13 comments/ 78425 views/ 35 favorites Saving Sarah By: sexy_mama_09 So many times had she done this before, so many times had she spoken the words, done the chore. She was sick of this life, sick of the things her father made her do. She had been slowly breaking away and hiding from him when he was looking for his princess. She had taken refuge in the arms of someone new, someone who she knew would be killed if her father ever found out. Sarah was twenty, her father had been forcing her into his bed since she had turned eighteen. She "owed" him for all the things she needed, her room and board, food, clothing, a ride to town. She knew she couldn't hide from him forever, however she also knew she didn't want to be his sex slave any longer. She'd found love, she'd found Gabriel. Just thinking of Gabe made her smile. She'd known him her entire life, she trusted him and wanted to be with him. Her father would be angry, he would never let her go. How she longed for her brother. Yes, Gabriel was her older brother. He'd always looked out for her, now he'd begun helping her hide from their father. She'd tried to move away, but her father had cost her the job she longed for, her scholarship and her future. She wouldn't let him take Gabe away too. As she thought back to the first night she'd made love to Gabe, she remembered how safe she'd felt. It was a few days before, it had been her birthday. She'd gone out with her friends from town, Rebecca and Susan. They'd had too much to drink, danced for hours and came home falling down drunk. Her father had been waiting, he sat in the dark for hours. This only announced his anger, he'd slammed her against the wall, hiked up her dress and fucked her right in the living room. He'd never been so bold before. Usually he snuck into her room late at night and climbed into her bed, or his favorite was when she'd be in the bathroom and he'd hide in the closet and pop out when she was about to step into the shower. He took her cries as passion and got off on it. Her father was good at hiding his treacherous acts from Gabe. Ever since their mother had died, Gabe had been out working to keep their home. He'd kept them from bankruptcy and he was often gone for days at a time. Her father used that to his advantage. Raping her over and over while Gabe was away. This particular night, however, wasn't his lucky night. When her father was finished using her that night, he'd tossed her to the floor. He'd finished himself off by spraying his cum all over her dress. Then he's went to his room, slammed the door and she hoped went to bed. She lay there for a time crying. She was hurt, although not badly. She was ashamed and blamed herself. If she hadn't gone with her friends, he wouldn't have been so rough. He wouldn't have been angry and he wouldn't have hurt her. He'd have slipped into her bed, got off inside her and slipped back out. When the front door opened, she tried to cover herself. She wasn't expecting Gabe and neither was her father. Otherwise, she would have been raped in her room, not the common area. Gabe knelt beside her, "What happened to you Sarah?" She just cried softly, resting her head on his knee. He brushed her hair from her face, caressing her cheeks before tucking the loose strands behind her ear. He craddled her face in his hand, begging her to tell him who'd hurt her. She couldn't though, so she pulled away and got to her feet. She turned for the steps, but lost her balance and fell against Gabe's strong, muscular chest. He steadied her and whispered, "Let me help you sweetie." She let Gabe's strong frame support her as she made her way upstairs. Thankfully her father had been so drunk he must have passed out and he hadn't heard them make their way to the second floor. When they reached the bathroom, he helped her inside. He locked the door behind them and helped her slip out of her dress. Her thighs had begun to bruise from the roughness, her cheeks were tear stained and she had bruises in the shape of handprints on her arms. Gabe's shock at seeing her this way, the anger in his eyes. "Sarah, who the hell did this to you? I'll go wake father and we'll go kill the bastard!" She just sobbed, turning her back to him. He crossed the small room in two steps, pulling her back against him. "Just tell me Sarah, we'll get him for hurting you." She shook, her body wracked with sobs. She felt she'd never stop. He turned her toward him, his hand ran down her cheek, cupping her chin. As she looked into his deep blue eyes, she knew she couldn't hide it from him any longer. "It wasn't just anyone, it WAS father!" She began to cry, collapsing against him. "That bastard! I'll kill him myself!! How dare he put his hands on you!!" Gabe's voice got louder, he was almost shouting. She was afraid, so afraid that if their father knew she'd told her brother, he'd kill them both. She slipped a finger over his lips, "Please, don't! He'll just kill us both." His features were hardened, his eyes glowing with anger. "You sleep with me tonight, we'll go out to the camper where we used to play. Until I can figure out how to protect you." He helped her into the shower, turning his back to her as she undressed. She had watched him, determined to save her from their