11 comments/  66509 views/  44 favorites

Amber's New Job Ch. 01

By: MaryAnderson



The man interviewing me was a good looking man. Not a gorgeous man, but a good looking man. His musculature showed he worked out, but still he carried about ten pounds more than his ideal weight. Brown hair, a couple of inches shy of six feet, good nose, thin lips. He did have beautiful blue eyes.

I had just finished my sophomore year in college and was looking for a job. The yogurt shop where I'd worked the previous summer had invited me back, but I was looking for something different, especially in the way of avoiding a balding overweight boss who, when he wasn't pawing me, was leering at me. My Mom, who worked in the clerk of court's office, heard that the filing clerk for Richard & Richard, a local husband and wife law firm, had left and mentioned me to Ron Richard. I was in his office being interviewed.

His office was a mess. The paperless revolution had not made it to this guy; books, papers, and files were piled everywhere. His furniture and decorations seemed as if selected at random. His clothes matched his office. His tie and a couple of buttons on his shirt were undone and it had been several hours since he'd checked his hair. He did, however, have an "aw shucks" kind of charm and, according to Mom, was great in front of a jury; jurors instantly identified with him. Big city lawyers in their three thousand dollar suits and matching trial bags had, Mom said, often left the courtroom on the short end of million dollar verdicts wondering what had just happened.

I figured if I interviewed only with him, I had the job. My name is Amber Church. At the time I was nineteen years old, attended a throughly mediocre local college, and was considered a party girl. It was true; I liked to party, hit the bars, tease the boys. Guts loved to buy me drinks, dinner, or most anything else I wanted; I was a shameless and talented flirt. My looks didn't hurt. My Cajun ancestry had left me a dark complexion, brown, almost black, hair that cascaded in long elegant waves past my shoulder blades and although no gym rat, I had a great figure and inherited my Mom's ample chest. I liked wearing short skirts or slit dresses to show off my legs. Don't get me wrong, I was no slut. I'd been with far fewer men than most people supposed.

However, while I was pulling my flirt on Ron, he didn't seem to be buying into it. It was more like he was watching me, evaluating my technique. I kept plowing ahead, I didn't have a Plan B. If guys were not buying my looks and personality, I wasn't sure what else I had to sell.

Our interview was interrupted by a knock on the door. A woman entered. Ron's face lit up. Completely focused on her, he popped up from his chair, took her hand in his, and kissed her on the cheek.

"This is Michelle, my wife and the brains of the operation."

Fuck, no wonder he wasn't buying my act, she was fricking gorgeous. My mother had said she was pretty, but Mom was being catty; Michelle left pretty in the dust a county or two back. Michelle was, I would learn, seven years younger than her thirty-three year old husband. She was five feet five inches tall with long straight blond hair. She had a round face with pronounced cheek bones, large emerald eyes, and a wide mouth which featured a set of thick luscious lips.

She was wearing a gray Armani taffeta pencil skirt and a matching melange jacket that accented her curvy figure. She walked, almost glided, across the room. Her perfume was a light floral, sexy but appropriate for the office. After I stood to shake her hand she sat down next to me. She brushed her hair back with her small hand, which featured perfectly manicured nails bearing deep red nail polish, and looked me in the eye, capturing my attention. Her skin was a pale white and her make-up, except for bright red lipstick, understated. My eyes were drawn to her full lips. She smiled at me, flashing a perfect set of teeth, and crossed her legs. 

"It's good to meet you," she said. There was a hint of a Southern accent in her soft spoken voice. I leaned forward to ensure I heard every word.

She was direct, to the point. Each word was enunciated precisely. "Much of what we would ask you to do is boring, but it must be done right. A piece of evidence filed in the wrong file may never be found again. If you mistakenly stuff a letter intended for a client into an envelope addressed to an opposing lawyer, we could lose a case. If we miss a hearing date because you did not correctly calender it, we commit malpractice. More than anything else this job requires someone with the right personality, someone whose focus is on doing the job, no matter what job, right."

She wasn't describing me. I was a good time girl. Yet, I wanted to impress this woman.

She saw my hesitation.

"You have doubts?"

"Yes," I confessed, wondering why I was admitting that in a job interview.

"Why don't we get to know each other better. Ron is cooking out tomorrow. Can you drop by for lunch, around 1:00."

"I'd like that very much."

"Good." She handed me a card. "Send a text to this number. I'll forward the address."

She stood up and kissed my cheek with her full sexy lips, her hand on my shoulder. My stomach fluttered. "I look forward to talking with you further. Ron will tell you more about the job." 

She turned to her husband. "I made 6:30 reservations at Cochon's," an award-winning restaurant in the city. "We'll need to close early today. I'll let Denise know."

She left the room. I watched. She had a great ass. 

* * * *

I lived with two girls. Dana's gorgeous, a blonde whom everyone notices when she walks into a room. Kathy is sweet and pretty, but has a little trouble keeping off the weight. The three of us and Jenny, who was living with her boyfriend of the moment, went to high school together. We were BFFs. There used to be five of us. Then Corrine slept with my boyfriend.

Dana, Kathy, and I hit the college bars that night. I told them about my job interview. Somehow, however, it felt like a private experience and I didn't, as I normally would, share everything. I didn't describe how striking Mrs. Richard was or tell them about tomorrow's lunch or of the generous hourly wage Ron had mentioned. 

It was a typical Friday night. I flirted with guys, they flirted back and bought me beers. I wasn't really into it, which meant I drank more than I should. I thought about Mrs. Richard in a place like this. It seemed unworthy of her. At some point Dana left with a guy I barely remembered. It was about two in the morning when Kathy poured my alcohol-soaked body into bed. 

I opened my eyes to 11:30 on the alarm clock. Shit, I had to be at the Richards in ninety minutes. I stumbled to the kitchen, gulped down some stinky coffee Kathy had made who knows when, and crawled into the shower. My head hurt; I was some hung over. As I tried to wash the feeling away, I silently thanked the landlord for the large hot water heater. I considered straightening my hair for a more mature look, but realized that I didn't have the time. I chose my best pair of blue jeans, a matching pink silk shirt, and some wedge sandals. While putting on my make-up I noticed my blood shot eyes, I grabbed the Visine.

The Richards lived north of town on a semi-rural road known for its ostentatious homes. Theirs was not visible from the road. I was only five minutes late when I started down a long driveway through a wooded lot. When I arrived I was struck by the home's elegance. Smaller than most on the road, it featured high ceilings, large windows, and plenty of outdoor living space. When I got out of the car I heard Mrs. Richard's call, "Amber, over here." She was sitting on a side deck built around the trunk of a large oak, which shaded half the house. 

My impression of the previous day was right on; this was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. She wore a designer oversized tee shirt whose sheer fabric revealed a Helmut Lang asymmetric bra, black leggings, and black leather platform ankle boots. Her hair was pulled back in a french twist. She met me at the edge of the deck and kissed me on the cheek.

"How was the opera, Mrs. Richard?"

"Good, not great. The company is not world class, but I always love the evening out. And please, call me Michelle. Why don't we sit down."

She guided me to some outdoor furniture. Crackers, pate, and Evian bottled water were waiting on an antique silver tray. "Unfortunately my husband's at the office dealing with an emergency. I'm afraid our cook-out will be delayed."

We had chatted for only a few minutes when Michelle asked, "Too much to drink last night?"

"Yeah, I mean yes. Is it that obvious?"

"No, not really. You are moving gingerly and Visine is not a 100% fix. I also noticed the direct sunlight was bothering you and you wouldn't touch the pate but loved the water. Let's move inside."

She picked up the tray and we headed towards the house, entering a large living room. It was elegant and livable, full of beautiful, but comfortable, furniture and art work. 

I sat down. Michelle, her face sympathetic, said, "My family has a secret hangover cure. I'll whip one up for you."

While she was gone I wandered the room, looking at the art. Michelle returned with a glass full of a brown liquid. I noticed she had replaced the previous day's bright red nails with a French manicure. The concoction smelled surprisingly good and, while short of delicious, was fully palatable. As Michelle had promised it was effective; I soon found myself feeling better.

Embarrassed that I had appeared hung over for an interview with this perfect woman in this perfect house, I began an explanation. 

"I and two girlfriends went to a nightclub last night. I really wasn't enjoying myself all that much, but guys kept sending me drinks. I should have stopped sooner."

Michelle leaned forward, leaving me some dignity, "I remember those days. I let it happen more than I should." Her perfume, which I could smell now that we were indoors, was fresh and sweet. "Flirting for beers I called it."

She had me nailed, "Yeah, something like that." I imagined Michelle in the bar. She wouldn't be accepting beers, she'd have the boys outside washing her car. Sitting next to her not a guy would notice me.

Our conversation quickly turned to less embarrassing topics. Michelle was smart and funny, attentive, witty and warm. I enjoyed her company; it didn't feel like an interview. Unfortunately, I also started noticing something else. While struck by Michelle's beauty on Friday, I had not paid particular attention to her breasts. The suit she had worn emphasized her curves, not her chest. 

What she wore today flattered her bosom or, more accurately, her bosom flattered what she wore today. Her breasts were not only large, but perfectly shaped, round and full. I kept glancing at them; somehow I'd become one of the horn dog guys who couldn't keep their eyes off my chest. I wanted to stop, but my eyes kept drifting down. Shit, I thought to myself, I'm the worst interviewee in human history. I show up hung over and now I'm ogling my prospective employer. I hoped Michelle didn't notice, but Michelle seemed to notice anything. 

She soon made it clear that she had. "You like my breasts, don't you?"

"Uh, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry."

"It's a straightforward question, please answer it." 

"Yes, yes, I mean they're beautiful." 

She raised her arms and stretched. Her chest moved up and out. "I spend a lot of time in the gym and practicing yoga. It helps." My tear shaped boobs, which I had always thought one of my better features, seemed inadequate. 

Then she said something wholly unexpected. "Think about it, do you want to kiss them?"

I don't believe I had consciously entertained the thought, but suddenly my mouth was watering. The answer was yes, desperately yes. I looked into her eyes, did she really want me to say it? There was no doubt there, she was serious. 

"Yes."

Almost nonchalantly - how often did this happen to her? - she removed her tee shirt and bra, laying them across the chair behind her. Her small pink areolas surrounded pert rosy nipples. I licked my lips, my sight and being focused on her breasts. I wanted to plunge myself in her arms, but found I couldn't move.

"Come to Mama, baby."

With that I sprang across the space between us, slightly catching my foot in the throw rug. I fell forward next to her. 

"Amber, child, you never want to be desperate and, if you are, you never want to show it."

She took my head in her hands, directing it to her breast. I latched my mouth to her areola, pressing my face into the firm flesh. I frantically licked her nipple. With my face pressed to her breast I imagined the contrast between my dark skin and the milky whiteness of hers. 

After several minutes she, softly and gently, pulled my face from her breast and brought her lips to mine. Her tongue patiently explored my mouth, sensual, but also calming. My racing heartbeat slowed. 

"Remember, woman like us are always in control."

She cupped her breast, again offering it to me. I took the nipple into my mouth and dragged my tongue across it. She shuddered. I worked the nipple and areola with my lips, sucked them into my mouth, then released them and ran my lips across their firm sensual perfection, licking them with strong firm strokes. She ran her fingers into my hair, sending chills through me. She purred; her breathing deepened.

"That's a good girl. Make sweet love to my breast. It feels so good, you make her feel so good. Now the other one."

I leaned across her body and fastened onto her other equally gorgeous breast, latching onto her nipple and giving it the same treatment. Michelle cooed in delight. The thought that I was arousing her sent my libido into overdrive. I took both breasts in my hands, pushing them together and taking turns licking and kissing the nipples.

"You like Mommy's breasts, don't you baby."

"They're, you're, so beautiful."

I ducked back down to her nipples, but Michelle interrupted me. 

"Baby, there's more to a breast than a nipple."

She was right, I had yet to celebrate their large round perfection. I ran my hands over them, enjoying their heft, weight, and shape, but couldn't long resist the desire to have them in my mouth. I angled up her left breast, kissed it, and dragged my tongue along its bottom on a slow meandering trip to her nipple, which I licked with the flat of my tongue. Michelle shuddered. I was making her feel good! I gave her other breast the same treatment. 

Her hand buried in my thick hair, she again angled me upwards and brought my face to hers. I had never experienced anything like the full sensuous softness of her lips. She captured my lower lip with her lips, caressed it, and then directed my head back to her breasts which I covered with kisses and nibbles. 

