. I looked directly in Mr. Chance's dark brown eyes, then moved my attention to Mr. Massey's blue eyes. However, I noticed that they weren't holding my gaze, but letting their eyes travel up and down the length of my body. Mr. Chance broke the silence first. "Ms. Hanson, your drink," and he extended his hand. The glass was shaped like a brandy snifter, and the liquid within was a warm, brown color. "Thank you." "Ms. Hanson," he continued, "if you don't mind, Mr. Massey and I would like to get to know you a little better. Would you mind sitting on the couch," he indicated a plush brown leather couch in the center of the room, one which seemed to receive a good amount of light from lamps placed slightly in front of it on either side. It didn't take much imagination to realize that they had set the room up for this exact view of me. "Not at all," I said, and slowly walked ahead of them to the couch. (I expected they had planned this, too, so I took my time.) While they walked to their chairs I took a long sip of my drink, and it immediately soothed my nerves, which until then I'd been trying awfully hard to disguise. I noticed the room lights dimming a good deal, and then the gentlemen came over and sat in two leather arm chairs, facing me. They were both dressed formally in expensive suits, their jackets still on. I noticed the lamps did not illuminate their chairs, and in fact made it quite difficult for me to see them. I felt as if I were on stage, and the effect that had on me was thrilling. I took another sip of my drink, and felt the jitters slide away once again. "Ms Hanson," Mr. Chance began, "Before we begin, we just want to make sure that you are comfortable here, and that nothing is happening within this room that is contrary to your wishes. Things can still be called off, if you should so desire it. We are not holding you against your will." "I'm fine," I said, sipping my drink. It felt warm going down. I was finding that I actually enjoyed this, and didn't have the slightest desire to stop this. I enjoy their gaze upon me. Though I couldn't see their eyes, I knew there was little of me they couldn't see. "That's good, Ms. Hanson." There was a pause. "Next, I want to tell you how ravishing you look." "Indeed," said Mr. Massey. "Ms. Hanson, you're a stunning woman. Dwight is a very lucky man." "Thank you," I said. "I consider myself lucky to have him, too." "If you don't mind," Mr. Chance said, "may I ask you if Dwight is the only man you've ever been with?" "Oh, dear, no," I said, giggling slightly. I was surprised at how easily this was all coming to me. I felt totally at ease under their gaze. "There were definitely others." "That's fine, Ms. Hanson," he said, his voice low and soothing. "Who was the first man you were, shall we say, intimate with?" I hadn't thought about it for so long, and the candor of my answer surprised me. "Well, I should say that depends. I was made aware of them, I guess, long before I actually saw one close up." "Interesting," he said, his voice seemingly coming out of the dim recesses of the room. "Would you mind telling us about them?" "Well, the first penis I ever saw," the word seemed clinical in this environment, but it seemed like the right one to use at this time, "was my brother's I guess." A part of me couldn't believe I was saying this, but the words just continued to flow. "I was looking for something I thought he had taken from me, and I went through his drawers, and I found that beneath his bottom drawer he had a stash of photos. Polaroids. I reached in and took them out, and saw pretty quickly that they were of him and his girlfriend." The two men seemed to shift a little, and then Mr. Chance's voice drifted through the air toward me. "Can you describe the pictures, Ms. Hanson?" "Oh, there were all kinds," I said, again wondering how I found this so easy to talk about now, when I had never mentioned this to a soul before, not even Dwight. "There were shots of her, naked—she was beautiful, and I was so jealous of her." "Why?" "Oh, her figure. She was slim and had beautiful breasts. Bigger than mine." "I find it hard to believe that you, Ms. Hanson, could be jealous of another woman. Your breasts are absolutely gorgeous." Mr. Massey echoed this sentiment. "Thank you both," I said. "But hers were huge." "There are many men who like their women slimmer, you know, Ms. Hanson." "Thank you again." I said. "Were there photos of them, um, interacting?" "Yes," I said, and for the first time I felt as if I might have been a little breathier when I spoke. I took another sip of my drink and felt better immediately. "There were several." "Tell us about them, Ms. Hanson." I thought back. "There were some of him touching her breasts, standing behind her, like he had set the camera on a timer. His hands were holding her breasts, cupping them." I began to feel warm as I spoke. "That's nice. Tell me about the others." "There were some of her, um, going down on him." "That's fine, Ms. Hanson. Don't feel you have to couch your terms. We know the expressions, and we want you to feel free expressing them." "Okay." "Describe those pictures, if you would, Ms. Hanson." I took a sip of my drink. "Um..." I started, searching for words. I took another sip. "Take your time. But tell us what you saw. Completely." I decided to plunge ahead. "They were