vile father. She quickly cleansed herself from all his disgusting stench. When she finished, she'd wrapped herself in a towel and he'd led her to her bedroom. He guarded the door as she'd put on a bra and panties, pulled on sweatpants and a sweatshirt, tugged on her socks and boots. After packing a bag with all the clothes her father wouldn't let her wear, she'd grabbed a few of her personal items and the money she'd hidden from her father. They quietly stepped out into the hallway. She slipped her hand in Gabe's and his fingers intertwined with hers. He pulled her close to him, breathing into her hair, "I won't let him hurt you again, I promise." They slowly made their way down the stairs, across the room and out the door before their father awoke. They ran across the field, toward the old path that led to the camping area her father had forbid them to go to when their mother died. Making their way through the woods, it was dark and she was afraid. Gabe had wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her close. When they arrived, the old camper looked worn and beat up on the outside, but once they'd gotten inside and barred the door, it was heaven for them. He'd carried her to the back, laying her on the old bed. He climbed up beside her, the light from the moon reflecting across her face. He pulled her against him, kissing her forehead. She rested against him, feeling his warmth and the heat between them. She could feel his throbbing cock against her stomach. She was shocked that he was hard, but not in an angry way. She looked up at his face in the pale moonlight, he was so handsome. He was her protector, her bodyguard, she wanted him as her lover too. She leaned up, pressing her lips to his. The warmth of him, the closeness. It got the best of both of them. She felt the electric force between them, connecting them. Her lips parted, his tongue caressed hers. They lay like that for awhile, kissing, holding each other. Finally, he spoke up, "If we keep this up, I'm going to explode. I need you Sarah, do you need me?" Her hands pulled his face back to hers. She answered him with her lips. Teasing and tugging on his, begging him for more without one word. He pulled her onto him, she pulled her legs up, sitting in his lap, his fresh, warm meat pressing against her wetness. He pulled the sweatshirt she wore over her head. The red lacy bra she wore screamed "Fuck Me" and he intended to do just that. Tugging his shirt over his head, he tossed it aside and moved her to her back, so she was under him. As her breasts covered in red lace pressed against his bare chest, he kissed her, deeper, more passionately. She rubbed his muscles, teasing him with her nails on his back. His tongue tasted her sweetness, loving her more every moment. She begged him to be inside her, but he wanted to take his time. He didn't know if she would ever allow him full access to her body again and he didn't want to miss anything. He slipped her sweatpants down, tossing them to the pile of their disguarded clothing on the floor. She lay beneath him, looking like an angel in red. She was so beautiful in her bra and panties. He almost came all over himself. She lay looking at his face, smiling. She'd never been this loved, never felt this beautiful. She never wanted to forget this moment. She opened her legs, allowing his body to get closer to hers. He kissed and suckled her neck, teasing her and forcing her to beg for more. She held his face while he opened her bra, while he suckled her nipple. It was hard, protruding and begging to be teased. He was more than happy to tease her, to please her. He wanted to be the one she made love to every night. Cupping her breasts, he pushed them up, burying his face. He licked and sucked and licked and sucked. She needed him more and more. Her panties grew wet, soggy with her juices. She needed him, she wanted him inside her. Her legs wrapped tightly around her waist, his cock was pressing against her, rubbing against the lace. She could feel him, he was big, bigger than her father and gentle too. He would be a wonderful, caring lover. If only she could get him inside her. He lowered himself, tugging her panties down to reveal her bare, pink cunt. Her clit was swollen and he knew she would cum at the instant his tongue found her love button. He softly kissed her thighs and stomach. His hands kept her legs open, allowing him to breathe in her sweet scent. His mouth found her sweet spot. He hungrily buried his face between her thighs. She arched her back and begged for mercy, he couldn't help himself. She was so sweet and innocent, his cock was already about to burst. He had to have her now. She felt orgasm after orgasm sweeping over her body. Her back arched upward and her legs pushed closed, but he wouldn't remove his tongue from her tender nub. He teased and tickled, slurped and flicked at it. She screamed out for the fifth time, begging him to stop. Wanting him inside her, instead of his face teasing her love hole. He finally acknowledged her, lifting his face and searching in the darkness for her. She sat up facing him, fumbling with the button and zipper, she spoke softly. Teasingly, she asked him, "You want me to suck you off? How badly do you want to be inside