"Time to get up, baby."

I stood on shaky legs. She, with graceful elegance, did the same. I followed her down a wide hallway to a short staircase. At the top was a door through which we entered a large feminine bedroom. One wall was composed of floor to ceiling windows facing the forest behind the house. The spacious bed featured a silk, off-white, bedspread and plenty of pillows. The wall behind it was made of brick. Track lighting accented a painting above the head board.

"Amber, take off your clothes."

I started hurriedly unbuttoning my shirt when Michelle stopped me.

"Amber, as I told you, you never want to be desperate or frantic. You must always be in control. Now take off your clothes, but take your time. Let me know your body is worth waiting for. Fold your clothes and put them on the table behind you." Her eyes directed me to an antique white dressing table. "Imagine you are performing for the world." 

As I took her advice I felt myself calm down. When naked I turned to face her.

"You are a lovely girl. Have you tried yoga?"

"Once, but I didn't like it."

"You must meet my instructor, she's a dream. Now come girl, undress me."

My first impulse was to sprint across the room, but I remembered her caution. Instead I strolled to her and knelt, removed her shoes, leggings, and underwear, and placed them on the dressing table. When I turned back around she had let her hair down. She pushed some pillows to the side and lay on the bed.

"Come to mama, baby."

I crossed the room, suppressing the urge to run. I couldn't take my eyes off her, fixated by her beauty. Her bush was neat and trimmed but not shaven, her skin silky, her body toned and fit. She knew she was beautiful.

Michelle spread her legs and touched her pubic hairs. "Bring mama off, baby."

* * * *

I guess its time to say something about my sexuality. I and my three BFFs, and one former BFF, had done some fooling around. While teenagers, on a dare, Dana and I made out. The other girls, feeling left out, joined in. We all had to admit we kind of liked it and over the years, on occasion, when bored or drunk, we'd do it again. There had been a lot of sleep-overs; we were comfortable seeing each other naked and exploring each others' bodies, determining such important teenage-girl issues as who had the firmest boobs, the hardest butt, and the prettiest pussy. However, while we talked about it, and even selected the girl we'd most like to do it with, none of us had taken the step into full-scale lesbian sex. That barrier was about to fall.

* * * *

I got on the bed and studied her pussy. The scent of her arousal, although subtle, was clear. Her pubes were moist and vaginal lips and clitoris swollen. Her clitoris, in my limited experience, seemed huge. I kissed and then buried my face in her sex; the smell and warmth of her flow was intoxicating. How could I do justice to such a magnificent pussy? I looked at her.

"I've never done this before. I'm not sure how."

"Amber, you have so much to learn. Never acknowledge you don't know what you're doing. Most people don't have any idea what they're doing. If you act like you do, people will believe you do. Focus on my sweet vagina and her lips. You'll get it."

I took a deep breath. Her pussy was a perfume, palpable, thick and overpowering. I imagined it drawing me in, absorbing me, making me part of her. I licked the face of her vagina at first. I was tentative and gentle, but as Michelle shivered in response my confidence grew and I picked up the pace. Her flow was thick and copious. I thought about what I liked best when guys ate me. I stabbed my tongue into her as deep and aggressively as I could. Her pussy winked open and shut; her hips started undulating.

I thought of the spot which guys, with their obsession with cunts, too often forgot, the love bud; would hers, which seemed so big, be sensitive? I licked the length of her labia and when I reached her clit, wondered how much force to apply. I started carefully, tickling it with the tip of my tongue. Michelle's gasp revealed that I was on the right track. I experimented with a host of different techniques, licking it hard, then soft, caressing it between my lips, sucking it into my mouth and lashing it with my tongue, staying attuned to her reactions. The more aggressive, the more forceful I became, the more she liked it. I attacked her sex. 

Michelle slipped her strong fingers into my thick hair. "Sweet baby, you're a natural, eat Mommy's delicious pussy, you're dong so well, that its sweet girl." Her praise filled me with joy. My tongue was becoming numb, but I willed myself to continue, licking and sucking with devoted determination. I imagined a boxer working a speed bag, smacking her clit repeatedly with my tongue. And then her body tensed and she thrust her hips up; juice poured from her. Michelle didn't scream and shout, but instead softly, almost in a whisper, purred. Her skin flushed and a placid look of ecstacy filled her face. I continued teasing her clit, although more gently, and then lazily, affectionately licked her pussy. Eventually, she drew me up to her, holding me to her full warm breast. 


Amber's New Job Ch. 01



"Baby, that was so fine. You made Mommy feel so good." 

While at first I beamed with pride, this was quickly superceded my another feeling; I'd never been this aroused. While I had been eating Michele's pussy the only thing that mattered was her pleasure. Now that I was done, I was on fire. The guys I'd been with had never put me in this state of need. Sure, I'd let some fuck me, but usually because it was expected: they had taken me on a nice date, we'd been seeing each other awhile, he was an okay looking dude. Now I knew what is was like when you needed to be fucked.

Michelle interrupted these thoughts when she said, "Hi honey," and the bed moved. I looked and saw Ron framed between Michelle's cleavage. His cock was about as long as the other ones I'd known, but much wider and in some way I can't explain, seemed much harder. It featured a large brown head and enormous set of balls. He turned me onto my knees and entered me from behind.

As he did so he asked, "How'd she do?"

"You were right honey, she has potential." 

I wasn't sure what that meant, but it still seemed the nicest thing anyone had ever said about me.

In comparison to what I had known and what I'd later learn, Ron was a master cocksman. I was sopping wet; there was no resistance to his entry. He took my hips in his hands, controlling my movements. Unlike the boys I'd been with before, who impatiently banged in and out with all the speed and strength as they could muster, he explored the inside of my cunt, varying his motions and angles of entry, controlling my movements so I received the maximum pleasure. The large head of his cock repeatedly dragged across my g-spot.

It was wonderful; I was awash in an array of sensations I didn't know existed. My mind was filled with flashing lights; I lived in a sea of pleasure. He brought me to the edge of an orgasm, held me there, backed away, and did it again. He'd make me come and then slow down until I was ready to go again. Finally, when I'd started to think I was fucked-out, he picked up the pace, thrusting into me with long powerful strokes. How he knew this is what I needed for my final, ultimate orgasm, I don't know, but I pushed back with the little strength left in my spent body. Until now my orgasms had been accompanied by guttural whimpering, but I had lost all control. When I felt his cum pour into me, I erupted.

"Ohhhhhhhh myyyyyyyyy fuckinnggggggggg goddddddddddddd!" I fell forward on the bed.

I'm not sure how long I slept. When I woke, my body still twinkling in delight, I was alone. There was music coming from an open doorway and I, naked, wandered in. It was a massive closet, Michelle would later explain that "dressing room" was the appropriate term. Michelle was sitting at a vanity, wearing a cute pink wrap, brushing her golden hair. 

"I see you've returned to the land of the living."

"I never knew it could be that good." 

"He is a magnificent lover, but you need to learn that girls like us don't scream, we purr, we always maintain control."

She studied my naked body and selected a silk robe, handing it to me.

"This looks just right, try it on."

I looked at myself in one of the room's full length mirrors. The robe was short; it showed off my legs and displayed a bit of cleavage. The silk felt sweet and sensual on my body; my nipples stiffened, their points were visible in the fabric.

"Ron is outside with the grill. After you freshen up, join us."

Michelle left. I sat at her vanity, brushing my hair. I wasn't sure what these people wanted, but whatever it was, I was all in.

* * * *

Ron was almost as good a cook as he was a lover; the meal was delightful. After cleaning up, we returned to the bedroom for an evening of sex. While it wasn't unusual for one of us girls to spend the night out, I texted Kathy to let her know I was alright. I woke the next morning to see Ron, fully showered and nattily dressed, standing by the bed. Michelle was still sleeping.

"Today's the district attorney's golf tournament/fund raiser. I'm on the steering committee. I'll be gone most of the day. There is fresh coffee in the kitchen."

I got out of bed, stretched, and discovered I was a bit sore in the privates - Ron had fucked me twice more that night. With a cup of coffee I settled on the deck off the bedroom. Facing the thick woods behind the Richards' home - Michelle had said the property ran several hundred yards back and ended at a river - I listened to the songs of birds and enjoyed the deep loamy scent that filled the air. There was perfect privacy here. 

The door to the bedroom opened; Michelle stepped out. Except for the breakfast tray she was carrying, she was stark naked. I had spent the last twenty hours with her, most of them unclothed, but still I stopped breathing, overwhelmed by her beauty and grace. Her hair was wet. She must have jumped in the shower. 

"Good morning," she said. "Sleep well?"

"I don't think I've ever slept more soundly." 

She set the tray on a small table. On it were coffee and a bowl of oatmeal topped with granola and fresh raspberries. "We eat healthy here, we'd like you too also."

She picked up the oatmeal, scooped out a spoonful, and fed it to me. I clamped my lips down, making sure I captured each thick heavy morsel. She fed herself, then me again. Sitting there with her, naked, sharing the rich creamy meal, I felt a burn start twixt my legs. She picked up a raspberry, brought it to her perfect lips, and bit off half of it, dropping the other half in my open eager mouth. 

Michelle read my condition perfectly. She fed me several more helpings of the rich succulent fruit and then ran one along my wet slit. Coated with my juice, she deposited it in her mouth. She took the final raspberry, ran it across her full pussy lips, and fed it to me. I was near panting in need.

Her voice tone was even and cool, "I've told you, never show your desperate. Now let's go inside."

I followed her. She left the sliding doors open, letting in the fresh air and sounds of the outdoors, and gestured for me to lay on the bed. Laying next to me, she kissed me. At first, as she had the day before, she let her thick heavy lips do the work, capturing my lower lip between hers, working it back and forth while her tongue ran along its edge. Her tongue then moved into my mouth, exploring along the back of my lips. Her long perfectly manicured nails ran along the side of my body, sending erotic shock waves through me. She kissed my eyes, my nose, my cheeks, and my chin, and returned to my mouth. It opened to welcome her.

Our tongues met. At first they gently, carefully, introduced each other. The tips touched, then pulled back, she stroked the top of my tongue, then the sides. I was crazy with need, my pussy was throbbing; I wanted to plunge my tongue deep into her mouth, to hurriedly explore every crevice, but I remembered her adage: never show you're desperate. Something else also dawned on me: I wanted to be this woman.

I explored her body with my hands. Although not overtly muscular, she was firm. Her skin, like her lips, was soft. The combination of strength and softness excited me in a way I'd not known before. As I caressed her she emitted low gentle moans, encouraging me to continue. I wanted to bring pleasure to this lovely woman. Our lips and tongues continued to play with each other, but now with increasing urgency. Then she lifted herself up and glided over me, dragging her full breasts across my skin. That felt nice. She kissed my neck, my shoulders, sometimes gently, sometimes with a slight nip. 

I started to squirm, but remembering how blithely Michelle had accepted the pleasure I had given her the day before, I relaxed and lay back, letting myself become awash in a sea of sensations, letting what she was doing flow through me. Michelle's mouth moved to my breasts and, starting with the undersides, throughly covered them with kisses. She then began a series of slow long licks, staying away from my nipples, carefully gauging my reactions, playing me like an instrument.

"You have beautiful breasts. Do you like Mommy's mouth on them?" she asked.

"Yes, Mommy."

"What do you want Mommy to do next?"

My initial reaction was to say whatever Mommy wants. Michelle did not need my help making love to a woman. But then I decided no, like her I'd ask for exactly what I wanted. 

"Michelle, my nipples, they're on fire. Make love to them."

"Of course, Amber."

She rolled my left breast up to expose its underside, her thumb applying firm delicious pressure to the nipple, and began a slow indolent lick, moving up and around my breast with increasing pressure until she reached the nipple, on which her tongue lingered with enough force to press it into my flesh.

I wanted to scream, but instead let out a low moan of rapturous delight. 

Michelle gave my other breast the same treatment, eliciting the same response. Michelle then took turns with my nipples, licking them, kissing them, sucking them into her mouth. I lay on the bed, absorbed in the presence of this masterful woman. I thought of the boys who had been my lovers, all wanting to be complemented on their performance, all quick to move on to the next thing, and, of course, all in a rush to get their rocks off. This was the way to be made love to, expertly, patiently, by a confident lover whose sole focus was pleasing me, knowing I'd do the same for her.

