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With Interest

By: KEaster46



My son had borrowed my cordless drill on Friday and promised to return it the same day. Well here it was Monday and I needed my drill and it was not in my shop. My son has a way of forgetting things so I walked across the alley and came in the back door. I called out to his wife Sara but got no answer. I went down to the basement and into his work shop. There my drill was right on his work bench. I grabbed it and started up stairs. The kitchen phone is right behind the basement door I was near the top when I heard Sara talking on the phone. 

She said "What am I wearing?" she laughed and then said "Not that it is any of your business but I'm stark naked and I've just stepped out of the shower. I'm dripping wet and I masturbated in the shower so my pussy is clean and ready for a stiff dick. I've also brushed my teeth so my mouth is clean and ready to suck a fine hard cock so it will explode in my mouth so I can swallow hot strong cum. I love to suck a cock until it cums in my mouth. My husband tells me I'm the best cocksucker around. Mac, Charlie and Bill have told me I'm the best fuck they ever had. So what is your name and why did you call?"

She laughed and hung up. I was so surprised I nearly fell back down the stairs. Sara walked off I thought back to the bathroom while I took off out the back door.

I got home and found my wife in the kitchen. I grabbed her by the ass and said "Come-on let's go up stairs and do some serious fucking."

Molly smiled and started to say something but I told her to shut her fucking mouth and come on.

A few minutes later I was fucking my sweet chubby wife of thirty years like we were kids again. I had not made love to Molly for a couple of weeks so she obliged me on every count. I fucked her hard for five minutes then pulled out and got on my back so she could ride the old pole. But first I wanted her to suck me. Molly knows I like to watch her suck my cock while it is covered with her pussy juice. She was happy to suck me and when I was about to bust a nut she climbed aboard and rode it until we both blasted off. 

Huffing and puffing Molly lay next to me for a long time before she spoke. "What the fuck was all that about?"

I told her about what I heard and she was highly up set. She said "Do you think Sara is screwing around on Ted?"

I said "I don't know but it sure sounded like it. Should we do anything about it? Should we try to fine out and with whom ever she doing it with?" 

Molly said "From what you've told me she may have been with more than one guy. She might have been talking about Mac Summers and Charlie Blake. Those guys have been friends with Ted since they were in high School." 

Molly said "Christ all mighty do you think the kids are into swinging. Maybe Ted knows all about it and even joins in."

I said "Could be; sure as hell sounds like us twenty years ago. How can we find out for sure? I know I got horny as hell listening to Sara go on like she did. I bet she is one traffic fuck. She has such a tight little ass and those full round tits. I'd love to fuck her or maybe cum on those tits of her's"

Molly laughed and said "You would you old fucker. I remember how you like to come on Marlene's tits and have me lick it off. You got a kick out of that."

I said "I wonder what ever happened to Marlene and that guy she ran off with."

Molly said "They came back to town a few years back and live out on the Burger's farm. I thought you know that."

"Hell no I never heard that. If I had maybe we'd be back into the swinging scene. I sure enjoyed her fat ass. Best fucking ass I ever had. "

Molly said "You want ass I've got all the ass you need right here." Molly rolled out of bed and was patting her ass as she waddled into the bathroom. I had to admit Molly had kept her figure all these years and she has a fine round firm ass.

I grabbed my cock and was thinking of my daughter. 


If Sara was fucking around and a willing cock sucker maybe there was a way for me to not only find out but get in on the action. I was jerking on my cock big time when Molly came out just in time to lean over and take my load in her mouth. 

It was almost like the old days when we fucked all the time and Molly would suck me off when ever I felt like it.

I went out to my work shop and kept an eye on my son's house. Around noon Sara came out and drove off toward town. My old truck is known all over town but it's all I had to drive just then so I took off after Sara I tried to keep an eye out from a distance. 

Sara turned off just before reaching the town limits and headed up the hill toward the old town park. I hung back and parked off the road behind a few trees. I walked the short distance up and around the large rock formation that is the center of the park. Off under a shade tree in the nearly empty parking lot was Sara's Ford Mustang. She was not in it. I circled around keeping to the trees and brush until I was near the lake. I found Sara sitting on a blanket with some guy I had never seen before. 

He looked young to me but every one younger than my sixty two years looked young. I could not get close enough to hear the conversation but it was only a minute of so before they kissed. The guy was grabbing her tits and she had her hand in his jeans. I watched as she pulled out the guy's cock and jerked him hard as a rock. 


I had visions of my dear Molly doing the same thing to my friend and neighbor Don Winters many years ago. I was kind of a voyeur back then and I guess I was still a peeping Edward. I wondered if my son Ted knew about this liaison and if so, was he at some other spot doing the same? I had my cock out as I watched just as I had yeas ago. I would masturbate as I watched my lovely wife suck off guys and then when we got back together we'd fuck our brains out.

Sara was doing her best to get the guy off and while she had her head in his lap he had a hand down the back of her shorts. I could only guess he had a finger in her ass or at least playing with her ass. I got really hard then thinking of my dear Sara's fine tight ass. I have wanted to fuck Sara ever since my son Ted brought her home to meet us. I wanted to run down there and fuck her ass doggie style while she finished off the guy. 

She pulled back and stood up. The guy put his cock away and stood next to Sara. I could see nothing but waited in the shadows for what ever came next. 

From the other direction came a couple that was about the same age. They waved as the couple saw Sara and the guy. The girl ran to embrace Sara who retuned her kisses and hugs. The guys nodded at one another and just stood there watching the girls welcome one another to the party.

I wished my Molly could be here to see this. In a few minutes both girls were naked from the waist down. 


The girls were on all fours with the guys behind them doing a good job of screwing the hell out of both girls. At some point the guys swapped girls and started screwing them again. The guys came and I'm not sure the girls did or not but the party broke up and the kids took off. I was left there with my cock throbbing and cum dribbling on the ground. 

It took a while to find my way back to my truck. When I got there a lady with a park ranger uniform was standing next to it looking in side. I walked up and told her that was my truck. She ask me why I was parked here. 

Without a bit of shame or embarrassment I told her I was following my daughter and what I had seen down by the lake. I explained that I was so horny I had jerked off watching the kids and I made a point of telling this interested party every detail and even the size of the guy's cocks and how excited I got watching the girls suck the cocks. There was a flicker of lust sparking behind the ladies eyes as I moved closer I whispered I like to fuck her right there and then. She licked her lips and a moment later I had her bent over the tail gate with my cock up her pussy. She wiggled and muffling her screams as best she could I had her coming twice before I did. I filled her up with a full load and as I pulled out I trailed the head of my cock over her little ass hole. She giggled and I poked her harder. We heard a sound on the road and we quickly dressed. I told her I would talk to my wife and if she agreed we would call her for a meeting later. The Ranger said she would like that. She handed me her card and I tucked it in my shirt pocket.

I arrived home and found the house empty. I showered and shaved then took a cool beer out on the porch and sat thinking of my daughter. I really wanted a piece of that and thought maybe I had an idea how to get it. 

Molly was not home at five so I called Ranger Carol Tucker at home. She answered and seemed happy I called. She said she had just walked in the door. 

I laughed and jokingly said "Then I don't have to ask what you have on."

Carol said Ed; I was thinking. It would be very nice if I met you and your wife for a little recreational sex but would you mind it we had another go at it first. I kind of liked that one on one. I also liked what you did just before we were interrupted. 

I said "Carol I liked that too. But really I think you'd like my wife Molly. She is fine with this and I sure you'd have a good time however if you would like to see me alone one more time that is also fine with me. I had to notice you have a really pretty ass and I've always enjoyed a fine ass. I like to talk you about some thing else too. "

Carol said she had to get cleaned up and if I came by tomorrow around noon she would be home as she only worked half a day on Fridays. 

I hung up and Molly came out on the porch with another beer for me and one for herself. 


I filled her in on my days excursions. I told her about Sara fucking with the other couple how horny I got and what happened when I got back to my truck. Molly seemed a bit disturbed but only said "Was that the first time you fucked around by your self since we stopped swinging?"

I said it was and if it up set her I would never do it again with out her knowing it before hand. So then and there I told her about my invitation for Tomorrow. Molly said she really did not what me out on my own.

I explained that I wanted to talk to Carol about maybe making contact with Sara in her official capacity as Park Ranger and let Sara know she had been seen and see what Sara has to say. If Carol could get Sara to meet her and some how let Sara know that if Carol was to get involved in the screwing part maybe she; Carol, would not fill out a official report on the incident. 

Molly liked that idea but still thought it would be better if she went along to meet Carol Tomorrow. I love Molly to much to keep her in the dark about what I do so I agreed she could come along and meet Carol.

That night after dinner we watched a XXX movie, naked of course and played with one another all though the movie then we fucked like kids again for an hour. I was fucking Molly doggie style and took a finger full of juice from around my cock and rubbed it on Molly tight little ass hole. She got the idea and lowered her ass by spreading her knees offering me her choice tight ass to fuck. My old dick got so hard if felt like an iron bar. 


Molly relaxed and poked my cock up her sweet ass slowly at first but when she got it all she wiggled her ass and moaned letting me know she was ready for a faster and harder fuck. I do love the feel of my cock in a tight ass hole and I went fucking nuts I fucked my darling wife's ass faster then as fast as I could and we came together screaming like a couple of caged animals. 

We went to sleep in each other's arms feeling the same love we had known for many many years.

Not wanting to surprised Carl I called her and said Molly would be with me and if that was not okay with her then I'd not come alone. Carol seemed to understand and she liked the idea of me and Molly having this open yet so very close relationship. 

Molly and I arrived a little after noon to find Carol still in her uniform. Introductions were made and much to my surprise Molly and Carol seemed to find some kind of bond right away. I took a seat and the girls went into the kitchen to get themselves a glass of wine and me a beer. I waited a few minutes and then a few more. When I entered the kitchen Molly was hugging Carol and this hug was well received and returned in kind. The wine bottle was sitting on the table unopened. 

I watched as the girls looked over at me smiled and Carol pointed at the refrigerator as if to say get your own beer. I did I was followed back into the living room by two seemingly happy ladies. 

I sat in a chair the girls sat next to one another on the sofa. We managed to get to the point of this visit and Carol agreed to call Sara and see what she had to say about the group sex on the shores of the lake. Molly and I sat with portable phones pressed to our ears as Carol dialed Sara at home. 

When Sara answered Carol got right to the point saying that Sara and friends were seen and reported to Carol the local Ranger. Carol said she wanted to talk to Sara before she made a report. Sara seemed excited and she asked right away if there was any way Ranger Carol could let this pass if Sara promised not to do it again. Carol gave Sara her home address and asked Sara to come over and the two of them would talk. Sara seemed to get the idea and warmed up to meeting Carol at home. As Sara was about to hang up she said "Ranger Carol I'd like to bring a friend along to meet you and talk this over. He is very nice and maybe we can explain how and why things got out of hand at the park."

Before I could wave Carol off to that idea she agreed to allow Sra to bring her male friend. Their appointment was not until five o'clock and it was only twelve thirty now so there was lots of time for the three of us to get acquainted.

Carol went into her bedroom to get out of her Ranger uniform Molly followed Carol I followed Molly. 

As I've said I'm a bit of a voyeur so I was happy to watch the two women slowly undress in kind of a crazy dance in front of one another. 


Carol's eyes brightened as Molly's D-s popped free and hung like bright while melons with little pink nipples on her chest. I dropped my trousers and plopped down on the edge of the bed jerking on my cock as I watched the girls kiss and grab one another every where. 

Carol suggested she jump in the shower quickly. Molly said she would join her. I swear there is nothing more sexy than watching two women washing one another all over with soapy hands. Fingers were in pussies and even up an ass as the kissing went on. I was so hot I was about to cum all over the bathroom. When the girls came out saw my plight and Molly quickly dropped to her knees and happily sucked my first of three loads to be blasted off that afternoon. 

I followed the girls back into the bedroom where they fell happily on the bed in each other arms. Hugging and kissing they rolled around as I watched. My cock got hard again in rapid fashion. When Carol got on all fours with her head between Molly's spread legs her ass was up in the air looking as if it needed a stiff cock. Jumping up on the bed behind Carol I found her pussy hot, wet and very ready for a fucking. Moll is one that can reach a climax quickly if the mood is right and it must have been because Molly cried out wiggling her ass in all directions at the same time. Carol was licking, rubbing Molly's clitoris and fingering her ass hole all at the same time. I was plugged into Carol following the action as best as I could. 

I think Carol got hot and excited the more Molly got excited and of course I did too. 


Molly screamed lifting her ass off the bed while spurting into Carol's mouth and all around her eager mouth dripping juice on the bed. I felt Carol's cunt tightened around my cock and I knew she was about to climax as well. I pushed deep to deliver my load well up into her wonderful pussy. 

I busted a nut, Carol let go with a climax that ran out around my cock and down my legs. The bed was wet, my legs were wet, Carol's face was wet and Molly was wet all over from belly to knees. Another shower was called for. Followed by a glass of wine for the girls and a beer for me. 

I was pretty well shot but the girls were just getting started. We sat around naked enjoying our drinks when Molly got up set her glass down so she could squat between Carol's legs. Carol lifted her legs and spread them wide so Molly cold lick out as much of my cum as she could. Carol eased her ass close to the edge of the sofa and let Molly get her tongue in as far as it would go. Carol rolled her hips up giving Molly free range to both her pussy and sweet ass hole. I'd never seen anything like this before but Molly did not need a written invitation. Molly grabbed Carol's legs holding them up high so she had access to Carols' sweet behind. Molly licking Carol's pussy then her sweet puckered little behind and then back to the pussy.

I was fucking hard again in a flash and I quickly got behind my wife. Rubbing the head of my cock around her pussy a few second to get it wet and well lubricated I aimed the tip toward my wife's ass. The head of my cock popped in easily and we were off to the races. 


It was just like the old days with a few slight changes but Molly was deep into what she was doing and I was getting the finest ass fucking any where. Carol was screaming, weeping and blinking tear filled eyes up at me over Molly's head. We once again all seemed to come together. I'd never seen this happen like this before but we did. I fell over completely exhausted followed by Carol flopping over on the sofa and Molly crumbling to the floor. 

Another shower with less touching and feeling of one another then we dressed and waited for five O'clock to come around. It was agreed Molly and I were to wait in the gust bedroom so we could listen to the conversation in the living room and if things got out of hand we could open the door slightly to see what was happening. Before Sara and her friend were to arrive Carol said maybe she should call Sara back and cancel as she was really tired and could not get involved again this day. Molly and I agreed so Carol called Sara and said she was called back into work and they would have to meet another day. No date was set but Sara fully understood that she was not off the hook.

Molly and I arrived home after going out to dinner and stopping by the club for a few drinks. We pulled into the drive and Molly seemed reluctant to get out. Sitting in the dark I sensed Molly wanted to talk. So I turned toward her and waited. 

"Ed; you have been thinking that if we catch Sara in some kind of situation you might be able to get her in bed. Is that right?"

I said "Something like that. Why?"

Molly said "Sweetheart have you thought "what if." 

I asked "What do you mean. What if" 

"Just suppose we do find out the kids are into swinging and Sara liked the idea of jumping in bed with you. What am I supposed to?"

I blinked as if a flash went off. I said "Oh, shit. I never thought of that. If I screw Sara you'd be left with, with our son. Christ. That's' pretty much out of the question. I mean me fucking our daughter is a lot different than a kid screwing his mother. God I'm so sorry I got us involved in this crap. I guess we'd better call Carol and tell her to forget it and give Sara a free pass. I know you enjoyed Carol so if you want we can keep seeing her okay but we'll just forget about the kids."

We entered the house and went up stairs to relax in our own bed. I said "I guess I was just thinking about myself. Our best swinging days are well behind us but the idea of screwing little Sara was fun thinking about."

Molly said "Not too long ago I read a story about a boy that fell in love with his mother and after some doing he got her in his bed. She did not know it was him right away and after he had been making love to her for a few months he decided to tell her the truth and let her see it was her son she had been fucking. The mother took it all in stride and they went right on fucking."


With Interest Ch. 02



Ted watched his Dad put the golf clubs in the back of his pick up truck. Ted watched to see that the old truck turned west toward the country club. Once out of sight Ted walked slowly across the alley and up the steps to the kitchen door. Through the screen he saw his mother sipping a cup of coffee while standing at the sink. She had a full view of the back yard Ted knew his mother had seen him coming. He entered and stood just inside the back door. 

Ted said "Morning Mom. I see Dad's gone to play golf." Pause. "Mom can we talk?'

Molly stood frozen looking at her son. Molly wanted to speak but she was at a loss for words and so she just stood there looking at Ted. Molly tightened up seemingly to freeze as Ted came to her and put his arm around her shoulders. Taking the cup of coffee from her fingers he set it on the sink. 

Molly did not resist as together they moved down the hall towards Ted old room. Ed had started to move a desk and a couple of chairs in Ted's old bedroom. Ted's old bed was pushed to one side and was made up. Ted sat his mother on the bed and then together they lay down side by side. 

Ted was on the out side resting on his back Molly on her side with Ted's arm still around her shoulders. Molly was stiff as a board arms crossed on her chest, her head touching Ted's shoulder and her legs were together and not touching Ted.

Ted did not speak but held his mother to him. Time passed with out a word being said. Ted closed his eye and after some minutes Ted fell asleep. After an eternity Molly relaxed and closed her eyes. How long they had rested in one another's arms neither was sure. Ted woke, sat up and helped his mother to her feet. He kissed her on the cheek and left the house. Molly felt less fearful than she had in days. Molly returned to the kitchen and started to clean up from breakfast. She had things to think about and some how this brief interlude has some how set things nearer to right than they had been. Molly was smiling to herself.

It all happened so fast. One day Quincy was talking to his father comparing notes about the women each had known. Father and son had crossed paths on two occasions but not at the same time. Each had known Mrs. Verling. Doctor Verling's widow and Mrs. Black; Dear Eleanor the sweetest chubby widow in town. Quincy had learned of Ely's charms a few months earlier and was very happy with this arrangement. It was Eleanor Black that introduced Quincy to the sweetest threesome of his life. Two old ladies and one young stud that took care of both ladies to everyone's satisfaction. 

Quincy often talked to his Dad about his sweet encounters. 

Quincy's father smiled and said in his youth he had also scored a home run with both those ladies well before they had married. Young Quincy told his Dad they were both still very desirable and in sex over load. His Dad said that one day soon maybe the two Dexter men should pay a call on these two dear widows and give them the time of their lives.

However that plan was short lived because Mr. Dexter fell ill on the next Sunday and dies on Thursday. The small town paper carried the story of Mr. Dexter's sudden death and the plans for the funeral. 

Ted called his Dad and asked if he had seen the obituary on Mr. Dexter. Ed said he had and in return asked Ted if he was friends with young Quincy. Ted said he was and that he and Sara would be attending the funeral. Ed said he and Molly would also be there and would most likely do a visitation the night before at around eight o'clock. Ted said he and Sara would pick up his parents at seven thirty on Sunday night and all four could go in one car. 

In the back of Ted's mind he thought this would be a good time to see if his mother was still very stiff and uneasy when she was around him. Ted had talked to Sara and told her about the close encounter and both agreed it had been a good move. But as to Molly's willingness to venture into the family incest affair further was yet to be seen. 

Ed just sat down next to Molly from viewing his old friend Thad Dexter. When Molly jerked on his sleeve. Molly said "There are a couple of faces I have not seen in many a year." 

Molly was pointing at Mrs. Verling and Mrs. Black walking in together holding each other by the arm as they made their way down the center isle. The two women paused at the first row of chairs where young Quincy was seated. Quincy stood as the two women can up. First Quincy hugged Eleanor Black and lifting her veil they kissed lightly on the lips. Then Young Quincy hugged Mrs. Verling and also kissed her lightly on the lips. After both women viewed Mrs. Dexter they sat down on either side of Quincy and each held a hand.

Ed said "What do you make of that?"

Ted leaned across in front of his mother and said "I do think there is something going on there we're not privy too. Marlene told me that those two women had, shell we say a well documented youth. You don't suppose they have taken up with Quincy in that department do you?"

Sara said "I've heard that Quincy is hung like a horse and he's happy to use it on older ladies. I'll bet." Sara stopped talking as the threesome turned to look back over the mourners. 

Quincy stood and walked back to talk to Ted and his wife. He also shook hands with Ed saying he was happy to see an old friend of his Dads' here. Kneeling he looked in to Molly's eyes and said very softly "My Dad has spoken of you too Mrs. Keaster. He said he had known you from his school days. I think he had some very fond memories of you. Quincy looked at Ed and said"Dad was always telling me of all the wonderful times he had as a young man."

Ted stood and put his hand on Quincy's shoulder and said "When this is all over Sara and I would like you to come over for dinner one night soon."

Quincy said he would like that and that he would call. He then returned to sit between the two older ladies. 

Sara said "I was thinking the same thing. If he is all I've heard this might be fun." Sara looked at Ted and said "When he calls tell him if he has any one special in his life to bring her along too. We just might find out what the hell is going on up there."

Ted nudged his mother on the shoulder and said "Just how well did you know the old man? Maybe you and Dad should come to dinner on the same night. This could be very interesting in deed."

Much to Ted's surprise he thought he saw a hint of a smile on his mother's face. In thirty minutes the small room was filled with visitors so Ted walked up to the front and told Quincy they were going to go but they would be at the funeral the next afternoon at two O'clock.

Ted parked in this back drive and when his mother and father got out Sara said "Would like to come in for a drink?"

Ed hugged Molly and said "How about it? What a drink? I sure could use a night cap."

Molly said "Just one."

The just one came and went to three and then after that the small talk turned to more personal things. Sara said "Did you two swing with Mr. Dexter and his wife back when you were into that stuff?"

Ed said "His wife was a cute chubby little thing that talked as dirty as any sailor when she got a few drinks in to her. Thad was devastated when she died I don't think he ever got back in to swinging after that. But I heard roomers he was getting a hell of a lot of pussy on the side. He had a small home repair and paint business that he worked out of his home. I've heard his son Quincy has taken up the gauntlet and if what we saw tonight is any sign of what he's up to I say the family tradition is well and thriving. I'll bet that young man is banging both Regina Verling and Eleanor Black. What a hell of a threesome that would be."

Sara said "Mom; did you fuck the old man? Was he well hung? I think it will be fun to have Quincy over to dinner. What do you think Mom?"

Molly smiled and took the last of her third drink before she said "It been a lot of years but I think Thad was rather well hung. Do you remember Ed? If I remember rightly you enjoyed Sally's chubby round ass. I seem to remember how you like to take her doggie while you looked at Thad and me going at it across the room." 

Ed said "As I remember it you had his cock in your mouth more than in your pussy." Ed laughed and nodded to Ted to make his mother another drink.

Sara had moved in between hers and Ted sat next to his mother after handing her another drink. Sara was working on Ed's belt and pulling up her skirt. Ted moved over to the far end of the sofa to make room between Sara and her. Molly sipped and watched as Sara fished out Ed's cock and quickly went down on it. 

Molly as about to say something when Ted slipped a hand up between her thighs and pushed her legs wide apart. Molly jerked back closing her thighs. Then she looked into Ted's eyes relaxed and scooted her hips closer to the edge of the sofa. Ted got on the floor on his knees and with both hands he reached up under his mothers' skirt and pulled her panties down and off her legs. 

Molly felt the cool air fill her gaping sweet lips. She knew she was wet and she knew why.

Ted pulled her ass right to the edge of the sofa spread her legs and pushed his face into her wet pussy.

Molly sighed and let out a large breath then she grabbed Ted by the hair and wiggled her ass from side to side. 

Ed said "Holy fuck would you look at that. Never thought I'd see that."

Sara said "God I loved to eat Mom's pussy after Ted fucks her."

Ed said "Good idea and I'd love to fuck you're sweet ass while you lick your husbands cum out of Molly's cunt and if we can get it all together Molly can suck Ted's cock at the same time." 

Sara laughed and said "Daisy chain, daisy chain. Daisy chain."

Ed busted a nut for Sara while watching Ted get on his knees and lift his mother's ass off the edge of the sofa and wiggle up between her legs driving his cock in to his mother's pussy for the first time. Molly cried out and grabbed her son tight. Molly was crying and yelling for Ted to fuck her all at the same time.

Sara was slobbering, drooling and spiting Ed's cum all over the place as Ted rammed hard and deep into his mother. Ed was so hot he busted another load into Sara's little mouth as Ted cried out "Oh fuck Mom, God I' cumming. I'm cumming in my mother's pussy. Holy shit was a great fuck. Dad I'm fucking Mom." Ted hunched over and pulled Molly ass even closer and rammed another load into her. 

Ed said "Fuck her, God damn it; fuck her good son."

Sara had stood turned around and sat down on Ed's cock. Ed had come twice and was still hard. How fucking exciting is it to watch his son Ted; fuck his mother. God this had to be the most erotic and sexiest thing of all time. Ed was unable to take his eyes off the coupe next to him. 

Sara said "Mom, Mom God all mighty. Fuck him. Fuck my husband."

Molly heard the voices and was brought into the frenzy of the moment. Molly head herself screaming as she had a climax joining her son in his moment of triumph. 