my mouth?" His tender little sister was a whore in bed. He loved it. He replied back, "Sarah, quick teasing and suck my cock!" She tugged his pants down, letting his cock spring free. It hit her breasts, wetting them with pre-cum. She took his full length in quickly. He pressed her head forward to him, forcing her to take him entirely in. She choked, but she managed to keep him there for a moment, his dick poking her throat. Sarah bobbed her head, over and over. Doing this thing with her tongue that had him about to explode. She finally licked from tip to balls, taking care to suckle each of his balls. Surprisingly he had shaved his entire area, she loved the feel in her mouth. Suddenly, he released his cock from her mouth and pushed her back on the bed. He climbed over her, pressing her tits together. He slipped his cock between her tits, pushing in and out. She flicked her tongue out, wetting the head. Slick now, his cock slipped between her breasts easier and easier. He pumped over and over, his balls tightening with each motion. He grasped her by the back of the head for one final thrust before he moved off of her. Laying in the middle of the huge bed, she looked so small and innocent. He was about to burst and he had to contain himself. He needed to be able to enter her without spraying her insides full of his cum. She slid to the end of the bed and flipped onto her stomach. She teased him, slowly propping her ass up toward his cock. He could see her silhouette in the dim light, she was fucking hot. Her ass backed against his hard cock. She was teasing him, begging to be fucked. His little sister the whore! He moved fast, slipping between her thighs into her tight little pussy. He spread her with his large girth. She moaned, begging for more. His cock pushing deeper and deeper inside her, he could feel her stretching to hold all of her. He pumped and pumped, sweat pouring off his muscles. She got louder and louder, he was glad they didn't stay at the house. He'd have had to explode in her mouth to keep her from screaming! Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer. He pressed deep inside her, holding her against him. She arched her back and he pulled her up into his arms. She leaned her face into his neck, he kissed her chest. He held her legs, she was spread wide with his dick deep inside her. He felt his explosion, he couldn't have stopped if he'd wanted to. He sprayed his cum deep inside his little sister. She kept him inside of her, sucking him dry. They collapsed onto the bed, he pulled her close against him. She fell asleep in his arms, with promises of safety and love. He watched over her as she slept, unsure what tomorrow would bring. He was happy, though, and content. He would always cherish and love her, forever. Saving Sarah The courtroom was packed. Dozens of faces, all of them strangers. Some of them were like me: people in trouble. Their heads were hanging low, their legs crossed, shoulders drawn in, trying to shrink, to be invisible. I was doing the same thing. One of the few times in life I was glad to be so small. I sat in a corner, second row from the back. Some of the people looked angry. Some looked like they didn't care, reclining on the wooden pews, slouched in some grubby T-shirt. I thought of my husband. He'd have definitely been in the "don't give a shit" group. Deadbeat dads, here to give some excuse about not paying child support. Criminals, maybe. Drunks. Tommy would have fit right in. He was the reason I was here. He just had to have that giant TV and all the crap that went with it, and he had buy it with a Best Buy VISA card, and of course since he lost his old job, his credit wasn't worth shit, so I somehow ended up co-signing for it all. And of course, he didn't pay the bill. And of course they had to come after me after my own job had been downsized due to budget cuts. The lawyers were the worst. They weren't angry or sad or resentful or scared at all. They were happy to be here. What sort of freak is happy to be in a damn courtroom? In their suits, back-slapping and chucking with their lawyer pals while they make jokes about the people whose lives are in their hands here. I know that it's their job, just another day at the office. In my mind, I know that, abstractly. I know that at the clinic I'd done the same thing. But I don't feel it. All I feel is scared. So I thank God when the judge walks in and everybody shuts up. The first case on the docket is called, Discover Bank vs. Somebody Tucker. A woman shuffles from the gallery and walks forward, nervous. She was one of the sad ones like me. She has no lawyer, but the bank suing her does. They have some bored, conceited little man in a suit and he starts hammering her with questions about this and that and suddenly the judge looks down and enters a judgment against her for $7,000. "But I don't have that." she says. "Then I suggest you talk to a lawyer." the judge responds. And that's when it hits me. It becomes real. It is about to happen to me. $20,000 plus interest and attorney's fees...I did the math already. It will be dragged out of my paycheck week after week for almost 2 years. I honestly don't know what I'll do. We'll lose the house. Maybe my car. Jeffrey won't go to college unless he can find $60k hidden under a rock sometime in the next 4 years. Unless a miracle happens. I try not to think about the future. Flowers of the meadow, right? Yeah, right. I know better than to think positive at this point. 