Now Michelle's mouth was on my stomach, moving down in a combination of kisses and nibbles. Her hair flowed across my body. My cunt was on fire, dripping juice in anticipation of her mouth, but that's not where she went. Instead her thumbs rubbed the soles of my feet - ooooh, that felt good - and her lips closed over a toe. She sucked it into her mouth, grazing her teeth along its underside. I had not imagined my toes as erogenous zones, but holy heck they were. 

Then, she knew, I couldn't wait any longer; I needed her mouth on my cunt.

Her mouth ajar, her perfect teeth showing, she snaked forward. My eyes were riveted on her, hers on my sex. Almost lazily, her jaw relaxed and her soft tongue slid out, following the contours of her lips before licking the entrance to my cunt, sometimes up and down, sometimes across. Her head moved up an inch to my labia, whose lips she pressed together with her fingers while her tongue slid between them. I fought the urge to scream and beg her to continue, calming my impulses, determined to relax, to wallow in the pleasure.

Michelle sensed my decision. She released my labia and looked me in the eye. God, she was beautiful. "That's a good girl. Let Mama make you feel so good."

Her head was now directly over my vagina. Her tongue slid inside me, then back out. She pushed it back in and circled it around, her movements slow and careful, maximizing the friction and pressure. My head back, my eyes shut, my being was centered on the spot between my legs. Then, just as it felt like I could no longer survive the intensity of what she was doing, her fingers stretched the skin above my clitoris. I opened my eyes. Her tongue was curled to a point, she flicked the tip of my clit.

My god, I'd had been introduced to this woman's bed less than twenty-four hours ago but she understood my body better then any man I'd known. Hell, she understood it better than I did. I arched my back and raised my hips, letting out a low moan. "You make me feel so good."

"That's what I'm here for."

Michelle continued exploring my sex, but always returned to my clitoris. I was soaking wet; my body trembled. Under a lesser musician I'd have already exploded, but Michelle was a virtuoso, moving me to the edge of orgasm, but stopping a few notes short.

I opened my eyes when Michelle's head lifted from my privates. She smiled, moved up the bed on all fours, her heavy breasts swinging under her body, and let her face drift down to mine. We kissed. My juices were on her tongue, her breasts pressed against mine.

"Would you like to learn to be like me?" she asked.

She knew the answer. "More than anything."

"Good. Ron and I will teach you."

She returned to my sex, using her thumb to pull back the hood protecting my clitoris, exposing the nub. She gave it a quick suck, pulling it into her mouth and then let go. I fought the urge to scream and relaxed with a long contented sigh. Michelle, flawlessly gauging my needs, repeated the process, sucking my clit into her mouth while flicking her tongue over and around it, at times lightly, at times aggressively. She slipped a finger inside me to my g-spot.

I'd never experienced this kind of pleasure. Guys had eaten me, but nothing like this. And unlike guys, I did not need to reassure this lover, this lover needed no encouragement; she knew she was good. I became concerned only with my own joy, as my lover let me skim along the waves of exultation rippling through me. As she continued the sensation sharpened and centered on my clit. I was a slave to the orgasm building in my loins. It was coming - powerful, dynamic, like a freight train - and even Michelle could only hold me on the edge for so long.

And then it was here. Everything was suddenly hot, my vagina pulsed, and I came. Three or four intense spasms, so close in time they were almost one, rocked my loins, followed by small intense waves of joy . My body tensed, my back lifted from the bed. A flood of juice poured from my vagina. I voiced my approval with a long gentle, "Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," and then my body merged with the bed. 

"Oh, Michelle that was wonderful, but I can't take any more right now." 

She lay down next to me and I rolled over, laying my head on her shoulder. She cradled me in her arms. I drifted off to sleep.

* * * *

Michelle and I were sitting on her deck in the shade of her oak tree. After I woke I made love to her with my mouth, trying to emulate the careful graceful way she had brought me my mind-bending orgasms. After that we engaged in my first 69. Then to the shower, where we used a fresh fragrant soap and Porthault wash clothes to bring each other off again. I was not sure I could take anymore; I was grateful when Michelle suggested lunch.

"It's time I told you about your job. You'll understand it better with a little history.

"I met Ron because I was on a jury. I had just started my sophomore year in college and he was in his second year of practice. It was not a lengthy matter; the evidence was presented on the first day. We were to return the following day for final argument. The other jurors' comments were consistent with my own, Ron was winning. The only question was how much money we'd award.

"I was attracted to him. He's a good looking guy, but not drop dead gorgeous - which was the kind of guy I always aimed for - but there was something about him. I'm not sure what is was, his maturity, his easy manner, the way he seemed completely comfortable with himself. In any case I came up with this scheme. I thought it was brilliant. I would go to his office and offer to work the jury up to a higher number in exchange for a cut. I put on my tightest pair of jeans, boots with heels, and a nice clingy top. I looked great.

"He was working late. I let myself in. He must have heard the door open because he met me in the front room. He put his index finger to his lips, indicating I should stay silent."

"It would be entirely inappropriate for me to be in contact with a member of the jury during the course of a trial. And, in any case, you'll do it anyway.'" 

I left without saying a word.

"He was right. I did it anyway. It's not like he needed my help, but I might have gotten another $10,000.00 tacked on to the verdict.

"I went to see him that night. He took me to his bed; I became his lover."

Michelle paused for a second, looking out over the tree line, savoring the memory.

"Everything changed that day. I'd been a lot like you. Not completely, I certainly didn't have your affable personality, I could be a real bitch, but I was good looking, enjoyed flirting. I'd hit the bars, have guys buy me drinks. I liked playing with their heads, the beer was an excuse."

The description fit me to the tee.

"Ron told me I was better than that, if I was going to trade on my looks and brains it should be for bigger game than a Budweiser. I went to work for him. I became a serious student, dressed better, took care of myself, and learned how to discern and exploit people's motivations. It was much easier than I thought it would be. A beautiful woman who expects to be treated well is going to be treated well.

"At times I'd venture back to my old life. I would hit a bar, flirt some, but it bored me. Under Ron's tutelage I learned to employ my skills for greater gains. When her husband was out of town I introduced the Registrar of Students to some lady-love and gained access to the school's computer system. I did court runs to the judges, who began asking Ron to be sure to send me. Nothing too serious, some flirting here, a hand job there, but soon every local judge was beholden to us. Ron would learn where a juror drank beer or worked out and soon they'd be bragging to the pretty blonde on the stool or equipment next to them about their jury service, providing me with a data dump on the jury's thoughts, information Ron could use. 

"I graduated at the top of my class, went to a first rate law school, married Ron, and have practiced law with him ever since. We've done well.

"We have in mind for you the job I filled. You'll have the clerical responsibilities we discussed, but you will also be honing your skills as a woman. Ron saw something in you, it was not just how you flirted with him to get the job, but that was part of it. We think you can learn to trade on your looks, smarts, and personality for a much greater reward and to all our benefit."

"I'll do anything you ask," I said in complete sincerity.

"That's my girl."

Michelle gave me a tour of the house, ending at the barn. We saddled up two horses and explored the wooded acreage surrounding their home. When we heard Ron's car pull on to the driveway we headed back. We put up the horses and found him in the hot tub with a glass of champagne. We disrobed; I sat to his right, Michelle to his left. He passed each of us a glass of champagne and we toasted my employment. 

I leaned into him and kissed him, my tongue snaking into his mouth. The champagne on his tongue made me giddy. I heard a happy murmur from Ron; Michelle was stroking his cock. I watched it harden under her ministrations. I was again amazed by its girth. My hand joined hers and while we manipulated his member he took turns kissing us, treating me to a deep soul searching kiss and then turning to his wife to do the same. After several minutes, he sat on the edge of the tub. Michelle licked one of his balls, I gave the other the same treatment. Ron leaned back looking down at us, enjoying the sight of two beautiful women worshiping his dick. 

After we finished with his balls Michelle and I licked up the shaft. When we reached the top Michelle pushed his cock towards me. I held the shaft and licked the head, dallying at the piss hole, which was dripping pre-cum, trying to force my tongue inside.

Not wanting to be selfish, I returned Ron's dick to Michelle. She took the head between her lips, working it over with her tongue. I watched her perfect face and thick red lips make love to his cock and then took one of his heavy testicles into my mouth, cradling it on my tongue. I ran a hand over Michelle's full breasts, feeling them heat up and her nipples grow in appreciation. 

Michelle's eyes gestured at mine, letting me know it was my turn. I let the testicle fall from my mouth and grabbed his erection, wondering exactly how far into my mouth I could get something that wide. Michelle saw me stretching and flexing my jaw, readying myself for the challenge.




Amber's New Job Ch. 01



"Amber, women like us never do anything we find uncomfortable. He has other women for that."

I licked; it trembled and shook. I swallowed the head, working it with my tongue and cheeks. I spit it out and Michelle and I covered it with kisses, occasionally letting our tongues and lips play against each other, her thick silken hair cascading against my face. She took one of his fat balls in her mouth while lovingly touching and caressing his body. I frigged his shaft and kissed and licked the head, focusing on the sensitive skin directly under the crown. Ron's eyes were shut, basking in pleasure. Soon he grunted and Michelle cooed as his cum evacuated his testicles, shooting up his cock. I locked my lips over his piss hole just in time to capture every drop. 

We headed for the bedroom and one more good fuck before I went home.



Amber's New Job Ch. 02



The word yoga actually means "to join together." Obviously, this is very appropriate when discussing yoga and its connection to sex. Traditionally, Tantra followers viewed sexual connections as the ultimate form of yoga.

Traditionally, many Tantrics practiced hatha yoga in the nude. This was partly just for convenience's sake, simply to allow unrestricted freedom of movement. But it was also to help encourage an erotically charged atmosphere — to get the sexual energies flowing.

-- Fadi Naabi -- 



On Monday I appeared for work. There I met Denise, the secretary/paralegal who was also Ron's sister. Denise was thirty-five with long brown hair that reached her ass, a curvy figure, impressive chest, and killer legs. Her round wide round face featured large green eyes, a prominent jaw, and a large mouth with full lips. She probably could lose fifteen pounds, but some of that weight was sitting in those boobs. She was wearing tight jeans and cowboy boots. I liked her immediately; she was a ball, upbeat and funny with a definite country air to her.

We gathered in Michelle's office, which was as neat, meticulous, and classy as her husband's a mess. Denise and I were to spend the morning working in the rear conference room organizing documents. There, Denise briefly related her life story. Three months pregnant and eighteen years old, she had married her high school sweetheart. The marriage had been a disaster. Both she and her husband had a problem with alcohol and when, after two years, she sobered up, she discovered that, among other things, he was much easier to tolerate when she was drunk. He also stunk in the sack. One night, after a big fight, she retreated to her parents' home to find them on vacation and her baby brother home alone. He held her when she cried, gave her "one of his amazing back rubs," and, having driven her to the peak of sexual arousal, made love to her. It was the night she discovered how great sex could be.

"Honey, I'm not like Michelle or what they have planned for you. I don't use sex to get what I want, other than, of course, sex. I never say no to a good fuck."

Her phone line buzzed.

"That would be my brother. It's time for his blow job."

At the doorway she turned and faced me. "I like woman too and never play hard to get. So anytime you're interested, let me know.

Not quite sure of the office protocol, I continued working on the assignment.

* * * *

I'd been employed about a month when Michelle, on a Friday afternoon, stuck her head in my office and let me know that we'd be taking the rest of the afternoon off to attend a private yoga session. She deflected my protest that I had no clothes. She gad picked out my outfit; it was in the car. On the way out we stopped at Ron's office. Denise, her jeans puddled on the floor, her tits pressed against a hastily cleared section of his desk, was taking Ron's fat dick up her ass. She was shoving back at him as hard as he was slamming it to her.

"FUCK ME BABY BROTHER, FUCK YOUR SLUTTY SISTER, MAKE HER FUCKING COME YOU FUCKING STUD, YOU COCK FUCKING GOD."

Michelle caught his attention, which he acknowledged with a slight nod of his head. We locked the door on the way out. Michelle and I drove in her Jaguar to a sumptuous private residence; half a dozen cars were parked in the circular drive way. And not just any cars: there was a Mercedes, two BMW's, a Lexus, and a couple of Cadillacs.

Michelle and I were greeted at the door by a handsome Latin American maid and ushered to a large bathroom where we changed. I guess I'd expected traditional yoga clothes, something like full body tights. What Michelle provided was far more provocative. The two spaghetti straps of the Kora Top tied around my neck, exposing my shoulders and upper back; its mid-drift cut flattered my waist. The bottoms were the size of a small bikini and form fitting. 