pretty close up, and showed his, um, cock..." "You're doing fine, Ms. Hanson." "...Well, her mouth was about halfway down on his cock. Her cheeks were bulging." "Did she look excited?" "Yes," I said. "She looked as if she were enjoying herself." "Were there other pictures depicting oral sex, Ms. Hanson?" "There were several. Some, he was in her mouth, and some, he was out, and she was licking him." "I imagine he was quite erect, wasn't he, Ms. Hanson?" "Yes," I said, and took another small sip. "He was extremely hard." "Was this the first penis you had ever seen, Ms. Hanson?" "Yes." "How did it make you feel?" I thought for a moment. "I was very excited." "Even though it was your brother's penis?" "Maybe a little because it was Brian's penis." "Very interesting, and thank you, Ms. Hanson," he said, his voice a little more raspy than before. "You're doing excellently. Describe his penis for us." "I had nothing to compare it with at that point of my life, of course. But as I found out later, it really was pretty big. It wasn't smooth, like some I've seen later...it had a prominent vein running along the length on the upper side...um, the side toward his waist." "You said it excited you." "Very much." "That's nice, Ms. Hanson. Were there other pictures?" "There were some of the two of them...um..." "Fucking?" "Yes," I said, and sipped a little of my drink. I felt better now. "They were fucking." "Describe the pictures, Ms. Hanson." "They were mostly from the side, like he had a timer or a remote switch. He was on top for some of them, from the front or the back, but there were two with her on top." "How clearly could you see what they were doing?" "Very," I said. "Brian seemed to pose every picture so you could see his cock." "Even when he was penetrating her?" "Yes," I said. "In the ones where she was on top, she was leaning backward, and you could see her, um, pussy. It was spread, and his cock was inside her, in one almost all the way, and in the other, all but the tip was out." I couldn't believe I was talking in such a manner. "Excellent, Ms. Hanson," he said. "This is excellent. How did these pictures make you feel?" "Very excited, Mr. Chance. And Mr. Massey." "Did you..." he paused for a moment, "...masturbate later?" I didn't even hesitate to admit the embarrassing truth. "Yes," I said, my voice a bit breathy. "Yes, I did. Often." "Ms. Hanson," he said, his voice low and steady. "Show us." Funny, but I had no question about complying. I just wanted to know how. "Should I take off my..." "No, Ms. Hanson, leave your teddy on. "You may use you hands on the outside, or slip them in. But leave your lingerie on for now." "Yes, Mr. Chance." I let my right and left hands slide up to my breasts, cupping them from underneath. I let my forefingers trace my nipples...the feel of rubbing them through the lace made them especially sensitive. My nipples puff out when I'm excited, and I could feel them doing that right now. "Describe why you liked seeing your brother's penis so much, Ms. Hanson." "Mmm...," I said, my right hand slipping down across my abdomen toward my lap, "I guess, first of all, I'd never seen a penis before. Maybe on a statue, or in some art, but never a real person's. And certainly never hard. It was fascinating. It looked so strong. So intense. It looked like everything inside him was ready to burst." "I'm sure it was, Ms. Hanson. What about it being your brother's excited you?" I thought for a second. "I think I've always been fascinated by sexual things that are kind of, I don't know, dirty. You know, wrong. Like," I said, slipping my fingers down between my legs and looking directly across from me at the spot where I assumed Mr. Chance's eyes were, then Mr. Massey's, "well, like this..." "This?" "What we're doing right now." "Does this appeal to you, Ms. Hanson?" "Yes," I said, my voice suddenly low and husky. The forefinger of my right hand was making lazy circles between my legs, which I realized for the first time were spread scandalously open. "Yes, I find that it does." "That's good, Ms. Hanson. We like this, too." I felt myself slipping into, well, something like another form of reality, like a waking dream. I felt as if I were floating outside of myself, and that the person on the couch was just an manifestation of me, and that I could feel to express myself however I wished. I felt wonderful, as if on a small raft floating down a lazy river. "Do you masturbate often, Ms. Hanson?" "No," I said, then thought again. "Um...yes," I said. "I think I probably do. Maybe once or twice a week. Is that often?" "It's perfect, Ms. Hanson," he said, his voice floating down the river with me. Since I couldn't see them clearly, I shut my eyes and concentrated on the sound of it. It seemed to free me even more. I let my first and middle finger play over my clit, back and forth. My left hand squeezed my breasts, alternately. I could feel that this really exposed them to my audience, though somehow my nipples were still completely covered, what little good that did. "Am I doing this correctly for you?" "Ms. Hanson," he said, "you're doing beautifully. This is wonderful." "Thank you," I said, smiling. "Ms. Hanson, tell us about the first time you actually saw a man's penis." "Mmm..." I said, squirming a little in my seat. Knowing that their eyes were on me, watching my growing