14 years of marriage to Tommy Bannerford has taught me better. Another case is called. Some car crash case where the lawyers argue some lame crap that nobody else understands and then they walk out. I'm #5 on the docket. #3 is another poor sap like me who is about to get another debt beaten out of him. I wonder why I am here. I think very hard about just getting up and leaving. It won't matter anyway. They're going to take my money and force me out of my house regardless, so at least I could avoid the embarrassment of having to stand up in front of everyone and testify. But I'm the kind of girl who shows up when called to court. It's the rules, and I follow the rules. I can't help it. So I know I'm going to just sit here and take it like a woman. "Sarah?" I jump when the voice says my name, because at first I assumed it was the court calling me up for my legal spanking. Then my mind lurches back, way back and recalls the voice. I can't believe it, and then I look up and see him. Jordan Cuvier. Absolutely. 18 years and he's barely aged. But...grown. I don't remember him being so tall. Is it the suit? It's a really good suit, and I don't know much about suits. And his hair is long now, straight and smooth and brown to his shoulders. And the eyes are exactly the same. That bright green that haunted me all through college. And the part of my brain that I'm still in control of is deeply embarrassed, but there are butterflies in my stomach and a tingle between my legs because my God does this man look good. And I'm suddenly embarrassed even more. Of course the one day I am summoned to court, my high school lover happens to be there. I thank my lucky stars he looks as as nervous as me. Maybe he's still ashamed for ditching me. "Jordan!" I say, finally. "It's...good to see you." A hammer bangs the bench. "Lady, if you need to speak with your attorney, I advise that you do it outside of my courtroom." the judge says, glaring at me. My cheeks burn. "I apologize, Your Honor." Jordan straightens up and turns to face the judge. "I spoke to Ms. Collins." I immediately get up and walk outside. He's there right behind me. "It's Robinson now." I say. "I'm a married woman." "What are you doing here?" he says. "What are you doing here?" I ask. "I'm a lawyer." "Obviously." I say. "I mean, why are you here today?" "Certifying a class action." "I don't even know what that means." "What's wrong?" "Your 'class action' thing sounds important. I don't want to waste your time." "It's not a waste. Maybe I can help." "You don't even know why I'm here." "You're being sued by a credit card company." "What? How do you -" "I saw the docket." "It could have been a different Sarah Robinson." "But it wasn't." I stop. I don't really know how the conversation got there. My mind was on autopilot, and I feel like there's this storm of emotion in my head, like a storm at sea in some painting. A maelstrom. That's the word. Half of me feels like suddenly I'm in high school again after he left for college and forgot me. And I want to slap his face and blast him for everything. And the other half, the mature half, interjects and points out the fact that a) I really, desperately need a lawyer right now, b) I can't afford to pay anyone, and c) there is a lawyer standing in front of me offering to help. "What do you charge?" I'm talking business now. He laughs, then stops when he realizes that I'm not joking. "Really? Oh. You? I won't charge you anything." "I don't want a handout." "OK. $325 an hour." He says. "Out of court. $400 in court." I try not to look shocked, but apparently fail. I've never hired a lawyer before. His face turns serious and holds out a hand. "Give the Complaint." he says. "The what?" "The paperwork they filed with the Court." I pull it out of my purse and hand it to him. He flits through the pages like some sort of scanning machine. He stops and looks hard at a billing statement attached. "Is this all?" he says. I nod. "I don't have a chance, do I?" I say. The evidence was all there. "Have you spoken to their lawyer?" "No. I was waiting until-" "Don't. Sit in the back of the courtroom and stay quiet. I'll handle this." I follow him back in and do as I'm told. They call my case out and the little collection lawyer stands up and starts talking about the credit card. Jordan stands up and announces that he's here for me. Then he starts talking some legalese about hearsay and authenticity and cross examination and I don't really get it, but I do see the collection dweeb looks perturbed. The judge looks over at him and asks if he has any real evidence. The collection lawyer just stammers something and the judge nods him to shut up. "Dismissed with prejudice." the judge says. Jordan turns around to leave and he motions me to come back outside. "What just happened?" I ask. "I took care of it." he said. "Took care of it? What do you mean? Are they going to cut me a break?" He looked incredulous. "I took care of it. It's done." I had to sit down and take it in. I'd been