Ed realized that Sara was so excited she had no idea what she was saying but on the other hand neither did Ed.

True to her word as soon as Ted pulled his cock out of Molly's cunt Sara wiggled down between Molly's legs and started to lick Ted's cum out of Molly's gapping cunt. Ted stood to the side and leaning into the sofa his lather covered cock was hanging where Molly could see it and with a little effort Molly leaned forward and took her sons' cock in her mouth. 

When the reality of the moment settled upon the four players they each had a moment to think and look at each of the others. Molly had let the cock slip from her mouth. But the taste lingered on. Sara was still resting her head on her mother's thigh. Ted had moved back on unsteady legs to sit on the arm of a chair. Ed sat relaxed next to Molly and looked at the gang of sexually perverse foursome around him. Ed liked what he saw and his smiled was returned as he winked at this wife Molly. 

After a few words Ed and Molly went home into the shower. Ed and Molly needed time to ponder what had happened. Molly never left her bedroom the next day. Sleeping dozing on and off as her thoughts would allow Molly had mixed emotions as she thought of things to come and the many what if's if she allowed it to happen again. 

Ed went out to his work shop to fiddle around not doing any thing special while his thoughts were of things to come. Ed was so excited he was still feeling his cock get hard and the placid and then hard again. Watching Ted fuck his mother was almost too much for Ed. He was now thinking beyond the four of them. Ed was thinking of Carol and what if young Quincy was to get involved how would that play out. 

Ed had heard how well hung young Quincy was. What if he and Ted were to engage Molly in a threesome? For one fleeting instant Ed could see Molly with a cock in her mouth and another in her pussy. Ed counted the players that could play if they all came together at one time. Seven as he saw it. Four girls Molly, Marlene, Sara and Carol. Three men Ted, Quincy, and himself. Ed laughed as he thought of all the way that could play out. Then Ed let out a loud laugh he had forgotten the two widows. It would take more men to get through that bunch of over sexed women. 

The great Party...



With Interest Ch. 1



This is part one of five.

"Well, Ms. Lord?"

I had her, and I had to fight to keep a sly smile of triumph off my lips. "Do you, or do you not accept my offer?"

Poor Penelope! Her eyes were big, brown saucers. The look of disbelief was almost complete, but I could see, surfacing pathetically, beneath her incredibly cute features, the realization that she had no options. I, indeed, had her.

It had actually begun six weeks earlier as a simple, mundane business transaction. This young woman had come into my office at Downtown Mortgage and Loans, looking for a loan. She was an innocent, rather naïve looking blonde, who wanted to borrow a half a mil, quick. Her boyfriend had said if they could move really quickly they could double their money in just a few weeks. She was willing to put up her car – a Mercedes 500 SL – and her West End condo as security. Now, I've got to admit, we, here at DM&L, are not necessarily the most scrupulous of financial institutions, so, despite my personal misgivings regarding amorphous get-rich-quick schemes, given the security she was offering, I agreed to loan her the money.

"Don't worry," she had said as she left my office with a bank draft, "we'll pay it all back, with interest."

"You bet you will," I whispered as she roared off in her sporty silver bullet.

Despite her good intentions, she had missed the first payment. I called her shortly after the due date to make an appointment for her to see me. She had come earlier that afternoon, and sat before me wringing her hands. Her frightened look was almost enough to melt my heart – certainly enough to fire my loins. She was beyond apologetic; she was distraught. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Jackson," she sobbed. "I just don't know what to do." A very small idea of just what she might do began germinating in my head. I asked her to tell me what had happened, and through an accompaniment of tears and nose blowing, she explained.

The boyfriend, it seemed, had put the money into some sort of scam that went bad. All Ms. Lord knew was that he had come home a week earlier looking terrified. He'd said that the money had been lost and when she had asked him how, he gave her some long convoluted song and dance about investment risks. The next day she couldn't get a hold of him, and a few days later, just as she really started to get worried about his disappearance, he'd called her to say he had to go away for a bit and he didn't know when he'd be back.

"'Don't worry,' he said, as if that were possible." Penelope gave an almost derisive snort, and wiped her nose once more. "Anyway, the bastard left me to look after the loan payment." Her eyes were beginning to crackle with affront. "And this, after he had already 'invested' all our – my savings!" She was starting to seethe, but that was not my problem.

"I'm very sorry about that, Ms. Lord," I said as sympathetically as I could, "but that doesn't change the fact that you still owe $26000 plus $6500 extra accrued interest on the missed payment. And that's not to mention the next installment of $26000." I paused to let the amounts sink in, before continuing. "Let's talk about how you're going to meet these obligations. I don't really want to foreclose – I don't want your condo and car, but…" I left the threat hanging.

Her jaw dropped. "But – but – but I can't afford that."

Putting a rather pompous edge in my voice, I replied, "Ms. Lord, DM&L is not a charity. We lent you the money in good faith. If you lost it in some nefarious business dealing, that's not my concern."

"But, Mr. Jackson, I didn't lose it," she moaned.

I kept the edge in my voice. "Neither did I!" I didn't really enjoy being a smart-ass shit, but I was trying to make a point. "It's gone, nonetheless."

"Robbie did it," Penelope whispered, her voice quavering with despair, "and he's gone, too!"

"So, go after the bastard." She started to say something but all that happened was that her mouth dropped open. Oh, what a perfect sight. Her succulent lips, pouty and moist, looked almost irresistible. "You should have been more careful. He was obviously a very bad risk," I reprimanded. "In any case, if you're not prepared to make good the schedule, I'll proceed with foreclosure."

"Isn't there some way we could renegotiate this," she cried. "I can't lose the condo. I just can't. It was my inheritance. It's all I've got left."

"You got your looks and a body to kill for," I thought to myself, but I simply said, in a smarmy voice, "It would seem, my dear, that you can't even afford the interest. Just how were you planning to renegotiate."

"I don't know." She was shamelessly whining now. "There's got to be something I could do."

"Hmmm." I put my chin in my hand and thought. I had already figured out what the 'best' solution would be – for me, anyway. Now I was trying to decide if it was worth the risk – could I actually get away with it. "Just let me think, Ms. Lord. There may be a way out of this."

Her red eyes sparkled again. She leaned forward, her luscious breasts rising wondrously with a quick intake of anticipation. "How?" She looked so charmingly hopeful. "What is it?"

"Well," I began, standing up and walking thoughtfully from behind my desk. Maybe, I thought, maybe it might just work. I think she's eager enough – or desperate enough. With a little bit of creative book-keeping I might just pull it off. I heaved a deep sigh. I knew I couldn't pass up the chance. So I plunged right in. "Perhaps, Penelope – may I call you Penelope? Perhaps you can work off the debt."

She looked a bit puzzled at first, then disbelieving. "Oh, come on," she said. "Even if you paid me fifty bucks an hour full-time, I'd barely be able to cover the interest." Maybe she's not quite the ditz that I suspected.

I held out my hand, "Hear me out. This may not be as difficult as you think."

Pacing the room, swinging back around, behind her chair, I laid out my proposal in the most business-like manner. I told her that I could hire her as my personal assistant for one hundred dollars an hour.

"Could you do that?" she asked, almost hopeful once more.

"Oh, yes," I assured her, adding, not untruthfully, "I have quite a bit of autonomy."

Again she impressed me with her quickness. "But even at a hundred bucks an hour, it would take over two years to pay off just the principal."

"People usually stay at jobs for over two years."

"Okay, then," she was definitely suspicious, and now, perhaps, that she wasn't quite so frightened, her suspicions grew. "What would my job description be?"

"Oh," my nonchalance sounded phony, even to myself, but I pressed on, watching her marvelously pretty face intently, "just generally help around my office; find files, take calls, photocopy, organize, greet clients and colleagues," and here was the moment of impact, "give and accept comfort and caress."

"Unh," she started to respond but couldn't seem to get anything out. Her face wore a look of complete incredulity. I quickly forged on.

"And there would be plenty of opportunity for bonuses." I paused. Her mouth was still agape, but her staring eyes bored into me with an exciting intensity. This whole scheme had emerged full-blown into my head, so, as I laid it out for her, reciting figures as if this was a commonplace agreement, I jotted down notes. After all, if she agreed, I'd want to be completely fair about it.

"As I said, your basic wage would be one hundred dollars an hour. Now, for every eight-hour shift, I would allow you to keep two hundred dollars – two hours pay – to live on. You, of course, would have to declare that amount and pay taxes on it; however, the rest of your wage would go directly against your debt – which is accumulating interest at a rate of twenty-five percent per annum, even as we speak." She continued to stare intently.

Whether it was an actual nod or not, I don't know, but something in her look said, "Go on."

"So," I continued, making it sound rather routine, "on top of that, there would be bonuses." I tried not to change anything in my voice, although my heart was pounding. "You would get one-fifty extra – that's one hundred fifty dollars, of course, extra – for the successful completion of a hand job; two-fifty for a blowjob; five hundred for regular copulation; and a grand for anal intercourse. The same bonus rates would apply regarding activities with any of my colleagues or clients – if performed at my direction." She hadn't moved – she'd hardly blinked, so I went on. "You'd also get an extra two-fifty for bringing any female partner off; and, as an added incentive, an extra five hundred dollars for getting to orgasm yourself during the course of your duties."

If possible, her jaw fell open a little more, still, she hadn't uttered a word, so I finished off. "However, any orgasms of your own will have to be confirmed by me, personally. And if you were to try to claim for an orgasm that I thought was faked, you would be fined five hundred dollars." Holy shit! I couldn't believe my own audacity. This was sounding great, and I was on a roll. As she hadn't objected, yet, I added yet another condition. "Any official activity that I'm not actually present at, will need to be confirmed by video. We'll set up surveillance cameras if we need to. Bonuses for other duties will be negotiated as necessary."

There! I sat back against the front of my desk and folded my hands in my lap. Satisfied with the proposal and my presentation, a beatific smile on my face, I awaited her comment.

"You want me to be a common whore?" she gasped. It was a statement more than a question.

"I'd prefer 'Personal Assistant,' but call it what you will, that is my offer. Take it or lose the condo and the SL," I answered giving a sort of what-can-I-do shrug. 

"But you can't…" she started to say, but I cut her off with a flippant wave of my hand.

"Penelope, you're repeating yourself." I gave an exasperated sigh that belied the bubbling effervescence in my gut. "You see," I explained patiently, "my loan to you was legal. How or why you lost the money is not really any of my concern. It will be repaid in full, with interest, one way of another."

So here I was, looking down on this delightfully fragile looking woman. I was about to pull off the biggest – or at least best scam ever.

"Well, Ms. Lord?"

She took some quick deep breaths then closed her mouth. I could see her willing her breathing to slow. Finally her eyes blinked. "I – I –" she lowered her gaze to the floor and with a shrug of her shoulders, answered, "I guess so. What choice have I got."

"Practically none," I answered trying to stay up-beat and calm. "Practically? None." I stood suddenly and moved back around behind my desk. "I'll give you the rest of this week to get clear of your other employer. And," I looked at her brightly, as if we had just completed a successful interview, "we'll see you Monday morning – eight sharp. Bye-bye for now."

She stood, uncertainly, and paused. I caught the quizzical look in her eyes as I turned my attention, ostensibly, at least, back to my desk. She uttered a whispered good-bye as she quietly left.

I collapsed into my chair. I couldn't believe I'd done it. Well, I hadn't quite done it; she might have a change in heart. "We'll see," I muttered to myself, "We'll see." I could hardly wait for Monday to arrive.





With Interest Ch. 1



"Next time I'll have some lube," she whispered, as if not to me but directly to my twitching penis. I was rapidly reaching ignition.

"Don't get any on my suit," I hissed, amazed at my crassness.

"Okay," she whispered, looking about for a tissue or something. She settled for a sheet of scratch paper, which she slid onto my lap. "Sorry." I don't really know why she apologized, but the return of her second hand detonated my orgasm. She continued her caress as I twitched and jerked and spat cum – the first volley, a high arc over the sheet of scratch paper and onto the floor between my feet. She caught the rest on her hands as she tortured my super-sensitive bone until it drooped into semi-consciousness.

"Thank you, my dear."

"You're welcome, Sir." She wasn't quite sure what to do next – neither was I, for that matter. My bleary eyes fell on the clock. It was twenty to four. We had taken only about ten minutes.

"Well done, Ms. Lord. I'll make a note of your bonus." As I sat there, semi-comatose, she got some tissues off her desk and came back to wipe me up. She was such a dear. Things sure looked good from where I sat, I'll tell you. "Take the rest of the day off," I met her glance with a goofy, satisfied grin, as she tucked me in and zipped me up. "Oh," I sighed to myself more than to her, "you really are precious."

"Thank you, sir."

"Have a good weekend." I could hardly move from the chair as she gathered her coat and left. It had been a good week, and, I believed the best was yet to come.





With Interest Ch. 1



Then they were done. Jock, as much of a pig as me, pulled himself off and dug in his pocket for a handkerchief. "Wah-ell, darlin', I'd surely like to have a bit more-a that, but I'm guessin' I gotta be outa here, pretty soon."

Tucking himself in and zipping up, Jock fairly waddled over to my desk, where I held out the finished contract for him to sign. Scanning the document, he said, "You got yourself one hell of an assistant, there, Danny-boy."

"Don't I know it," I smiled.

By the time I'd shown Jock out, Penelope was back at her computer, her flushed face almost back to normal.





With Interest Ch. 2



Continued from part one, this is part two of five. 

Bill, a fast-moving, loud-talking, big spending businessman from the interior, had come in late morning and insisted on taking me out for a 'working lunch.' It had, interestingly enough, been very productive, and while he consumed copious amounts of expensive booze, we both stayed reasonably sober and got a hell of a lot accomplished in the restaurant. Consequently, on our return to the office all I had to do was clean up the copy and reprint it.

"Ms. Lord, will you ensure that Mr. Shields is absolutely comfortable while I finish this up?"

Putting down her pen and standing swiftly erect by her desk, Penelope answered, "Of course, Mr. Jackson." Her steely gaze and bold poise held Bill's attention as she led him to the couch, and offered him a drink. She had serviced several clients since her first time, with Jock, yet, I never failed to enjoy the show. My final copy always took a little longer than expected, what with the distraction across the office.

Bill, knowing his limits, or perhaps anticipating something, declined a drink. He watched in rapt fascination as my assistant sank to the couch beside him and immediately reached for his crotch. Stroking his entrapped manhood with one hand and toying with his zipper tab with the other, she said softly, "Can I make you more comfortable, sir?"

"I believe you could," he replied, still motionless, but tense with expectancy.

I watched this exchange from my desk, delighting in the interplay. Penelope did this so well – played it so straight – although I puzzled about how much of it was play. Nonetheless, I thought I caught a trace of smile before she turned her attention to releasing his monster. And monster it was. Bill was huge and getting huger. He must have been nine or ten inches already and he wasn't yet stiff. Caressing it to full stature with deliberately slow strokes, Penelope looked like she was considering how to approach a new problem. I saw her subtly lick her lips just as she lowered her face to his cock. However, she'd barely covered the helmet when he lifted her head and plunged his hand beneath her skirt, into her crotch. "Let's not beat around the bush, as it were."

I didn't catch all that was said, but, abruptly Penelope had swung around on the couch and was lying on her back, legs wide open, waiting as Bill removed his clothing. He caught my eye, smiled and winked; I attempted to focus on my computer. Penelope watched him intently with a curious look of interest as he undressed. His erection bobbled out in front as he climbed between her legs. "Here he comes," Bill announced plunging in unceremoniously.

Penelope's legs shot straight up; her hands clasped his shoulders and her eyes clamped shut as she expelled a whooshing grunt. Bill began to move in long, slow strokes, stopping once to peel my assistant's blouse from her wonderfully stiff boobs. Taking up his rhythm again, he pumped faster and faster, watching steadily as Penelope's breath puffed audibly and her head, eyes shut tight, began to shake back and forth. They sounded like a pair of locomotives playing chicken. Bill's huffing, her whimpering – his hips slapping her buttocks, the tempo increasing to a frenzy; Penelope's head snapping left and right, her legs across his back, pulling him tight – it was a marvelous sight.

Just as I was sure Penelope was going to climax, Bill let go an eerie howl and stiffened, holding his massive meat, deep inside her. I could see his hips twitch as he shot volley after volley of come into her.

"Kee-rist!" Bill rolled off her, unclasping her legs, then sat with a thump on the floor. "Wow! Dan! You gotta have some of this," he called, adding, as an aside to himself, "like I'd believe you don't, anyway." Rousting himself off the floor, he yelled, "Haven't you finished the fuckin' contract, yet?" He stomped his foot. "Get your ass over here!" The whole time, Penelope had just laid there, almost catatonic, her breasts heaving, glistening as they parted the front of her open blouse. Bill turned to her, grabbed her hand and pulled her to sitting. "Now then, little lady," he coaxed, pulling at her blouse, "let's get you naked." She let him finish peeling it off then, smoothing it down again, unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. "You may as well leave your stockings on, don't you think?"

"Okay," she murmured, straightening the tops.

Turning to me, as I approached the lewd scene, he said in a conspiratorial stage whisper, "Quick, Dan. Double team! Get out of those duds." With that, he guided Penelope onto the couch, positioning her on all fours, then, with amazing stamina, stabbed his once-again-rigid member into her slick, blossoming vagina, doggy-style. Moving to her head, with one knee on the couch in front of her, I presented my luscious assistant with my own now raging hard-on.

Grasping it with one hand, she guided it to her lips then hesitated for a moment. I waited – but not for long. With Bill's next stroke, Penelope rounded her lips and allowed herself to be pushed onto my ready rod. Bill set the rhythm, but that was fine by me. "The customer is always right," I said to myself, as I luxuriated in Penelope's expert oral ministrations. Bill was accelerating and Penelope was puffing through her nose and around me with in a growing frenzy. As for me, my cock was throbbing against her tongue – quivering at the feel of her inner cheeks – trembling as it was drawn in and out, through the perfectly warm and soft opening of her lips.

Our mutual cadence was becoming frantic. I knew we were, all three, approaching crises. With a cry of anguish, Penelope suddenly pulled off me and dropped her head to the couch between her elbows. She continued to hold me, squeezing, and subtly stroking as she gasped short, sharp breaths, her shoulders heaving under the constant pounding behind her. It all happened in an instant, her cry of woe mingled with Bill's bellow of triumph as he threw his head back and rammed his full weight into her folds. Her pitiful defeat, supplicating before his victory, whilst her little hand continued to hold onto my enflamed sword – it was all too much for me, and I jerked and pumped strings of semen all over her hair and onto her neck.

We were all still for a moment, a silent dénouement to a battle well fought. I felt a pang of – I don't know – not guilt – but disappointment, for her – that she had got so close but had not come. Yet, it was amazing to me that she could actually have not come. So it goes.

Penelope collapsed, panting, onto the couch when Bill and I stepped away. As we gathered our clothing and put them on, she rose like a wraith and slipped into the washroom. We were in to final process of completing our contract when she re-emerged, hair damp but otherwise all straightened up, and returned to her desk.

Signing the papers and putting all the documents into envelopes, Bill kept exclaiming, "I can't believe it," and, "Danny-boy, you dirty old shit," and the like. Penelope was back at work as if nothing had happened.

Bill shook my hand and, as he turned to leave, he stepped over to Penelope's desk and said, "It was very nice to meet you, Ms. Lord."

She looked up at him and replied in a friendly business-like voice, "My pleasure, Mr. Shields."

I'm sure it was that hint of wild frightened innocence in her eyes that I still often see that did it. "How about one for the road, my sweet?" he asked, his voice dripping just a little, and his hands already unzipping his fly-front. Penelope swiveled her chair, extricating his still turgid, still damp cock without a word and leaning forward to engulf him. I just stood and stared. There was no need for pretense now. Holding one hand on his hip and the other at the base, deep in his pubic hair, Penelope utilized her wheeled chair to facilitate a fast, deep blowjob. Bill's hands went to her ears, as he followed her measured bobbing, her lips stretching and welcoming his slick meat. Showing no signs of fatigue, Bill's erection grew once again to its massive proportions. Nonetheless, Penelope was eminently effective. Suddenly jerking and moaning and pulling her lips hard against her own hand, Bill stiffened yet again, unloading his liqueur into her throat. Despite it being his third round, it must have been substantial as Penelope, gagged and coughed. As she sat back in her chair, a string of semen fell from the corner of her mouth and landed on her skirt.

Bill rearranged himself quickly, picked up his case and headed for the door, with a casual wave. "'Bye folks," he called, "Catch you later."

"Well," I muttered, returning to my desk, "that was a fine bit of business," although I'm not really sure what I meant by that.

Penelope dabbed at her skirt with a tissue before turning her attention back to her computer screen.

Before she left that afternoon, I called her over to my computer to show her an accounting spreadsheet. "I just wanted you to see your bonuses for today. Fourteen hundred's not too bad, eh?" She just nodded looking closely at the screen, so I explained my reckonings. "You gave me a hand job – I know I spent a lot of time in your mouth, but I actually ejaculated in your hand. Okay?" Once more she nodded without removing her eyes from the screen. "And Mr. Shields came in you twice, as well as a blowjob. Randy old bugger, isn't he?"

Penelope rose from peering at the computer and turned to me. "Mr. Jackson," she said, with an almost unnatural serenity, "please don't share these details with me anymore. I trust you to be honest in your accounting. But to see it like that," she nodded towards the screen, "makes me feel… I don't know, makes me feel very hollow – very empty. It's a feeling I don't like. Okay?" She looked hopefully into my face.

"Okay," I assented.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered, giving my shoulder a very slight squeeze before heading back to her desk. "I'll go now, if that's okay."

I glanced at the clock. It was five to four. "Sure. Good night." It turned back to the offending file and saved it back to its locked and hidden folder. I mused about what she'd said. I guess I could sort of understand it. It was sort of, 'if I don't face it, it doesn't really exist.' I suspect we all like to leave our heads in the sand at times.

–– o ––

Some while later I was musing about the fact that Penelope seemed to get so close, right at the edge, in fact, but she hadn't yet climaxed. I thought about my 'faking it' clause in her bonus schedule, as I observed her pretty features, focused and intent at her terminal. "Bit of a non-concern, that one." An image of her lying on the couch, head thrashing, limbs vibrating, voice keening, ran across my mind. She'd been so close. I really would love to see her come. I'd love to make her come. I could picture myself, crouched between her thighs, laving her in long strokes, my tongue parting her puffy, trembling labia as she bucked and heaved and leaked against my face. Oh, wouldn't that be nice?

Yet, that image didn't quite work. Although I would dearly have liked to go down on her – have her come against my tongue, there was something about our arrangement, something unwritten and unspoken, something silently understood that forbade me from giving her the cunnilingal orgasm she desperately needed. I believe she understood that, too, for she never tried, even subtly, to tempt me to go down on her, even when she was left hanging on the very edge – vibrating like a tuning fork.

And it worried me that, through all of this, Penelope hardly ever smiled. It's not that she looked unhappy, or even indifferent, but she didn't smile. Finally, as we sat for a moment in the sweaty afterglow of another great afternoon fuck, I asked, "What's the matter?" She gave me a puzzled look in response. "Are you so unhappy here?"

She heaved a sigh, as she straightened her rumpled skirt and blouse. "No," she said, most matter-of-factly, "I like the job well enough, it's just that – I don't know – maybe I just don't deserve to smile."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Well," she explained, sounding rather forlorn, "I foolishly trusted a bastard who left me half a million dollars in debt, and whoring to pay it off. I mean, how much worse could I have fucked-up my life?"

"Oh, please. Whoring is such a crude term. I mean, really, it's not nearly that bad."

Her look said loud and clear, "Oh, yeah?" but she just muttered, "That's easy for you to say."

"Okay," I went on, "I'll concede you're basically indentured until you – uh – pay off – or at least facilitate repayment of this debt, but 'don't deserve to smile'? Give me a break!" She glanced at me with a peculiar sort of interest. I started pulling my trousers on, taking a moment to formulate my argument. "I mean, listen," I turned to her and grasped her shoulders, turning her to face me. She was virtually limp. "Look at me, will ya?" Her eyes slowly rose to meet mine. I paused for a bit, holding her gaze, then I launched my lecture. "It was foolishness – your foolishness that got you into this situation in the first place. You made a poor choice – perhaps a very poor choice. But it was just a simple mistake – a simple and genuine mistake; everybody makes mistakes from time to time: but mistakes don't endure, they just pass." I gave her shoulders a little shake for emphasis. "That mistake has long passed. For Christ's sake, stop dwelling on it. Let it go." I let go of her arms, but she didn't slump. Her eyes held mine. "Jesus, stop beating yourself up about it. Just accept what you've got and go with it." I cupped her cheeks and as I added, "You might even try to enjoy it, eh?" She nodded, looking sort of like this was a novel idea. "Smile, already!" I shouted as I stood, buckling my belt. "What else is there?"

Amazingly, it worked. She smiled as she stood and shook her head, whispering, "Yeah, what else is there?" It was virtually the first full smile I had ever seen from her.

"My god woman, you're absolutely radiant when you smile!" She shook her head again, her blonde locks swinging softly, still a little damp from exertion, and allowed a barely audible chuckle, before returning her attention to her computer screen.