arousal, gave me the most amazing pleasure. I wondered how wet my panties were becoming. "I was best friends with a boy about my age—Alan—who had already told me was gay. He and I were swimming at a pool his uncle owned... we had the pool to ourselves, and there was a tall privacy fence around us." I filled my left hand with my right breast, then slipped my hand inside the baby doll top and repeated the action, this time letting my fingertips play over the nipple. I had a distinct desire to push the top aside. "Very nice, Ms. Hanson. You're extremely beautiful, and very enticing." I smiled. "I find myself wanting to expose myself to you. I want to take off what little you have me wearing..." "All in good time, Ms. Hanson. All in good time. Tell us about Alan." I lay back, and let my fingers play upon me as I spoke. "Alan worked at a book store, and it was there he met a college professor who asked where the Gay and Lesbian Studies section was. They were lovers within the week, and at the pool it was all he talked about." "Did Alan speak specifics?" "I assume you mean of their love life," I said, and I slid the fingers of my right hand inside the top of my panties. I felt the small strip of hair, and traced it down until the moisture began. "And yes, Alan was very specific. He kept telling me how much fun he had, what a pleasure it was going gown on a man, what it felt like to have a man inside his mouth, how much he liked making him come...he went on and on..." "You didn't discourage him." "Not really, Mr. Chance," I said. My fingertip flicked over my clit, and it felt like I had touched an electric circuit. "Alan was my guide, in a way. He told me what men were like, what they wanted. He loved to talk about sex." "What did you learn from him, Ms. Hanson?" I let my finger flick my clit, and I slid my fingertip down between my legs along my slit. I was unbelievably wet. "He let me know that men were incredibly physical, and were very visual. He let me know that they were turned on less by emotion and more by contact." I rubbed my clit, and let my finger drive me on. I wanted so much to let them see me, to bare myself. I felt the wetness inviting me, pulling me in. "He let me know that for men pleasure was an end in itself, that there was nothing wrong in achieving that pleasure for the sake of that pleasure itself. There didn't have to be an emotional attachment." "Can you do that, Ms. Hanson? Enjoy sex as its own reward?" "Oh, yes, Mr. Chance," I said, letting the tip of my finger slide briefly inside me. "I'm enjoying It right now. I'm ready for more, Mr. Chance. I want to please you." "Ms. Hanson," Mr. Chance said, his voice low and steady, "you can't see us right now, but I think you ought to know that Mr. Massey and I are, shall we say, fully enjoying your display. I..." he paused, and seemed to consider his next words carefully, "..I am completely erect... You're doing wonderfully. If you don't mind," he said, his voice kind and gentle, I have a few more questions..." "Fine," I said, and brought both hands up to my shoulders and slid the straps down over each arm I was naked to the waist, my breasts free. I cupped each breast with my hands, squeezing them for their benefit, letting my fingers trace my nipples. "I knew you said for me to wait, but I couldn't..." "That's all right, Ms. Hanson," he said, his voice low and husky. "You're very beautiful." I brought both hands to my panties, letting my upper arms encase my breasts and squeeze them, knowing it would enlarge them and make them seem huge. "Tell us what happened at the pool, Ms. Hanson." "We were lying on lounge chairs beside the pool," I said, hearing the hoarseness of my own voice. "He was being very dirty, I'm sure. I remember at one point he told me how much he liked kneeling in front of the professor, who sat in a chair. He said it made him feel very much like he was serving him." "Did his stories excite you?" "Yes," I said, the fingers of my left hand between my legs, separating myself. My right forefinger slid up and down my slit. "He always told me how wonderful it was to make a man come." "Did that excite you, Ms. Hanson?" "Oh, yes," I said. "I thought it was so mysterious. I didn't know anything about it, but it fascinated me." "What did Alan tell you?" "He told me about how exciting it was to feel a man getting ready to come. How a man became engorged right before, how he pulsed, what if felt like when the first blast hit him, how he loved to take it in his mouth, but how he liked to take him out and watch him come, too." I was so wet. "What happened then, Ms. Hanson?" "I noticed how he was on his stomach, but he was kind of rocking back and forth while he talked to me, and I thought it would be funny to make him turn over. I told him to, but he wouldn't at first. I got up and tickled him, and he eventually rolled over to stop me." Legal Tender Ch. 02 "And what did you see, Ms. Hanson." "He was completely hard, and it was amazing. I knew that men got hard, but under his trunks it looked so different than I imagined. It wasn't just big, it was shaped differently...I remember being surprised by the bulge his balls made, how his penis just seemed to rise out of them. The fabric seemed to stretch to accommodate him. "Once he was past his initial embarrassment, Alan seemed to enjoy my looking. I think I