sleepless about this damned credit thing for weeks. I didn't know you could just walk in and burn $20,000 of debt. Some other lawyer came up to Jordan and started talking to him, I guess about their other case. I was sobbing. "Hold on, Frank." he said to the other lawyer. He came over and sat by me. He definitely put his hand on my leg and it sent alarms off in my head. But it also felt good. Really good. A part of me wanted to just wrap around him and lay there. "Hey." he said. "You're going to be fine." I nodded. The alarms kept singing, but I also felt...warm and tingly inside. I'm a married woman. He's a married man - I know because I'd seen his model-perfect wife on Facebook. "Stay right here, Sarah. I'll be done in a few minutes and I want to talk to you." The way he talked, the way he moved and looked at you, everything was so calm and assuring. My instinct was to just do what he said. So I did. A few minutes went by while he went back into court. I could see him through the gallery window standing up and making some sort of argument, the judge nodding along. I bet the women judges loved him. Was he always this good looking? Or did I just have lower standards now because I was married to a balding fat man? A pang of guilt came at the thought of my husband and I knew I had to get out of there. I couldn't go back to some fancy office tower and listen to how great his life was and how mine wasn't while I daydreamed about lying on my back and looking up at those eyes as he - STOP! Don't even go there. I got up and ran to the elevator and when it didn't come, I ran down the 4 flights of stairs and through the security checkpoint and then as fast as I could out of the double glass doors. Into the pouring rain. The rain had begun before I got to the courthouse, but instead of slacking off as the weatherman predicted, had only gotten worse. My husband was supposed to pick me up at the corner but his car was nowhere to be seen. He didn't want to pay the parking meter, so he said he'd drive around for a while and run some errands. What sort of errands could be more important than standing by his wife while she got taken to court for his bills? Ugh! I was soaking wet, and cold. I pulled out my phone to call and find out where the hell he was at, and as soon as I did, a car came by and splashed water from a puddle right at me. I shrieked when the water hit me. My phone's screen flickered and went out. It had gotten splashed too, apparently. Could it get any worse? I just stood there, frozen for a minute. Then the rain stopped. No, it stopped falling on me, but kept falling everywhere else. "Hey." It was Jordan. Standing behind me holding an umbrella over my head. Little dark grey spots started to appear in the silver wool of his suit. It looked expensive. It fit his form perfectly, buttoned at the waist like James Bond or something. No excess material, no stiffness. Tommy had one suit that he dusted off for funerals and weddings. It was a baggy black thing he got from JC Penny about 15 years ago. He'd never buttoned it before. I had never noticed until now. "Your suit-" I said. "I have others." He said. "You don't have a ride?" I said nothing, just looked up and down the street for Tommy's car. "Ah," he said. The disappointment on my face must have been obvious. "Come to my office. You can dry off and make a phone call." He held my arm to help me across the puddle and something went through me. A thrill. A shock, maybe. 'Electric' sounds so cheesy, but it isn't far off the mark. I hadn't touched another man in 16 years. A part of me was alarmed, sure. But I wasn't going to sit in the rain forever. His office was an old French Colonial mansion that overlooked St. Francis Street. It had been restored completely, and if you love old houses, you'd have loved this place. The floors were heart pine from the 1880s. The receptionist did a double take when I came in, looking first to Jordan then back to me a couple of times, her face a mix of pity and question. "Katherine, this is Sarah." Jordan said. "She's a new client. What news?" "Mr. Springfield called about that Fair Housing case, Stephens, I think. He said they'll offer $200,000 if you'll agree to confidentiality." "No." "I'll relay the message. Also, Mrs. Reese from the DOJ called. They want your input on some discrimination case they're working on." "Perfect. Email her that I'll call her at 11:15 tomorrow." He turned to me. "Come on." His office was formerly the sitting room of the old mansion, and definitely not what you expect from a lawyer's office. It had a grand old fireplace of limewashed red brick. Paintings were on the walls. All originals, by the look of it. A leather couch and some chairs surrounded a coffee table near the fireplace. Cozy and comfortable. "Do you live here?" I asked. "Ha!" he laughed, "Sometimes, yes. When I'm working on something big. Or when I'm troubled." "You come to work to escape trouble?" "I like my job." He smirked. It was a crooked, twinkle-eyed, mischievous smirk that I absolutely loved when I was 17. And I absolutely love it now, I thought. It was just as charming, just as fun and promising of some secret surprise up his sleeve. But it was deeper now, grown into something that promised more