I followed Michelle to a large room in which six women were waiting. They were all dressed in clothing like ours, practical yet sexy and revealing. The room was bathed in natural light and featured lush, soothing colors, expensive rugs and wall hangings, and cushions scattered against the walls. There was a faint smell of an intoxicating incense; comforting music played from invisible speakers. 

Michelle had let everyone know she was bringing a guest; the women greeted me by name and with hugs. I recognized our mayor, a striking woman in her late 40's with long straight black hair. I was also familiar with Diedre Jones, the executive assistant to our county chairperson. I had heard stories about people who underestimated her – although in her mid-thirties she still maintained the looks of the beauty queen she had been – and were quickly harpooned on her aggressive intellect. Finally there was Candace Janari. As a junior Candace had been selected to the Associated Press Second Team All-American basketball team. Expectations for her senior year were sky high. Her powerful athletic body was topped by a strong face and hair in corn rows. The other three woman, whom I'd get to know, were all trim, lovely, and leaders in our community.

Our yoga teacher appeared. She was Indian. Her tight body displayed her devotion to her craft. She had dark brown hair tied in a pony tail that approached her waist, light brown skin, deep decorous brown eyes, a strong nose, and stood a little over five feet tall. She introduced herself as Esha, which she explained meant "desire." After ensuring that I' been introduced to the class, she announced that, as tradition dictated when there was a new student, today would be devoted to Tantric yoga. That won murmurs of approval.

I may have been the worst pupil in the class, but I'm pretty flexible and did a yeoman's job of keeping up. As we moved through the poses and lost ourselves in our breathing, I found myself becoming increasingly aroused. Unsuccessfully, I tried pushing the thoughts from my mind. I glanced around to see if anyone noticed my blushing, but all the woman were immersed in their own feelings, their faces masks of pleasure and, I thought, sexual desire.

"For our final two poses, please disrobe."

That popped my eyes opened. Esha noticed. She assured me I did not need to do so if it made me uncomfortable, but when no one objected I joined in. 

As we moved through the final two poses my arousal increased, but it was an arousal unlike any I'd experienced before. Traditionally it was hot guys, and Michelle, who turned me on, but this felt as if generated internally, like I was tapping into the core of my own sexuality, unleashing some innate sexual energy. I took a peek at the rest of room. I was not alone. Breasts were flushed with blood, nipples erect, and everyone's face shone with lust. The scent of our arousal mingled with the incense, creating an erotic perfume. 

After we completed the final pose, Esha led us in a short meditation and set of breathing exercises. My mind was crowded with carnal images. When finally, at her direction, I opened my eyes I saw the mayor, on all fours, crawling towards me. She tilted her head and brought her mouth to mine, our tongues coming together in slow sensual motion. I heard the excited utterances of the other women in the room as bodies moved against each other, mouths explored breasts, lips met lips, fingers found dripping cunts yearning for attention. 

The mayor kept advancing and pushed me onto my back. She kissed my mouth, then my neck and ears, then down my body, pausing at my breasts. Her tongue explored my belly button and then moved down to the puddle of desire between my legs. The heads of two other woman, which briefly hovered above me, took my hard nipples and throbbing areolas into their mouths. Before my eyes drifted shut I saw Michelle on her back, legs spread, Candace on top; my god, her powerful muscular body was magnificent. She was grinding her cunt against Michelle's sex, the look of lust on their faces and passion of their kisses making clear the effect.

My view was blocked when a soft pussy, featuring bright red hair, descended to my face. Drops of warm nectar plopped on my cheeks. I opened my mouth, tickling her clitoris with the tip of my tongue. My lust-befuddled mind recalled the red head, she was in her forties. She worked at the local hospital, our community's largest employer. 

I lazily licked her clitoris while she did most of the work, sliding her sex against my tongue, letting me know where she was most sensitive. That was good because what the mayor was doing between my legs rendered any complicated thought impossible. She expertly managed the arousal that had been fermenting within me for the last hour, not bringing me off, but driving me to a peak and then slowing, letting the waves of desire calm before pushing me up again. I was in a euphoric state; so many sensations crowded together that I was rendered incapable of distinguishing them. The mouths on my breasts, the pussy in my face, the tongue in my sex, they all merged. An orgasm fired off within me and, as I came back down, another, and, then as the lady above me exploded, drenching me with her juice, I was consumed by my final orgasm, a mind-expanding experience which lit up my brain and suffused every inch of my body.

I lay there several minutes. My fingers and toes tingled in delight. When I regained the ability to think, I saw Michelle and Candace leaning on two of the cushions sprinkled around the room, Candace's strong arm over Michelle's shoulder. The red head was lying next to me, half conscious and breathing heavily. Her arm lay across my chest. I kissed her sweet lips. She kissed me on the nose and we crawled over to Michelle and Candace. I snuggled in Michelle's arms.

The maid, now wearing a robe, brought us a pot of warm tea, four china cups with saucers, and four finger vibrators. She removed her robe, displaying a solidly built, almost masculine, body, and joined Esha and the three other ladies in a daisy chain: five beautiful women eating five lovely cunts. The sound of their slurping complemented the soft sensual music that had played throughout our session. We came on the vibrators as the ladies came on the floor. 

* * * *

After showering we gathered together to dry each others' hair, put on make-up, and exchange local gossip. These ladies knew some high-level gossip. I, who would have been intimidated by any of them a few weeks ago, felt perfectly at home. It was a delightful time.

I got back into the car with Michelle about 5:00 P.M.

"Denise has downloaded the contact information for each of these ladies along with some background information into your phone and computer. These are private direct lines, not public numbers, and should be kept confidential. They will call on you for favors and expect you to do the same."

I couldn't understand what any of these woman could want from me and couldn't imagine bothering them with my college student life. I told Michelle so.

"When the women you met today, and others you shall meet, ask each other for help, they are building relationships of mutual trust. We rely on each other. It is important that you participate. They understand you're a college student. They also know you won't always be one. They want you on their side. You'll be surprised how useful we can be to each other. "

With Michelle's advice in mind I called the mayor on Monday. She picked up the phone, her caller id tipping her off to whom I was.

"Amber, so good of you to call. I enjoyed meeting you the other day."

"The pleasure was mine. I hope this is not a bad time."

"Not at all. I was meeting with my financial officer, but the matter is not pressing. He can wait a few minutes." I heard the door close as he left the room. "What can I do for you?"

"My parents live on the 200 block of Dunwoodie. The street is deteriorating. I was wondering when it was due to be repaved."

She buzzed one of her secretaries, asking him to call public works. We exchanged small talk until I heard the secretary's voice in the background.

"It was scheduled eighteen months from now, but will happen this week. Amber, I think I know the house. What kind of shape is their driveway in?"

"It's limestone rock. They've talked about getting it paved."

"Well, if the crew misunderstands their instructions and accidentally paves it, please ask them to forgive the city, won't you."

"Yes Mayor, I will."

Mom and Dad were very happy with the unexpected street work. They were going to let the city know about the mistaken paving of their driveway and offer to pay for it, but I explained it was better to let it go. They would not want to get the crew chief who made the error in trouble.

* * * *

I will not recount in detail all the events of the next few years. I rarely hit the college bars and when I did it was to gauge my skill at manipulating the patrons. When I needed a man as an escort, he was drawn from the successful young men in the Richards' circle. Among my friends I became the alpha female, dominating them. I remained besotted with Michelle. She was lover, mentor, friend, guide, mother figure. From her I learned to control the world around me but as to her I had no control, there was nothing she might ask I wouldn't do.

I switched majors from English to Business and became a straight "A" student. While I couldn't reinvent my first two lackadaisical college years, anyone looking at my record would know a new me appeared before my junior year.

I will not relate all of my contributions to Richard & Richard during those years. If I may, I hope two stories will illustrate. 

In October of my junior year I was given my first special assignment. Richard & Richard was handling a personal injury case. They estimated its settlement value at around $65,000.00. My job was to deliver a $110,000.00 proposal to the insurance company's adjustor. My appointment was for 4:30 P.M. I was wearing a conservative mid-calf blue pin-stripped power suit, silk blouse, pearls, and leather gloves. All screamed expensive. The skirt featured a slit, but one that was not immediately obvious. When properly employed it would be perfect for displaying my legs.

I was ushered into his office. He introduced himself as Joseph Damask. I shook his hand with two of my own, holding the contact a bit longer than necessary. I laid my Barton Perreira sunglasses on his desk, handing him our settlement proposal. I crossed my legs, letting the slit move up to my knee, revealing the seam that ran up the back of my stockings, and dangling my four inch silver stilettos heels before him. Absentmindedly, I played with my pearls.

He offered me a bottled water. I asked for a glass. He poured the water into the glass for me. I took a drink and put the glass on his desk, running a well-manicured finger, featuring deep red nail polish, up and down it length. He struggled to make small talk. He wanted me there. He tried to charm the young lady and I smiled, laughed at his jokes, and pretended not to notice his eyes moving up and down my body. 

Eventually, he picked up the settlement proposal.

"Mr. Damask."

"Please, call me Joe."

I stood up. "Okay, Joe. Do you mind if I close the blinds on your window? I'm having trouble seeing you through the glare."

He was ready to pop up and do it himself, but I was already half-way to the window. I took my time, moving with graceful sensuality, giving him the chance to study my form and, when I reached the widow, my back to him, to stare. When done I looked directly at him, holding his eyes on mine. "That's better, now I can see your handsome face."

I returned to my chair, moving at the same deliberate pace. As he studied the settlement proposal I re-applied my lipstick and crossed my legs, letting the slit crawl further up my leg. 

Finally he said, "Your number seems a bit high."

"Really Mr. Damask, why do you think so?"

He would not waste the opportunity to show off for the pretty young lady.

"Let me show you something, Amber." 

By this time the offices were empty. He turned to his computer. I walked slowly around his desk and, in order to get a better view, leaned forward, placing my hand on his shoulder for balance. When I closed my hand I ran my fingers across his skin. I heard his sharp intake of breath; my movement had been casual but effective. The smell of my perfume hung in the air.

He directed my attention to the screen. As numbers flashed by he explained, "The company compiles data from all over the country on the severity of injuries. When I code your client's injuries, I get a much smaller number." He continued to explain the system.

I bent forward to get a better view of the screen, balancing myself by placing an open hand on his knee. He pretended not to notice.

When he was done I leaned over his desk to pick up the Richards' proposal. He struggled to surreptitiously view my breasts, but they were well hidden by my jacket and silk blouse. 

I returned to my chair and crossed my legs while reviewing the settlement offer. I noted several instances where, if he coded the injuries slightly differently, the Richards' offer was fair. I smiled, "But I guess you know your job." I pointed to a picture of a stout middle-aged woman on the counter behind him. "Is that your wife?"

It took him a second to re-focus and answer. "Yes."

"How long have you been married?"

"Thirty-seven years."

I stood up. "Do you mind?"

Not waiting for an answer, I walked around his desk, again placed my hand on his shoulder, and picked up the picture. I leaned on his desk, my leg emerging from the slit.

"A young girl like me, I'm always looking for the next exciting thing to do. It must be nice to know exactly what you've got. Do you have any daughters, Joey?"

"Yes, a little older than you."

"Do you look at them and their friends the same way you've been looking at me?"

He stammered, a look of guilt flashing across his face. "What do you mean?"

Despite his words, his eyes were locked on my leg; his thickening penis was evident. I sat on his desk and ran my stiletto's heel along his thigh. "Oh Joey, you don't have to lie to me. You know exactly what I'm talking about, but don't worry, I'm not mad." 

He stared, unsure of what to say or do. 

Holding the picture of his wife, my heel within an inch of his erect penis, I added. "After thirty-seven years does she take good care of that thing or does it get pedestrian?"

He was flustered, but hooked, completely utterly hooked. "I, well, I guess, I mean she's not as interested as she used to be."

My voice low and gentle, in my most coquettish tone, I said, "I hope you don't mind, but I've got kind of a Daddy thing. So if you promise not to tell anyone and not to touch me so you can say you didn't cheat, I'll give you a hand."

His face was flush and he was swallowing furiously, but he managed to squeak out, "I promise." 

"Sit on your desk, Joey." When he complied I undid his belt and unzipped his pants, clearing his penis. Slowly, carefully, I removed my gloves, laid them on his desk, and retrieved sanitizer from my purse. I took him in my hand. His dick was unremarkable although I suspect it hadn't been this hard in sometime.

"Ohh, Joey, I've been rude, I didn't ask. Do you mind if I call you Joey?"

"No."