said something like 'Wow,' and that seemed to please him. I asked him what it felt like, and he said something like, 'Wonderful,' and then I asked if I could touch it." "Did he let you?" "Oh, yes, right away," I said, remembering the whole incident. I was unbelievably excited. "How did it feel, Ms. Hanson?" "Much harder than I thought it would. I think that's true for all women. It's very surprising the first time you feel one. It's so...solid." "What happened next, Ms. Hanson?' As I spoke, I moved my hands in such a manner that the tops of my panties slid downward, just a little, but I knew that my belly was bare now, and it was just a couple of pieces of fabric that were left covering me. "I asked him if I could see it, and he told me it wasn't fair: that he would be naked and I wouldn't. I surprised him by reaching back and detaching my top and dropping it to the ground. In another second, I had stepped out of my panties. It was funny: I didn't feel like it was dangerous at all...I just felt like being daring." I took my hands out of my panties and brought them up to my breasts. But, while I let my left hand massage my left breast, I brought my right one to my mouth and made quite a show of licking my forefinger, then inserting it into my mouth. I did that slowly, twice, then let it, too, slide down to my other breast. I played with myself, kneading them, and brought my knees together to try to lessen the aching emptiness I felt between my legs. I heard a groan from the direction of Mr. Massey's chair. "Do you like what you see, Mr. Massey?" I said, pouting my lips as I tugged at my nipples, pulling them, and then cupping my breasts and presenting them to him. I let my hands slide down my abdomen, spreading my legs in his direction. I raised the hem of my babydoll to heighten the effect, I hoped, of the tiny pair of red panties. Other than the bunched lingerie below my breasts, they were all I wore. "I hope you don't think me too forward, Mr. Massey," I said, giving him my best "little girl" voice as I slid my hands inside the bright red panties, "but I wish these were your hands right now." "Oh, Ms. Hanson," he said, his voice little more than a low groan, "all in due time, all in due time..." Mr. Chance's voice seemed husky, too, when spoke. "Tell me what happened with Alan, Ms. Hanson. You were standing naked before him, I believe. How did he react to your display?" "Well," I said, not quite giving up on the little girl voice, "I am proud to say that I made a young gay man pretty befuddled." Mr. Chance chuckled. "I should say. And then?" "I told him that he'd never get an opportunity like this again, and he should feel free to touch me. Which he did, for quite a while, but oddly, most of it was my breasts. But it wasn't the same thing as if it were romantic... I felt he was kind of, well, investigating me." "And when did he take off his trunks?" "Well, actually," I said, giggling, "he never did. I knelt in front of him and took them off myself." "You were pretty aggressive, Ms. Hanson." I laughed a little, letting my fingers stray over my clit, making sure to make my movements very visual under the fabric. "I was a virgin, and before me was the opportunity to see the very first penis of my life. And I knew I was safe—Alan wasn't going to ask me for sex. And I was—as I am now—as absolutely horny as a woman can get." "What was it like for you?" "Oh, Mr. Chance, it was wonderful," I said. "He had a nice penis: it was very smooth, thinner than most I've seen, but it had a pretty large head." I made sure my hands were very prominent, and then I licked my lips. "He let me play with him." "Did you enjoy touching your first penis, Ms. Hanson?" "Oh, yes!" I said, and found my voice was getting hoarse. I reached over and took another drink. As I felt its reassuring warmth, I saw my glass was almost empty. "I was amazed how it felt...how you men, feel." "In what way?" "Well, like I said before, how hard you get. And how your skin moves over your stiffness. How different you all are there, in your shaft, in your head. I love how hot you are to the touch. How it moves...it can bob up and down, or you can just sort of will it to move. I love the way you moisten at the tip, and how my touch can transport you to another world. I think I love how important your cocks are to you, how it's so uncomplicated, how it's all about sex, how straightforward you are." "Did you learn all of this from Alan?" "Goodness, no," I laughed. I realized that, without willing it, my hands were back at my breasts. "Alan was wonderful, though. He wasn't interested in me, really, but he let me do everything to him." "Everything?" "I played with him, and kissed him, and even put him in my mouth." "Did you make him come?" "Yes, of course," I said, giggling, my hands now between my legs. I turned to the left, and placed my back against the pillows near the arm of the chair. I lifted my legs onto the cushion, and played with myself in front of them, but so they saw me from my right profile. I was very close to coming. "How, Ms. Hanson?" I let my fingers dance across my clit, and groaned. "It's funny: I wasn't really working on him to make him come. I was enjoying him for myself. When I tugged on his cock, I was appreciating how the skin moved. When I gripped him tight, I was seeing how hard he was. When I licked