than just fun and good company. It promised care and protection and a sense that he was so...competent. That was the word. From the first time I saw him, standing in court, when he was walking in the rain, talking to the judge or his receptionist, he exuded it. He was utterly unafraid and in charge. It was intoxicating. I could sit here in his presence all day just watching him be what he was. He got some matches from his desk and lit the fireplace. There were logs in it already. "The contractor advised that we close the chimney up because of its age," he explained, "but I wouldn't have it. There's nothing like a good fire." "I think it's lovely." I said. Our 2-bedroom house in the burbs had one of those cheap gaslog inserts. I'd never lived in a house with a real fireplace. He went into a bathroom and brought back a towel. He wrapped the towel around me and that little alarm sounded again. But it was easy to ignore this time. It would be fine. Somehow I knew. I felt warm inside. I felt like a huge burden had been lifted. I felt taken care of. I felt...happy. It hit me like a meteor, the realization that I'd spent the past decade or so slowly carrying more and more cares and responsibilities, while everyone else seemed to be just fine. It was like the more I gave, the less I got. And you just trudge through life like that, because people are depending on you, because you have kids to care for, because you have to keep up the rat race and try to be normal. Or at least look normal. And all I ever wanted was to be taken care of. I'll go ahead and say it. I'm not one of those powerful ball-crushing CEO type women. I'm not some proto-feminist who wants to wear pant suits and have short hair and hyphenate my kids' names. If that's your thing, fine, go get it. But I don't care about all that. All I ever wanted was to feel safe and assured like when I was a little girl. And for the first time in so, soo long, I had that feeling again. The fire crackled and I kicked off my shoes and warmed up my toes. It was heavenly. He appeared beside me with a glass in his hand. A dark red liquid swirled in it. "For you." "Wine?" "You've had a hard day." "I don't think..." I hesitated. But why? His eyes were so clear and bright, and so calm and honest. He was right. "Alright." I said. We talked by the fire. Then we ran out of wine and he came up with another bottle. The secretary came in and said she was leaving at some point. From the minute I saw him, he'd never once looked uncomfortable or uncertain. He exuded a certain type of manliness that I hadn't really experienced this close before. This was a man who faced problems head on. His problems, other peoples' problems, whatever. This was a man who took care of things. And, once my second glass of wine loosened me up enough to be honest with myself, he was, actually, really freaking hot. Yes, hot. A week before I'd have described him as 'attractive,' or used some other mature and appropriately distant word. But that was when I'd closed off the girlish parts of me, the carnality that we all have down deep inside. I had accustomed myself to just not look at other men. Tommy was my husband and I was stuck with him, beer gut and irresponsibility and all. I used to love sex. It was good at first, too. But the first time he lost his job, just after our second was born, it became too much. I'd always thought that I wanted a big family, but we couldn't afford any more children. So Tommy got a vasectomy and a crappier job and we slowed down to maintenance sex after that. It was a chore for me like everything else. Like doing the dishes. And now I'm sitting here drinking wine by a fireplace feeling the hots for my high school boyfriend while he tells me about some sailing trip to Iceland in a boat he built with his sons. I'm about to tell him how awesome it sounds to build your own boat, but I recall something that'd been bothering me all afternoon. "Jordan," I grab his hand without even thinking. It is warm and rougher than you'd expect. "Thank you." "For...?" "You know. For today. For saving me from financial ruin. I really don't know what I would have done. God, it was so embarrassing." "Don't be. A lot of people are in the same boat. Being broke is no crime." "Well, I just... I owe you." "Yes," he said, "you do." That took me aback. I was pretty sure he said he wasn't charging me anything. "Um," I said, "what's the price?" "A kiss." My heart was pounding. I couldn't even make the words for an answer. He moved in quick to my lips. And then it was on. Like something from a movie, he dove into me and I came right back. I was starving for it. It was like when you go to sleep hungry but sleep through your stomach growls, and then when you wake up, you're just ravenous. My body was ravenous for this man. This man. I clawed at his shirt. My dress was over my head, my bra hit the floor. He picked me up and carried me to the big leather sofa. I realized I had nothing on my black panties. I was slightly nervous. I'd seen his wife on facebook. She was one of those tall, beautiful women who look good in everything. She looked like a model. But he didn't look disappointed. His eyes lingered on my waist. "What?" I asked, wondering if my fat butt had turned him