"So nice and big, I would think your wife would want to play with it all the time."

I started to jerk him off, but slowly. We did not want a premature orgasm. 

"It's so hard. Your wife must love this thing. You were being modest, weren't you, I bet you guys do it all the time."

I massaged a drop of pre-cum into the head of his penis and licked my lips.

"And god Joey, so much jism. Does your wife use her mouth on you? Does she swallow? Do you cum on her face? I bet you spray like a fire hose."

His response was a low deep moan.




Amber's New Job Ch. 02



I ran one hand up and down his cock, playing with his balls with the other. He groaned, lost in the sensations. I had no doubt that the images running through his mind were not, despite my suggestion, he and his wife. Reminding him of his wife, however, had its advantages: it delayed his orgasm and laid on the guilt. It would make him more malleable. He would also crave, do anything, for my return visit. 

"Jeez, Joey, you got balls like a stud bull. I bet you can do it three or four times a night. Your wife must stay very happy."

"Ohh, ohhh. Ohhhhhh..."

"Do you like it Joey, do you want me to continue?"

"Oh, yes...oh, yes...ohhhh, it's so...so good!" 

"Do you like my breasts Joey? You were staring at them earlier. Do you want to see them?"

Amidst his panting he managed a whispered, "Yes."

"You need to ask nicely, say please Ms. Church, please let me see your beautiful breasts. I don't show them to just anyone."

"Please Ms. Church, please let me see your beautiful breasts."

"You are such a bad little boy Joey."

"Oh yes Ms. Church, I'm a bad little boy who wants to see your big beautiful breasts. Please Ms. Church, please show them to me." 

I let go of his cock, eliciting a sharp inhalation of confused, frustrated, breath. I undid the top two buttons of my blouse and released the front clasp of my bra, exposing abundant cleavage but leaving my nipples hidden. He reached for them. I slapped his hand.

"Remember the rules Joey, no touching."

"I'm sorry, Miss Church."

"Should I stop?"

"No Miss Church, please don't. I'll be good."

"Promise?"

"Yes Miss Church, I promise. I'll be good."

"Double promise?"

"Yes Miss Church, I double promise."

I took him back in my hand. There was no longer a reason to delay. I started using long strokes. 

"Do you like this Joey?"

"Oh yes, oh yes, Miss Church."

"Am I as good as your wife?"

"Better, much better."

His cock grew harder. He stared at my breasts licking his lips, whimpering. Then he jerked and I felt the cum start up his penis. As it spilled out of the top and spread over my hand, his butt shook the desk, the sound echoing in the empty office. He yelped. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... I'mmmmmmm... cummmmmmmingg!"

After he was done I took some Kleenex from my purse, wiping his cum from my hand. I left the pack on the desk. "Clean yourself up Joey."

At my request he pointed me to the ladies room. I returned ten minutes later, hands washed, blouse buttoned, hair and make-up perfect. After applying lotion, I put my gloves back on. His fly remained open, his limp dick exposed. There was cum on his pants. His mind was immersed in the last few minutes.

My voice was calm, professional, and assumed compliance. "Joey, I asked you to clean up."

"I'm sorry, Miss Church." He eagerly, hurriedly, sloppily wiped up his jism. His wife would be suspicious if she checked his clothes, but I doubt she did. 

I looked at my watch. "Good, I have time to make my next appointment."

I handed him some wipes to clean himself and then his hand. "It was nice to meet you Mr. Damask. I hope you'll reconsider our offer. I look forward to doing business with you in the future. I believe I can let myself out. And remember," bringing a finger to my lips, "this is our little secret."

He was flustered, having trouble focusing. His mind was still on my hand flashing up and down his cock. "Yes, Miss Church."

There was a faxed acceptance of our offer upon my return to the office. Ron and Michelle handed me a glass of champagne and my next pay check featured a very generous bonus. Within a few months most of the city's major adjustors were asking that I personally deliver settlement proposals.

* * * *

It was a lovely Friday afternoon. Ron and Michelle had closed the office early. Denise and I were sitting with them by their pool, enjoying Ron's killer drinks. Six days before a bus owned by a nearby casino had flipped over in a single vehicle accident. The driver was drunk. Six women, all friends, were in the bus. Five were still hospitalized. Ron and Michelle had met with the sole passenger discharged by the hospital and the husbands of the five still there. 

Ron explained. "It's down to us and one of the big downtown firms for the representation. Our record of success got their attention, but the downtown firm made some points by arguing it has superior resources and an unlimited staff."

"I told them we don't need fifty mediocre staffers when we have the two great ones and offered them the opportunity to meet you two," Michelle added. "They discussed it among themselves and agreed. The meeting is set for Monday evening in their hometown at a local hospital in which Willie owns an interest."

"They're right up your alley, Denise," Ron said. "Five red necks with middle-aged wives."

Denise smiled. "Only five, you couldn't make it a challenge?"

Michelle turned to me. "You should focus on the woman. Her name is Jean. She's not well-educated, but she smart, real smart, and clearly the group's leader. I got an unexpected vibe from her; she was attracted to me, but there was no come on. It was more like that she was trying to understand her own feelings. 

"She and I only had a few minutes to chat one-on-one. She lives on a horse farm with her husband. She's thirty-three, he's twelve years older. Jean came to work on the farm in her late teens. At the time he was married; they had a girl – she's named Olivia. After the first wife died in an automobile accident Jean became a substitute mother to Olivia. They rode together, hung out all the time, the kid adored her. Eventually the Dad asked Jean to marry him, but the way she talked about it, it's not a love match. I suspect he was looking for a mother for Olivia and for Jean marriage promised a comfortable secure life.

"Jean's crazy about the kid. She showed me some pictures. A lovely girl, long straight blonde hair, a friendly upbeat face, sort of a hippie sensibility. Olivia has just gotten back from her first year of college and there's been some kind of falling out with her father. Jean was reluctant to talk about it and I didn't have the time to draw the details out, but whatever it is, it's eating Jean up. Something important is going on. Get her alone and find out what it is."

On Monday evening Denise was ready for action, sporting tight jeans, cowboy boots and hat, and a tee shirt that did nothing to hide her charms. The guys were transfixed; this was the kind of wild woman they dreamed about. I was slightly older that Jean's step daughter, but dressed to reflect the same hippie feel.

The first forty-five minutes were devoted to the firm's ability to support litigation. We displayed our mastery of the most complex and powerful litigation-support software, employing concrete examples of how we had used it to help build the firm's record of success. After the presentation we entertained twenty minutes of questions. 

Denise, in her usual exuberant manner, announced that if we were going to be working together, we should find out how well we get along. The guys gravitated towards her. I caught Jean's eye and headed to the door. She followed.

There was no question that Jean spent her life outdoors. Her brown hair was practical, parted down the middle, and hung to her ears. Her complexion was ruddy – she spent a lot of time in the sun. There was no fat on her, but she was not built to walk down a model's runway, she was built to ride and rope a horse. Her face was open and honest and featured penetrating blue eyes. 

We had left the room when Jean said, "You're about the same age as my step-daughter. You remind me of her."

"How is that?"

"She's smart and pretty, less serious than you. She's confident, like you. You made quite a presentation in there."

"Thank you. I've learned a lot working for Ron and Michelle. Michelle said you mentioned some problems with your step-daughter."

"Yes. It would be nice to talk to someone her age. Do you mind? Can you keep a confidence?"

"Yes, and I don't mind at all."

She looked me straight in the eye, evaluating me. She decided to proceed. 

"Thank you. I went to work for her father when she was five. She was a wonderful child. After her mother passed she became my daughter in every meaningful way. I had no problems with her as a teenager, she had the nicest friends, dated some sweet boys, and was an outstanding student. She grew into a beautiful young woman."

She shared some pictures with me. 

"She is lovely. Michelle had told me how pretty she is."

"That was kind of her.

"Olivia has just finished her first year of college and returned home to work for a local veterinarian. My husband, her father, was snooping and found some text messages on her phone from her freshman roommate. Well, long story short, they'd been lovers and had just broken up after a big fight. Her roommate was cheating on her. Her father was furious and ordered her to move out. She is living with a friend. He wants me to terminate my contact with her, but I don't want to. I'm not sure where my loyalties lie."

Here she stopped. Ron and Michelle had taught me to recognize when I was getting only part of the story. I chose an oblique approach. 

"Sometimes people come to the office asking for advice. But what they really want to hear is that they're not in trouble, so they tell us only half the story, the part in which they did nothing wrong. So they get advice they want, but its useless since they left out the important stuff. There's something you're not telling me; tell me the whole story."

She thought for a second, took a deep breath, and started afresh. "I snooped too. After my husband told me what he found I started going through Olivia's texts and e-mails. The ones from the start of the affair were startling. The initial passion for her roommate, it enthralled me, but it also bothered me. I guess I had always believed that no one would ever be closer to Olivia than I. Reading about how she burned for her roommate, it freaked me out."

"Were you jealous?"

I had asked the right question. After a moment's hesitation she said, her voice certain, "Yes."

"Tell me about it."

"When I realized that Olivia was gay, or at least had dallied there, I thought about her in a new way. And when I did, I wanted to be the roommate, except," a gentle smile flickered on her face, "I would never mistreat her."

The ache, the passion in her voice, was intense. I stopped and turned towards her, taking her hand in mine. 

"I know this is beyond my station, but it sounds like you're in love with Olivia."

Jean looked down and then back into my eyes. She said, haltingly, "Yes, I think I am. And when I think about it, I think I've always been in love with her."

The look of relief on her face was palpable. She had finally said the words.

"I don't know what to do."

"Have you told her?" 

"No. I don't know how."

"Jean, what does she need right now."

She was quiet, but she knew the answer. "Right now, after the big fight with her father, she needs someone to hold her, let her know she's loved, that someone cherishes her. She needs someone who will listen to her. I'm not sure how to do it."

"Actually, I expect you do. Haven't you always done that for her." 

I had guided us to a two office suite. The outer office featured several large comfortable couches. The inner office overlooked the conference room. Using the key Willie provided, I opened the door, led her to one of the couches, and turned on only one light. I wanted the room dark, intimate. 

"Why don't you and I practice, we can role-play. I'll be Olivia. Tell me about what you learned from the texts you read." 

Jean succinctly, intelligently, told me the story.

When she was done I said, "Okay, I understand. Please call me Olivia. What does she call you when she's upset."

"Usually she calls me Jean. When she is upset, sometimes, she calls me Mommy."

I leaned into her body, wrapping her arms around me. 

"I'm glad you called Mommy. Is Daddy still mad?"

"Yes sweetie. He loves you, but he's having trouble with the news."

"How about you, are you mad?"

"No baby, not mad. I have to admit, I was surprised. I guess shocked would be a better word. I never suspected. Sexual identity seems so much more fluid with your generation."

"You're not that much older than me. Do you really feel like the generations are that different? That your generation didn't have these same kind of feelings?"

"I've thought about that. Sometimes I wonder, maybe we were just better at suppressing them."

"So why did your come see me when Daddy won't? Does he know your here."

"I can answer that, but I'll need to ask your forgiveness in advance. I'm not much better than your father. I also invaded your privacy. Your father printed out the texts between you and Shawana. There was an early one, one that you wrote. I noticed the first line, it was so full of passion. I was transfixed. I read it, I read it about a dozen times and then read some more before I could convince myself to stop."

"That was the glory and problem of what happened between us Mama. I'm attracted to

women and men. I guess there's no harm in telling you that now. I experimented with a few female friends in high school. But when I met Shawana it was like, well I'd like to say love, but maybe it was really just lust at first site. She had a lot more experience with women than I; she instantly recognized my desire for her. She had to loosen me up, but that was no problem, the beer flows pretty freely the first night on campus. She got a few in me, took me back to the room, and we tore each other's clothes off.

"The problem was that for her, I think, it was all about the sex and the fact that I adored her. She cheated on me constantly and liked showing me up in public, flirting with other girls and boys right in front of me. She was never there for me when I needed her. She'd never do what you've always done for me, what you are doing for me right now, holding me when I'm blue."

"I love you, Olivia."

I smiled at Jean, my eyes were grateful. 

"If Dad knew you were here, what would he do?"

"Probably throw me out of the house right after you. Was Shawana pretty?"

"Yes, but not realy my type. She was flamboyant, big hair, tight clothes, lots of curves, expensive jewelry, always calling attention to herself. I got sick of it after awhile. She always had to be the center of attention. She is kinda the opposite of you. You're so beautiful, but you never make a big deal about it."