him, I was finding out how he tasted, or where he was the most sensitive. When he was in my mouth, I wanted to know how deep I could swallow him. "Well, I had him in my mouth when I felt him swelling. He grabbed my shoulders really hard and then I took him out to look up at his eyes when the first stream hit me in the cheek. He came so hard... oh!" I almost came then, and slowed my finger for a moment, staying on that spot but keeping my finger still. I gasped, and waited a second before I finished my thought. "I was shocked by it, but not upset. I held him in front of me and let him come on my neck, on my breasts...he came so much. It wasn't until he was almost done that I thought of putting him back in my mouth to taste him. By then he was so sensitive all I could do was hold him in. Licking it off the end of him almost made him go crazy." "Did you like the taste of come right away, Ms. Hanson?" "It was never a question of liking it," I said, my voice husky. "It was more like marveling at it. There's nothing else like it. Yes I like the taste, but it's like asking me if I like its color. I love swallowing a man...I love feeling him explode inside me, and I love having his essence inside me." I groaned, arching my back slightly as I dipped my finger slightly inside me...I was soaking wet. "Oh, Mr. Chance, Mr. Massey, you're killing me. You should know that I've never been unfaithful to my husband. I've never even been tempted. When I made this deal for him, I did so because I knew it could save him." I closed my eyes, sliding along my slick lips, bringing the moisture up to lubricate my clit. Coming would be so easy... "But now," I said, moaning a little, "it's not about Dwight. Right now, I want you both to fuck me. Fully. Deeply. I want to see your cocks. I want to have you inside me. I want you to fuck me like you've never fucked anyone before. Oh god, I want you both inside me." I heard the groan of the leather chairs, and when I opened my eyes I saw the two of them standing before me, both fully dressed in their gorgeous tailored suits. But there was one important consideration: their considerable, engorged cocks stuck out of their pants, fully extended. I touched them, tenderly, my fingers tapping the ends of their shafts, touching their moisture. I brought my fingers to my mouth, licking them clean. I smiled, and raised my eyes up to theirs. "And would somebody make me another drink?" Legal Tender Ch. 03 Katie's deal to rescue her husband from being fired by his law firm has placed her at the lusty disposal of two partners' whims, and after a long setup, they are ready to collect on their debt. * I know now how well they had manipulated me—how the last mad hour had been a set up, but the remarkable thing about it was how successful it was. I was, at the time of the men's long overdue appearance at my couch, totally mad. I would indeed have fucked my brother had he come through the door. Mr. Massey stood before me dressed in his gray pinstriped suit, and his thick, engorged cock stretched out in front of him, and I reached out to pull him toward me. I took him in my mouth, greedily, and nursed at his cock, scarcely letting him out of my mouth as I gorged upon it. I did not notice Mr. Chance arriving with my drink, but I did when he sank to his knees between my thighs and placed his lips upon my belly, kissing his way down to my pussy as he held my hips, pressing himself into me. He manipulated my thighs over his shoulders, and lathered my pussy with attention. I knew Mr. Massey was close to coming, but I wasn't event attempting to pace myself. I took him out of my mouth and licked the full length of him, encircling the head with my full mouth, as if I were attempting to pull his orgasm from him. I held the base of his cock with my right hand, stroking him up and down, and with my left I encircled his balls and let my forefinger tickle his ass. He began bucking against me, then clutched me to him and I felt the swelling of his shaft, and the urgency, and the first pulse hit the back of my throat like the blast of a fire hose. I swallowed as best I could, and the second shot followed immediately, even—if possible—more powerful than the first. As much as I enjoyed it I felt I might choke, and pulled him from my mouth just as the next blast hit my chin and chest and actually splashed when it hit, and then the fourth, and fifth. He came an absolutely incredible amount, his back arching as he shot, his voice guttural and primitive, grunting something like "Ungh!" each time he launched a new salvo. I heard a low chuckle from around my waist, and looked past the cascade of cum dripping off of my breast, and saw Mr. Chance smiling as he looked up at me. "It's something to see, isn't it, Ms. Hanson?" Mr. Massey said something like, "Sorry," but it was more of a low mumble and I could tell he had not the slightest tone of apology in him. Then Mr. Chance did something that shocked me, even in my state: he raised himself up and dragged his tongue across my belly to my breast, capturing a large string of Mr. Massey's dripping cum. He raised his mouth to mine, and pushed his tongue in my mouth, and I did what he wanted: I sucked the cum from his tongue. It was incredibly sexy. And he did it over and over, cleansing my body of Mr. Massey's cum with his own tongue, and depositing it