off. "You look.." "Is my ass too fat? You're not used to-" "Your ass is perfect. It's so...round. And your hips," he said, running a hand down my side, feeling the curve of me. "Like a fertility goddess." His hand came around behind me and gripped my butt. He flopped me over so that my ass was in the air. I wasn't wearing a thong, but my panties had ridden up into my crack because my ass is so big. They were totally soaked through. "You, you like it?" I questioned, looking back at him. He didn't say anything, but those lovely eyes that were normally so cool and all-business were burning now with lust. His hands roamed over me as he stood there, entranced. "I...I've never seen anything like it. I love it. I have to..." his voice went deeper and became stone-cold serious. "I have to have you. I'm going to have you." The words should have been alarming me and sending me running, but they were sweet music now. I was far too turned on to stop him. He slapped my ass and it shook. This exposition should have embarrassed me, but it didn't. I was turning him on, and that turned me on more than anything. This deliciously hot man who was once a half-forgotten lover and now was the man I'd always hoped for, a man in charge of his life and everything around him, this man was turned on by my round white ass. I lowered my shoulders and arched my back like a cat, and slowly gyrated for him while I watched his eyes follow the motion of my hips. I could feel his lust radiating towards me, growing in power as I moved for him, and the obvious pleasure in his eyes doubled my own lust, until my body was burning, I wanted him so badly. Saving Sarah He stood back and looked down at me, from head to toe. He was so tall. So lean. I'd forgotten what abs looked like in the flesh. I wanted to feel them pushing against me, his hardness against my softness. His dick was long and smooth and standing up like a flagpole. Not a short, fat, hairy dick like the one my libido had been barely surviving on for 15 years. The tip of it shined with a dollop of precum. Even through my panties a drop of wetness dripped from me onto the leather sofa. Finally, he couldn't take any more. A hand grabbed each side of my panties and he ripped them down the middle so he could get at me. He plunged his face into me and started licking me. He licked the wetness that was dripping down my leg like it was precious honey. My lips were swollen and pulsing and the first time his tongue touched my clit, I came. My conscious mind receded to blankness for a time while my body convulsed against his mouth, but he held me firmly and kept control of my pussy, kept licking and kissing and doing things with his lips and tongue that kept the convulsions coming. On the fifth or sixth wave, it was too much and I squealed and pushed my hand against his face. It was literally too much. He kept going and another wave hit and I screamed and lost control of my whole body. I collapsed into mush on the sofa and lay there. He relented. A few minutes (as best I could guess) later, I was able to think again. I hadn't cummed that hard in ten years. I turned to face the man that gave it to me. He was sitting beside me, running his hands over my hips and ass. His cock was impossibly hard, purple veins pulsing a heartbeat every second. The sheen of precum went from the tip all the way down to his balls. I felt a little ashamed. On top of all he'd done for me already, he'd given me the best orgasm I could remember and his swollen balls were desperate for release! Somewhere deep down, I knew that I couldn't let this be a one-time thing. It was too late to go back to my crummy life-as-usual. I needed orgasms like that every day. I needed to be around his on-top-of-things manliness and his gorgeous smirk. I needed to please him now. I crawled over to his cock and put my lips on his head. I didn't know a human penis could get that hard. Tommy's was thicker, but it was never this stiff. It was like licking a warm stone. A quick little gasp escaped him and confirmed his pleasure. I licked around the head like a lollipop. The precum tasted like sperm and a brief image of his swimmers flying into me came to mind. I went down further. It was more difficult than blowing a semi-erect knob, but I pushed on, slow at first, then when I hit the back of my throat I picked up the pace. My lips wrapped as tight as they could around him without risking any teeth. His breath got quicker and I could see his rock-solid belly flexing and pulsing. A conflict arose within me: a sudden and deep urge to have him cum inside of me, pitted against my need to continue pleasing him with my mouth. Then I noticed that there were still two inches of him that were dry. I pushed myself harder against his shaft, but I couldn't make it go. I refused to gag. I tried again and got hardly any further. He put his hand on my head. I let him push me down onto him, impaling my mouth with this spear. His hand was an unstoppable force, and wasn't going to let up until he was completely inside me. I let it happen. He hit the wall of my throat and I stretched my neck and put my tongue out. My throat felt stretched in a way it never had before, and I was about to gag when it suddenly popped through. He shifted my