–– o ––

Fully ensconced within her delicious snatch, I pounded frantically the last couple of strokes before raising my head to bellowing my arrival out loud. It had been a busy morning, and our noon quickie was a welcome respite. My office couch was beginning to show evidence of horizontal activity in its undulating seat cushioning. Pushing myself up on my arms, I savoured her echoing pulses against my slowly diminishing cock. Penelope had stopped, once again, just shy of an orgasm. Her sweaty breasts rose and fell, as she regained her breath – her eyes shut tight. From my vantage – good old missionary position – I was looking straight into her eyes as she finally opened them. "Still resisting your own arousal, eh?" I observed. 

Her eyes stayed open. "I guess," she whispered, "it's still something to do with guilt." She shrugged, then added, gracing me with a bashful smile, "Just like the smiling business, I'm not really sure I deserve it."

"Well, shit," I complained. "I don't want to lecture again, but, hey," I tried to use a big-brotherly tone – that was more than a little at odds with our position, my penis still turgid, still inserted – "it was just being naïve – a bit gullible, maybe – that got you into this. Well, naïveté is not a fault. So there's nothing to feel guilty about." I was getting on a roll, again. I felt like a revivalist, preaching at the altar. "Listen, girl, your financial debt will eventually be cleared, so don't go hanging onto this unnecessary guilt. Forgive yourself. Let it go. Let yourself go." She said nothing, just nodded and gave me a subtle, thoughtful smile. Imitating a school teacher, I said, "We'll try again, tomorrow," and left it at that. I clambered off her supine form, recovered my abandoned raiment and returned to my desk, whistling softly.

Later that week, at the end of a Friday that didn't let up until late, as I finally cleared my desktop, I looked over at Penelope who was doing the same. "Well, Ms. Lord. What do you say we put the week to rest with a bang?"

"Of course, Mr. Jackson," she replied, sounding for all the world like she was agreeing to lock up when she left. Her apparent dissociation continued to amaze me. Nonetheless, she quickly logged off, walked over to my desk and began to caress me, seductively removing my jacket and unbuttoning my shirt so she could glide her hands across my bare chest. I sat still, feeling myself relax, as she ran her hands softly over my nipples. Then she took my hand and led me silently to the couch.

Flipping her skirt up, she sat, bare bottom on the soft fabric, and pulled me by the belt to face her. Without a word, without a rush, but with a studied smoothness and grace, she carefully removed my cock from the confines of my pants, dipping her head forward so that she could tickle me with her pointed tongue. I resisted the temptation to grab her ears and thrust while she slowly, teasingly licked around the helmeted head before sucking my swelling member into her warm mouth. I let my hands fall to her chest, inside her gaping blouse, and fiddle idly with her nipples. The warm, firm sponginess of her breasts, the stiff insistence of her erect nipples was, in itself, arousing – not to mention the magical motions of her mouth and lips. Quickly, almost too quickly, I felt the heat of crisis rising with my iron-like erection.

Abruptly, I pulled out, pushed her back and shoved my sword into her deeply, stabbing without regard for anything but my own gratification. Despite the thinly veiled savagery of my entrance, Penelope was open, warm and welcoming as her vagina swallowed me whole. Her slick, thick lubrication attested to her arousal, and she heaved up violently against my thrusts. Like beasts in rut, we grunted and roared, smacking together, mashing our pubes together into one seething mass. I could feel the molten mass of release boiling in my loins, the pressure building; but beyond that I could feel Penelope's core temperature rising as well. Her eyes stared ahead with a glazed concentration as she held onto my shoulders, pushing against me, whimpering and sighing. Her quivering and quaking traveled the length of her body, and I could feel her legs tensing across my back as her inner muscles gripped and released my insistence. Her jaw trembled, slightly agape.

Arching onto her shoulders, throwing her head back, she pushed onto me once more, lifting her back and hips completely clear of the couch. "Unnngh!" she cried, in a piteously muted voice. She was so close.

Ramming myself deep into her, I muttered, "Let yourself go," just as I let loose. Volley after volley of semen spurted from my sceptre, scalding her insides. It was just enough to put her over, at last, and she screeched, thrashing her head from side to side, digging her nails into my arms as she held me fast. I froze for a moment, and lodged deep inside, my cock pulsed against her convulsions, spitting and spurting for longer than ever. As she relaxed her grip on my arms, letting her legs fall from my back, I started up thrusting again. My cock remained rock hard and began twitching once more. Penelope's genitals, still highly sensitive, slowly rejoined the onslaught. It was only, probably, a few moments, yet Penelope's response rapidly became convulsive as she tensed against me, eyes rolling back, and screamed pathetically like a wounded beast.

The apex having been met, we slowly crumpled until we lay – me pressing her onto the couch, her enduring limply – mutually exhausted. "Holy shit!" I muttered a few times. I couldn't quite think of anything else to say. Penelope just lay inert under me, but the hint of a satisfied smile crept onto her lips and settled there.




With Interest Ch. 2



Finally I rolled off her and gathered my clothing. Sitting on the edge of the couch as I pulled my trousers on, I mumbled, "That was the most intense orgasm I think I've ever had. Fantastic!" Penelope just moaned softly. She was just starting to surface in her eyes, not all the way back yet when I went back to my desk.

Pulling up her bonus account, I remarked, "And I believe, you had two orgasms yourself. Well done!" Penelope turned to me and started to say something but I cut her off. "Remember our contract. It's what I believe that counts." I knew she had been about to correct me, because I really knew the 'second' one was just an echo of the first, but what the hell, I was feeling magnanimous.

"That big deal I initially made about you faking orgasms and all, on your bonus schedule, you know – I mean it seemed like a sensible precaution, at the time," I admitted meekly, "but it sounds 'way too silly and trite now, doesn't it?" She just nodded, slowly raising herself to sitting, still on the couch; her smile was, perhaps, a little more conspicuous. She gave her sweaty locks a shake, and wiped her still-damp face before picking herself up and buttoning her blouse. There was a grace in her movement that hadn't been there before. She seemed to glide back to her desk with a barely reined sensuality that was almost too much to watch. I turned back to my screen just as the phone rang.

And that first orgasm sort of opened the flood-gates for Penelope. It wasn't that she had an orgasm every day, but she had them often enough and strong enough – sometimes with staggering intensity – to really change the overall tone of our arrangement. While not exactly egalitarian, it certainly put us on more even terms with regards to pleasure. Furthermore, the concept of a faked orgasm never came up. Not one of her climaxes – not ever – was even slightly suspect. When she had an orgasm it was exactly that – an orgasm. No question about it.

–– o ––

Interestingly enough, as soon as our arrangement became mutually orgasmic, my reluctance to go down on her also seemed rather silly. Given how much I had loved oral sex in the past, it was more a matter of spiting myself just to prove a point – a point that was abundantly obvious in almost every other interaction we had. The point being that I was definitely the dominant partner. Hence, one day, as Penelope sat on the edge of my desk, her short skirt revealing much of her smooth, white thighs, and her crossed legs scarcely hiding her bare snatch, I caught a whiff of her femininity.

It was just too much. I suddenly, mid-sentence, grabbed her knees and wrenched them apart, exposing her tantalizing bush. She had flipped her skirt so that her bare buns rested on my leather-framed blotter. I slid her, atop the blotter, with a peremptory heave, directly in front of me, and in one fluid motion had lowered my face into her crotch. Penelope let out a gasp as my tongue drew up her slit. She put her pad aside, placed her hands flat on the desk behind her and reclined on her locked elbows, head thrown back.

Hooking my hands over her thighs I dug in, rooting with my lips and nose, scrubbing my cheeks with her bush. Why had I waited so long? Inhaling her pungent love perfume, I felt myself get light-headed. Penelope's labia were hot and puffy, and open like a blossom waiting for a bee. I dipped and stroked with my tongue, reaching with my fingertips to spread her lips, to allow further access. It was heaven. I hummed my satisfaction against her warm folds, buzzing – lips, tongue, fingers – all around her clitoris – near, but never on. Presently her bum began to bounce on the desk, her thighs quivered and pulled against my retraining hands. I could hear her breath puffing and gasping, in short hard bursts.

I ran my tongue her entire length, starting at the desk, her bottom rosebud just out of reach, and running up to circumnavigate her erect clit. But after a couple long strokes like that I finally relented, running my lingual tip directly across her nub, causing her moan and buck, trying to retain the clitoral contact. I switched tactics, shaking my head from side to side; slapping my cheeks against her inner thighs I held my tongue stiff. Her nectar was beginning to flow freely, sopping my cheeks – and my desk. (A corner of my mind hoped there was nothing important under her.)

Mewing and sighing, twisting and humping, she continued to respond to my potpourri of stimulation. I flicked my tongue back and forth while nodding my head; drawing zig-zags the length of her genitals. Pulling a hand free of her leg I snaked it, palm up, under her bush, inserting two fingers up and in and onto her G-stop. Her breathing became a hiss and her entire abdomen began to tremble. Penelope was definitely getting close to a climax when I slid the other hand up under her blouse to pinch and tug one of her tits. Smoothly I removed the hand from her vagina and raised it to her other tit. She joined the manipulation by shaking her boobs under my grip. I met her thrusting hips, sucking her mons into my mouth and rapidly flicking her clit until she began to convulse. Pulling myself by her elastic nipples, I jammed my face firmly against her as she stiffened and screamed, clasping her legs tight about my ears. Her effusion, the nectar of goddesses, filled my mouth and nose, until I almost drowned. Still, I was relentless – merciless – bothering her nubbin incessantly until she cried for me to stop. At last she slumped forward, covering my head and trying vainly to still my slowly diminishing tonguing.

Finally I pulled back and look up. She graced me with an exhausted smile. Pulling out my handkerchief to wipe my face, I settled back in the chair. "Now," I announced, with as much false indifference as I could muster, "enough of that. About that letter."

Penelope flipped down her skirt front and picked up her notepad. "Yes, Mr. Jackson?" She knew the game – and we both knew that I would get my rocks off before much too long.

–– o ––

Mike, a deceptively mild-mannered client of ours, sat patiently on the couch sipping his scotch and watching Penelope with an appraising eye. "Finish what your doing," he had said, when I asked her to look after him while I finished up. He waved her off as she began to rise from her chair. "No rush. I'll just fix myself a drink."

Penelope had given me a subtle, questioning look, so I shrugged and nodded back at her computer, thinking, "If he wants to wait, let him." She took my meaning and turned back to her screen. It was interesting surreptitiously watching Mike watch her. He was at once intent and relaxed, appreciative and inquisitive. The situation was not unknown to him as he had received Penelope's favours some months earlier.

"Penelope," he said quietly, "would you undress for me?"

"Of course, Mr. Nashton," she replied, standing immediately and beginning to disrobe as she turned.

"No, no, no." His voice had the low and patient tone of a teacher speaking to a child who had completely misunderstood the instructions. Penelope stopped and looked puzzled. "I mean, strip," he explained, "like a stripper, you know…" He put his hands to his buttons, swiveled his shoulders and hummed a few tuneless bars.

"I – I – I'm not sure…" Penelope stuttered, "I mean, I don't know how."

"Oh, come on," Mike insisted, "You know. Like the 'exotic dancers' in the strip bars." Penelope glanced at me for help, but I didn't know what she needed. I was as perplexed as Mike. "Strip bars?" he went on, "You know, smoke, coloured lights, fire-poles?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Spiky heels? Gaudy costumes? Fuzzy blankets?" He paused a moment to assess the rather lost, frightened confusion on Penelope's face before concluding, "Rubber tits? Shaved beaver?" Shaking his head, he gave a chuckle, "You don't know, do you?"

"I've never actually been in a strip bar before," Penelope admitted. "I'm sorry."

"Put a bit of music on, Jackson," he laughed. "We've got to teach this girl to dance." After I fired up the stereo, I left them to it, Michael giving awful instructions and Penelope desperately to follow them. Of course, she didn't have much to take off, still, from what I saw, it was a rather stilted strip-tease; nevertheless, she was naked in the end, and Mike was eventually satisfied.

She writhed and gyrated a bit against his crotch as she released his rampant prick, then, while his fingers and lips played with her nipples, she glided her naked sex to his erection and settled fully onto it with a satisfied sigh. Pulling his face into her bosom, she squirmed her hips, subtly rising and settling – ever so slightly – up and down, on and off. She slowly increased both amplitude and speed until his glistening pego came almost clear of her bush before she plummeted back onto him – bouncing wildly against his thighs. While it, perhaps, wasn't the most artful lap-dance, it was effective. Their moans of ecstasy crescendoed in unison, leaving them momentarily limp and balanced in precarious embrace. 

Later that afternoon, as he was leaving, as Penelope settled herself back at her terminal and resumed her tasks, Mike said to me, conspiratorially, "You need to get her a few exotic dance lessons, my man."

Well, I let the idea bounce around a few weeks, doing a little bit of quiet investigation, until late one Thursday afternoon. "Penelope," I called. We had had a bit of a tumble somewhat earlier, and she had just shut down her desktop for the day. "I'd like to send you off for 'inservice' tomorrow." She looked at me curiously but said nothing. "Wear some fancy lingerie – or," I mused, "perhaps a skimpy bikini, under a nice bright skirt and blouse." She still said nothing. "Oh, and," I continued, "wear your highest heels." I walked to her desk and gave her an appointment card with an address and time on it. "You're already registered, so they're expecting you." She looked at the card, still puzzled. "It's the Paramour Theatre over on West Side," I explained. "They offer stripping – exotic dancing lessons. I want you to take some." A hint of a smile touched her lips as I said rhetorically, "Okay?"

"Certainly, Mr. Jackson. I'll make sure I'm there on time. Is it all day?"

"I believe it is."

"Great," she replied simply. "See you Monday, then." And with that, she was gone.

Friday seemed quiet – almost desolate – as I puttered through alone. I had tried to keep my mind off Penelope's 'inservice', with limited success. The day passed regardless, and, as usual, my weekend vanished into the past without much notice.

Penelope was already seated at her terminal when I arrived Monday morning. She only spared me a moment for her cheery, "Good Mornin'," before turning back to her task. I circled my desk for a bit, like a dog settling into a corner, then sat and logged-on. After a few minutes of silence, broken only by the tapping of keyboards, I asked without looking up, "So, how was it?"

She answered with a studied nonchalance, "Okay. I think I learned a bit."

"Well," I pressed, impatient, yet accepting her reticence as part of the game, "do I get to see something?"

"Oh. Sure," she replied innocently, as if this request was unexpected. Penelope withdrew an envelope from her purse, stood and walked to the stereo. She inserted a CD and set the volume before turning to face me as I spun my chair toward her.

Her face was, once again, unreadable, but there was a touch of sultriness in her – like she was infused with some undefinable energy field. As music rose from the speakers, she began to sway subtly. Her hips undulated like water and her breasts, more pronounced than usual – a push-up bra, I deduced – seemed to draw expanding circles in the air. This was not, apparently, the same woman who undressed to music a few weeks ago, in front of Mike and me. Her movements were slow and liquid – and delicately inviting. Peeling her blouse from her shoulders, ever so languidly, she gazed at me through her lowered lids, her lips, just parted, again suggestive of a lost innocence. Blood coursed hotly into my groin, its heat rising under my suit until I had to slip out of my jacket and loosen my collar.

Once her blouse was off, she stepped out of her skirt without the slightest break in her rhythm. Beneath she was clad in elegantly laced panties and bra shot through with a fine iridescence. I was rapidly becoming mesmerized – not to mention rock hard. Almost unconsciously, I fiddled with my belt and zipper, releasing a bit of pressure.

Penelope's body shimmered like a flower through the summer heat. She had become one with the music, and now the tempo was increasing. The beat a little more demanding, the cadence a little more insistent. Her stockings dropped from her legs like honey, pooling at her feet before being tossed away. With an enigmatic grace, she let the music remove her bra, revealing yet another layer. Filmy silver triangles held in place by silver cords barely covered her areolas, while concealing her nipples, although not their firmness. The music had become almost narcotic in its effect, and my attention was fixed on my amazing assistant, as she all but floated out of her panties, to reveal the tiniest G-string, made of the same material as her string bra. The topology of her genitals was evident through the thin triangle. She had, I decided, trimmed her bush for the occasion. She looked tantalizingly elfin.

With a cat-like stealth, Penelope approached my chair, and reaching behind her neck, she pulled at the bowed strings to finally release her breasts completely. With a sleight-of-hand, her thong fluttered to the floor at my feet, as she sliced inexorably past my knees. She was intoxicating – her smell, her heat, the way she moved, the soft moans that escaped her beautiful lips. She flowed around me like a viscous liquid, glowing like molten lava, radiating a mysteriously lascivious energy. I hardly noticed her hands drop to efficiently release my throbbing from the last of its prison, as her glistening breasts waved teasingly in my face. I was having trouble breathing, yet she went on, turning the music magically into visual and increasingly tactile sensations that were strangely soothing and exciting, sedating and inflaming.

The intensity of her eyes was almost painful, as she seemed to be looking unwaveringly into my very psyche. Without a word she lowered herself onto my cock, still one with the music, sinking fully onto my lap. The slick warmth of her velvet glove was testimony to her complete involvement in this stupendous seduction (not that I needed to be seduced). And still it continued. I don't know how she did it. I don't know how I did it, but I didn't blow my wad right away. She artfully rode me ever closer, continuing to dance on my erection. It was the most erotic strip-tease ever, yet it was almost more than I could bear. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, on the edge of delirium, my head finally fell forward against her breasts.

Instinctively I pointed my tongue and swept it across those wonderful nipples. Her grip on my shoulders tightened as her head was flung back. A high, primitive keening escaped her lips, and her graceful movements disintegrated into violent, frenetic bouncing. Her body writhed as she forced her tits hard against my face. The grasping and pulling of her vagina on my prick was more than any mortal man could take, and I felt the explosion that was my orgasm begin deep in my fundament. The temperature inside her rose frighteningly, as she quietly screamed with the onslaught of her own tremendous orgasm. Salvo after salvo of fiery liquor rose out of me to boil in her quivering quim. Holding each other tightly, we convulsed and quaked in a mutual climax that seemed to go on for ever.

Gradually awareness returned and the tremours running between subsided. The music seemed to have dropped into the background again, and the main sound was that of ragged breath, and heavy, exhausted sighs. Penelope had collapsed against me, her head lying on my shoulder, my face still buried in the softness of her boobs. Slowly she sat up, and whispered mischievously in my ear, "How'd I do?"

My God, but she had learned her lessons well. "Holy shit!" was about all I could say. That was probably the most sensuous, the most erotic lap-dance the world had ever known, but words failed me. I muttered simply, "Ya done good."

Penelope gave me a warm, luscious kiss before hopping off my lap. She quickly and effortlessly cleaned me up and tucked me back in, before recovering her costume and donning some clothes. "Now," she chirped, "back to work."

"That certainly was money well spent," I thought to myself. "The best inservice I've ever benefited from."

–– o ––

Meanwhile, her office efficiency continued to increase. Penelope handled many inquiries, even transactions of smaller accounts, effectively, without my referral. More and more frequently she would be rifling through a filing cabinet with the phone crunched at her shoulder, speaking to a client with a business-like calm. On one particular occasion I could hear her patiently explaining – sorting out a problem with an apparently disgruntled client on the other end, as she fished through the file to find the pertinent documents. The file she wanted was in a lower drawer so that as she bent to retrieve it, her rounded buttocks, riding proud atop alabaster thighs, peeped tantalizingly below her skirt. Why I chose that moment I don't know – but I did.

Rising from my seat, releasing myself as I strode, I moved silently and unseen to her unintentionally proffered backside. Abruptly I spread her cheeks and inserted a few inches of myself into her. There was shocked surprise in her gasp, and an avoidable hesitation in her conversation, as I sawed back and forth a couple of times, precipitating a bit of lubrication, before ramming myself in, balls-deep. Her inhaled pause could have been her dropping a file or aborting a sneeze. I'm sure her client thought nothing of it.

I couldn't believe how hard I was as I began stroking full length, rapidly working up a froth at her lips. I was amused by her indecision. She wanted to hold still or become active or something, but she had, first, to see out her business responsibilities. Nonetheless, I could feel her vaginal muscles slowly join my rhythm – gripping on every out-stroke, her hips pushing subtly back on every in-stroke. Her voice regained its cool with impressive quickness as she attempted to placate the client. But I could detect an edge of raggedness. It inflamed me – pressing me to accelerate my thrusting. In and out, the squishing, slurping sounds became more frenzied as my balls swung repeatedly into her bush, slapping against her clitoris. I could feel my ignition sequence click into action, as my already solid erection seemed to multiply in its dimensions.

I could feel, as well, the heat building up in her, the searing pressure of her woman-flesh, grasping at my root – plunging and retreating. I leaned forward, and with one hand, began fiddling and bothering her clit, in syncopation to my swinging balls. Her clitoris stiffened and twitched, her labia swelled and wept, her hips trembled and shook as the combined stimulation stressed her self-control to its limits. Fighting to keep her voice level, fighting to suppress her arousal, her huffing breath, Penelope strove to remain polite, although she had dropped the folder and was holding on to the cabinet, which was beginning to rattle and shake under our attack. There was something unbelievably exciting about our ludicrous situation, and, clutching her hips with both hands, I could feel my orgasm boiling and roiling up from my scrotum, as she valiantly tried to end the conversation with a modicum of decorum. I don't know if it was serendipity or force of will, but her orgasm – our mutual orgasm – exploded just as she finished, so that her, "Good-bye," was more a "Good-b'-aiiiieeeyah!" stretching into a scream of pleasure as she hung up.




With Interest Ch. 2



"Shit, that was good!" I muttered. And if I felt a little like a shit for having put her in such a difficult position, something in me wouldn't let me admit it. Yes, our sex was getting beyond better and better; it was incredible, very often with simultaneous climaxes. Still, it continued to be under the auspices of our 'arrangement' – completely at my call, and I wasn't willing to change that just yet.

"Yeah," she breathed, leaning on the cabinet, still beneath me – still threaded. I wasn't quite sure if I detected a question mark at the end of that. I didn't pursue it.

–– o ––

Some time later, while on the phone, long-distance, with Jock MacAllistair images of their previous congress – including Penelope's first client-fuck – flitted across my mind's eye as we discussed our business. My prick was rapidly coming to attention just from the lascivious memories. So I contrived to catch her eye and with a subtle head movement summoned her as I unzipped and rolled back from my desk. Thank goodness for cordless phones! Penelope dropped to a crouch and, without the slightest hesitation, engulfed me completely. Her succulent lips wetting my length as her sucking cheeks caressed me with their velvet warmth. Pulling back, she swirled her tongue around my glans, poking its tip into my pee-hole before sliding gently back down to the base with a seductive grace.

I tried, with measured success, to keep my arousal out of my voice, and we eventually finished our business. "How's that superb assistant of yours?" Jock asked, his voice a conspiratorial smarm.

"Well, Jock, my boy," I told him, mimicking his drawl, "She's goin' down on me as we speak. And it's marvelous! Listen to this." I held the receiver down so he could hear her slurping and sucking.

Yet, while I was luxuriating in her ministrations, teasing Jock, all those miles away, the thought came to me, "Why do I treat her this way? Humiliation and degradation offend me, yet isn't that exactly what I'm doing to her?" The slight wilt of my rod, as consequent of my bizarre musing, prompted Penelope to redouble her attentions. Bathing in the blissful application of her talents, my untimely musing carried on. 

I continually mortified her, yet she seemed unfazed by it all. So why'd I do it? The sad answer was, I had to admit, simply because I could. And, I realized, I might just continue for as long as I was able. Was it some sort of macho thing? I didn't think so. I mean, I really wasn't into that macho stuff. And, while much of what I required of Penelope was subtly, or not so subtly, designed to demonstrate her subservience – her place in the arrangement – she didn't seem to mind. Certainly, she had never, ever complained. I pondered our relationship – our agreement – and decided that, although it was definitely something to do with dominance and submission, my demands were, perhaps, not so much for 'humiliation and degradation' as 'spice and novelty'.

Spice and novelty; I liked that. Suddenly, the spice and novelty of the situation became paramount once again. "Nice talkin' to you, Jock," I said, returning the receiver to my ear. My breath was suddenly ragged, huffing and blowing in time to the convulsive jerkings of my straining prick. "I gotta go, now. I hope you understand." He guffawed his good-bye and hung up, just in time for me to seize Penelope's head, holding her impaled as I blasted my seed deep into her gullet. Swallowing and sucking and snorting, she waited after my last spurt before withdraw slowly.

Grabbing a tissue and offering her one, I wheeled my chair back a bit. "Lovely, my dear," I said with forced nonchalance. "Jock MacAllistair sends his regards. He hopes to be out this way soon, and looks forward to seeing you again." I punctuated the remark with a leering wink. Penelope simple nodded and returned to her desk.





With Interest Ch. 3



Continued from part two, this is part three of five.

Our business was growing, (despite my resident distraction) so we, the powers that be, had decided to bring in a junior partner. DML was actually a rather loose amalgam of eight independent bankers running a common fund. We had a front office with receptionist/switchboard operator, but we were all situated in our own offices scattered through a large complex. We had already chosen the bright young MBA at a round-house interview with the whole group of us, but, as a final ordeal, we decided to each give him a personal interview.