in my own moth. But I waited until Mr. Chance had taken one of the last remaining pools off my belly, and when he raised his head to mine I put my forefinger against his lips, and made the motion of swallowing. And, to my great surprise, he locked his eyes on mine, smiled, and swallowed it. I was unbelievably turned on by this development. I kissed Mr. Chance full on the lips, and he drove his tongue into my mouth. He brought his hands up to my chest, and his hands found my tits and began kneading them, his hands busy upon me. He seemed to be trying to feel them from every angle, to cup them, knead them, to pull on them...I couldn't help feeling that he was trying to memorize them, to gain every angle on them, so that when we met later at a party he could just call upon his memory and recall the sensation. Mr. Massey, recovered or not, sank to his knees and began a new assault on my pussy, and his tongue found me, and there was no gentle touching or romantic finesse—instead, he drove his tongue into me like a cock, and there was nothing I could offer to resist him. I was wet, and open, and his tongue probed me like a small penis, driving into me over and over again, searching me, invading me, his upper lip either luckily or purposefully finding my clit, brushing it as he assaulted me. His arms wrapped around my legs and his hands clung to my hips, pulling me tight against the hot breath of his mouth. I felt my first orgasm wash over me, and Mr. Massey seemed to feel it, and I was glad that he held his tongue still within me, letting the wave of my orgasm crash, the pulsing strong and welcome, but even in the midst of it I knew that this was nowhere near what I needed to satisfy me. As soon as the biggest part of it started to subside, I rocked my hips against his mouth, signaling that it wasn't over—I needed more. After I came, and under the continuance of Mr. Massey's assault upon my cunt, I found I was sinking against the soft leather cushions of the couch. Mr. Chance began to separate from me as I sank down, and I saw him pulling at his suit jacket, then his shirt, revealing a nicely muscled chest. He then pulled his pants down, stepping out of them, and I was completely pleased with his lean, muscular body...he was in fine shape, and not at all hairy, a trait I like in men. His cock stood firm and rose upward from his loins, thick and full and very smooth. The head of his cock was in keeping with his general girth, very thick and mushroomy. Unlike his steely looking shaft, the head looked pillowy soft. Otherwise, Mr. Chance was impressively built, with a lean stomach and strong chest and arms, and I was glad to see him come at my pussy, pushing Mr. Massey out of the way. Mr. Massey stood back and let his partner control me for the next few moments. He slowly took off his own clothes, watching us, his cock thick and tumescent, but not yet erect, I turned my eyes to Mr. Chance then, who was separating my knees in order to kneel between them. He ran his hands down my thighs, softly, and as he reached their juncture he let his thumbs dance lightly over me there, the skin on either side of my pussy, and he stared at me. He then shuffled closer, reaching with his left hand to grab the midpoint of his cock and he brought it down and played it upon my clit, tapping me there, then sliding it down my lips to place the very tip of it inside me, then pulled it out and let it rise along my lips again, tapped it and played it upon my clit again, and repeated the teasing several times until I groaned, and pouted, and arched my pussy toward him. He smiled, and slid his cock down and placed the head within my lips, and leaned forward and gripped the arm of the couch on either side of my head, and began to push himself inside. I offered no outward resistance, but it still took him a little time to push inside fully, letting himself retract slightly, then push anew until he was, finally, fully immersed inside me. He felt glorious. His cock was like a steel rod within me, and he began to pump it, piston-like, and yet he surprised me when he brought his right hand to stroke first the side of my face, affectionately, then my chin, and as he continued his stroking within me, he moved toward me and brought his lips to mine, kissing me deeply and fully. Its effect was remarkable—it was one thing to be fucked, but this was affectionate and loving, and its intimacy was exponentially greater than the physical act. He became aware of that, I'm sure, when I shuddered and came, holding onto the biceps of arms as he thrust within me and held himself there. Up until this moment I had been able to shelter my relationship with Dwight by calling what we were doing today sex, sheer physical carnality, and that I was indeed sacrificing myself for him. But this, now, was the end of that: as Mr. Chance held himself within me he could feel me coming, holding him, hearing my gasps, and he kissed me tenderly and deeply, his hand caressing my face. And as he held himself there, himself gasping, I could feel his swollen member pulse, and I realized that he, too, was coming within me, filling me. "Oh!" I cried. "Oh! I...I... it just..." "Ngh!" he groaned. "Oh, fuck!" He held me then, clutching me to him, and I found it impossible to speak or even let go of his biceps. Eventually, he was able to pull his upper body