body to get a better angle and kept going, now each push went into my throat a little easier. I needed to breathe. He stopped and held me down on him for a moment and I thought he was going to cum, but instead he slowly pulled me back up. I inhaled deep and looked at him. He seemed satisfied, but the fire in his eyes was still burning. He gave me a kiss. "Open your legs." he commanded. I obeyed instinctively and he came forward, pushing them behind my head. My pussy waited for him, wetness pooling on the sofa. Butterflies were in my stomach. This was it: he was about to take me. He kissed me deep and then went down to my breasts and licked my nipples with little circular motions while he fingered my clit. His head went down and he started licking my pussy again. A few seconds, I was on the verge of another orgasm when he stopped and stood tall. He held his dick like a spear and he lowered himself to me, rubbing the spear up and down on my clit. It was torturous pleasure; it felt heavenly, but it wasn't what I needed. I need it inside me, touching deep parts of my womb that had never been pleasured before. I bucked my hips up towards him, trying to catch the tip of it and get it into me. I couldn't help it. Then a sudden thought burst into my consciousness. "Jordan, baby." I said, "Are you...we need...I'm not on birth control." "Good." He said, and I immediately knew what it meant: he was going to breed me. He put the tip of his uncovered, fertile cock up against me. My swollen lips were begging me to let him in. I couldn't stop him. I was thirty four and married and after two kids was supposed to be done with that part of my life, but I couldn't stop him. I didn't want to stop him. I didn't want to do anything else but lay there with my legs behind my head, totally open to this magnificent specimen standing over me. He pushed. My lips opened and hugged his shaft, tugging him inside. His body shivered with satisfaction and a growl rumbled in his throat. He pushed more, inch by inch, and the tingling in my womb was relieved. His hard abs pressed against my clit and I came. He stay still this time, let the orgasm pass through me. Then he began to fuck me. Not the short chop-chop-chop in and out strokes from a man with a fat belly with short fat dick. Long, deep strokes pounded home by hard abs against my clit. When I was able to open them and see, I looked at his eyes, entranced. His heavy balls bounced against my asshole, adding their own little waves of sweetness to the symphony of euphoria that was building. I knew they were full of potent sperm and with my husband, the idea of getting pregnant again would have my security alarms screaming and would have me kicking him off and rolling away. But this was the opposite. With Jordan, I wanted to open up. I wanted to give him my fertility. I wanted those giant sperm-filled balls to fill me with tall, gorgeous sons and striking green-eyed daughters. A mental image came of my belly being swollen pregnant again, and this once-horrifying thought was now my heart's desire. I came. Waves of warm happy contentment rippled out from my womb, my skin was hot, my mind melted away and I was the orgasm. The waves became stronger and my hips were pressing forward against him. He thrusted harder and faster. My body shook with each impact, but I only wanted more. He gripped my shoulders and my legs and he held me down, an act of both possession and protection. Another orgasm was coming. I could feel it building while he slammed himself into me again and again. Then suddenly, a tightness in my womb gripped his cock. His eyes widened in surprise, then rolled back into his head. The contractions came harder, squeezing his shaft and pumping it deeper into me, milking his dick for the seed that my body craved to take into itself. He let out a shout and I felt the corresponding explosion inside of me, his cock grew and then pulsed, filling me with sperm and filling me with sperm and deep in my belly, I could feel the spurts coming and coming, until finally he collapsed on top of me. His cock was still throbbing. We may have slept. An hour or so later, he awoke me with a kiss. His eyes were calm again. He rose and when he pulled himself out of me, a pool of white cum spilled out. We both knew that wasn't even half of what had been shot inside of me. I dipped a finger in it and touched my tongue. He kissed me again, deep and sweet. ... As it happened, he needed a new secretary because his old one was moving to a new office they'd opened in Florida. He 'interviewed' me for the job, but we both knew that there wasn't any negotiating to be done. He has what I want; he is what I want. And I'll do whatever I need to keep him. Of course, this isn't hard: he gets a blowjob at least once a day, and I give him my pussy and my ass as he demands it. Last month, I missed my second period in a row. I know the baby is Jordan's. I have sex with Tommy about one a week, maybe, which is way more than we used to. The more sex I get, the more sex I want, it seems, and I don't see the harm in giving him a little bit just to keep the peace. But he shoots blanks, so once I start showing, I'm sure he'll know the baby isn't his. But I'm not worried. Jordan will take care of that.