I had arranged a time without informing Penelope, so just before he was due to arrive, I summoned her to my desk, unzipping my pants and indicating my semi-turgid penis. She, of course, descended virtually lips-first into my lap, drawing me in like a vacuum cleaner. Ah, it was delicious, and I had to steel myself to keep from getting too excited too soon. Reaching under her arms, around her bobbing head, I snaked my hands into her blouse to cup her wonderfully firm boobs. As I started tweaking her nipples, she untucked my shirt and slid her hands up my chest to play at mine. It was marvelous – a little bit of ecstasy.

Right on time, young Jason McIntyre entered the office without knocking – just as I had instructed him. At the first sound of the door I had withdrawn my hands to hold them at Penelope's ears, and as the door opened it took only the slightest pressure from me to stop her pulling off. "Ah, Jason, my lad, there you are." I greeted him over my shoulder, then nodding to the leather chair before my desk, I added, "Have a seat, will you? I'll be with you in a sec. Ms. Lord is just a bit busy right now," I dropped my eyes as Penelope redoubled her efforts, "but I'll introduce you in a few minutes." I winked at him as he sat staring, mouth agape, then I closed my eyes and put my head back.

Curling my fingers through her hair, around her ears, I left my hands at her head though I certainly didn't need to. As Penelope's lips and cheeks sucked insistently, and her tongue writhed up and down and around my throbbing rod, I let myself float away again. Sometimes I felt like I could stay that way forever – a beautiful, partially dressed, young blonde on her knees, expertly sucking my cock. Her enthusiasm, her puffing and whimpering, her warm, wet mouth, gripping firmly yet tenderly, and the knowledge that she would do whatever I wanted, combined to make me delirious with pleasure. The colours behind my eyes swirled and changed, as current sparkled out from my loins, up and down my spine.

Somewhere, off in a dim corner of my mind, I realized that, what with our awestruck visitor, I was trying, once again, somehow, to reconfirm dominance. Despite our fabulous working relationship (or maybe that, too was part of the equation) I realized that her submission was, by then, virtually complete. Although there were none of the accoutrements normally attributed to serious fetishism – no cuffs or belts or leashes, no wall fastenings, no leather, no whips and chains – our relationship was very much master and slave. While at the office Penelope was completely indentured – at my disposal – easily as much as if she had been chained in place. In fact our interaction, especially my domination over her, was even more undiluted because there was no force being used. Penelope's was true, unadulterated submission.

"It's a good thing," I mused, forgetting, for the moment, Jason – just relishing the sensations that rolled over me and through me – "that I am not mean or sadistic." Sometimes, mind you, images of BDSM did flit through my mind and I wondered – wondered; but instead of being erotic, pictures of bondage and sadism invariably left me feeling queasy, uneasy – titillated, but almost frightened. While I admit to a morbid curiosity, I never have liked the idea of real sadism – I'm averse real pain. I guess I'm still a bit of a wimp. Anyway, what I have seems almost too perfect; so why spoil it?

I could feel my orgasm approaching – a tumultuous roaring of flame and sensation, erupting from the depths. Penelope could feel it do, for she forced herself farther down, deeper onto my pulsing staff, locking her lips into my pubic hair, and my helmeted head into her throat. Her mouth molded about me like a warm glove as my hips began to jerk and I gasped, fingers tangling her hair, jetting stream upon stream straight down into her belly.

Slowly I opened my eyes. Jason was trying, rather unsuccessfully, to look somewhere else, while Penelope cleaned me up, audibly laving my deflating cock, before tucking me in and zipping me up. Our guest was fidgeting uneasily in his seat, so I whispered into my lap, "I think Mr. McIntyre could really use your expert attention, Ms. Lord. Give him like you've just given me, eh?"

She looked up at me, her eyes betraying almost nothing. "Okay," she nodded, and rose from between my legs with an astounding grace, smoothing her skirt, before calmly rounding the desk and sinking to her knees, once more.

Jason's mouth opened and closed a few times as he gripped the arms of the chair, his wide eyes staring into his lap. I waited until I could see the top of her head beginning to bob in his lap. He let out a gasp, and I began the interview. He could hardly speak – he could hardly think! By the way his breath started to come in short, sharp blasts, I figured he wasn't going to take long. Asking him the odd probing or abstract question, I did my best to prolong his pleasure, but even my interference couldn't postpone his climax for long. I concluded the faux interview and turned back to computer screen. Across the desk Penelope's head accelerated frenetically as Jason began to howl; his orgasm, sounding very intense, left him sweating and breathless.

I pretended to ignore them, although from the corner of my eye I could see Penelope pull back and fiddle at his crotch, obviously tucking him back in. As she rose quietly, she graced the bewildered young fellow with her million-dollar smile, then returned, with a regal poise, to her own desk. "See Brandon, at the head office, tomorrow," I instructed him as casually as I could, "He'll get you set up." Jason rose, and looked about, unsure of what to do next. I stood, extending my hand. "Welcome aboard."

"Thank you," he mumbled, giving Penelope a puzzled look. She remained focused on her screen. As I resumed my seat, he turned to the door, muttering, "'Bye," as he let it close behind him. It was all very matter-of-fact.

Still, I couldn't help but laugh, once he'd left. "Boy, oh, boy," I chortled, spinning around to face Penelope, "we've given him something to think about I'd guess. Did you see the look on his face?" She nodded but didn't seem to share my mirth. I watched her silently working for a bit, then I asked quietly, "That was all right, wasn't it?" I waited, but she didn't respond right away, so I added, "Are you bothered by that – by what we did – what I had you do?"

She turned slowly and fixed me with her eyes, but when she replied it was with a pleasant, if indifferent, lightness. "No. That's okay. It's all part of the job." Her face betrayed just a touch, perhaps, of benign mischief. As she turned back to her work, she subtly fluttered her eyelids, an alluring hint of a smile barely showing on her lips.

–– o ––

I had determined, at the beginning of our arrangement, that Penelope would remain on her birth control pills, still, in earlier times, when I was expecting her to service a client, I asked her if she wanted to use a condom. "Whatever Mr. Whomever wants," she would always reply. Now, I suppose successful businessmen, who live constantly at the mercy of financial markets, are inherently risk-takers. In any case, none of her partners, in those first – what? six, eight, ten – months, ever requested a rubber. In retrospect, I suppose I was – and continue to gamble with our lives – Penelope's and mine. It somehow seems so trivial though. Notwithstanding, as they were always declined, I – we – seemed to have misplaced our supply of prophylactics.

One afternoon I had an appointment with Jim or Jerry or something – Thomason – a young stud rep from one of my bigger clients. "I've heard some real stories about your secretary, eh?" he said to me soto voce as we sat at my desk. "They say 'Jackson's assistant's pretty hot.'" He winked at me and nodded his head toward Penelope who sat at her computer oblivious to us.

"Who're 'they'?" I asked, keeping my tone very neutral.

"Oh, you know, a few guys in the office, a few of our mutual contacts."

"Hearsay?" I suggested, turning back to the business at hand. I didn't quite like this guy. I wasn't sure what I would do though. His boss had been with Penelope on more than one occasion and I was sure he expected the same treatment for this young upstart. I couldn't afford to alienate that company, and he continued to eye her hungrily across the room.

I realized I had painted myself into a position, as much as Penelope; so I just bit the bullet. "Ms. Lord," I called over, with as little feeling as possible, "would you please look after Mr. Thomason, while I finish up here?" Penelope stood immediately and turned to us. "Thanks," I added, not waiting for her reply. The Thomason kid sprang out of his chair, and walked over to my waiting assistant. He was coiled like a spring, his features dripping lust almost visibly.

I turned my attention to our business, but couldn't help watching the tableau unfold at the couch. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, as Penelope unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands across his chest. "This is first-class." Laying kisses over and between his nipples, Penelope dropped her hands to his crotch and released his thickening member. "Nice," he sighed. "No wonder you've got a reputation." If he didn't notice it, I certainly detected Penelope stiffen and hesitate for a moment. The guy had no tact, and I didn't like the sour edge of condescension in his voice, still he expected 'service' and his was a big account, so what could we do?

Subtly applying a dollop of lubricant, Penelope was stroking his stiffening penis as she played, tongue and fingers, with his nipples. He was beginning to writhe in arousal, and despite my dislike for the man, I knew what he was feeling, and had to smile.

Penelope glided her lips down his chest and stopped at his flagpole. Poised to engulf him with her ever-so-sweet mouth, she licked her lips. Although she paused only a moment, even I was getting impatient – I could imagine how he felt. However, just as she was about to gobble him up, he put a hand under her forehead. "Hold on," he said, with not quite the same 'piss-and-vinegar' attitude he'd started out with, "I don't want to pick up someone else's indiscretion, as it were." I guess he decided he didn't want to risk STD infection, the paranoid little shit.

Although, in the cold light of reality, it was probably the sensible suggestion I took a niggling offense at his attitude. Nevertheless, I spoke civilly; "I can probably find you a condom."

"Nah," he replied, sitting up and pushing Penelope back onto the couch, "I never liked condoms. Too tight, too uncomfortable." He paused, looking down at her. She waited passively. His hands fell to her breasts, molding them through the fabric of her blouse. Then he started to fiddle with the buttons, exposing her exquisite boobs. "How 'bout a tit-fuck?"

Peeling back his open trousers, Thomason straddled Penelope's chest, knees in her armpits, and flopped his cock into her cleavage. "Grip me," he commanded, with a slightly distasteful arrogance. She brought her hands up to the sides of her breasts and pushed them together around his motionless snake. Rocking on his hips, he began to saw back and forth within the warm, spongy tunnel she formed, and quickly his focus turned right back into himself. Eyes closed, head back, mouth agape, his movements increased dramatically in urgency, his hips ramming her hands then pulling back until only his engorged glans remained encased. I could see Penelope grimace at every out-stroke – every time his ass met his heels and his weight fell full on her stomach.

Frantically he wheezed and puffed, picking up his pace even more. His cock had grown to impressive proportions, and Penelope reached forward with her tongue to meet his in-strokes, wetting the fleeting tip with her tongue to add a little needed lubrication. Thomason was whining and moaning, smashing himself against her boobs with such force that eventually she could take the whole tip into her mouth before he violently pulled back. The wild rhythm continued, punctuated with grunts and gasps, though it was much more calisthenics than dance, until, with a rather primal scream, Thomason stiffened and let loose several good jets of thick white jism. Penelope leaned forward to catch the first spurts with her mouth but he pushed her away so that his subsequent shots landed in strings on her face and hair. He growled, "Grip me!" when Penelope relaxed her firm grip, and fell forward onto one arm, still throbbing and gushing. He must have pumped eight or ten salvos before he finally sat up.

A smile settled on Thomason's lips as he looked down at Penelope; but he was not really smiling at her, more at her state – under him, his come dripping into her eyes. With not a word, he reached down and wiped his member with the front of her blouse, before stepping off her and zipping his pants without another glance at her. He had dismissed her completely. I stared at him in amazement. Even given the unorthodox, unusual situation, I thought to myself, you can't treat people like that. The self-satisfied grin on his face made him look even more an asshole than I had him pegged for. And his little power trip seemed rather pathetic – ugly, but pathetic.

"Here," I said, thrusting the paperwork at him, "it's done."

"Yeah," he replied, tucking in his shirt, "That was okay." He put the proffered sheaf into his attaché. "Next time, we'll have to try something a little more adventuresome. I'm sure I could teach her a thing or two." He tipped his head back toward the couch.

I couldn't believe this twit. "Next time, on the very slim chance there is a next time, you better have acquired a little finesse and class, or you'll be lucky if you get a hand-job. We don't need your kind of attitude around here." I looked around him. "Do we, Ms. Lord?"

"I don't know what you mean," he answered from the door, and I believe he was genuinely puzzled.

"Good-bye, Mr. Thomason." When the door had closed, I turned to Penelope, who had removed her blouse and was wiping her face with it. "He won't get far treating people like that, I'm afraid."

Penelope disappeared into the washroom and emerged wearing another top. "I keep a spare here, just in case," she said, allowing a wry grin to grace her lips. She dismissed my apologies as unnecessary. "There'll always be uncouth pricks," she rationalized, and started back to her desk.

"Ah, Ms. Lord," I called. If she accepted that treatment as just part of the job, then I wouldn't make a big deal of it. "I suppose we'll need to add that to your bonus schedule." I called the file up on my screen. "Let's see, it was not quite a blowjob but definitely more than a hand-job. Hmmmm. How about two hundred?" I looked up at her and she subtly nodded her response. "Okay, then," I said, keying it into the schedule, "Tit-fuck: two hundred dollars." I also added it to her account as she returned to her desk.

–– o ––

When Penelope had been with me eight or nine months, she was having sex-at-the-office probably nine days out of ten –with me, my clients and/or my partners. Although she still seemed rather indifferent to much of it, there was something subtle about her responses, something about her acceptance of the roles, something about her abstruse welcoming of her trysts, and her diligence in their execution that made me suspect that these duties were, deep down, much more a delight than an abhorrence. Her passive, detached façade during the rendering of her services was, perhaps, just that, a façade – a convincing guise.

Notwithstanding, it was not just Penelope keeping up appearances. I still tried to keep up the illusion of nonchalance. My 'requests' for her services were usually given with a casual air of the mundane. "It's just sex. Big deal. A perk of the business, is all." And while it was usually sex – simple, down and dirty – sometimes it was more than that. When we were alone together, on a quiet afternoon after a busy week, there were times when what we had between us, just we two, became a very, very close approximation of something much deeper. A tenderness and grace insinuated itself into our passion, slowing us down, stretching out our peaks. At those times I often thought, "If this's not actually making love it's an exceedingly good facsimile." And I wondered about exactly what I was doing. "But, why," I'd invariably conclude, "question it?" so I'd just float along, accepting my good fortune.

As that first year progressed further, Penelope had become an invaluable asset to my office – a super-efficient assistant and a priceless business incentive. Still, our relationship – arrangement – had sort of fallen into a routine. I guess you get used to anything, even fabulous sex whenever you want it. We had found an equilibrium – there weren't really any highs and lows, at least nothing much remarkable any more. But even as it had become plain vanilla it was still premium ice cream, and the occasional chocolate ripple or raspberry swirl kept it from being monotonous – indeed, kept it marvelously delicious.

One time, we had in two clients, whose names I can't, for the life of me, remember, and while the actual business transaction was quick and mundane; the rest of the visit was anything but. It began when, as usual, I asked Penelope to make the guys comfy while I printed the document. "Just give me a moment to print this out. Ms. Lord will see to your every need, I trust." The visitors got the gist of my message immediately – who knows what stories they had heard – so, while Penelope went right down on the first chap – big, athletic, mid-twenties, –the second – the senior of the two – wasted no time in flipping up her skirt and entering her from behind. They pumped away vigorously, and although I was getting used to this kind of activity, their puffing and gasping – their cacophony of lewd and lascivious sounds was doing its thing to me, even as the last page was being printed.

The recipient of Penelope's oral ministrations started to howl as he grasped Penelope's ears and thrust himself deep into her throat. Holding her still for a moment allowed his partner, in his rhythm, to penetrate her into the very depths of her vagina. Grasping her thighs and holding them tight, he bellowed in a frenzied counterpoint to his colleague. To her credit, Penelope didn't stop. I could see her cheeks still pumping and sucking, her hips continuing to gyrate, mashing her buttocks back hard against her intruder. The two men came together in a roar, then withdrew in unison.

The one who had been behind flopped into her chair, panting but the other one held her in place – on all fours, on the couch, with a hand on her back while he switched ends. He pulled at her skirt, slipping it under her knees as she lifted them and tossing it aside, as, taking his cue, she likewise jettisoned her blouse. His erection, glistening with their combined juices, hardly even diminished in the open air of the office as he bobbed into position between Penelope's calves and, moving his hands to her wonderful ass-cheeks, lined himself up and entered her with a swift lunge. The earthy redolence filling the office was enough to cause my member to strain against my fly-front, so I unzipped and placed myself on my knees at the head of the couch. Penelope swallowed me so fast and completely, pulling me in with both hands, that sparks and stars crackled along my spine and behind my eyes.




With Interest Ch. 3



It was only a moment before I meshed into their rhythm, and although no words were spoken the fellow busy poking from behind acknowledged my joining with an appreciative smile. Meanwhile, Penelope was grinding herself frantically against her back partner while almost desperately holding me in with her incredible oral suction. Her mews and whimpers, leaking from the corners of her lips were building in intensity, along with the slamming of her hips, and the quivering of her entire body. A sheen of perspiration shimmered on her back, and tremours passed through her body in waves – head to tail to head to tail – until they emerged from around my cock as a keening vibration. Finally, just as I felt my crisis approaching, Penelope shifted her weight to one hand and grabbed me with the other. The primal scream that emerged from her mouth as she succumbed to her orgasm was the final trigger that ignited mine. Violently slamming back, impaling herself fully onto her fucker, she tried, through her rising wail, to continue squeezing and pulling on my rod. But there was too much happening, and her hand slipped from my throbbing meat, just as, unable to hold back, I bucked and jerked, spraying come onto her face and hair. The third member of our tableau climaxed right with us, collapsing onto Penelope's back, pressing her onto the couch into a shuddering, dripping, mewling heap, her hand still reaching for my twitching pole.

I backed off the couch and tucked myself in, but the other fellow merely pushed himself upright and, while remaining still fully inserted, rolled Penelope onto her back and began to saw in and out once more. Still recovering from her swoon, Penelope's response to this further attack was initially weak. I could see that this guy was, amazingly, still long and hard, as he built a rhythm that Penelope slowly joined.

By this time, the older client had recovered and was now unconsciously stroking himself as he watched the continuing action on the couch. Abruptly he rose from his chair, just as I settled into mine, and walked to the couch. Penelope watched him approach through half-lidded eyes. Without pause, he swung his knee up and straddled her chest, feeding her his erection in one smooth motion. Penelope lifted her head to meet him and slurped his meat deep into her mouth. Holding firm to his waist she began to earnestly pump herself over him. Putting his hands behind her head for support, he luxuriated in her attentions, his head thrown back, emitting quiet sighs of ecstasy.

Lying back to watch the erotic performance unfolding before me, I stroked myself slowly, resisting the urge to match the accelerating rhythm on the couch. The three bodies seemed to fuse into one quaking mass of sweaty limbs, winding up to a fever pitch. The one top, who had been relatively still to start, began to involuntarily bounce, pulling Penelope insistently onto his staff, while Penelope bounced as well, in a frenzied effort to meet each forceful thrust into her cunt. The young stud had a studied, almost painful look on his face as he held her legs up and repeatedly smashed himself against her. His mouth dropped open and he moaned just as his partner did the same. As both men went rigid, Penelope began thrashing out of control, threatening to tear off the member in her mouth. Her ragged howl of orgasm escaped around the pulsing cock as a muted wail broken by desperate swallows – his load of semen leaking down from the corners of her mouth. Legs splayed and motionless, except for a barely detectable trembling, her bottom was held tight over the other pulsing pole as it splashed her innards with an unbelievable third wave of come.

Falling back onto the cushion, off the already softening cock, Penelope had apparently swooned again. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her rider dismounted. Easing himself from between her legs, the young guy panted, in awe, "My God, she is one hot number!" I watched her slowly regaining consciousness, and felt, irrationally or not, some sort of pride. Quietly I walked over to the couch and sat at the end, near her head. She looked at me and smiled almost imperceptibly – not with her mouth, but with her languid, barely open eyes. I stroked her hair – beautiful, despite the come and sweat, and Penelope shuffled quietly onto my lap. I laid my arm around her shoulder protectively. With her cheek against my chest, she eyed the visitors guardedly – one hand on my back, the other at my breast, I felt her heave a small sigh. I let myself believe it was a sigh of contentment – for another job well done.

My two clients were picking about for their clothes. Surprisingly, the older one said, "That's quite the slut you have there, Dan." I felt Penelope tense at the statement. While there was admiration, even envy, in his voice, the term held far too much latent disgust.

"Slut?" I replied, "Oh no, that's much too coarse." He stopped and looked at me – us – quizzically. Penelope, turned her head into my chest and began to gently suck my left nipple while her fingers twiddled ever so softly with my right. "No, not a slut," I continued. "Even piece – piece-of-tail – is better than slut. Sexual assistant or sex therapist, maybe? Though I guess the latter's been taken. Anyway, she's more than that." I gave her shoulder a light squeeze. She just kept playing, her tongue swirling deliciously, her fingers doing a fairy-dance. I could feel my prick wobbling back to life again. "No, I think she's a sexualist – yeah, that's it. Ms. Lord is a sexualist." I ran my fingers through her hair as our visitors simply nodded and went on dressing. Penelope turned up her activity at my nipples, just a notch. Ever so subtly, I could feel my ardour rising once again. I would wait until the company had gone for this one. "Besides," I added, "she's an able – very able, personal assistant. She's invaluable around here – aren't you my dear," I whispered into her hair, before looking up again, "in all aspects of her employment. Ms. Lord is a key participant – in… well, just about everything."

When the men had dressed and recovered their cases, I said, holding Penelope's head firmly against me, "You'll understand if I don't see you to the door." They nodded and smiled as they took their leave. "Nice doing business with you," I called over my shoulder as the door latch clicked. I let my head fall back in the chair, to fully appreciate her talented mouth and fingers.

She lifted back for a moment, pulling her arm out from behind me and reaching between us to grasp my growing erection. "Thank you," she said, as she dropped back onto my nipple. There was real gratitude in her voice, which I couldn't quite figure.

"For what? Thank you for what?" I was genuinely puzzled.

Barely lifting from my chest, she mumbled through my hairs, "For your words." I still didn't know what she meant, so she continued. "I don't want to be a slut. It's so – so – so ugly." I smiled and pulled her even closer. "Sexualist – that's okay. I like that. But not slut."

"Me, too." I kind of liked that too, sexualist. And it fit. "Don't worry, my dear. You've never been a slut that I've ever known."

The dancing at my nipples and stroking of my cock took on a subtly renewed vigor. Gracefully she traded places, lips and fingers, until my iron rod was smoothly enveloped within her velvet mouth. Gently and firmly, resisting the urge to accelerate. She bobbed up and down, up and down over my slick and trembling erection. Her fingers danced ever so lightly, as I let my fingers tent about her ears. One part of me wanted to seize her head and push it down, but her calm lingual caresses teased so exquisitely I forced myself to leave her be. I could feel the molten arousal rumbling in my balls – in my core. I couldn't hold out much longer. Still, she refused to speed up. She refused to surrender to the insistence I felt.

At last the switch was thrown. My hips began to twitch and jerk. Although she maintained her speed, I could feel increased suction as her lips massaged my penis, literally pulling my orgasm from within. For the second time in an hour, I felt cum pressurizing in my deeps, rushing up to splash in long spurts against the back of her throat. My 'ahhhs' were joined in descant by her whimpers of satisfaction. And she stayed at it – stayed on me, working me with her tongue, milking every last drop of semen from me. I had to peel her fingers away from my hyper-sensitive nipples and reluctantly lift her head – lips still reaching – from my worn out dick.

I pulled her onto my lap and we sat, cuddling in silence for a few minutes. "Thank you, Ms. Lord. That was wonderful."

She turned to look into my face. Her eyes, deep inside, still held that wonderfully timid innocence that they'd had from the very start. "You could call me Penny, when we're alone, Mr. Jackson."

She was such a darling, I wanted to hug her to death. "Thank you, Penny." I gave her another squeeze. "You can call me Dan, if you like, when we're alone," although, somehow I wasn't sure about that. I may have been falling in love – that much, I suspected – but I wasn't sure if I was falling in love with her or with the power I had over her. Although the latter was more disturbing, somehow, it seemed the more likely. Although, practically, how do you separate the two?

"I don't know, Dan – Mr. Jackson," she sort of purred, beginning to rub her cheek against my chest once more, "It just doesn't feel right. Maybe I'll just call you what I always do. Is that all right, sir?"

What could I say? I nodded my approval and petted her sweat-dampened body. That was just fine.

"Oh, by the way," amazed at how casual I could be, "how about we add a coming-on-you bonus of one hundred dollars to your list? As my first orgasm this afternoon wasn't actually a hand job or a blowjob." She lifted slightly off me and looked up. The look on her face was not quite neutral; more mildly or sleepily content. "Is that all right?"

"Sure." She sounded like she didn't really care, as she closed her eyes and snuggled back against me. How had I managed to reach this level of Nirvana, I wondered, silently. I had no idea.

–– o ––

Yet, our experiences still accumulated. A long-time client named Alan, a late-fifties self-made success of a man, intent on receiving his 'favours', was busy with Penelope at the couch. She had been going down on him for a bit already so that he was standing straight and stiff and ready. Pulling her off his pole, he said, as he removed his own clothing, completely, "Why don't you get yourself naked?" Of course, while that was a simple matter – just slipping out of her skirt, peeling off her blouse and kicking off her heels – ever since her exotic dancing lessons, getting undressed was always an event. Penelope was, as ever, immediately compliant – yet she managed to infuse the stripping with more than a hint of seductive grace. Undaunted, although not unappreciative, Alan continued, with his usual take-charge bravado, "Now, let's get a good look at that ass of yours." He stood before the couch, with his feet slightly apart and his hands poised like a quarterback prepared for the snap. Penelope shuffled quickly into position – kneeling on the seat, head on folded arms on the sofa-back.