back and look at me from several inches away, and I saw the glazed look over his eyes as he tried to focus them on mine. He was still pulsing within me. "Jesus." The voice was Mr. Massey's. "Why don't you two get a room?" I smiled, my eyes on Mr. Chance's. "Oh my god, Mr. Chance." "It's all right, Miss Hans...Katie," he said eventually, withdrawing so he could look me in the eyes. "You don't have to say anything. It's just me. I told you I was...smitten." He kissed me on the lips and held his finger there. "Just enjoy this. Just let it be...for now." He began to slip from me, and he slowly sat up, my left leg behind his back, my right over his thighs, and I could see his softening rod as it lay against his belly, still pulsing slightly, wet and slick from within me. I lay back, too, and tried to ponder what this all meant, when I happened to glance at Mr. Massey, who was staring at my wet pussy. Lying there as I was, it was scandalously open, dripping with Mr. Chance's essence. His eyes were unblinking, and with my leg trapped there was nothing I could do. "Ummm..." he said, and he bent forward, approaching my cunt from an angle near my head. I wondered what appealed to him there, at that moment, as I was positively spilling cum from my pussy, but I recalled Mr. Chance's work on my chest after Mr. Massey's explosion. There was definitely something about these two men... And then Mr. Massey's mouth was at work on me, and I could feel him licking, his tongue sliding through the wetness, the thick, copious sexual spillage. I looked across at Mr. Chance, and he shrugged his shoulders as his partner dove upon me, as he lathered my pussy with his kisses and licks, as he bathed me with his catlike tongue. Mr. Chance slid down the couch, and collapsed backward, watching his partner consume me. Whatever his passion for me, I would not find out now. It was to come later. For now, Mr. Massey was done watching. As he turned his attention on my well lubricated pussy, I could sense him dragging me down the couch toward Mr. Chance. But he stopped short of his partner. I certainly didn't mind the attention: though I was a bit spent from Mr. Chance's lovemaking, I was still turned on enough to enjoy the attention Mr. Massey was giving me. His tongue was doing a ballet upon me, and I found myself slipping into that mode again, feeling my hips begin to rock, to drive myself against his ministrations, feeling his thick, probing tongue upon me there. I felt Mr. Massey shift me, and I realized his intention, and I accommodated myself so that his hips could slide over me, and I accepted the introduction of his thick, full, but not hard, cock into my mouth. I began to work on him, but as I began to get a picture of these two men I instinctively brought my hands around to his ass, and as I gripped his buttocks I used my fingers to spread his cheeks slightly, and as his enthusiasm increased upon my pussy, I realized that I was only going to increase my pleasure through my actions, and I let the middle finger of my right hand slide between his cheeks and probe the little bud beneath it. Mr. Massey seemed to electrify as I entered him, and he stuck his tongue deep within me, driving his cock into my mouth so deeply that I had to free my left hand to bring it down and grip him, holding his assault upon my throat at bay for a moment. He was swelling noticeably, his cock thickening within my mouth as he pummeled my pussy with his mouth. I was sure that, as surely as he had drunk as much of Mr. Chance out of my pussy as he could, his attention was now on the increasing attention his burgeoning cock was getting within my lips. But then, he slipped from me, his tongue off my pussy, his cock from within my mouth, and he sat where Mr. Chance had, his back upright against the back of the couch, and he reached for my hand and pulled me upright. I assumed he wanted me to mount his cock, and I was correct, but my attempt to face him was spurned in favor of having me face away from him. I straddled his legs, my back to him, and I lowered myself upon him as he gripped my hips and drove me onto him, impaling me with his cock. He used his advantage to slide his hands up to my breasts and play with them, twisting my nipples and cupping my breasts as he encouraged my raising and lowering myself upon him, watching his cock sink into me as I drove myself upon him, using my leg muscles to work him, letting the natural suction of my pussy compel him into a frenzy as I drove myself up and down, knowing that I could outlast him, that the sensations received through his sensitive cock would betray him before the reflexes of my cunt did me, and I gave a little twist of my thighs as I sank upon him, feeling that I had him now, that he would soon come. But then, as if to give succor to his friend, I suddenly noticed that Mr. Chance was kneeling before me, his mouth upon the little nub of my clit, and I felt suddenly overwhelmed. Where I had felt I had a clear advantage, before, I now felt I was in peril of coming well before my partner...I was no longer in charge, but being fucked by a superior force. I struggled to hold on, and as I did I noticed a strange phenomenon: there were times I felt Mr. Massey's cock leave me, sometimes just as I was about to come, and it was several seconds later that I could feel him return to me, still