"You really think I'm beautiful baby?"

"Yes, Mama."

I kissed Jean's lip. It was not a child's kiss. Jean was confused, not sure how to respond. What was it? Fear, nerves, suppressed lust? I sat up; it was time to take control.

"I'm sorry Mama. I went too far."

"No, no, its okay." She paused, calming her nerves, and began again. "In your e-mails, when you told Shawana how you longed to kiss her, you were so ardent. The truth is, I think it made me jealous. It would be nice for someone to want to kiss me that much."

I leaned in again, this time finding her mouth slightly parted. When I ran my tongue along her lips, they quivered. She moaned. 

I snuggled into her arms, kissed her ear, nibbled its lobe, and explored its recesses before whispering, "Do you think I'm pretty, Mommy."

"Oh yes Olivia, you're the most beautiful woman in the world."

When I returned to her mouth it was open and welcoming. I grazed her lips before slipping my tongue inside. I caressed her tongue. It was still unsure, not retreating, not responding. I played my lips against hers and it was soon clear the heat had started building. I stroked her sinewy arm. 

"Mama, your body, it's so strong." I ran the flat of my hands down her torso. Her shoulders were nicely muscled, her small breasts firm, her stomach taut. My touch both calmed and excited her. I kissed her again, but now her tongue moved against mine. I placed her hand on my thigh.

"I want you to touch me."

She squeezed my thigh. Her hands were strong but knowing, something I should have foreseen in a woman who spent her life managing horses. 

I kissed her again. This time her tongue responded, sliding and twisting against mine. For several happy minutes we made out and then I knew it was time. I unbuttoned my blouse, exposing my breasts. "Mama, please," then looking down at my breasts, as if too shy to say the word, "kiss me there."

Jean was flushed, but unsure.

"Amber, I mean Olivia, I've never done this before, I'm not sure I know how."

I placed one of her hands on my left breast. She squeezed, sending visible chills through my body. 

"Jean, your hands are divine, you know just how to touch me. Don't worry, I'll show you some now. Olivia will show you the rest later. Right now my nipples are aching with need. Please take them in your mouth. Suck then. Lick them. Imagine they're Olivia's. Think of how long you've wanted to taste her, to taste them. Go ahead, you'll know how."

I guided her head to my breasts. Her tongue peeped from between her lips and then, slowly, her mouth opened and enveloped the thick dark areola of my left breast, sucking it while lightly running her tongue over it. It trembled in response, encouraging her; she continued licking, but softly. I wanted more.

My voice was husky, "You can do it harder than that, she won't break."

The pressure of her tongue increased.

One of Michelle's rules is that woman like us accept pleasure as a birthright, we don't scream, yell, and moan. However, tonight would be an exception; Jean needed the encouragement. I moaned softly and said, "Ohhhhhhhh! Don't stop! Just keep doing that! Exactly that! It feels so good!"

Jean, emboldened, became more aggressive, taking my breasts in her strong calloused hands, switching from one to the other. The years of hiding herself were falling away. It was time for me to take advantage. I pulled my breast from her mouth, kissed her gently and sweetly, and in a voice full of girlish need said, "Mama, I want you so much, please eat my pussy, please eat Olivia's pussy, Olivia's pussy is hot, Olivia's pussy needs your mouth."

I stood, undid my Indian print skirt and panties, letting them fall to the floor. Jean followed them down. I captured her head in my hands and brought it between my thighs. She was still unsure.

"My vagina, please Mama use your lips and tongue on me, explore me, all my curves and recesses, my intimacies, my smells, my tastes...., please Mama!"

At first hesitantly, then with more vigor, Jean licked my vaginal lips, slipped her tongue inside me, kissed my sex. As she had been with my breasts, she was gentle, almost afraid she might hurt me. 

"That feels so good, but do it harder. Oh Mama, if a woman can handle a man's erection, she can handle whatever your sexy sweet intelligent mouth can deliver."

Jean picked up the pace and pressure. I held her head, directing her to where I needed attention, encouraging her with lusty low hard moans.

Jean was a natural. There was a prodigious flow from my sex as the pleasure of her mouth seeped through my body. "Oh Mama, you make me feel so good, drink my sweet juice, eat me, oh yes Mama, Mama."

Jean continued to work me with her mouth, her confidence growing in step with my burgeoning excitement. It was time to raise the stakes. "Do you love me, Mama?"

Jean pulled her mouth from my steaming pussy just long enough to say, "Oh, Olivia, I do, I do, I've always loved you."

I kept in character. "I love you too Mommy, lick my clittie, suck my clittie."

Although far from an experienced lover, Jean had become emboldened. She moved her mouth to my clit, sucked it into her mouth, and lashed it with her tongue. There was none of the hesitation she had shown earlier; she slashed my clit with strong powerful strokes. 




Amber's New Job Ch. 02



I had not forgotten her powerful hands and fingers.

"Please put your fingers inside me."

Two, then three fingers entered and once inside, explored me. Her expertise momentarily baffled me, and then I realized that she must have done this to herself hundreds of time and almost obsessively over the last few days as she struggled with her now incarnate lust for her stepdaughter; she must of have done it until she was sore.

Tingly sensations were running up my spine and down to my toes. When Jean's strong fingers found my g-spot my vagina flooded with an intense warm sensation. I was a time bomb ready to explode, ticking to a climax. I arched my back, and then....

"Ohhhhh Myyyyy Goddddd...Ohhhhh Myyyyy Goddddd...Ohhhhh Myyyyy Goddddd....."

Jean sucked my clit into her mouth and slapped it with her tongue. I felt it; steamy sexual heat and lusty desire spilled throughout my body, running helter skelter to my brain and then exploded in a glorious fireworks display in my mind. I grunted and bucked under the relentless attack of her mouth and fingers, grabbing her head, pulling her into me.

"I'm cumming...yesssss...Ohhh Myyyy Goddd......cummminnnnngggg..., ahhhhhhhhhh...."

The bomb exploded and took control of my entire body. My vagina was sun gone supernova. Blinding flashes of light filled my mind. It was wonderful; I made sure Jean knew it.

"Ahhhh...Ohhhhh...Oh fuck...yesssss...ahhhhhhh...." 

I held her head, keeping her mouth pressed against my box until the orgasms played themselves out. Laying back, short of breath, I half-asked, half-motioned, her to join me on the couch. I unbuckled her belt and scooted her jeans past her waist. I kissed her once gently, enjoying my taste on her lips while my hand slid down her body to her pussy. I applied pressure to the area around her clitoris with my thumb while my pinkie and ring finger played with the opening to her vagina, occasionally dipping within. I imagined her as a musical instrument; I would test and gauge her reactions, master her body, become a virtuoso.

I whispered to her, my voice low, not so no one could overhear us – we were alone – but to emphasize the intimacy of the moment. "I could eat your sweet pussy just like you ate mine, but you want the first mouth down there to be Olivia's, don't you. I want you to imagine her sweet face buried between your thighs, look down now, do you see her long golden hair?"

As Jean did her eyes glazed with lust.

"Yes, uh, uh, uh, unh, unh...."

"She's yours now. It's always been her. She was always her father's biggest attraction. You've loved her as long as you can remember. Now you can finally have her. It will be the warmth of her body you will feel against you at night, the joy of her smile that will greet you in the morning, and when you wake in the middle of the night, the gentle sound of her breathing that will lull you back to sleep." 

"Ahhhh...Ohhhhh...yessss........Oh, yessssss...ahhhhhhh..."

"The rest of your life with her, taking care of her, absorbed in her happy face, her soft skin, and the gentle firmness of her breasts, listening to her whisper your name as you make love, burying your face in her hair and wallowing in her aroma, the taste of her skin, her mouth, her vagina."

"Ohhhhh Myyyyy Goddddd..."

"It's time to take her, make her your own. Don't hide from what you are, don't run from love, Olivia and you must be together. Tell her how you feel."

"I love you Olivia, I've always loved you. Ohmigod, I'm cumming, .....yesssss..., oh god yes, ahhhhhhhh.............."

The hot cum poured from her thrashing body in wave after wave of excruciating delight. I kept diddling her clit and another orgasm followed the first, almost strangling her with pleasure. Jean shook in my arms. I held her and she affirmed what we both knew was true. "Oh Amber, I do love her. I love her so. Do you think she loves me, could she love me?"

I gave the advice Michelle would have given. 

"You need to take from life what you want, not settle for what the world gives you. You'll never learn the answer until you ask. But ask like you expect to be accepted, not tentatively or with a question in your voice. It will be a big step for her, you'll need to make it easier, you need to lead the way."

As Jean drifted off to sleep – her consciousness drained by her orgasms - I interspersed Michelle's wisdom on how to get what you want with a pep talk to build her confidence. After she dozed off I kissed her forehead, Michelle was right, this was a special woman.

I went to the adjoining room, the one with the window overlooking the conference room. Denise was on a table on her back, her long brown hair spread wildly, naked except for her boots. How had she managed to keep her boots on? Denise's hands were wrapped around the cocks of two men on either side of the table. A third man was standing between her legs, fucking her hard. Her massive tits jiggled in time with his thrusts. Two other men were sitting on the floor, their spent looks confirming that Denise had had her way with them; it would be awhile before their dicks worked again. 

The face of the man fucking her suddenly flushed. He flopped forward. Denise placed a boot on his chest, pushing him away and he staggered back, slinking to join his fellows on the floor. Denise directed the man to her right between her legs and slid to her left and took the remaining penis in her mouth. She soon had the two men thrusting in rhythm and, maestro that she was, managed to time her orgasm to theirs, all three exploding within a beat of the others. The soundproofing was effective, but still I could hear them screaming.

* * * *

An hour later Denise and I were heading home with six signed retainer agreements. It was late and the highway all but deserted. Denise was fidgety.

"There was a time when fucking five rednecks in an evening left me fulfilled. I don't know whether it was them or me, but I'm still rarin' to go."

My need, which had been temporarily sated by Jean's mouth, had been reignited when I watched Denise in the conference room.

"Do you still keep that big blanket in your truck?" I asked.

"Sure do, and I washed it yesterday."

"And do you know any spot where you and might be find some privacy along this stretch of road?"

"Honey, I know 'em all," and she headed down an exit, turning onto a dirt road about a mile from the interstate and pulling into a little clearing. There we unfurled the thick blanket and made love under the stars. I figured Michelle and Ron would forgive us if we were late for work the next day.

* * * *

Two days later I received a text from Jean: "Olivia and I are together. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Two months later Ron won a major verdict in another case against the casino's insurer, leading to a quick profitable settlement of Jean and her fellows' claim. Jean had more than enough money to finance Olivia's return to school and they moved in together. Olivia eventually got her veterinarian's degree and she and Jean remain together, running a profitable horse ranch.

From the firm's fee, Denise was given the motor home she had long wanted As for me, a trust fund was established that would pay for my final year of college and graduate school.



Amber's New Job Ch. 03



It was December 20 of my senior year and I was headed for the Carribean in Willie Partman's private jet. You remember her, the red-head I met at my first yoga session, the one who settled her strawberry flavored pussy on my mouth. When she had introduced herself she said she worked at Greenvale Hospital, our community's best medical facility and biggest employer. Michelle, on the way home, told me Willie was being modest. Willie owned a majority interest in the hospital and was chairperson of its Board of Directors. As we prepared for landing I put aside the second volume of a large briefing book I had been provided. But I find I'm getting ahead of myself.

After Thanksgiving dinner with my family I had joined the Richards' at Willie's house for drinks. Willie was telling us how she'd been negotiating with the owner of the largest chain of hospitals in the Carribean to form what promised to be a very profitable partnership. The deal was ready to close when the owner's son began objecting. Willie would be flying down to meet with the family over the Christmas holidays to put Humpty-Dumpty back together again. She asked me to accompany her; my job would be part amanuensis, part lover, and part something else. 

"The owner, Fernando Sanchez, has three children, a son in his early twenties and two older daughters. He is in poor health and leans heavily on his children for help. The sisters are much smarter than the brother. His name is Juan. Juan has little mind for business or, for that matter, much of anything else. He's always followed his sisters' lead and they support the deal. However, I've been concerned about the boy from the beginning. The girls kept telling me they could manage him, but the father is strictly old school; he gives Juan more deference than he does his daughters. 

"When some of the hospital's executive officers and vendors realized the partnership would end some lucrative side deals, they befriended Juan, praised him, swelled his head, and turned him against the deal. His father has started to listen to him. Amber, I need your help in harnessing the poor lad."