Alan's hands molded her bum sensuously, squeezing lightly, parting her cheeks slightly with his thumbs. Abruptly he grabbed her hips and dragged them to the end of the couch. Penelope allowed her head to drop to the seat, and gave a sigh as he ran his fingers up her slit before entering her with a peremptory thrust. Penelope's gasp got my attention and I saw that he had sunk himself balls-deep in one push. Holding her by the hips again, they stayed motionless for a long moment before he began to slowly withdraw. By the glistening sheen of his rod, I'd say that Penelope was already well lubricated. Thrusting in deep again, then withdrawing to the tip before thrusting yet again, Alan established an inexorable, yet tempered cadence, creating a deliciously rhythmic 'slap and slurp' chorus.

It was exciting just watching. I could see that Penelope was being frustrated in her subtle attempts to accelerate the tempo. Alan had his eyes closed and his hands on her buttocks; he was simply cruising. Just as I was about to turn my attention back to the final details of our business, I noticed his thumbs gently spreading, once more, her cheeks. Suddenly he dropped his right hand and ran his index finger over her clit and up her labia, past his still pistoning prick, gathering dew. Then he began to swirl it around her rosebud. Penelope flinched just once, before resuming her participation – arching her back to meet his penetrations, then rocking forward momentarily. Alan's finger seemed to swirl and dip in a rhythm of its own.

With a deliberate subtlety, he pressed inexorably against her puckered rose while his measured thrusting continued unabated. Burying only a fingertip at first, then gently removing it to swipe, once again, a little juice from their pumping coition, Alan returned his glistening digit to her sphincter. Slowly, he inserted it to the first knuckle, withdrew a little then pushed further. Penelope hesitated, almost imperceptibly with every push of his finger, but the relentless pounding of his cock inside her kept her occupied – or distracted.

Penelope's breath was becoming ragged, her movements spasmodic, as she met every thrust vigorously. I could see that she was getting increasingly aroused; precipitously close to coming; yet, Alan refused to pick up the tempo. Penelope's hips shuddered with agitation as she tried to force the issue. His control was unbelievable. And all the while his finger worked deeper and deeper into her anus.

When Alan's index finger had reached its limit, he began to withdraw it ever so slowly until only the first knuckle remained buried. Then, he introduced his middle finger, inserting the two of them as slowly and surely as he had the first. Penelope seemed not to notice, her focus entirely controlled by the dangling climax she couldn't quite reach. I was amazed at how long Alan was able to keep her hanging. When he had both fingers fully ensconced, he pulled back yet again to introduce his ring finger into the group. By this time, Penelope was whimpering and moaning, her body trembling and shaking.

Once all three fingers had disappeared into her ass, Alan began to slowly accelerate and lengthen his stroked. I could tell that he was also manipulating her from the inside, wiggling his fingers against the walls of her rectum. Within moments, spasms of ecstasy jolted Penelope causing her to drop her head and scream out her orgasm into her arms. Pumping his fingers and cock in syncopation, Alan played her climax like a violin until her screams of passion decrescendoed into breathless panting.

Gently removing his slick fingers and glistening erection in unison, Alan grabbed Penelope's butt and spread her cheeks, laying the swollen head of his penis in the crack. He sawed back and forth once or twice before stopping at her rear door. While he had yet to come, a drop of pre-seminal fluid dripped onto Penelope's rosebud. She raised her head slightly and gave me a look of fear or concern or something, but as she said nothing, I didn't intervene.

Alan placed his hands firmly on her buttocks and simply began to push as he pulled her toward him. I watched as her eyes grew wide. Surprisingly, after all we'd been through, this was, in fact, the taking of her anal virginity. "Owww," she complained, "that hurts." Still she didn't try to stop him. Holding still, she hissed through her teeth, "Slowly!" "Not so fast!" "Jeez!" Nonetheless, he forced himself, eventually, completely into her ass.

Once fully insinuated Alan stopped. I was mesmerized. Here he was, this – what? – eight, maybe nine incher, thick and solid, now entirely buried within Penelope's heretofore untouched, and, perhaps I had erroneously assumed, unassailable ass. "There," Alan declared, giving her buttock a playful slap, "that wasn't so bad, eh?" Then, ever so slowly, he began to pull out – back until only the plum remained in. Running his hand up her slit, he gathered some remaining lube and slathered his shaft before, just as slowly, pushing back in. It only took a couple of these slow strokes before Penelope's hips began to rock – slightly – almost imperceptibly assisting – rearing back on the in-strokes and forward on his withdrawal.

Her face, a picture of passion, Penelope's participation in the taking of her bottom cherry became increasingly enthusiastic. Puffing out at the bottom of each thrust she lunged forward, nearly pulling off him, before slamming her derriere violently back against him in a rising rhythm that was rapidly becoming a frenzy. Alan's eyes glazed as he held himself up against her pounding bum. While his stamina had been very impressive, his growling, ragged breath signaled the rushing onset of orgasm. "Oh, ooh, oooh," he panted, almost pleadingly.

"Ahhhhhhh!" Penelope wailed in reply, as Alan stiffened.

Throwing his head back, he pulled her tight onto his iron-like rod. "Unnngh!" His hips twitched and jolted; Penelope dropped her head and was still. I could virtually hear the volleys of semen splashing the walls of her bowel. Then, for a moment there was nothing but the sound of blowing and gasping.

"Sheee-it, girl, that was good," Alan proclaimed, as he pulled out. Penelope, stayed motionless, still head down on her hands and knees, her breath still eluding her. Wandering to the can, Alan turned to her and said, "Well, whaddya think?" He didn't wait for an answer, but I saw Penelope nod her head ever so slightly.

"Hmmm," I thought. She hadn't climaxed, but she hadn't been far off, I was thinking.

While she never said much about it, during the next few weeks, she was not only willing to take me up the rear, but after only a few times, she actually orgasmed with me coming up her bum.

–– o ––

As the first anniversary of Penelope's employment approached – the first anniversary of her loan repayment – I printed a statement of her account. She had, in fact, paid off barely a quarter of the principal. The good news was that she had been increasing her 'payments' substantially as the year had progressed, and, of course, the part of the payment that went toward the principal increased as the balance decreased. The bad news was that, even at her current rate of 'payment' she would be indebted for at least another year. I could have, I suppose, given her a bit of a break on the interest rate, but somehow that didn't seem right. The loan-shark rate she had agreed to still seemed to be part of the game – part of the tableau.

"I really do want to help you retire this debt," I said, not exactly sure if I spoke the complete truth. "Let's try something, shall we say, expensive – or perhaps, valuable."

"Yuck!" Penelope turned up her nose as she eyed me. "I really don't like to talk about the money thing. It makes it seem so mercenary – so tawdry." But she couldn't help but give a slight grin as she said that. In the face of our everyday activities, tawdry hardly seemed to encompass it. Nonetheless, I knew what she meant.

Even after a year, I still found just watching her – watching her wrestle her dilemma, struggle with her own feelings, her lithe grace, her paradoxical innocence – incredibly arousing. I could feel an erection pushing at my zipper already. Rolling my chair back from the desk, I handed the printed statement to Penelope. "Better shred this, before it falls into the wrong hands, eh?"

"Destroy all evidence," she muttered as the paper vanished.

By the time she turned back to me, I had released my still growing boner. Doing a quick calculation in my head, I beckoned her to my lap. "Here, face me." I patted my thighs, then reached behind her to unfasten her skirt as she straddled my knees. My fleshy poker stood against the folds of her labia, gathering the already seeping dew there. Unbuttoning her blouse, I leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially in her ear. "Take me up your rear."




With Interest Ch. 3



With my hands cupping her breasts, tweaking her nipples, her face became a passionate mask of concentration. Lifting herself, she moved forward, and reached behind to grab my rod. She carefully lined up my swollen plum with her rose-hole; her eyes closed as she slowly lowered herself onto me. Lubricated only by a sheen of pussy juice and a drip of pre-cum, her sphincter gave a bit of resistance before succumbing to the force of her weight. Penelope lowered herself slowly, keeping up a steady pressure. Without a word, she stopped part way down and reversed pulling off me again, ever so slowly. Licking her hand – covering her palm with saliva – she transferred the moisture to my shaft and immediately began to sink onto me once more. My God, it felt good. The warmth of her channel, now slick with spit, was almost too much. Creeping down and down, it seemed like ages before, with a barely audible grunt, she bottomed out – grasping, finally, my balls with her buttocks.

Momentarily still, I put my lips to her ear one more time. "Now," a smile settled onto my lips as I gave directions, "bring yourself off with your fingers." Her eyes stayed closed, and she betrayed no emotion, but her hands dipped between her legs and started a delicate dance along her genitals. "Come for me – while I'm in you. I want to watch your orgasm."

Her arousal blossomed very quickly – her manipulations spreading warm moisture over my belly, her tight anal grip on my muscle pulsing – keeping me rock hard. Penelope began to sigh and quiver and shudder. I kept my hands molded to her breasts, squeezing and kneading, pulling and twisting her nipples. I concentrated my gaze on her face, watching impassioned grimaces wash over her closed eyes. Whimpering moans escaped her lips, as the movement of her hips slowly accelerated. The squirming and bouncing on my lap fed my own arousal, stimulating me more intensely than seemed possible, hardening and swelling me until I thought I would explode.

Penelope still hadn't opened her eyes, but her breath puffed and her head flopped on her shoulders, back and forth like a puppet, while my rampant hard-on pounded in and out of her bouncing ass. "Ah, ah, ah," she whimpered, punctuating each of her deliberate down thrusts, flattening her cheeks against my thighs. Sliding my hands around her chest, I gripped her under the arms and fairly held on for dear life. Penelope was now pumping one hand violently in and out of her cunt while the other continued to bother her clit. "Oh, oh, oh," she wailed, as she slid over the edge, "Oh, God! Ahhhhh!"

Her body went stiff as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure rolled over her. As the climax ran down her spine, through her fundament, the rectal spasms dragged me over as well. Pulling her firmly onto my lap, lifting my hips to meet her in a convulsive effort to penetrate her further than possible, I began screaming, "Oh, Christ! Here it comes. It's a big one. Oh, my God! Unnngh!" I pumped volley after volley of sperm into her – scalding her bowel – filling her up.

Finally Penelope put her arms around my shoulders and collapsed against me, still panting and moaning softly. I couldn't believe the intensity. My cock remained stiff, stuffed well up into her innards. For a long, long time we just sat there, trying to catch our heaving breaths. Eventually, I began to soften and shrink; Penelope stirred and regained some semblance of consciousness. Sitting back for a moment, she stared into my eyes, a seductive smile gracing her lips, but said nothing.

As she extricated herself, letting me, at last, fall free, I muttered a breathy, "Wow!" I turned to my computer, bringing her account up, as she recovered her garments, and put them on. Then turning back to me, she smiled and said, "Let me clean you up." Dropping to her knees, she took me into her mouth in one slurp. Amazingly, I could feel my snake, twitching yet again, in response to her ministrations. "Oh, yeah," I whispered. "Bring me off again and that will take us to $1750 for the afternoon. Every little bit helps, eh?" She just nodded her agreement around my already turgid member, and set about her expert fellatio.

–– o ––

"Good morning, dear," I greeted Penelope as she entered the office. I had deliberately beat her in, as I especially wanted to greet her on this, her anniversary date. Before she'd left the day before, I had offered her the day off – with pay, of course – but she demurely declined, without giving any explanation. Perhaps this anniversary was more special to me than to her, but I didn't want to let it go without some kind of acknowledgement.

"Good morning, Mr. Jackson," she replied, in her ever-alluring, honeyed-tone voice, before proceeding to her station.

We worked diligently throughout the morning, the two of us, accomplishing quite a bit between us, with only the necessary interactions of a pair of good business associates. At eleven o'clock I called over my shoulder casually, "Can you tie things up in the next few minutes? I have reservations for us at Metropol in half an hour." I resisted the urge to watch her face as I said it, for Metropol was, perhaps, the swankiest, most expensive eatery in the city that held a lunch sitting.

She answered with a forced nonchalance, "Sure. Just let me know when you want to leave."

Well, let me tell you, we turned more than a few heads, as we walked in. I mean, Penelope's short skirt, tight blouse and spike heals, flashing beneath her raincoat, and me, a trim, fifty-ish fellow in a well cut, expensive suit. We made quite a pair. Nevertheless, lunch proceeded with proper decorum. We chatted, and laughed, ate and drank, grasping hands now and again for emphasis. And despite of how it may have appeared to the casual observer, we shared the rather exquisite meal more like two very good friends than sexual partners. In fact, I felt, during that lunch, that Penelope was a peer – in all respects. As much as I relished our hierarchical relationship, there was also something warm and fuzzy in the feeling of being equals.

After a long and relaxing repast, we returned to the office. Hanging up our coats, I turned to tell Penelope what I had planned, but she took me off guard. Putting her fingers to my lips, she whispered, "Before anything else, I'd like to satisfy you." Producing a remote, with apparent sleight-of-hand, she started up some music, then began to writhe and gyrate against me, making me a part of her strip tease, while guiding us toward the couch.

I was speechless and mesmerized, but somewhere in the recesses of my mind – back in one of those logic pockets, I mused that, perhaps, she was, indeed, my equal. Perhaps, her role as the submissive partner was just that: a role she had embraced – nothing more.

And as I pondered that, somehow, in her rhythmic, hypnotic movement, she had managed to divest me of most of my clothing. Pushing me gently down onto the sofa, she gracefully removed my shoes and socks and slipped my pants and shorts over my ankles leaving me naked and dazed. Slithering back up my legs she watched me with an impishness, as she licked her lips and slurped my already rising erection into the delicious warmth of her mouth. She wouldn't take her eyes off me, and my own eyes were transfixed by the mischief that twinkled there.

Up and down, up and down her head bobbed with a gradual acceleration that was excruciatingly wonderful. "Ooh, ooh, ooh," I panted in counterpoint to her slurps and sighs. I could feel the pressure rising in my root, swelling my glans to that point between discomfort and ecstasy. I could feel an orgasm starting to form deep in my abdomen. It was wonderful, yet I didn't want to come too soon. I felt like a foolish cliché as I realized what I was moaning. "Don't! Stop! Don't! Stop! Don't; stop! Do-o-o-on't sto-o-o-op!" It was just too much. Up and down, in and out, her fabulously smooth cheeks, pulling, engulfing, caressing! I wasn't going to make it, but just as I reached the point of no return, she gave me one last, root-to-tip lollipop suck and pulled off. Her timing was impeccable.

"Okay," she panted, pushing herself up and straddling my knees. "Okay, now." She was in command, but I didn't mind; not for the moment.

Sliding herself up my thighs, she lifted herself just enough to bring the tent of her mini-skirt over my prick. As she deftly unbuttoned her blouse, her hot slick labia seemed grab my rampant penis, and hold it firmly within her silky groove. "Okay, now," she whispered again, almost like a mantra. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she raised herself, still holding my gaze with her eyes – I felt like a mouse in the thrall of a snake – her vulva running up my shaft until the tip just dipped into her. Then, in a slow and steady fall, she descended, pushing herself onto me until her buttocks sat against my thighs. Her vagina fit me like an expensive glove – held me tight in a grip of love.

At the bottom of the stroke, Penelope sat motionless for a moment. Her eyes still held me like a tractor beam. A smile unfolded on her lips, and, as she began to rise once more, she finally closed her eyes and let her head fall back. Unconsciously, my hands had formed to her hips, and now I helped her, guided her, followed her as rose to almost fully release me, before plunging down, spearing herself with my prong. It was slow and deliberate and intense, and I felt myself deeper inside her than at any time before. The sensations – her warm sponginess, caressing the full length of my erection; the bouncing slap of her bottom on my thighs; her grip on my shoulders, tightening with each stroke; the boiling, frothing within my loins; her delicate mewing on every thrust – it was all unbelievable – unbelievably arousing.

The ignition sequence of my climax wound amazingly tighter and tighter, and still it didn't trigger. Penelope's rhythm, while it didn't actually get any faster, seemed to get more intense, more insistent, more manic. The up-strokes felt increasingly feverish and convulsive, while the down-strokes became elevated in force, until it felt as if she were trying to fuse us together.

Just when I knew I could take no more, when I knew that the fuse had already been lit, Penelope began to cry, "Oh! Oh! Ooohhh! AAAAHHHHH!" As the muscular spasms ripped through her body, gripping and releasing me convulsively, my balls tightened in climax.

"Chiiii-rist," I yelled, jetting my first volley of jism into her shiveringly inviting box. Bouncing my hips to insert myself farther into her than possible, I squirted another volley. My orgasm continued, it seemed, indefinitely, along with hers. I had to hold tight to her waist to keep from losing her as paroxysm after paroxysm shook her body like a leaf in a storm. Another shot, banging into her with an unexpected violence – she just screamed and pushed down even harder. Down, up and down again – my prick shuddered and spat yet again inside its velvet tunnel.

Our climaxes seemed to have rolled together into a gigantic orgasmic tsunami that flooded our senses and drowned consciousness. How long it was until those pounding waves receded is anybody's guess. Nonetheless, the last tremors finally passed, and Penelope's tortured body fell limp against me, my barely softening erection still firmly implanted. I held her on my lap, her head on my shoulder, rocking gently as we caught our breath. But something tickled my brain, and I glanced at the clock over the door.

"Shee-it!" I muttered, sitting Penelope back up. "You've got to get up and cleaned up, pronto!"

"Wha – what?" she asked, shaking her head as if emerging from a dream.

"You've got an appointment, my dear." I could wake up and clear my head quickly when I had to.

"What?" She was still in a post-orgasmic haze, and who could blame her, for what orgasms they had been.

"Quickly, dearest," I said, shooing her off my lap and toward the washroom. She finally got her walking legs and, looking over her shoulder inquisitively, moved toward the bathroom. "You may want to don some underwear, too."

"Why?" she asked mildly.

"Because," I replied, equally mildly. Tossing her a small package, wrapped in the easily recognizable tissue of an exclusive lingerie shop, I called, "Here," and catching the package, she threw me another puzzled glance, then vanished into the loo, 

"You've got an appointment at Le Spa Exquisite, in the Merriweather in less than half an hour."

Penelope poked her head back out the door. "Really?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes," I replied, with a mock seriousness, pulling on my own clothes, "and you'd better hurry. I wouldn't want you to be late."

"What's it for?" she called from inside, joining into the game so easily.

"You can think of it as a birthday present, of sorts. I think you know what I mean."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Jackson," she purred as she emerged from the lavatory. She looked so damned fuckable I thought if she didn't get out right away, I'd have to go another round with her.

"It's at three; a full two and a half hour treatment; on the twenty-seventh floor of the Merriweather Hotel. They're expecting you." I pressed a couple of bills into her hand for cab fare. "The cab has probably been waiting for fifteen minutes already." I gave her a chaste peck on the cheek before shooing her out the door. "See you tomorrow. Enjoy yourself."

"Yes," I said to the empty office, shivered remembrances of our fabulous sex still skipping up my spine, "if not exactly equals or peers, then something incredibly more complex than simply master and slave, dominant and submissive, or what-have-you." Whatever, – any explanation was really beyond me. "And that," I said to myself, "is all right, too."

–– o ––

Continued in part four.



With Interest Ch. 4



–– o ––

Some time later I brought in a client who was doing business with me, after working out some details over lunch. All I really needed to do was get it all down in writing. Penelope was out of the room when we arrived, but when she returned I saw that William sat up and took notice. So, without glancing up, indeed, feigning nonchalance, I asked, "Ms. Lord, I believe Mr. Lyle, here, is interested in you. Would you please take care of his needs and make him comfortable?"

"Of course, Mr. Jackson." I guess, in retrospect, I should have seen that they initially regarded one another rather warily, but it didn't register. "Okay, then, Mr. Lyle," Penelope purred, standing up and inviting him over.

Even after all this time, it was hard for me to concentrate with such a lewd, carnal spectacle unfolding next to me. Penelope, of course, did her job well – a professional sexualist. She started with one of her dynamite strip-tease acts. I knew it was good without even watching – William's audible response said as much. From there, Penelope seemed to pull out all the stops. She was an animal with him, being, perhaps, even more aggressive and wild than usual. Their sensuous chorus of sighs and moans and gasps, grunts and slurps and wet smacks filled the office. And what a tableau they made, when they'd finally finished – he, with a silly grin on his face, looking all in, and she, her eyes half-closed, with an interestingly satisfied smirk at her lips.

"Wow, that was incredible!" Penelope simply lounged back on the couch as he dressed. I suppose I should have noticed that too – it was rather uncharacteristic of her – but it didn't actually click that something was up until he was shaking my hand to leave.

"Well, Robbie?" she spoke from behind us, just loud enough to interrupt. We turned as one. The intensity of her gaze belied her languid posture, and there was a dangerous sharpness in her words. "You satisfied?" she asked, briefly arching her eyebrows. "You got to fuck me one last time."

"Robbie?" My ears pricked up.

"Oh," he stumbled just a moment, looking back and forth between us, "I knew your 'assistant' a long time ago." He continued his doomed recovery with all the glibness he could summon, "I used to go by Robbie – Robert is my middle name."

There was a surprising, even frightening venom in Penelope's voice as she addressed the man she had just screwed silly. "Still up to your old tricks, eh?" His eyes went wide and his skin suddenly pale. While there was disgust verging on hatred in her eyes, her voice went soft, almost sad with sympathy. "You'll never learn, will you?"

"Just a minute, that… I…," he sputtered, but I saved him for the moment.

"Oh, that Robbie." His eyes glinted with the wary look of a trapped animal.

"Yeah," Penelope's confirmation was now flat and lifeless. "That one."

"Oh," I said understandingly, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I've heard a lot about you, my boy." I kept my voice deliberately soft. "And I don't want to ever see you around here again." I picked up the proposal he had left on my desk and tore it in half, feeding it to my shredder without another glance. "Furthermore…" I could feel my anger seething, and I let it seep into my quiet, measured words, "if I ever get wind of rumours or stories concerning this incident, or Penelope, here, I will personally see to it that you are roundly – and severely punished." I stared at him as his mouth dropped open. It was obvious he was a coward by nature. "Have I made myself clear?"

He nodded, mutely. I handed him his portfolio and barked, "Get out." William or Robbie, or whoever he was left quickly, his tail between his legs.

"You can get dressed, Ms. Lord," I muttered coldly, before the door had closed behind him – still angry, still in business mode. "I've got some e-mails to send." While she was cleaning up, I sent a concise yet wonderfully damning note to all my counterparts in other institutions – even the few somewhat less-than-legitimate operations I was familiar with.

Many months later, I actually read in the paper that William Robert Lyle had apparently made one too many deals and died under suspicious circumstances. I wasn't surprised. When I told Penelope, she simply said, "I'm sorry. Even if he was a creep."

"It's not our fault," I pointed out, and we left it at that.

–– o ––

Every quarter all the partners of Downtown Mortgage and Loan – now numbering nine – gathered for an executive meeting in the common conference room of our office complex. Usually we'd hire a temp to keep minutes at the meeting, and, if there were more delicate matters to discuss, we'd deal with them after she'd left. This time, however, some eighteen or nineteen months into my 'arrangement' with Penelope, I volunteered her services, instead. It was, indeed, our annual fiscal planning meeting, a rather special event, hence my idea was heartily welcomed by my cohorts, most of whom had already sampled her wares. She was, as usual, terribly efficient, even offering modest input on a few occasions. Nevertheless, after the meat of the business had been dealt with, I put on a little light music, ostensibly to break the tension.

"Penelope," I said, keeping a completely business-like tone – staying with the game, "I think you could keep the remainder of the minutes better if you were nude." As I spoke, I walked over to the door and hung the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the outside know, before closing it again and setting the deadbolt.

"Of course, Mr. Jackson." It was as if she were expecting it. Rising from her chair, she was already swaying to the beat as she stepped back from the table and reached for the buttons of her blouse.

Instantaneously relaxed, the guys all started in cheering and hooting. "All right, Jackson." "You the man!" "Show us yer tits!" "Let's see your ASS-istant!" All eyes were on Penelope as she swirled and swayed, slowly – ever so slowly opening her blouse. But Penelope's eyes were on me. Her smile swept across the room gracing each of the spectators, but somehow I knew that she was only looking at me. A glow grew, not in my loins, but my chest. Mind you, once she dropped her shirt off her shoulders, heat glimmered in my groin as well.

Ties were loosened and discarded, and jackets thrown off, but not once did she lose the attention of the room. The whistling and carrying on continued as she let her skirt fall to the floor, stepped out of it, and, after a few more twists and turns, kicked off her heels. Then with an almost chaste dip of her head, she sat back down at her lap-top and waited, hands in her lap, until the standing-ovation subsided.

Amazingly enough, we then proceeded to wrap up the last bit of mundane housekeeping business, without losing focus again. Penelope took minutes, read previous notes, and recalled pertinent data just like an excellent secretary who was not sitting naked in a room full of men. Until, at last we were done.