wet, and these small gaps gave me the seconds I needed to gain control, to feel like I was in charge again, and it was then I realized that at the same time I had felt Mr. Chance's tongue leave me, and I suddenly realized that Mr. Chance had been taking Mr. Massey's cock out of me and placing it within his own mouth. The realization was like an epiphany, and I began to watch, and actually saw Mr. Chance take Mr. Massey's cock out of my pussy, and place it within his own mouth, and suck it avidly, as if licking me off him. He then pulled it out of his mouth with a little popping sound, replacing Mr. Massey's cock in my pussy. The action did as much to surprise me as it did to excite me, and I rose and plunged on the thick, hot tube within me, feeling my ass against Mr. Massey's belly, his hands upon my tits, his forefingers and thumbs pulling at my nipples. I could feel Mr. Chance's tongue upon my clit, and he lathered me and Mr. Mr. Massey's cock with his attention, and I could feel his breath upon me, and I knew that he was licking me off of Mr. Massey's cock every time I rose. There was no chance now I would outlast him...I felt the tidal thrust of my orgasm rising even now. And then the wave of my orgasm crashed around me, and I thrust myself down upon him and held myself there, and Mr. Chance took the opportunity to separate the top of my lips with his thumbs and flick me repeatedly with his tongue. My orgasm was immense, knee-wobbling, and I had to grip Mr. Chance's shoulders or risk falling forward. I know I cried out, hearing myself do so, and after he gave me a few moments Mr. Massey, still rock hard inside me, moved his hands down to my hips and lifted me off his cock, which slapped moistly upon his belly upon its release. I felt so week that I wasn't sure I could have walked, but as Mr. Massey laid himself down upon the leather cushions of the couch and pulled me on top of him, I saw I would not have to. Manipulating me with his hands upon my hips, he impaled me once again, and let his hands stray along my back to my side, to my breasts, which hung down and swayed back and forth as he stabbed me with his cock. I placed my hands on either side of his strong shoulders, and let my breasts play upon his chest, dragging them along his skin forward, then back, as I moved with the motion of his thrusts within me. I felt his hands slide along my sides to my hips, and then I felt him play with my buttocks, and he pulled my cheeks apart—I thought to ease his passage with in me, but soon realized another reason, as I felt the tip of Mr. Chance's cock upon me there. But he didn't enter me, not yet—instead, I could feel his finger on me there, and it was wet and very moist. I realized he was lubricating me, and I relaxed as I felt his finger pass within me there. Soon I felt him there, the plush head of his cock against me, and I felt that he had lubricated himself as well. He pushed against me, but softly and gently, and I tried to relax as I felt him begin his entry into me. Mr. Chance was, as I was finding him to be at all times, very tender and considerate, and he took his time with me, pausing often, withdrawing if I gasped, and soon I realized that he was almost there, and my little ass was about full of him. Mr. Chance was now the one in charge, and it was his cock that slid within and without me, I could feel them inside me, one against the other, and I wondered what it felt like to them. It seemed to me as if they were actually against one another, rubbing, and I wondered if one felt the other as clearly. Mr. Chance gripped my hips, holding me still for the most part—I moved with his thrusts, and that provided the movement that stroked Mr. Massey within me. I looked down and saw Mr. Massey's eyes were closed, and I made sure to caress his chest with my own...he grunted with passion as our movements affected his cock, and as his hands busied himself upon my ass I realized that he was actually manipulating his fingers so that he could feel the occasional thrust of Mr. Chance's cock with his fingertips. What was it between these two, I thought? I made up my mind that they could indeed feel each other, and were gaining sustenance from it, and I marveled at what this must feel like to them, the twin shafts sliding alongside each other within me. And what of Mr. Chance's considerable balls...did Mr. Massey feel them, too, as I did when they slapped against me with his thrusts? Mr. Chance's hands were tightening on my hips, his jabs becoming more frantic and urgent, and I let my head sink against Mr. Massey's chest as they pummeled my ass and pussy with their cocks. They each began to groan, their voices guttural and animalistic, and they seemed to be racing one another to a finish line. I lay there, myself groaning and weak, and at last they reached their goal, and I felt them pulse and throb within me, and I felt their orgasms burst inside, and it was wonderful. I let my own orgasm crash and tumble upon me, and as they exploded within me I lay, exhausted, letting them spend themselves inside of my body, wondering if each, too, could feel the other pulsate against the other? And there we lay, in a tangle, our bodies worn and depleted, and as their cocks beat within me I closed my eyes and let consciousness drift from me, however briefly it might be... * To be continued...