I put down my brandy. "Sounds fascinating." I turned to Ron and Michelle, "I assume you two don't mind me missing a few days of work?"

Michelle smiled. "Of course not, I've told Willie you're perfect for the job."

Looking back at Willie I said, "Sign me up. What do I need to know?"

"A lot. Have you ever milked a man?"

"I don't even know what that is; I guess not."

"Well, that's where we'll start."

She turned to one of her servants, a well-built young blonde man. He, like all her servants, was obedient, invisible until summoned, and gorgeous.

"Sven, get ready in the entertainment room."

"Yes ma'am."

* * * *

We were met at the airport by a limousine which brought us to a local hospital to meet the family. That night we would attend a costume ball. Serious negotiations were set for the following day. I was wearing a business suit, slacks, a white blouse with a tie, and stylish black framed glasses. The briefing book, which indicated Juan had a thing for woman so dressed, was right, he immediately focused on me. After the meeting ended Juan offered to show me the hospital.

I told Juan what I wanted to see. He was more than willing to take directions from the pretty American lady. After visiting the operating room I asked to tour the gynecological/obstetrics wing and found the room Willie had ordered, equipped with an examination table and stirrups.

As we entered the room I dropped my voice tone. While still commanding, it hinted at the husky, sexual. Juan noticed immediately; his eyes softened; was he perhaps intriguing the pretty American?

"Willie says this is the service, taking care of women's sexual life, where the steady money is. I'd need to check out the equipment. Before we start Juan, empty your bladder."

"What?"

"Empty your bladder, before we check out the equipment the woman always empties her bladder."

"I am not a woman."

He was showing the expected resistance, but there was also confusion and a bit of embarrassment. I put my hand on his chest.

"That, dear boy, is obvious. I can ask one of your sisters to help if you'd prefer."

That idea he did not like at all.

"No, no, I will do as you say."

I donned a white doctor's smock. Upon his return I said, "Juan, call me doctor or ma'am." 

He nodded, accepting the role I offered him. I took down his weight and height (he subtracted a few pounds from the former and added inches to the latter) and had him sit on the examination table while I took his blood pressure. 

"All are good. We'll get your temperature in a minute." I handed him a hospital gown. "Remove your clothes and put this on. I'll return when your done"

His face reflected both surprise and joy. I had asked him to take off his clothes; apparently the pretty American was interested! I stepped into an adjoining room. A minute later there was a knock. He was done. His clothes were strewn around the room. I looked around disapprovingly, my voice stern. 

"Juan, you've been a bad boy and made a mess. Please straighten your clothes."

"Yes, ma'am."

He dutifully obeyed, picked up his clothes, placed them on hangers, and hung them on a coat rack. As he did I examined his body. There was little muscular development, he was soft. My devotion to my health over the pasty eighteen months had left me strong and nicely muscled. Willie was right, I could impose my physical presence on this boy. At my direction he climbed onto the examination table.

"I'll examine your breasts first. Lean back."

I ran my hands through the opening of his gown, rubbing my hands over his chest. He closed his eyes and sharply inhaled, loving the sensation. His penis hardened. I increased the pressure on his chest, pushing him down onto the table.

"Your chest is fine. Roll over."

He obeyed.

I pulled the gown aside, exposing his bottom. I ran my hands over it. It might be his best feature, shapely, nice, border-line firm. 

"Juan, you have a lovely little behind." I tapped it hard, bordering on a slap. "I'm going to take your temperature."

He looked over his shoulder. Had he heard me right? "Back there?"

"Of course, it's the most accurate way. Now be a good boy; there's no need to be shy. I've seen plenty of boy's bottoms. Spread your legs, open up for me."

He did so, hesitatingly. His face flashed red. Good, he was embarrassed and offering a bit of resistance. I tapped him lightly on his butt. "Come on, you can do better than that, be a good boy and spread wide."

Juan opened his legs and blushed again. His penis remained hard. I ran my hand softly over his butt, "Thank you, you're such a sweet boy."

Confused, aroused, embarrassed, he didn't respond.

"Now, now, don't be pouty. This must be done."

Grudgingly, "I'm sorry doctor, thank you."

"I am going to use some lubricant on your cute little tushie so it doesn't hurt." I put on rubber gloves and picked up a jar sitting on a stainless steel table, put a dollop of cream on my finger tip, and smeared it across the opening of his behind. Juan gasped as I spread the cold gel over his anus, rubbing circles around its rim, warming the lubricant and massaging his asshole. Juan, who had stiffened, relaxed. He enjoyed the sensation and his body sank back into the table. I studied his butthole; it had a nice sweet pink color and responded nicely. It opened and shut. It was time. 

"Good, your ready." 

It was not a question and I didn't wait for an answer. I placed a finger on each side of his anus and opened him as I slid the thermometer inside. I then ran a finger down his spine.

"Juan, since this is a room for examining women, you don't mind if I call your anus your pussy, do you?"

In an uncertain voice he answered, "I guess not."

"That's a good boy. You do have a very pretty pussy."

"Thank you ma'am."

I removed the thermometer and checked the temperature. "Normal." While taking off my rubber gloves, I added, "Now we'll examine your chest. Roll over." 

He hesitated. His erect penis would be fully exposed. He wanted me to see it, and play with it, but the situation was strange. He was not sure what to expect, not sure what he should do. 

My voice sharp and curt, "Juan."

His face flushed, he said, "Sorry ma'am," and rolled over. His hand drifted down and made a half-hearted effort to cover his penis. Ignoring his manhood, I moved to the side of the table and conducted an abdominal exam, palpitating his chest with enough force for him to understand who was in control. He reported neither pain nor tenderness.

"Put you feet in the stirrups."

"Isn't that for girls?"

"Juan, the words we use are ladies or women, not girls, but you're right, its mostly for them, but boys can play too. Do you want me to call your sisters?"

"No, no, I'll do it." 

"That's a good boy."

He put his feet in the stirrups, angled inward. I pushed his legs aside. He was laying in front of me, completely exposed. He stared at me. When I caught his eye, he looked away. He was confused, unsure of how he should feel - part aroused, part embarrassed, part bewildered - but far too irresolute to stop me. I pushed his knees further outward with my elbows. He blushed. He knew something was wrong, that the game was spinning out of control, but lacked the gumption to say no. 

For the first time I looked directly at his penis. It was throughly average. While he had lost his erection, it was still thick with blood. When I took it in my hand it instantly hardened. I rolled the foreskin back. He was clean and the skin rosy. 

"Do you scrub it everyday like you should?"

"Yes, yes Ma'am."

"That's a good boy."

I applied rubbing alcohol to a cloth and cleaned its end, brushing my fingertips over the sensitive head. He gasped and arched his hips. I ran a fingertip down the shaft and cupped his scrotum, taking his testicles between my thumb and index finger, rolling them, massaging them, evaluating them. After finishing, I dragged a nail across his sac, over his perineum, to his anus. 

"Seems normal. Juan, how often do you masturbate?

He stared at me.

"Juan, how often do you masturbate, how often do you play with your pee-pee?"

Stupefied, he said, "Once a week."

"Juan, you're lying to me. It's more often than that. You should never lie to a woman."

Although he was not sure why, he apologized, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I was lying. It's more than that."

"How often?"

"His face flushed red. "Every day."

"You are a horny little buy, aren't you?"

"I have lots of friends who..."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes ma'am."

"And when you do, do you have emissions? Does your seed drip out or spurt out?"

"Drip, mostly, ma'am."

"What was the last time you did it?"

He took a second. I stared at him, waiting. "This morning, in the shower."

I frowned and my voice took on a border-line harsh tone. "That's not good Juan, we'll need to take our sample later, when we're sure there is enough."

"I'm sorry ma'am. I didn't know." 

I ignored his apology and made some notes on a chart. I picked up a speculum. His eyes focused on the shiny metal device.

"Juan, this is a speculum. It will hold your pussy open so I can see inside. Then we'll check your prostrate to make sure it's firm and healthy. That's a very important thing to do."

I didn't wait for a response. I sat on a stool at the foot of the bed and put on rubber gloves. "Spread your pussy cheeks, sweet boy." Grudgingly he pulled them aside and I re-lubricated his anus, rubbing the cream around the rim; the crinkled skin glistened with oil. I slipped a finger inside, leaving a dab of the heavy stuff within him. I lubed the instrument and its curved metal blades easily slid inside, opening him up. His gasp reflected pain and shock and, I thought, a bit of pleasure. I covertly glanced at his face; yes, it displayed both embarrassment and desire. His penis had re-filled with blood. 

I looked inside him using a small medical flashlight, jogging the speculum a bit. He moaned. I removed the tool. 

"You're such a good boy. I'm happy to report all is normal. In fact, you have a lovely pussy. Now I will massage your prostate to make sure it's okay."

I slipped two fingers into his well-lubricated anus, found his prostrate, and pressed on it. His rectum clenched tight on my fingers. I ran a hand across his chest.

"Don't be nervous, you can relax your pussy. I won't hurt your little tushie."

"Yes ma'am." He relaxed, his anus opening again.

"That's a good little boy." 

He smiled.

I pressed his prostate with the pad of my fingertip. He closed his eyes and murmured; when I applied more pressure his moan deepened. I kept massaging him, drawing the examination out far beyond any medical necessity. His anus adjusted to my fingers, all apprehension left him. His penis was rock hard.

I kept working his prostate. He started to rock his butt, moving with me. 

"Juan, you like my finger in your pussy, don't you. I can see your pee-pee is all hard."

His eyes closed, his voice dreamy, he said, "Yes ma'am, I didn't know, my butt, I'm sorry, I mean my pussy, could feel so good, you make it feel good."

I ran a fingernail up the length of his penis. His eyes popped open. "Good Juan, I'm glad to see your pee-pee is responding normally." I wrapped my hand around it head and worked it nice and slow. All resistence had left his asshole; I could make it open and shut at will. I took my finger out of his butt and stopped masturbating him. He groaned in disappointment. 

"I have wonderful news. Your prostate is fine and your pussy is very sensitive. I have a special treat for you."

I removed a thin flexible dildo from a drawer. Hanging from one end was a battery pack. Juan was confused, apprehensive, curious.

"We're going to take advantage of your wonderfully responsive pussy to help build up your supply of boy-juice. We're going to put this inside you."

His face turned red and he said, "But I'm not a..." I frowned. His voice broke off.

"Not a homosexual. Of course you're not. This is play between a woman and a boy, not two men. You noticed I'm a woman, didn't you Juan."

He hurried to reassure me, "Yes, yes."

"We'll use this to increase your supply of boy-juice. Now be a good boy and pull your pussy lips apart." 

He hesitated. I glanced at his penis. He hurried to comply. I worked another dab of cream in his asshole, watching it quiver. It was learning to obey. I lubed the dildo, aligned its head to his asshole, and while stroking his chest pushed the artificial cock past his sphincter, watching his body stretch as he accepted the intrusion gliding past his small, tight rectum. The toy was not large enough to cause him pain, but he was frightened and released his ass cheeks, grabbing the edge of the table. I ran my hand down his chest, cooing what an obedient little boy he was, calming him. I wanted him scared, but needed to keep him from panicking.

He lifted his head from the table, trying to see what was happening. The process might be strange and he certainly felt full in a way he had never experienced, but the pain was mostly in his head and, I knew, would soon be replaced by pleasure. When the dildo was all the way inside him I turned it on, the gentle vibrations resounded through his backside. In a matter of seconds his head fell back to the table and he started rocking his hips, emitting a happy coo. His penis, which had deflated, once again grew stiff; pre-cum dripped from its tip. He arched his back and let out a deep moan, "Unnnnnnhhhhhhhhnnnnnn."

"Juan, you have a very sensitive pee-pee and such a tight sweet pussy. The dildo is making you feel good, isn't it?"

His arousal was evident; I felt his heart rate increase. He hesitated. He was still a guy and reluctant to say what I wanted to hear.

"I'm sorry Juan, Mommy thought you liked it." I reached down to withdraw the artificial dick.

He blushed. He didn't want to admit it, but he did. "No, no, I do."

I adjusted my glasses. The look on my face was one of disappointment. He saw that I wanted to hear more.

His voice was hurried. "Yes Mommy, I like it." 

"What do you like?"

"The dildo in my butt."

"Juan..."

"The dildo in my pussy."

"You like it when I fuck your pussy."

"Yes."

"Juan."

"Yes, I like getting my pussy fucked."

"With what, Juan?"