"Motion to adjourn," someone shouted – Tony, I think.

"Hear, hear," Marcus responded. "Let the post-sessional festivities begin." And with that we descended on the buffet table and bar that had been waiting for us.

With drinks in hands, we toasted the meeting, the success of the quarter, and the good fortune of having Penelope on-board. "C'mon over and have a drink," Jason called. Penelope smiled coyly and padded across to the bar. After she'd had a sip of her white wine, Jason, still the new-kid-on-the-block, said in a husky, hungry voice. "You know what I'd really like Ms. Lord?" He grasped his crotch as he gave me a sidelong glance. Penelope was watching me as I smiled and nodded. Carefully she put her glass down and kneeled in front of Jason, lowering his fly to the renewed cheering of his colleagues.

That was how it started. Jason reached back for a chair and sat with a plop as Penelope extricated his already hard prick and gobbled it into her talented mouth. Pete quickly moved up behind her, grabbing his erection with one hand, while steadying her bottom with his other. He pushed into her pouting slit with one swift motion. A surprised gasp escaped around Jason's thrusting member, but she recovered quickly, joining into the rhythm of the attack.

It became, at once, very frenzied and wild; but, in the end, did not last long. With a wild, almost pathetic yelp, Jason threw his head back and came in Penelope's mouth. Still rocking her hips back against Pete's piercing member, Penelope welcomed Brandon's rod with a voraciousness that took him, momentarily, by surprise. Her undulating hips began accelerating once again. There was a hungry intensity in the lurid push and pull of the spectacle that further inflamed Pete's already critical arousal. He could take no more. Seizing Penelope's hips, squashing her buttocks against his own gut, Pete let out a low, dangerous growl. The twitching echoes of jerks and jolts traveled back from their connection to quiver and shiver on his clenched butt. He held still only a moment before pulling back and splashing the last bit of his semen against Penelope's flushed rear cheeks. Suddenly, I got this wonderfully, mischievous idea.

"Hold it!" I commanded, much to everyone's surprise and Brandon's dismay. One could tell that he was getting rather close, there, in Penelope's talented mouth. "Hang on a moment," I reassured him. "Here," I gestured to Penelope, "Sit up a sec." Turning to Brandon, I patted the table, "Lie here, on your back, Big Guy." I could see a glimmer of understanding, as he lay down, his erection standing up tall and straight. "Now, Penelope, my dear, just clamber up here, over him." I said, directing Penelope to straddle him and ride his cock. She moved to cover him slick and quick.

"Matt," I chuckled, "how about putting your soldier up her ass, eh?" Matt didn't need to be asked twice. Scooping up some of the readily available lubricant, Matt swirled a finger or two, around Penelope's rosebud. To her credit, she only paused for a moment, then resumed the slow sensuous undulations of her hips on Brandon. Dipping his fingers briefly into her anus, he pushed Penelope gently but firmly onto all fours above Brandon. Seeing the tight white smoothness of her bum swell before him, Matt quickly became impatient. He pointed his sword at Penelope's puckered target and stabbed.

"Oooomph!" she gasped as he pushed his swollen knob, slick with mixed juices, against her reluctantly yielding sphincter. Penelope strove to keep moving on the cock already in her, as she struggled to accept the inexorable entry into her rectum. Slowly but surely, Matt's sceptre disappeared up Penelope's ass, until he finally stopped for a moment, balls-deep, hard against the soft warmth of her firm cheeks. Gradually he started to move again – pull, push; withdraw, insert; retreat, attack – gaining speed, increasing his force. Rocking her hips back in response to Matt's hungry thrusts, and down onto Brandon's bouncing loin, Penelope was soon working herself frantically on both the insertions. As the 'gallery' watched open-mouthed, I gingerly knelt up on the table, astride Brandon's face, directly in front of Penelope, and, without any words, fed my rampant boner between her luscious, panting, parted lips. This was, I suspected, Penelope's very first triple-penetration.

She seemed, I thought, more curious than surprised – if, indeed, she felt anything beyond the intensity of the assault. Whatever, quickly she became a willing participant – taking her 'job', as it were, very seriously. And I realized that, if ever our relationship had been one of 'dominance and submission', it was no longer that straight forward. Now it was more like 'direction and compliance'. I never really ordered her to do anything anymore, I just told her what I wanted from her – what I desired – and directed her in the performance of her duties. And she had never yet balked at anything I asked. That being said, I did not wish to spoil things by suggesting anything too outrageous, but what was too outrageous? Up until now she'd complied willingly with all my requests, but was I trying to push her over the line? I really don't think so – I hope not. I think we were, together, just exploring the extent of our relationship – the magnitude of this direction/compliance concept.

Regardless of the relational intricacies involved, the four of us, pounding away together on the table, began to increase our cadence – spurred on by the chanting and cheering of our watching colleagues. Judging by the moans from Brandon and the grimaces of Matt, we were all very close, but what took me past the pale, was the realization that Penelope was quietly gasping and shuddering her own way to a climax. Pulling her by the ears into my final thrust, I let out a yell and pumped my gushing seed into her gullet.

The liquid heat of my spend triggered her orgasm and, screaming around my shaft, she plunged her hips back against her intruders, quaking convulsively – writhing and spasming on the double prongs. Who came next was anybody's guess, for both Brandon and Matt cried out and stiffened, holding the whole tableau motionless for several long moments.

Reluctantly and wearily we withdrew allowing Penelope to lift herself off Brandon's wilting pole and collapse on her side beside him. While the others were very eager for their chance to climb into the saddle, I admonished them to, "Give the dear girl a chance to catch her breath at least, eh?"

After a few minutes, when our glistening bodies, slouched around the table, had begun to dry and our racing hearts begun to slow, Penelope slipped off the table and padded for the washroom, saying over her shoulder, "I'll be back," in a fairly bad impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger. No one moved until she emerged, looking a little freshened, and approached the table again. Then, interestingly, all eyes turned to me. I guess, by some unspoken agreement, I was the director of the entire frolic.

"Penelope, I think you need to get these three," I said, indicating Kevin Tony and Stan, "ready for some action, eh?"

She just nodded and approached the chairs where the three of them hurriedly finished disrobing, amid mumbled assent. "Right on!" "Okay!" "Me first, eh?" "Oh, baby, you rock!" Moving like a lithe spirit, Penelope dropped gracefully to a crouch between Kevin's knees and engulfed his semi-turgid pecker in one smooth slurp. While bobbing and sucking energetically on Kevin, Penelope reached over to stroke Tony's manhood. Stan fondled his own while he waited and watched. By the time she let Kevin slip from her lips, he was iron-hard. Keeping a hand on him, Penelope moved over to take Tony into her mouth. He was already pretty close to solid by the time she got there, so after a few moments of quality felatio Penelope moved from Tony to Stan. With only moments of oral ministrations on Stan, Penelope stopped and looked up at me. All three of the guys stood proudly erect and rock-hard.

"Okay, now," I announced, really taking the role of cruise-director, "Kevin, you start off underneath – Ms. Lord will ride you – Tony, put yourself up her bum, and Stan, you start off with felatio again. Okay?" Everyone got quickly into position. The thrusting and squooshing, of course, started immediately. Then I declared, above the joyous sounds of fucking, "Just for added flavour, let's play a game of 'musical orifices'." Everyone, including Penelope with just her eyes, looked at me, puzzled. "Every time I yell 'rotate', everyone changes position – ass to mouth to pussy and so on. Right? So you'll never know where you're actually going to blow your load." They didn't look quite sure, but they all nodded in agreement, anyway. Penelope, gave me a sly sidelong glance that may have just hidden a touch of a smile, as the raucous tempo picked up once more.

"Okay, rotate!" I yelled after a few minutes. With bodies shuffling and thrashing about, the guys laughed heartily as they rushed back into the business of screwing the hell out of my beautiful assistant. And I watched her carefully – looking to see her reaction. As usual, she took the challenge seriously, yet, I was pleased to see she seemed to be embracing the novelty of the situation, scrambling, a few turns in, to hop off Tony's straining, wobbling shaft then pulling at Kevin's hips, sliding him across the table-top, into position under her once again. Holding his swaying pole with one hand, she quickly lowered herself onto him, leaning forward, as soon as she'd fully engulfed him, to offer her bottom to once more to Tony –sucking Stan's slick, glistening member into her mouth at the same time.

The rocking and grunting and pounding, bouncing and squirming and splooshing melded into a lascivious chorus that drowned out anything – any thoughts not entirely involved with sex. After about seven changes, I could see that Stan was not going to survive another. His eyes were glazed, his jaw slack, his tongue lolling. Bravely trying to sustain the role of pile-driver, he clung to Penelope's hips, meeting every one of her backward thrusts with a smack of flesh on flesh. Penelope hung on tightly to Kevin, slamming him deep into her mouth each forward stroke. Her puffing and snorting accelerated as she forced her own desperate cadence on the guys. Stan finally threw his head back with a keening howl and yanked Penelope's backside hard against him. That ultimate thrust – deeper than deep – set Tony bucking under her, grasping and squeezing her tits, bouncing his own hips in a futile attempt to get deeper than possible – even as her full weight settled onto him. His primal yowl joined Stan's wail, as Penelope pulled Kevin off balance firmly into her face, stifling the mewling that signaled the onset of her own orgasm. Clasping frantically at her head in an effort to regain his balance, Kevin's hips suddenly twitched and jolted on their own, spewing his load into her open maw.

"Shee-it!" I exclaimed. "A simultaneous, quadruple climax – that's got to be some kind of first!" After a moment's silence, once the incredible energy of what we'd witnessed set in, the other guys began to applaud, then Brandon stood. The performance deserved the standing ovation we all gave. As they all caught their collective breath and began to disentangle themselves, each of the participants smiled and nodded to the appreciative audience. Penelope's mild smile held, as she sighed and lowered herself from her hands and knees.

"Not quite done, my dear," I announced. Her glazed smile never left her face – she just lay still, her heaving chest gradually slowing – waiting. I suppose Penelope knew what to expect next. She must have kept track, although nothing had been said. Marcus had waited patiently, knowing his turn would come, understanding why he was last.

Marcus was the only one of the partners who, in the eighteen some-odd months of our 'arrangement', had never actually had Penelope – for any number of reasons, but mostly just bad luck and bad timing. Nonetheless, we all knew that the black former athlete, although not big in stature, was of legendary proportions where it counts. For the entire affair so far, he had stayed seated and kept his shorts on, idly covering his manhood with his hands, and stroking himself through the material from time to time. Now he stood and dropped his laundry. "Penelope," I said, with mock seriousness, "I'd like you to meet Marcus. Marcus, Penelope."

Penelope raised herself up on one elbow, meeting his gaze, and smiled. "Enchanted," Marcus said, and we all watched Penelope's jaw drop as her eyes landed on his crotch. His semi-flaccid shlong hung like a firehose, almost to his knees.

Marcus stepped forward, reaching behind Penelope's head, as he lifted the colossal piece of meat up over the edge of the table. Penelope simply gaped, the astonishment painted across her face was priceless. Of course, we were all mightily impressed. One really did have to see it to believe it. Gently pulling her face to meet his meat, Marcus rubbed the head, wet with pre-seminal fluid, lightly over her mouth. Next to her lips it looked even larger. The purple glans swelled like a softball on the end of a black bat. The touch of this monster seemed to break Penelope's trance and she suddenly hopped off the table in one fell swoop to land in a crouch at Marcus' feet. She raised her hands, taking the turgid beast delicately, and caressing it with her fingers, bringing the mammoth tip back to her lips. A look of total awe came across her eyes as she kissed away another pre-seminal drip.




With Interest Ch. 4



A respectful hush descended on the room. Penelope continued to stare at the prick in admiration, like it was a thing of incomparable beauty. Slowly she began to lick it, up one side to its base, down under, just grazing his scrotum, and back along the other side to the head. Faint mews escaped her lips, as she paused for a moment, holding Marcus' slowly growing erection in complete reverence. Placing his hands at the sides of her head, Marcus let his fingers trace the curves of her jaw and dance through her hair. He smiled down upon her benevolently, but she never even looked up. Her entire focus, her undivided awareness was centered on his penis.

Although Penelope couldn't even nearly close her fingers about his shaft, she began earnestly stroking her hands up and down its length, following her lapping tongue and making the black post glisten with her saliva. Faster and faster she laved it, flattening her tongue to reach around and along every inch. Abruptly she pulled right back and swung the black beam directly in front of her. Opening her mouth as wide as she could, she forced herself against the huge knob. Continuing with her hands whilst writhing her head around and around, Penelope struggled to get her lips around the massive plum. She worked her jaw ceaselessly as she shoved harder and harder, stretching her cheeks and lips to the limit of their elasticity. Finally, gradually, the huge head of Marcus' prick slipped past her teeth to utterly fill her oral cavity. Penelope didn't stop, twisting and turning her head continuously on the end of the still swelling shank. Penelope puffed and snorted frantically through her nose as she attempted to stuff the knot of hot meat down her gullet, not yet willing to accept the futility of the struggle. Whimpering around the fleshy mass, her gyrations were working into a frenzy, until Marcus gently pulled himself out of her distended gape with a pop.

Penelope stared up at him in a daze as he tenderly took her beneath her arms and raised her to her feet. Smiling beneficently, Marcus pushed Penelope back against the table, laying her back onto the polished surface. The rest of us watched in awe as his massive dong bounced out in front of him, not yet quite stiff enough to support its own weight. Climbing up after her, Marcus wedged his huge cock up against her dripping bush and held still for a moment, holding her blank gaze with his eyes. Then, slowly he dropped his hips, tilting his pelvis and pushing himself inexorably between the puffy folds of her vulva. Lifting her knees and dropping her feet onto the wooden deck, Penelope hissed through her teeth as she pushed back onto the tubular intruder. Working together, mere inches at a time, Marcus and Penelope eventually, incrementally, managed to hide half his penis in her vagina.

After a brief pause, Marcus almost lazily drew himself nearly clear of her labia – then he pushed back in – then withdrew – inserting and receding – pressing, retreating, gathering a slow, relentless rhythm. Raising her legs to lock across his back, Penelope exposed their lewd conjunction to the inspection of the rest of us. Her vaginal lips were ludicrously stretched, rolling and puckering with his every stroke. Holding tight around his neck, she rocked her bum to meet his thrusts. Exertion furled her brow every time she strenuously shoved her bottom hard onto his truncheon. Unexpectedly taking control, Penelope turned up the violence of the congress, ramming herself onto him with an increased vengeance, her breath becoming rapid and ragged. Suddenly, she froze, squeezing him so tight, his arms buckled and he fell forward, covering her with his chest and forcing their union to its physical limits. Her lips now firm against Marcus' breast, Penelope unleashed a piercing though muffled shriek as her body was overwhelmed by a powerful orgasm. Her legs trembled in their clutch while she quivered and shook – her fundament shuddering about its pinioned center.

Although Marcus had not apparently come, he withdrew slowly, and gently rolled Penelope, still shivering in a post-orgasmic fever, onto her stomach. Cautiously he lifted her hips, allowing her knees to fall beneath her, and tenderly lowered her onto them. With her head in her arms and her chest still heaving with the exertion, Penelope made a delightful pose – her ass cheeks pulled tight, her bottom virtually calling to Marcus' swaying erection. It was almost surreal, the way the gigantic helmeted head-first addressed the proffered sheath, then slithered in almost, it seemed, in slow motion.

Setting the meter right away, Marcus sawed his ebony log in and out doggy-style, inching in further and further, as Penelope joined the rhythm, pushing back to meet his every stroke. As the black beam continued to part her bush, stabbing her innards, she gasped and threw back her head, eyes wide with surprise. More and more of Marcus' humungous cock disappeared up into her, until, amazingly, their pubic hair almost touched. There, Marcus stopped. Keeping his own hips still, he guide Penelope's with his hands, and she moved, very slightly at first, then bit by bit, longer and faster until she was virtually vibrating – waving her head to and fro and squealing pathetically. Her dirty-blonde hair, all stringy and wet, having grown long over the past year and a half, whipped about in her frenzy, looking all the more attractive for being, at that moment, wild and unkempt. Marcus simply held on, as her voice rose to a screech and her movements became feverish, threatening to detach her head at the neck. Abruptly, she stiffened and froze with her head flung back and her mouth wide. The silent scream of her unbelievable crisis was all the more eerie for its soundlessness. It seemed like minutes before the high-pitched whine of her receding zenith became audible. And still Marcus had not come.

Like a candle, melting after burning too hot, Penelope's arms slowly, almost gracefully, buckled under her, letting her head to sink into their tangle, her chest fall back to the polished platform. As Marcus pulled out, looking very much like a magician removing a large salami from a tiny lunch-box, Penelope's knees slipped a bit on the moist table-top, splaying slightly and spreading her cheeks to expose her brown rosebud.

Marcus's cock waggled up her crack, spreading a fine sheen of its juicy coating, to stop, bouncing against her anus. If Penelope was concerned at the prospect of this impending reaming, she was apparently too exhausted to do anything about it.

"It's not going to work," I muttered under my breath. "You just can't put an elephant through the eye of a needle." I watched intently as Marcus began to push once again. "Please don't hurt her," I hissed, through my teeth. I could hear Penelope grunting and groaning as he pulled on her hips, leaning over her ass with his body, and forcing his swollen member hard against her unyielding sphincter. "Oh, Christ," I muttered, starting to push myself to my feet. "You're going to rip her apart!" I was suddenly really worried. I had to stop him. "Don't tear…," I started to call, when, with an audible 'whump' and long exhale from Penelope, the huge helmet disappeared into her hole. I let myself sit back down, without taking my eyes off the spectacle on the table in front of me.

They remained motionless just a moment. Penelope's quiet panting shook her hanging tits. You could almost hear the tissue around her anus stretching.

After a bit, Marcus scooped lubricant from Penelope's vagina, and slathered it on the shaft of his cock. Leaning forward ever so slightly, he increased the pressure, slowly, slowly inching his enormous pike into her. If I thought it was amazing that he'd actually got so deeply into her box, it was even more amazing to watch him disappear up her ass. Insistently he ploughed further and deeper into her rear passage.

Penelope grunted and groaned, apparently still not quite sure if this was ecstasy or agony. There was complete quiet in the room except for their subtle sounds of exertion, while, in unison, they worked his solid limb resolutely up her dirt-chute. It was a while before Marcus was fully ensconced. At the apex, he stopped only a moment before reversing. Pulling back only enough to unroll the twisted flesh at Penelope's stressed sphincter, Marcus pushed in to depth again. This time he pulled back a little further, spreading love-juice from Penelope's reservoir on his rod before sending it back in.

Penelope, at first, held still, letting Marcus set the pace. Head in her arms, arse up high, she looked like some nymph or lesser goddess supplicating herself before her lord. There was an intensity to the tableau that held the rest of us in thrall, hands trailing up and down our own members. But Marcus continued the unhurried assault, heedless of his audience, although probably not heedless of Penelope's growing participation in her own sodomy. Her gentle rocking, meeting and recovering from his persistence, kept time with swelling melody of her sighs – a mixture of passion, desire, arousal and contentment.

Slowly and steadily, Penelope picked up the tempo – both in stroke and displacement, until at last she was fully involved – plunging and lunging recklessly on Marcus' piston. She seemed curiously intent on testing the limits of her anal opening on the girth of his hardwood timber – hissing her breath through her teeth as his balls slapped against her pudendum. Now it was her turn. Once again, Marcus simply braced himself, passing the conductor's baton, as it were, to her. Seizing the proffered control, Penelope proceeded to work herself furiously against him, twisting and turning as if she were trying to rip him off with her butt.

Marcus leaned over her to keep his balance – to keep from being jarred loose – placing his left hand in the small of her back. Supporting himself on his arm, he reached around with his right hand to strum her clitoris gently with his fingers, all the while endeavoring to hold his hips still. At the touch of his fingers, her body, already sweaty and flushed seemed now to glitter and glow. He played her like a musician, bringing her so close, then pausing to let her recede – crescendo and decrescendo – composing her like a song; mercilessly controlling her arousal.

Penelope's orgasm – when he finally allowed it – came over her like a tsunami. Bucking back violently, she screamed and cried, until, drained of energy, she dropped her head back into her arms. As the crisis washed past, Marcus kept on pumping, triggering, in short order, an after-shock – though, more than that, it surpassed the first climax in its intensity. Dripping with sweat and spittle, Penelope wailed like an animal lost to the spirits. 

Marcus now seemed to get harder and larger with every stroke. Penelope had hardly caught her breath when she was hit by a third wave. Not just an echo, but a third, discrete orgasm – full-blown, higher yet. Marcus, it seems, had sent her soaring to unbelievably heights – further, I had to admit, than she'd ever been with me – further than I'd ever witnessed. I had never seen her so aroused – so involved, so energized with passion. Her cries were both strong and pitiful, as if she knew she was finally at the end – the well was dry – and in some way, she almost grieved that this was the last peak – for the time being, anyway.

Her uncontrolled convulsions, in the rarified air of new heights, finally dragged Marcus over the summit. He stiffened and moaned, as the spasms of ejaculation rocked his hips. Holding himself firmly in place, emitting low growls, he closed his eyes tight, while tremors ran the length of his polished chocolate body. He must have come in quarts, for rivulets of semen began to seep from their conjunction, dripping down Penelope's crack, even before he'd finished twitching and jolting. Penelope's gasping, shrieking cries made it obvious that Marcus had carried her past a new frontier. He hummed in satisfaction, and a contented smile gradually appeared on his lips.

Still connected, they disintegrated into a heap of panting, sweating protoplasm – collapsing as one – enervated from their journey. Penelope appeared to be insensate to all but the echoes of her orgasms. Following a long silence, one of us in the gallery became to applaud. And if we were reserved in our applause, it was due to awe rather than a lack of appreciation. It had been a marvelous suite – in three movements. Marcus had been the maestro; Penelope, the priceless instrument. Together they had produced superb music. We sat, all of us, speechless.

Some time later, while several of us in the audience had jerked off during the spectacle, the rest off us accepted a slow, tired blowjob when Penelope finally got off the table. It had been a full day and it was well into the evening when everyone made their good-byes and left, completely satisfied.





With Interest Ch. 5



Continued for part four, this is part five, the conclusion.

After our major – not to put too fine a point on it – gang-bang, things fell back into the 'normal' routine – surprisingly quickly. Other than a sly smile that persisted for a couple days, Penelope made no mention of her experiences. I wanted to ask her what she thought; how she liked it; exactly how big were her orgasms; but, somehow, that seemed tacky and unseemly, so I just smiled back and we went about our business.

For quite a time then, our 'arrangement' seemed to simply continue. Our directed/compliant relationship had become an eminently comfortable, albeit exciting, way-of-life. But more than that, it was flourishing – 'direction and compliance' seemed to fit us very well.

Several months after our executive meeting – our most successful annual meeting – a client group invited me, and a few of the DML partners with whom they did business, to a soiree at a posh hotel – two weeks hence. We had done a lot of recent financial work for them, resulting in some very, very lucrative deals. "Bring along your wives, partners or lovers," the invitation had proclaimed, "for a night of celebration." Centered at the bottom of the page was a red circle with a diagonal line over the word 'PRUDES'! In fact, they were a group of questionable, if not ill-repute in the business community, and Rolly, the founder, owner and CEO, had a reputation for being brash, lewd and libertine. There was something very intriguing, very carnal about this invite – a feeling that hung in the air, just out of sight. Possibilities and opportunities were about to be presented, although for what, I couldn't quite discern – or I wasn't quite ready to admit. Nonetheless, the excitement in me grew daily. I mentioned it to Penelope with a forced casualness, indicating that we would be attending merely as a professional obligation – and that was partially correct. One must, of course, please the clients.

With our annual-meeting-cum-gang-bang still a very popular topic of conversation within our organization, on getting their invitations, each of my partners going approached me and said, "You're taking Ms. Lord, I presume."

"Of course," I would reply, mildly.

When the day finally arrived, I sent Penelope home early telling her that I would pick her up at 6:00 pm. I knew I didn't need to tell her to dress appropriately; I was very eager to see what she had chosen, as we – she being the last stop – pulled up to her townhouse in the limo – compliments of our host. "Wow!" was all I could say as she greeted me at the door.

"You like?" she asked coyly, grabbing her wrap and hanging a dinky little purse on her shoulder. The chauffeur watched her coolly from behind his shades, trying to look unaffected as she stooped to get in. The buzz of conversation ceased as she entered, and started up again only slowly after greetings and brief introductions.

As we drove off, I said, lamely, "This should be fun, eh?" Everyone agreed, though Penelope just nodded, smiling benevolently at me. Suddenly I felt like a kid heading for the prom – my date, the envy of all. All I could do was stare at her. Her hair was up in an elegant coif, and her make-up was flawlessly understated. Her dress – charcoal, shot with a subtle iridescence – was long and form fitting, with a dangerously high slit, revealing the occasional glimpse of her black stocking tops. It, somehow, stayed just short of looking tart-ish. Hanging from spaghetti straps, it accentuated her shape and beauty without making her lack of underwear too obvious. She looked more beautiful than ever. I stared in admiration for the remainder of the ride.

From the front of the hotel, we were escorted to a huge, lavish and private dining salon, with a large oblong table, set for twenty – there were four of us with our escorts, and six of them with theirs – and a full buffet to the side. Everyone's eyes were on Penelope, so, when I introduced her, we were greeted with all manner of observation and innuendo. "Oh, so this is the famous Ms. Lord," "– or infamous!" "We've all heard about your 'Special Assistant," "I look forward to seeing her perform," "If only half of the rumours are true, my dear, you're sure to be the star of this get together." While my partners sat back watching, sharing my pride in her, our hosts looked Penelope over lecherously, then at one another, expectantly. Only one of them had actually met Penelope before. "Yessiree," he announced to his colleagues, pleased to be in a position of regard, "this here is Jackson's very special assistant I've told you about. I think we're all in for a real treat," adding with an exaggerated wink, "I know I can hardly wait."

I felt, somehow, provoked, as if I, personally, had been challenged. They all looked at me, as if asking, "Well, how does she work? After all, she is your special assistant!" On the one hand, it was appallingly depersonalizing, the way they looked at her and spoke about her, but on the other hand, there was something implicitly exciting about the perceived challenge.

If they all really wanted to see how well she performed, I decided, I'd give them something that would make their heads spin. "Yes," I said to myself, looking at Penelope, "we're really gonna put on a show tonight – that we are – you 'n me, m'dear." I don't know why, but I needed to show-off – show my cohorts the magnificence and of my – our – delectably enviable position. I'd make them eat their hearts out before the evening was over. I knew I was being childish, but I couldn't help myself.

My musings notwithstanding, we were seated at the table and enjoyed a gourmet meal that was almost profligate. Wine flowed and the conversation that rallied about the table was predominantly ribald and crude. Such were our hosts for the evening. When in Rome…, of course. Once the main courses were complete, the serving staff appeared to remove the remains. As they left momentarily to bring on dessert, Rolly, the 'supreme commander' of the salacious bunch, said, with a hearty guffaw, while gesturing down at his lap, "Hey! Ms. Lord. I got something here you might like better for your dessert." Penelope blushed and responded by looking at me. "Whaddya say?" Rolly bellowed again, amidst the chuckles and giggles of the others.

"Okay," I thought, surveying the table, "let the show begin." Turning to Penelope, I said quietly, "Go ahead, Ms. Lord, show him what you can do." I winked, then, feeling almost gleefully provocative, I added, "In fact, show them all – hosts and hostesses first – how well you…," I paused, then finished, "just how oral you can be." Penelope's eyes may have betrayed an instant of surprise, but she recovered her composure immediately.

"Of course, Mr. Jackson." She folded her napkin primly at her place then, with liquid grace, she slouched in her chair and slipped silently beneath the table, to an amused chorus of 'Ooooohs' and 'Aaaaahs'.. 

"This bodes well for a very interesting evening," I reflected silently, smiling as I watched her vanish beneath the white linen. 

The serving staff entered moments later with the dessert. If they thought it odd that one place was empty, they never showed it, but I could see Rolly having trouble concentrating on the choices from the tray. He was obviously getting his treat from beneath. Penelope stayed well out of sight, but she was obviously not out of mind for any of us. The chatter over dessert was subdued as everyone watched one another's eyes, trying to determine just who was being serviced at any given time. It rapidly became a game – we could all tell during Jake's turn but many minutes passed during which the only clues were sly smiles on the faces of Alan, Constance and Dave as they slowly and deliberately enjoyed their desserts.

Suddenly, however, Cindy, the boss' wife, froze, forked poised before mouth, jaw working, oh-so-slightly, eyes wide. Slowly returning her fork to her plate, she placed her hands palm-down on the table, and stared straight ahead, her breath beginning to puff through her nose. The conversation stopped entirely as everyone's attention focused on her. Despite the hovering waiter still in attendance, Cindy began to vocalize her arousal.

Our server stood poised to do something – frightened – as Cindy appeared to be having a seizure of some kind, but no one else moved. He watched, bewildered, while tiny initial whimpers grew rapidly, until, writhing on her seat, Cindy's voice rose in a desperate crescendo, "Oh! Oh! Ohhh!" Overcome by the throes of orgasm, she shrieked uncontrollably, and as the crisis passed, her head, lolling on her shoulders, dropped forward, limply, her hair dangling in her unfinished mousse. The waiter, still frozen, stared wide-eyed at distressed woman, but when the rest of us guests merely applauded politely and returned to our own desserts, he shook his head silently and looked about, wondering what to do next.

"Don't worry," Rolly laughed, "she's fine!" Cindy slowly, raised her head. "More than fine, I might guess, eh, dear?" Turning to the stunned young man, he said, "Thank you. That will be all. You can leave the dessert tray, though, just in case." He laughed as he rose and followed the disconcerted fellow to the door, pressing a tip into his hand, then seeing him out. Rolly hung something on the outside handle, then, ensuring the doors were latched, he returned to his seat. Penelope had not yet surfaced.

"Is everybody satisfied?" Rolly asked. While his whole contingent nodded enthusiastically, not all of us had apparently received Penelope's services yet – I know that I hadn't; still, it was time to press on.

"All rightie then, Ms. Lord," I called, summoning her, "time to come back up top-side." It's hard to imagine someone emerging gracefully from under a table, but that's what she did – stealing sylph-like, without bump or jostle, to virtually materialize poised next to her chair. It was fantastic how, with no fuss, she looked, once more, both elegant and enticing.

I stood and moved to her side, still role-playing. "Penelope, if I may, allow me to assist you to mount up onto our table." Offering her my hand, she climbed confidently and serenely from her seat to the table top, stepping carefully among the dishes to the very centre, where she pirouetted easily to freeze in a haute couture runway pose. Motionless she stood as we all admired her. Breaking the silence, in a low voice I said, "Undress for us, if you will," then, walking to the wall-unit, I tuned in an easy-listening, pop channel.

Penelope's body had started to sway to the music before I got back to my seat. Slowly at first, swinging her hips, her breasts, her hair, she raised her arms serpent-like above her head, making her whole body wave like kelp in the ocean swells. The undulations, starting at her feet and travelling smoothly up her body to erupt from her fingertips high over her head, gradually grew in magnitude, still keeping time with the music. Penelope closed her eyes, and the melody seemed to seep from her pores, her movements in harmony with the sounds. Purrs of sultry contentedness emanated from her lips as she lowered her arms ever so slowly until her fingertips danced over her hips. Walking her hands, like feet on a treadmill, Penelope languidly reefed her dress, the hem inching past her knees, over her thighs, stopping just below her crotch. Now skipping her fingers across her front in a sort of 'Doe-see-doe', she hooked her hem, arms crossed, and, gathering the silky material along the way, raised her hands, baring her neatly trimmed thatch. Continuing the slow ascent, the beat of the accompaniment still manifest in her movement, she paused momentarily just below her bust – a single beat's rest, just for emphasis – before revealing her luscious breasts, their pert nipples proud and erect. Artfully slipping the sheath up over her head, she completed her emergence, like a beautiful butterfly from its cocoon. Casually tossing the dress – her only garment – onto her chair, she continued to sway, clad only in her stockings and heels. Applause erupted about the table, but it was the women of the group who whistled and hollered and stood, banging their hands rhythmically on the table where Penelope kept up her dance.

"Stockings and shoes, my dear," I intoned just loud enough to be heard over the table-slapping of her fans. "Just before you tire yourself out." Without missing a beat she kicked off her dainty pumps and rolled the stockings down, alternately until she was able to flick each off her toes, in a perfect arc, to land on her crumpled sheath on her chair. At that, the throbbing of the spectators spontaneously disintegrated into hearty roar. I stood and raised my hand. The cheering stopped; Penelope stopped. I really was, I thought to myself, directing this entire performance, wasn't I?

"Now, Penelope," I ordered, keeping my voice deliberately low, "just lie back on the table here – supine, as it were – and let us give you our attention in another way." As she lowered herself, moving things aside so that she could stretch out, I retrieved the dessert cart and brought it back to the table. Speaking to the rest of the assembly, who awaited my direction with eager amusement, I said, "As the desserts come around again, please anoint our living centre-piece with a little of your favourite confection and/or liqueur. Like this." Taking a dollop of strawberry flan, I plopped it onto the toes of Penelope's right foot, which was the part of her closest to me. "Don't move," I whispered, as she flinched. "Relax." And amazingly, she did. Her limbs went limp, her eyes closed, and her breathing eased. Passing the dessert cart along, I added to the others, "Don't do anything until everyone has placed their treat." Very quickly, amid giggles and titters, the tray made its way completely around the table, every guest carefully choosing and daubing, paying special attention, I was glad to note, to all her erogenous zones. Penelope was inert, like a sacrifice laid out on the altar. And in a way – a communal serving of sweets – that's exactly what she was about to become.

"Dig in," I commanded, with a flourish, and the nineteen of us began to lick and suck Penelope's body clean. Hoots and laughter soon gave way to a chorus of mmms, and ahhhs. All around the table the company leaned into Penelope's nakedness; probing her nooks and crannies with fingers and tongues; lapping up puddles of liqueur; sharing, with neighbours, servings of mousse or pudding from fleshy hollows; the sucking and slurping echoing about the room.

Our attentions and ministrations were definitely having the desired effect. While endeavoring to stay still, Penelope's hips, nevertheless, began to bounce ever so slightly. Her closed eyes seemed now to be squeezed shut. Tiny sounds – whimpers and mews – emanated from her pursed lips. Still, it was very disappointing how quickly we finished – even allowing time to complete the tongue-bath, lick off much of the residual stickiness. 

But the show must go on, and I was the de facto entertainment coordinator; I embraced the role. I was becoming almost obsessed, in my desire to demonstrate the talents of my very own – very special 'special assistant'. It took a moment of self-talk to calm myself – subdue the frenzy I was creating within; although, I don't think anyone noticed my pause of introspection. They were all either still licking up their own special part, or busy wiping their faces – waiting eagerly to see what would happen next. So, when I gestured to those still engaged, everyone turned their attention to me. I could see the tension in Penelope's body, as she waited for the next indignity-delight.

Standing at my place, I addressed her with a phony dinner-speaker's aplomb. "Well, my dear, we seem to have left you a little agitated." Her eyes opened, and scanned briefly to find me. "I do believe you deserve an orgasm for your own dessert." There was a general murmur of approval around the table. "So I'd like you to masturbate." I put just a little extra emphasis on the word 'masturbate', and paused for a moment, watching her. Her body quivered once, head to toe. I went on, "Put on a show for us. Bring yourself off. We'd really like to see you do that," I looked about, "wouldn't we?" The assent was unanimous. I sat down, feeling satisfied, as Penelope's left hand crept down into her snatch, her right hand to her nipples.

"…a little agitated," was, indeed, an understatement. Penelope's hands had already established a rhythm, mirroring each other – tit and clit. Eyes closed, the tip of her tongue traveled over her parted lips, imparting a shininess that complemented her body's glow. Penelope's arousal was audible in her sighing breath, the subtle working of her hips, and the quiet squelching from her vulva. Her slick labia lay open to her skating fingers as she pulled and pinched first one nipple then the other, squeezing and caressing her boobs while she did. The dance of her left hand became more and more intense, more violent, more aggressive. No longer content with stroking the engorged genital flesh, she began to pinch and pull her lower lips and her clitoris, her left hand now mimicking her right. And with every tweak her hips twitched, her bottom bouncing slightly higher from the white of the tablecloth. The onset of her orgasm was rapid and violent. Stretching her own nipples as she pushed her gaping sex up hard against her own grabbing hand, her puffing and panting became a high, whistling scream. "Oh! Ohh! Uunngh! Ahhhhh!" She exploded into the gasps and groans of ecstasy, swinging her head and squirming her butt, writhing and whimpering in the throes of an extended climax. Only as the crisis gradually passed, did she finally grow slient, lying limp on the table, her eyes still closed, her respiration slowing – a wilted, yet contented centre-piece.

Once again, there was a moment's silence before the table guests came alive with a hearty round of applause. As Penelope regained her senses, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked around as if trying to decide how to extricate herself from a compromising position.

Rolly, always full of extroverted bravado, stood abruptly and began pulling off his clothes. "So much for the preliminaries," he chortled, "let the orgy begin!" He reached onto the table and grabbed Penelope by the arm, looking over at me for some sort of tacit permission.

I simply nodded and smiled, and said to him, "Go right ahead!" With barely a word, he pulled Penelope from the table onto the floor in front of him, spun her around, and pushed her forward. Leaning on her forearms, her hands clasped and her head down, she was the picture of submission. Perhaps I was taking liberties with our 'arrangement', I don't know. But I was sure enjoying myself. She didn't look wholly unhappy, either. Rolly held his hand against the back of her neck as he took her in a peremptory doggy-style – ramming and recoiling like a pneumatic pile-driver. Right away, Penelope was rocking back to meet his every thrust. It was fast and furious. Pulling roughly at her hips, Rolly threw his head back as he slammed himself against her buttocks and let out a primal howl. Pulling out his still turgid meat, he slapped her bottom, then turned, leaving a snail-trail across her cheek, his thirst slaked for the moment.

While everyone quickly got into the spirit of the event, discarding their clothes and falling into many and varied passionate embrace, I still looked for opportunities to direct Penelope's performance. Of course, none of the other guests were at all shy about engaging her in sex of one form or another. As the activity in the room became increasingly lascivious – outrageously titillating – I called over two of the host company, who were spectating at the time. "Give me a hand, will ya?" They sauntered over with curious smiles. "Walter, you lie on your back right here. Penelope, get him stiff, okay?" She followed him to the carpet, her mouth engulfing his penis before his head even hit the floor. "Okay, now Dave, as soon as Ms. Lord, here, mounts him – that's right, hop right on, my dear – I'd like you to thread yourself up her backside. All right?"




With Interest Ch. 5



As soon as they were both fully inserted, I moved around and fed my bouncing erection into her mouth. There is something sinfully delightful about a triple penetration. "Now last one to come wins!" I called. Wins what, nobody asked; nobody really cared. Still a few of the others, not otherwise engaged, gathered around and began to cheer. With Penelope's help, the three of us found a counterpoint, and began fucking in earnest.

In a relatively short time, what with the small crowd shouting and cheering, and Penelope riding them both with incredible alacrity, Dave and Walter came almost as one. Their double ejaculation washed Penelope over the edge of her own rasping, sputtering orgasm. While she was puffing in climax, she thrust her head harder against me, taking me deeper than ever into her throat, pulling me past and sucking my come in spurts right up from my balls. Holding her gasping head tight, I jetted gob after gob of semen down her throat. And suddenly we were still, she on her hands and knees still perched on Walter, pushed back against Dave, still hanging on to their recently spent cocks.

"And, for my prize," I announced to all and sundry, amid the murmurs of appreciation, "I want my dear Ms. Lord to clean off, orally, each of these two fine specimens. Okay?" There was an instant of surprise, or, perhaps, uncertainty in her eyes, but only an instant. I smiled at her beatifically. With a slight nod, she pulled off Dave, scrambled off Walter and turned around. "Dave first," I suggested. So, without any hesitation now, she gobbled up the drooping, dripping snake that had just climbed out of her ass.

The evening was rapidly becoming a cornucopia of sexual activity. Becoming distracted myself, I lost track of Penelope for a short time, but, some time later I caught her eye, between tableaus, as it were, and summoned her over. Begging her sit next to me, I put my arm around her. She snuggled in, warm against my body, head at my shoulder. I could almost feel her purring. "Look at that," I muttered. Directly before us, Jake's partner, Suzie, was being actively fucked doggy-style by Gerry. "What do you think?" I queried, vaguely. Penelope lifted her head to watch the spectacle. Suzie was moaning and puffing and thrusting back against each of Gerry's lunges. "How do you think she tastes, right about now?" Penelope raised her eyes to mine, trying to discern my gist. "You know," I smiled, "I think maybe you should get down under her and find out. Help her out here. Get at her clit. Who knows, maybe she'll reciprocate – know what I mean." Penelope didn't say a word, but simply moved from my side, rolled to her back and began to squirm her way under Suzie, who faltered only a moment before resuming her energetic exhibition – a smile settling on her lips.

As Penelope's bush came even with Suzie's chin, arms appeared from beneath and wrapped tightly around Suzie's rocking thighs. Hidden underneath, between the flexing knees, it was, nevertheless, not difficult to tell when Penelope made contact. Suddenly, Suzie's eyes went wide; her mouth gaped and her breath gasped. Already aroused from the sound pounding she was receiving, Penelope's oral attention carried her swiftly to the peak of orgasm. "Aahh! Oooh! Aaack!" She whipped her head back and forth, swinging her butt in syncopation. Both Gerry and Penelope had to hold fast and ride out the crisis.

"Don't neglect Gerry!" I called as Suzie shook out the last of her climax, letting her head drop to Penelope's slit. The moment her tongue hit Penelope's clit; Penelope's hips began to tremor and shake. At the same time, Gerry's pounding became urgent and frenetic. His howl of pleasure was joined in harmony by a muffled wail from below, as both Gerry and Suzie collapsed, in panting giggles atop my dear assistant.

Just as they were finishing, Marcie, Dave's rather submissive partner, was left lying dazed on the rug, having, herself just been royally fucked by two of the guys. I helped extricate Penelope from the post-orgasmic heap, and without giving her a chance to even catch her breath, I led her over to Marcie. "How about a little sloppy soixante-neuf, eh, girls?" Penelope, too, was somewhat dazed, so, from behind, I positioned her over the supine Marcie, settling her quim onto Marcie's mouth, and pushing her face deep between Marcie's legs. "Eat, eat, eat," I called, holding her firmly by the back of the head, then, lining myself up with her delicious bum, I slowly but firmly insinuated my sprung rod up her rectal passage. Pushing all the way in, I started up a steady in/out, calling out instructions on every back-stroke. "C'mon Marcie, her clit and my balls – lick 'em! Make her come again, Ms. Lord, make her come!"

The smooth inner surface of her tight rectum rippled spasmodically around my swelling, sliding pole, exciting and inciting, until, after far too few strokes, I could feel the ignition sequence triggering in my loins. Marcie's tongue, lapping sporadically, further inflamed, and, suddenly, I was lost – pounding into Penelope's ass with drunken abandon. Volley upon volley of my love liquor nozzled deep into her bowels, her head still buried, her tongue tying knots in Marcie's sodden bush. Before I withdrew, I gestured to Grace and whispered a request in her ear. Good old Grace – when I'd first been introduced, she had added with a ribald wink, "Don't let the name fool you." She was back in a flash.

Pulling out of Penelope with a pop, I lifted her head, settling, for a sec, her pussy hard on Marcie's face. "Okay, Ms. Lord," I still kept some sort of faux-propriety in my voice, "we'd like you to use this, here, device on Marcie." I showed her the mammoth double-ended dildo that I'd got from Grace. Once again, her eyes betrayed just a moment of surprise or disbelief or apprehension. "We," I said, using the royal we, "want you to fuck her – fuck her until you both come. Do you understand?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Jackson," she replied, taking the proffered colossus and inspecting it before rising off Marcie's half-smothered face and moving down between her legs. Marcie just watched passively, with a rather lost-in-lust sort of smile on her face, as Penelope positioned herself between her thighs. Casually sweeping a hand up Marcie's slit, Penelope gathered fluid to lubricate the latex shaft. Then pausing, an inspired grin crossing her lips, she leaned forward and held the massive dildo to Marcie's mouth. "Lick it," she whispered, "Get it good and wet."

Marcie shut her eyes and began meticulously washing the fleshy, rubber cylinder with her tongue and lips, wetting it thoroughly while wiping it clean of her own juices.

Pulling back abruptly, Penelope held the tool threateningly over Marcie's genitals for a moment. Then, with an almost vicious shove, she threaded the monster between pink puffy lips, well up Marcie's gaping hole, eliciting a single, surprised 'Ooomph!' Holding the great curved phallus in place with one hand, and raising herself to a crouch, she straddled the pretend-prick, and, with her own eyes closed in a passion of concentration, she lowered herself down, down, down onto it – engulfing it while forcing it further into Marcie – until there was no longer room for her hand. Marcie's eyes opened wide, her lustful look now more engaged. When they made contact – pubis to pubis – at the slow end of the descent, Penelope placed her hands on Marcie's shoulders, arms straight. Taking her cue, Marcie reached up and grasped Penelope's biceps firmly, her breath already laboured.

Penelope opened her eyes briefly and smiled down at Marcie. "Here we go," she whispered, then, closing her eyes again, she began to rock her hips – very slightly. Marcie picked up the beat – pianissimo andante, to start. But gradually, inexorably, the tempo increased; so did the intensity. Marcie was staring, eyes wide, as if looking for clues from Penelope, whose head was thrown back – eyes shut tight. At every coming together, Marcie let out an 'oof' while Penelope just mewed contentedly. But their rocking soon became pounding, and their pounding thrashing, Their sighs became grunts and their grunts cries – fortissimo allegro! The horizontal bop had morphed into a tarrantella – a wild and frenzied jig – bodies quivering and trembling, glittering and glowing, a spray of sweat forming a mist around them. Everyone else in the room, even those actively engaged, was drawn to pause watch the inevitable. With all other congress on hold, all eyes were on Penelope and Marcie, who, held fast by the rubber bolt, smashed ceaselessly together as they rose to apogee. The room, silent save for the constant bumping and wailing centre-stage, was suddenly rent by blood curdling shrieks, as both Penelope and Marcie experienced obviously mind-blowing orgasms. Marcie's legs kicked and her fingers tore Penelope's arms, now wobbling on rubber elbows. Penelope's arms finally gave way and she collapsed into Marcie's welcoming embrace. Mouth to mouth, they sucked the last whimpering cries from one another, then were still.

A murmur of appreciation swept the room; a few of the others resumed their own carnal activities. Our performers rolled onto their sides, still embracing and let the twitching of their channels gradually expel their latex friend. Dave gathered Marcie up, and, cooing words of praise in her ear, wrapped her in his arms and helped her to a seat. Likewise, giving Penelope muttered words of praise and a comforting hug, I rolled her onto her back, and surveyed the crowd. Many of the group were still watching, as if too tired or too over-stimulated to do anything else. I, too, I have to admit, was somewhat exhausted, but so too was I still aroused; and once a director, always a director. So I smiled over Penelope's enervated body, spread limp on the shag, and asked, with fake innocence, "What else?"

Grace smiled mischievously and purred, "Let me at 'er, will ya?" As she held up her clenched fist ominously, I felt a tingle of amorphous fear, like maybe she was a little too raw – a little too carnal. Still, I'd made the pass, and she'd taken the ball.

"Okay," I assented, basically giving her carte blanche permission to ravish – and, perhaps, ravage – my prized Penelope.

Grace took immediate control, spreading a few of the others around Penelope. "Hold her," she ordered, "Hold her tight." Then, looking down at Penelope, who appeared to be struggling to conceal her apprehension, she added, "And let's not forget to caress her – see if she can be aroused one more time." There was an eerie glint in Grace's eyes as she placed herself between Penelope's knees, and surveyed her tableau. Then she began.

Grasping Penelope's venus mound, Grace twisted and prodded, violently – maliciously. "All right, you little cunt," she hissed, "let's see how well you respond to this." Her manipulation was almost malevolent in its intensity. She stretched and pinched, stroked and separated. Penelope heaved against her manual bondage, her breath coming in gasps at every indignity. Running fingers up her slit, Grace gathered and spread the precipitated influx of lubrication. Dipping, first one finger, then two, then three between the engorged labia, Grace continually bothered and teased Penelope's clitoris. Already Penelope was gasping and moaning and heaving her hips, despite or consequent to the constant violation of her genitals. Tongues and fingers caressed and stroked on the periphery – nipples, ears, hands, limbs – oblivious to the manual assailing of her pubis. And Grace persisted – pushing and prodding, bothering, tweaking – a thumb at her clit, her labia tugged and rent, her vagina opened and invaded.

Grace's body, itself, had acquired a sheen of perspiration, her breath now gasping and ragged, almost complementary to Penelope. She pushed, inserting her fingers with a lewd urgency. Her other hand twiddling with a frantic agitation that was nearly manic. Pushing harder, adding yet another finger, Grace muttered, "How does it feel now – your cunt – is it full enough, eh?" The other participants watched wide-eyed, as they continued to lick – and restrain. Not that Penelope was trying to escape. She just heaved and tossed in an ever-growing arousal – boiling and bubbling – a swelling excitement that seemed to grow uncontrollably. Working four fingers in and out of Penelope's vagina, Grace, too, was caught up in the burgeoning fervour. Tucking her thumb in, alongside her index finger, she pushed again – feverishly demanding entrance, at the same time clenching her hand into a fist.

Realistically, Grace's fist and forearm were no bigger than Marcus' prick, which Penelope had accommodated successfully, nonetheless, I had begun to regret saying anything; in any case, it was too late – too late to stop the current proceedings. To call a halt now might mean losing face with clientele – certainly an undesirable prospect. I silently reprimanded myself for letting it come down to business, at a time like this – still, I watched silently, like the rest of them, hoping things wouldn't get too far out of control – hoping I wouldn't need to intervene. There was a definite hint of sadism in Grace's relentless pushing and forcing. Insistently and adamantly she shoved, until, finally, Penelope's lipped passage – her gateway to heaven – opened and reluctantly swallowed the persistent hand – engulfing Grace's forearm, well past her wrist.

Once implanted, Grace began a slow withdrawal and insertion – a gleeful, if dazed grin spread across her face. Pulling back until the base of her thumb showed, then ramming herself back into Penelope's velvet cavern, more, it seemed, than a foot deep, Grace's eyes glazed. Penelope gasped, "Ooomph!" at every entrance, and drew a quick, whimpering inhale with each retraction. More and more rapidly, Grace's pounding became a frenzied blur – her breath coming in ragged wheezes. Penelope's eyes were wide. She bucked and tossed under her captive hands, although whether through distress or delight was initially unclear. Whatever the underlying sentiment, her bouncing buttocks eventually joined the rhythm of the assault, and, with her breathy moans rising to a whistling pinnacle, she suddenly crested, pushing her abdomen hard against the invading fist and screaming out her arrival. Her arms and legs tensed against the restraining hands, and her back arched to meet and hold the invasive limb. Shaking uncontrollably, Penelope tossed her head from side to side. Grace, flexing her fist deep inside, watched the waves of ecstasy roll over her victim, in echo after receding echo until finally Penelope lay, still impaled – limp beneath the relaxing grips of her captors.

Gazing at her sweat-soaked body, fading in and out of a post-orgasmic trance, I wondered what Penelope was thinking – how did she feel? In some sort of way, she almost seemed to welcome the surprises – welcome the extremes. I didn't understand, and, watching her limp figure lying there, as the evening came to an end, and my mania petered out, I felt more than a little foolish. Sure I had impressed a depraved bunch of degenerates, but what had I done to my own increasingly precious relationship? Had I dealt a body-blow to yet another relationship, for how could an 'arrangement' like this – whatever 'this' was – possibly survive behaviour like that – what I had basically subjected her to? How could it possibly last?

In a daze, we donned our clothing and gathered up our belongings. Taking leave of both colleagues and hosts, wrapping Penelope loosely in a blanket, we finally left – stumbling out of the hotel, into a waiting cab. All the way home, in frantic, perhaps pathetic whispers, I tried to apologize for my insensitivity and aggression, but Penelope would have none of it. Cooing incoherently, she simply closed her eyes and snuggled her head into my shoulder. Try as I might, I couldn't get her to respond; she wouldn't acknowledge my regrets. Finally, she opened her eyes and raised her head. Looking at me with alert, steel eyes, she said, in no uncertain terms, "Stop apologizing! I don't want to hear any more pleas of repentance. They're unnecessary – and unseemly." As my eyelids opened wider, hers sagged closed once more. She muttered, tiredly, "It was all just part of the job." And with a dismissive wave of her hand, she sloughed off any further discussion.

When, at last, I escorted her to her door, she said, almost timidly, "Come in for a bit, eh?"

"Uh, sure. Yeah. Thanks," I responded, somewhat flustered. In all this time, I had never been in her condo. I turned and dismissed the taxi – I could always get another, if necessary.

Once inside, Penelope, shed the blanket in foyer and walked, naked, to her buffet. She poured a short scotch, neat, and, giving it to me, asked, almost shyly, "Would you like to stay the night?" Despite all, I was, for some reason, taken by surprise; for, amazingly we had never actually 'slept' together. I was both flattered and confused. Hadn't she just had more sex than anyone could possibly want? Of course, I accepted and followed her to her room, still a little unsure of myself. Emerging from a quick shower, she bashfully offered me the same. When I came out, she was already in bed. It felt odd to climb between the soft, clean sheets. She extinguished the bedside lamp; we came together in an unexpectedly chaste embrace, and fell asleep that way. It had been a long and eventful evening.

In the quiet of the early morning, awake unnecessarily early, I began to suspect that, maybe, more than surprising her, the outrages of the night before had more or less sealed our 'arrangement' – sealed the roles that we had assumed over the past many, many months – whether or not they were actually director/compliant, master/slave, dominant/submissive, or something else completely. Maybe I had been unconsciously testing the solidity, or integrity of the 'directed-sex' aspect of our relationship.

–– o ––

Just over a month before the second anniversary of our 'arrangement', I said to Penelope, "Hey, hold off on lunch, okay?" She gave me her usual 'What now?'-look. "We're closing the office for the afternoon," I announced, not giving any reasons, "and goin' for a late lunch. Okay?"

"Whatever you say, boss," she answered with an affectionate flippancy.

We arrived and were shown to our table in a dim back corner of Extrapolate, an extremely posh, trendy and expensive restaurant in the financial district of the city. There in the quiet, early afternoon, for a late lunch, the subdued lighting on full white tablecloths, the susurrus of the formal staff gliding among the tables, the whispering of the other guests, all lent an air of the surreal. I ordered a vintage red, raising a toast as soon as the waiter had vanished. "Here's to you, Ms. Lord. To a huge debt, almost retired – an onerous task met with resolve and strength. To you."

"Thank you," she replied as we clinked glasses and sipped, our eyes locked together.

"Actually," I went on, "it's not quite retired. By my calculation, there remains a balance of a little over two hundred bucks." Penelope took my meaning immediately, just as I suspected she would. Setting her glass carefully down, a slight, mischievous smile rose to her lips as she patted them dry with her napkin. Then, without any more ado, without a word, without even checking about for observant staff, she held her dress, and slipped neatly beneath the table linen. With a quick check, myself, I was, perhaps, just slightly disappointed to note that no one was watching.

Expertly, she released my already thickening hard-on, and smoothly swallowed it right to the base. By God, she was talented. Gazing glassy-eyed across the elegant dining room, listening to the quiet murmur of private conversation, I found myself responding rapidly, urgently to her practiced ministrations. Long, slow strokes, laving the entire length of my still growing erection, were punctuated by deep, sudden plunges, my glans banging violently the back of her throat. It was really too much for anyone, so, placing my hands at the sides of her head, I held her tight, fully impaled as my hips bucked and jerked, spewing strings of jism far down her gullet. She received my tribute with nary a sputter, working her suction until I was completely drained. As she let me fall from her lips, I felt her using her napkin to dry my drooping member, before replacing him gently and closing my fly.




With Interest Ch. 5



Penelope re-emerged at her place, with an easy look of propriety, just as our waiter approached the table. He hesitated for a moment, but I beckoned him approach. His eyes were wide as he tried not to stare at my lunch partner. Penelope gave him an innocent smile as she finished straightening herself, touched her slightly soiled napkin to her lips, then consulted the menu, as if nothing had occurred. "Thank you," I said to her, before turning my attention to our order.

Lunch was, of course, terrific, and we engaged in chatter of little consequence as we ate. Once dessert and coffees were served, and we were alone again, I came to the point I had been avoiding. "Well, Penny, your debt to us is completely repaid; you've completed your obligation admirably, so I guess you're free to go. You can gather your belongings from the office this afternoon. Good luck." I tried to keep my voice as neutral as possible. Penelope's jaw dropped and she leaned forward, staring at me wide-eyed.

"You're kidding," she muttered, "aren't you?"

I raised my eyebrows, "No. It's true. You're finished."

In the moment's silence, Penelope's cheeks flushed bright red. There was anger in her voice as she spoke. "Hold on. You can't just throw me away like that – discard me like a – a – used condom. You can't get rid of me that easily."

"I'm not tossing you away; I'm setting you free. Our contract is ended."

"But, what if I don't want to be free?" she asked, becoming loud and agitated, an edge of hysteria in her tone.

I don't know if I really was surprised, but I know I was delighted. I gestured for calm, replying, "Well, I don't know. I never thought of that." And I had deliberately, over the past year, not let myself go there. "I mean, as wonderful as you are – as you've been, you've cost the business well over half a million dollars so far. I don't know that we can afford to keep you on."

Regaining her composure, somewhat – sitting up erect and straightening her shoulders, she said slowly, with certainty, "Then I'll work for less." Her business-like statement didn't quite mask her desperate eagerness.

"Well, I'd have to think about that," I said, shaking my head. I pulled out my Palm, more as an object of focus than for the few simple calculations I did on it. "Okay," I said, looking into her anxious visage, "I can keep you on for twenty bucks an hour." She tensed and let out a faint gasp, but I continued before she could say anything. "Your bonuses, however – I don't know. I think the best I can do is ten percent – that is, one tenth your previous scale." I laid my hands on the table in a gesture of helplessness, and said quietly, "Will that work for you?"

It was her turn to shake her head. "No," she replied softly.

"I – what else can I…"

"No," she repeated, interrupting me, then reaching across the table she took my hands in hers. I stared at her, puzzled.

She shook her head sadly, and dropped her gaze then went on softly, "No bonuses."

"What?" I wasn't sure I'd heard her correctly.

"No bonuses. I've prostituted myself enough."

I felt a stab of dread rise in my core. "Oh my God," I thought, "I mean, as fabulous a business assistant as she is, I don't think I could now, suddenly, do this as a non-sexual relationship. I couldn't handle that." She raised her face and looked in my eyes, seeing, no doubt, my fear and confusion, but she smiled.

"I love my job," she explained, "although, based on some deeply residing morality, I don't always actually like it – some of what I've been called upon to do." I waited, wondering where this was going. "While I have always performed my duties conscientiously," she said wryly, "I'm still whoring – there's no denying that." She paused, finding her words. "And – that notwithstanding – I've come to realize, as much as I think this must all be somehow wrong – old morals do die hard – I – what? – crave, I guess, crave the carnality of our arrangement – of my position. I don't know if the vast spectrum of sex I've had has been a curse or a blessing, but it has been a mind-blowing, eye-opening experience. I think I know, now, how a drug addict feels – the incredible highs, the transient regrets." Penelope released my hands and let her own fall palm-up on the table between us. Shrugging her shoulders, she said, "I'm addicted to this – I'm addicted to directed sex." She shook her head again, slowly, meditatively, as if even she too were surprised by her candor.

Then shaking off her own wonder at the way things work out, she completed her explanation, clearly, almost formally. It was, indeed, an acceptance speech. "So I will gladly accept the position at twenty dollars an hour. But I no longer want to have to look upon the extra activities in which I partake as duties or obligations, nor do I want you to view them as services rendered." She leaned forward, as if to emphasize her next point, and speaking in a voice of complete earnestness, she continued. "I still want to perform those extras, but only because I want to – because you've asked me to. Don't worry, I'll still do what you ask, whether that be sucking a client or gangbanging associates, but I'll do it because I've chosen to." She paused, holding me with her eyes, then added, "And because I love you."

"Jesus, Penny. What can I say?"

"You can tell me, Mr. Jackson, that you still want me to work for you – that I still have the job," she said modestly.

"Of course I do," I stuttered, "Of course you have!" We stared at each other for, it seemed, a very long time, both of us trying to read something incomprehensibly hidden in the other's eyes.

Finally, in no more than a whisper, she said, "Thank you, sir."

"And, Penny," I breathed, surprising myself with my honesty, "I love you, too!"

She leaned into me, snaking her hands into my shirt, pressing her cheek against my chest. Encircling her shoulders, I held her, still and silent. My castle in the sky had taken on substance – transcended the fantastic – and, with increasing resolution, our implausible reality persisted.





With Interest



I said "What's your point?"

Molly said "Do you think Ted would want to screw me. Do you think he would just think of me as his mother or just an older lady, an older horny older lady?"

I said "Christ Molly what the fuck are you thinking? Do you want to fuck Ted? You know I've never been jealous but this is beyond jealousy. Incest is a little different don't you think?"

Molly had a few drinks that is true but I thought she was thinking out side the bottle. I said "Are you drunk?"

"Not really but you rally would like to get in Sara's pants. I was just thinking if Ted and I were to just sit there and watch or what?"

I said "Good-night Molly ... sleep it off and we'll talk again in the morning."

In days past when Molly and I were into swinging. I had watched her get fucked by guys and I had watched her suck other guys cock too. I had fucked in front of her too. But then I was fucking sweet little Sara and there next to us on the bed was my son Ted between his mothers' legs pounding her ass into the mattress. In my dream I was so aroused by seeing this I shot off filling little Sara with the biggest load of my entire life. Watching Ted screw his mother was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen ... it drove me crazy. I wanted to fuck Molly right after Ted for a quick sloppy second.


I woke in the morning with a hard on to beat all hard ons... Molly was out of bed and not in the room. Disappointed I slipped on a pair of shorts and went down stairs. 

I heard voices in the kitchen and paused at the arch way. Sara was in the kitchen talking to Molly. 

Sara said "Mom, I need some advice and I have no one to turn too. Can I talk openly to you about my marriage and sex life? Ted is a wonderful lover and I love him dearly but he and I have had a somewhat open marriage if you know what I mean. Oh, of course you do. I know you and Dad had the same open marriage thing years ago. So is it okay if we talk?"

I could hear Molly gagging and trying to fine the words to answer Sara. Molly said "How do you know what Ed and I did when we were young?"

Sara said all most off handedly "When I first started dating Ted my Father told me he had heard you and Dad were into swinging when you were young. I was not a virgin and had had a few lovers so I just put that aside and forgot about it. Then after we were married Ted brought up the idea of swinging and we talked about it. I told him what my Dad had told me and Ted said he knew all about it. He said he had talked to someone that knew you back years ago. He thought you guys swinging was cool. So he thought maybe we should we should have a little fling before we start a family. This is what I want to talk to you about."

I could still hear Molly gasping for breath as the idea of Ted knowing we had been swingers sunk into her head. All this time we thought we had been so secretive about our swinging and all this time Ted had known. I wondered if he had ever thought about screwing his mother back then or now even. 

Molly did not find the words to say anything so Sara went on. "Mom, We've met a couple of friends that are like minded and we've had a few swinging parties in a group and Ted has been seeing one of the ladies from work. I've been with a couple of old friends and we've gotten into this swinging big time. I want to stop going out and seeing other on our own. I want us to just swing with a couple of close friends and keep it small and I want us to always be together when ever we do swing. What do you think?"

Molly sat down hard and was about to say some thing when the back door open and Ted came in. 

"Hi Mom. Hi baby." He kissed his mother on the cheek and Sara on the mouth. There was a heavy stillness in the room. Then Ted said "So what did I interrupt? Some girl to girl talk. Should I go and leave you to it?"

Sara said "No Ted stay. I've been asking your mother for advice. I was asking her advice on or about our swinging. So far she has not answered me. Did I do wrong? I'm sorry if I talked out of turn."

Ted seemed shock for a moment then said "No love. It would have come out sooner or later any way. 


I'm sorry you had to find out Mom. But we know it's a subject you know about. You and Dad know about. We had some fun at it and Sara has expressed a desire to cut back to just a few close friends and I think it would be prudent to do so. However there is one older lady I've seen a few times on my own I'd like to bring into this small group. She is close to your age Mom and I think you and Dad have known her from years past. She has told me about some of the parties you guys had years ago. But there is a big (IF) involved. Marlene wants to get to know you and Dad again in a sexual way. I really enjoy Marlene but if this is going to bring trouble into my life, or your lives then I'll tell Marlene to forget it."

Just about as quick as I heard those words I could see dear old Marlene in a vision from years ago. But at the same time I could see dear Sweet Sara in the same picture. I know I have a fixation on little Sara and her tiny sweet ass. I wanted to get involved with Sara and yet I knew deep down if that ever happened Ted would have to be included with Molly and me. Some thing was going around in my head so fast I could not get a grasp on it. But I knew what it was. I wanted to see Ted fucking his mother. I wanted to fuck Sara and if Ted has been fucking Marlene I wanted to be part of that too. 

I want back to the stairs and called out to Molly asking if breakfast was ready and stepped into the kitchen acting so surprised to see the kids here. I kissed Molly, hugs and kissed Sara and shook Ted's hand. I invited them all to sit and have breakfast.

No one moved as I took my seat at the end of the table. I looked around taking each face in one at a time. When I got back around to Molly she broke down and tears started running down her chubby cheeks. 

I said "What the hell is going on?"

Ted said "Dad I think Sara and I should go and leave this go for another day."

I said "What the fuck does that mean. I come in here to find you mother crying and you want to leave it for another day. I don't think so. Now what the hell is going on?"

Sara moved to put an arm around Molly and Ted pulled out a chair and sat down facing me. Ted said "Dad it's like this. Sara and I have gotten into swinging with a few friends and Sara came over to ask Mom for some advice. I walked in on it and you came in. That is pretty much where it stands right now. I told Mom we, knew that you two had done some swinging years ago and that I have been seeing an older lady that knew you both back when. You do remember a lady named Marlene don't you Dad?"

I looked perplexed and swallowed as if this was all new to me. I gasped and said "I guess there are no secretes in a close family. Yes we knew Marlene year ago."

I paused and then said "Ok; enough of this bull shit. Your mother and I knew you kids were into swinging now for a few days. 


I may as well tell you flat out we know the Ranger lady from the park. We know about Sara being there with friends. However we did not know about you and Marlene until just now. So my question is this. What do we do know? Are you kids asking mother and I to start swinging all over again to include Marlene so you can keep screwing her on the side or include her in to a group of your choice but with out us?"

Ted looked at me and I could see the same question that worried Molly was now floating around in my Son's head. 

Ted looked straight at me and said "I know what you're thinking and I've thought about it as well. Every time I get Marlene in bed I see Mom in my mind and I know its wrong as hell by some standards, but:' Ted looked up at Molly and almost with out blinking he went on. "As far as I'm concerned and Sara and I have talked about it. We would like to include you both in too our small fun group. I know this is hard for Mom and we, Mom and I don't have to; to" and again he said "To" 

I helped out and said "We understand Ted. But at the same time do you really think your mother and you could just stand around and watch and not be part of it. Speaking for myself I've admitted to Mom that I would love to fuck Sara and have for a long time. So how can we be part of this group and not be entwined with you both?"

There was not a word spoken for several seconds and those seconds seem like an eternity. 

"Ted said "Okay, I see your point. I'll tell Marlene it's a no go and we'll not bother you two again about this again.


We need not talk about this anymore. If Sara and I continue to swing if will only be with our very closest friends of our age."

This had not gone the way I wanted it too but what could I do. I looked up at Molly and Sara who were still hugging and shivering in each other arms. I saw a little tweak of a smile on Sara's face. Did I see that or not. Was Sara thinking maybe we could have a few moments to our selves after this all went under the rug? I looked at Molly and nodded my head toward Ted and curled up my lips in such a way as I was asking her to say something or do something. Molly had seen this look on my face enough times over the years she knew I was asking her for her opinion.

Molly pulled away from Sara to come and stand next to me. Molly rested a hand on my shoulder and said "Dad and I were doing the same thing you kids are doing now back when we were your ages. We have a very good and satisfying sex life. We have also been recently been brought into swinging again. We've been with the Ranger lady and we found we enjoyed this once again as we had years ago. Dad has expressed a desire to have Sara and I have mixed emotions about that. I want for Dad and I to see Carol again and she expressed a desire to bring a friend to our next party. So you see we're all really doing the same thing and avoiding the question of what's to be done about Ted and I we're the only two in the whole group that are blood kin. So what we're asking is if okay for us to be incestuous while everyone else is not. Isn't that the only question we're stumbling over?"

Again Molly hit the nail on the head and came straight to the point. Molly's finger dug into my shoulder while we waited for Ted and Sara to think this over and let it sink in. 

Ted said "As I said already Sara and I have talked it over and Sara has expressed a desire to crawl under the covers with Dad too. I see nothing wrong with that. So let me suggest we four right now go up stairs and let thing happen. If it comes to a point that Mom and I can not enjoy one another than so be it. We'll go our separate ways and nothing will ever be said about it again."

I stood before anyone could add or disagree with Ted's suggestion. On the way up stairs Molly tried to get my attention by gripping my arm but I only smiled at her and pulled her along.

Sara and Ted were quick to drop their clothing and I followed after I had helped Molly get her top off. I dropped my shorts and my hard-on sprang free pointing the way. 

I had no intentions of not getting into Sara's tight little pussy so I pulled her toward the bed letting Molly and Ted to work their feeling out once and for all. 

I was surprised how quickly Sara rolled over top of me and was head to toe with me. She grabbed my cock swallowed nearly all of it and squatted over my face. My tongue found her pussy wet and strangely pungent as if she had been recently fucked. But at this point I did not care. I had an eye open watching Molly and Ted. 


It was Ted who made the first move. He took his mother into his arms and hugged her. Molly was as stiff as an iron rob and there was an iron rod quivering and poking between her legs. Molly was not returning Ted hug but she was showing signs of relaxing just a little.

Molly moved back an inch or two. Ted reached down to pull her ass closer. I could only see part of their actions because of Sara's thigh but I got the feeling Molly was not at all thrilled to have her son hugging her naked body with his naked body. 

Sara lifted her mouth off my cock and lifted a leg pulling her pussy away from my mouth. Disappointed as I was I waited to see what was coming next. I was surprised as Sara grabbed my cock and said to Molly "Here Mom help me out with this."

I thought Sara was about to give Molly a way out of a bad situation. But in fact Sara was smarted than either of us. Molly jumped at the chance to get out of Ted's grip. She twisted free and quickly lowered her head over my stiff cock and gobbled it deep into her mouth. There was no doubt in my mind like it or not Molly was excited and even though Ted was the one that got Molly turned on she was now taking her frustrations out on my cock. That was a good thing. Sara watched Molly get totally involved with me and my cock before she signaled to Ted. 


Molly was bent over at the waist and Sara was standing in such a way as to keep Molly from squatting or kneeling on the bed over me. Ted moved in close grabbed Molly by the hips and with the help of dear Sara to guide his cock toward his mother's pussy Ted rammed his cock home to the hilt and pulled back on Molly's hips giving her every inch he had. 

Molly lifted her head off my cock open her mouth to scream but nothing came from her lips. Molly looked up at me pleading with her eyes but not really pulling back. I took her head in my hands told her I loved her and pulled her head back down over my cock. Molly strained to keep away from my cock but then all of a sudden she blinked, tears filled her eyes and she lowered her head. 

Ted was in some kind of frenzy whopping and yelling as he banded away faster and faster. Ted was fucking his mother like a crazy man. Sara was hugging Molly around the shoulders and whispering in to her ear. I could not hear the words but whatever Sara as saying seemed to mellow Molly's fears.

Ted cried out and pushed deep into his mother and held his cock there jerking and moaning. Ted then pulled back and slowly worked his cock in and out finishing himself off. The seed was planted and there was nothing anyone could do now. Molly was no longer sliding her mouth up and down my cock. She slid off to the side and flopped on the bed letting her legs dangle on the floor. I was stunned and frightfully aroused by all this. 


I reached down and patted my darling wife's head. Sara was kneeling before Ted sucking the juices from his cock. I did not think Molly had reached a climax so I fell back on the bed closed my eyes.

When I woke the kids were gone and I heard Molly in the shower. I had a few minutes to think and I was afraid maybe I had made a terrible mistake in letting this go too far. I thought I'd apologize to Molly and tell her we could forget the whole thing and just stay out of the kids business. I'll tell her we had our day so let the kids have theirs. 

I'll tell her it was all a big mistake and I'm sorry we or I got her involved. I'll tell her I know she was not ready for what happened and I'll make sure we're not in that position ever again and she will never have to endure those feeling ever again.

Then I let the vision of Sara going down on me fill my head and the excitement of that started to get me hard again. Then I thought of Carol and how Molly and she had enjoyed one another I hoped that would take care of Molly's needs for a while. In the back of my mind I was still thinking we had a few good years to swing some if we wanted too. I'll have to play that by ear and see where Molly wants to go with this.

Molly came out rubbing her hair with a towel and sat on the side of the bed. We looked at each other. I started to open my mouth; Molly put her hand over my mouth. I fell back and locked my lips.

Molly said "I don't know how much you had to do with what happened but, but it happened and that can not be changed. Ted apologized on the way out and Sara was just as sorry about what happened. But Sara said some thing in my ear all the time Ted was; well doing me. Sara said "Its just a cock, its just another wonderful cock. You like to fuck so let that cock fuck you. Its just another cock."

Molly looked at me smiled and grabbed my cock. We made love and I do mean love. We were not just fucking for the sake of lust but we were making love. I could feel it Molly could feel it and afterwards as we lay locked in one another's arms we shared this wonderful feeling as never before. 

I said "Am I to understand you've come to some kind of resolution within yourself with regards to Ted and us swinging with the kids?"

Molly said "I have and I think we can all be a group within a group. I really don't want to swing where some others would see me and Ted going at it. However if its just the four of us then maybe and I say maybe I can live with it."

I said "How about Carol she is already involved in a round about way? And of course Ted still wants to see Marlene and I'm sure that Marlene will find out sooner or later. Don't you think?"

Molly looked at me with great interest and said "I guess you're right there is not way we can keep it a secret. 


Why don't you call the kids or go over and invite them over for dinner tomorrow and we can talk it over." 

I said "Molly my dear why don't we invite Carol and Marlene too. I think we need to see if they are interested in this arrangement?"

Molly laughed and said "That's fine lets do it next Friday but I want to have just the kids over tomorrow night. I need to see how it goes and if they are interested in this arrangement." 

I looked at Molly and she just smiled and I knew what ever I had in the back of my mind it was all coming together with interest. I was getting more bang for the buck.