There was no hesitation this time. "The dildo Mommy. Juan likes getting his pussy fucked with the dildo." 

"Good Juan, now Mommy is going to try something else." I pulled the dildo out about an inch, and pushed it back inside. He murmured his approval and I began, slowly and gently, to fuck him with the tool while encouraging and praising him. He found the sensation increasingly pleasurable.

"Ohh, Mommy, yes. I like it when Mommy fucks my sweet tight pussy. My pussy feels so good, it really really does Mommy. Oh Mommy, it feels so good"

"Now Juan, touch your pee-pee, but nice and slow, take your time."

He started jerking himself off. I pushed the dildo hard into him, securing his attention.

"Juan, I said slow." 

He obeyed, barely moving his hand over his member. After a few minutes, when he began to pick up the pace, I said, "Juan," in a gentle tone. Fearful of my disapproval, he slowed down, took his time, fighting the desire to bring himself off.

As he did so I picked up the pace, twisting the dildo around inside him. Juan groaned. The muscles of his ass instinctively worked over the invader, massaging it, grabbing at it. I ran my free hand over his scrotum. Juan was breathing hard, fully absorbed in his body. Still, whenever the pace of his masturbation increased, I scolded him, reminding him to go slow. 

"Isn't it wonderful Juan, to have such a responsive pussy?"

"Yes Mommy, thank you Mommy, my cunt, my pee-pee, they both feel so good."

"Mommy knows what's she doing, you should always obey Mommy."

"Yes Mommy, I'll be a good boy."

I started fucking him with the dildo's full length, watching it be repeatedly enveloped in his sweet puckered asshole. Juan squealed in delight. His hand was quivering, desperate to stroke himself to orgasm. Drops of pre-cum flowed from his cock like a fountain.

"What a good boy you are, making your own juice. Now go a little faster, but don't come." 

His hand rocketed up and down his penis. His anus quivered, opened and closed, clamping down on the artificial intruder. I picked up the pace, fucking him hard with the plastic cock. His scrotum tightened.

"I'm, I'm getting close," he said.

I took hold of his hand. "Stop!"

Disoriented and confused, he obeyed. His stopped masturbating. His twitching erection glowed a bright red. I pulled the dildo from his asshole.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No dear boy, you did exactly what you were supposed to. Remember what I told you earlier, that we needed a sample of your boy juice, but had to build up a big supply. That's what we've been doing. Now we'll milk you."

The faltering tone of his voice confirmed his confusion, but he was desperate to come. "I remember now. Do you want me to, y'know, in a cup?"

"No dear boy, that's the old fashioned way. I said I was going to milk you. You need to improve your listening skills Juan."

"I'm sorry ma'am, it's just that I don't understand."

"You will dear boy. Roll over."

His face flashed red, but he obeyed without hesitation. The combination of his infatuation with me, my calm self-assurance and air of command, the perplexing circumstances, and his weakness had ceded me complete control.

"All the things we've done, my playing with your pussy and your rubbing your pee-pee, they helped build up a big supply of boy juice. Now I'm going to extract it."

I put on a rubber glove, letting it snap it into place. The thwack of the glove against my skin reverberated around the room. Although his anus was already stretched and lubed, I unscrewed the jar of lubricant and used my gloved hand to smear it over his anus, coating the length of anal crevice and pushing several globs inside him. I praised him, told him what a sweet obedient boy he was, what a lovely soft pussy he had. His apprehension faded.




Amber's New Job Ch. 03



"Look at me Juan yes, that's a good boy. You're a good little boy, aren't you. You're not going to give my any trouble."

His reply barely reached the level of a whisper. "Oh no Ma'am."

"Now I'll extract your semen. I will be as gentle as I can, but you must obey my instructions absolutely. I will insert my fingers inside your cunt. Now relax your sweet pussy." 

A blush flashed across his features.

"I will also play with your pee-pee to make sure you're thoroughly drained. Do you promise to be a good boy?"

He was confused and cowed, but he had heard the promise to play with his penis. He mumbled, "Yes ma'am."

"Stretch your arms forward and grip the edge of table. Spread your legs apart and push your little bottom up."

Juan, nervously, obeyed.

"Now turn your toes inwards." When he hesitated I added, "Come along now, do I need to spank your bottom?"

Juan shuddered, but obeyed.

I took a second to scan Juan's naked body. Poor boy, I thought, he was so aroused and humbled and shamed; he couldn't begin to understand his situation. With a little training he would be a dutiful companion. I thought of Willie, who was with his sisters, completing their preparation. Soon they'd take full control of their errant brother.

In a soft gentle voice I said, "Now relax your little bottom sweetheart. You can do that for me, can't you Juan? Relax and let me rub the oil in so it penetrates your soft skin." "

"Yes ma'am."

My right hand slid up and down the crevice of his buttocks, working the lubricant into his tender flesh. I slipped my other hand around his waist, pressing my palm against his tummy, then letting it slide lower and lower until I casually encircled his rigid shaft. It throbbed; a deep pulse ran its length. My other hand stroked his butt cheeks. 

"Does that feel nice on your bottom?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't worry Juan, we'll soon have these little balls of yours drained."

A look of trepidation flashed across his face. I stroked my hand along the inside of his thigh. 

"Spread your legs a little wider. That's a good boy, now pay attention. I want you to give me as much boy juice as you can. Relax your bottom so I can penetrate you."

He turned a shade of red. I rearranged my glasses and smiled, pressing two fingers against his asshole. As they slid passed his sphincter, I said, "Take nice deep breaths Juan, in and out, in and out, there that's the way."

Juan, watching closely, grunted.

"There we are sweetheart, just relax. Deep breaths now." My free hand cupped his scrotum, running my fingers over the bulging sac. 

"Oh Juan, I can feel so much juice inside you. Soon we'll get rid of it without a nasty old orgasm. Then Mama will have a nice present for you."

He looked at me, befuddlement on his face. He had thought the deal, even if weird, included an orgasm. "I don't understand."

"It will become clear as we go along. You just do what you're told. Do you understand?"

I was concerned about this moment and there was a brief sign of something on his countenance. Possibly a thought of defiance, but I stroked his balls and it quickly passed. Juan groaned in delight. 

"I am going to examine you inside, so relax."

I traced the pad of my finger against his prostate gland. His penis jerked. I checked Juan's face. He was a bit more relaxed; his face flush with desire. 

"Juan, take deep breaths, lets see how well you can do sweetheart. In out, in now out, you're doing so well, just perfect. You are such a clever little boy." 

I waited. His breathing became deep and regular, adhering to the rhythm of my instruction.

"In... out, in... out, you're doing so well."

His breathing had synchronized to my fingers riding in and out of his ass.

"There we go in... out, and again, in... out, why that's perfect sweetie."

I applied more pressure.

"What a good boy... in... out, in... out, that's the way."

I took hold of his penis and ran my fingers up its length. Juan looked at me, startled by the sudden touch. My face was filled with care and compassion. I increased the pressure of my fingers on his sphincter and my hand on his shaft.

"There we are sweetheart... in... out, in..."

His head dropped back to the table, his steady breathing resumed, his spinchter fully relaxed. I tightened my fingers around his penis, skillfully, dexterously, sliding them up and down. 

"Your doing so well Juan, it will be all over soon sweetheart. Soon we'll have your little pee-pee squirt and get rid of all that nasty boy juice. Now hold tight sweetheart." 

I curled my fingers in his bottom, working over his swollen prostate while cooing in soft sweet tones. "There there Juan, now let me have some nice big spurts sweetheart. We'll be there real soon darling, you stay still now."

I rubbed the pre-cum dripping from his penis into its head. When he started to move his penis in my hand I let go and smartly smacked his bottom.

"I told you to stay still, Juan. Do I need to stop?"

He looked back at me in chagrin, tears formed in the corner of his eyes. The situation had turned bizzare, beyond anything in his experience, beyond anything he dreamed about. He knew he wanted to please me; he knew he wanted it to continue, but beyond that he knew nothing. It seemed like he could do nothing right.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I'll be good."

"Okay, now do as I say. It's going to become intense, I need you to relax your little bottom."

I stimulated the head of his penis, pushing him to higher states of arousal. At the same time I skillfully manipulated his prostrate; it expanded and deflated at my command. His body was at the mercy of this unworldly sexual assault, sweat formed on his skin, his eyes rolled back in his head. I pulled the fingers in his ass upward. "Up on your knees sweet boy, face on the table." Juan raised himself as instructed, moaning as arousal pushed aside humiliation.

"You're such a clever little boy."

I let go of his penis, slipped a metal pan under his body, and took hold of his ball sac, squeezing gently. His balls were swollen with seed. "You nuts dear, they're just like we wanted, so cute and full and firm."

Juan moaned and pushed his face into the table.

"Do you like it Juan?" And then more firmly. "Tell me you like it, Juan." 

"Ooohhhh."

"No, use words, dear." 

"It is so good. Feels so nice."

"And your pussy Juan, how does your pussy feel."

"Feels strange, to be filled back there, but its wonderful."

"There we are Juan, I want nice big spurts now. We'll milk all that nasty boy juice from you, my sweet little boy."

This was the tricky part. I intensified my efforts. His body shuddered. I felt it; he was about to cum. I dug a finger into his prostrate and squeezed his balls, preventing him from going over the edge. He cried out in torment and his body stiffened and shivered, quivering in a fine vibration, like the string of a bow. And then it happened. Long thick ropes of cum dripped from the head of his penis into the pan. I continued squeezing his balls as semen flowed from his penis. Juan looked at it spill out, confused. How did this happen? He had not orgasmed. He looked back at me, yearning for an explanation. 

"Now now Juan, I need it all, let's keep going, let's see how well you do."

I milked his balls until they were dry and then ran my thumb up his urethra, forcing out the remaining jism. Semen, in long congealed strings, plopped into the pan. Juan shuddered. 

As the last globule of congealed semen dropped from him I knew his penis would be ultrasensitive. I wrapped my hand over the tip and stroked up while prodding his prostate gland, hard enough to hurt him. Juan groaned, his body become rigid, his sinews stretched taut.

"Did I hurt you Juan?"

"Yes ma'am, but it's my fault. Its just that, that it's so tender now."

It had gone so well. I had tortured and humiliated little Juan, I had all but pillaged his young body, and he was apologizing, afraid to offend me, wanting to please me. I asked him how he felt. His response, a careful "Fine," showed that despite everything I'd done to him he would forfeit what remained of his dignity on the hope I'd be his lover. I moved the pan of his semen away and he rolled over, laying naked on the table before me. 

He looked at me, wanted to say something, but was afraid I'd be angry.

"Little Juan, do you have something you want to tell Mama?"

"Yes Mommy, it's just that, well, I mean," his eyes gestured to the pan of semen, "I didn't come, I mean orgasm."

"Of course not, we wanted to get all that nasty gunk out of you first. You don't want to fill a woman's body with that stuff, it might make her pregnant."

I dipped the tip of my fingernail into his semen, catching the smallest of drops, and brought it to my lips, licking it off. His cock, which had partially deflated, jumped. 

"You do taste good Juan, let me get you some."

His eyebrows raised, he started to say no, I cut him off.

"Juan, you want to put that stuff in women, you expect women to taste your boy juice, but you won't do the same. Is that fair Juan." I crossed my arms on my chest.

"No, it's not. I'm sorry, ma'am," he mumbled, "I guess I can."

"That's a good boy." I scooped up the most a finger could bear and inserted it into his mouth, dragging my nail across his tongue.

"How does it taste Juan?"

"Good." He was guessing at the answer, hoping to say what I wanted to hear.

"Then you can have the rest. Lick it off the plate, like the good little pet you are. Then we'll see about your orgasm."

If any resistance was left in him, the promise of an orgasm washed it away. He licked up the remaining semen. When I pointed out spots he missed, he made sure to clean his plate.

"Good boy. Now we'll see about you." I helped him off the table and walked him over to a counter, telling him to lean over it. I ran my hand over his bare bottom. "We've learned an important lesson today. We've learned how sensitive you are back here. Mommy knows just how to take advantage."

I ran a finger up the crevice of his ass and slipped it inside. He was well-lubed; there was no need for reinforcement. I grasped his penis with my other hand; it immediately hardened. I pulled my belt from its loop and let my pants fall to the floor. I was wearing a seven inch, slender, highly flexible dildo. I ran its head up the crevice of his ass. I'd soon know exactly how much fight was left in him.

The answer was not much. He didn't jump or scream. He squirmed, turned his head and saw the plastic white penis dangling between my legs. He voice doleful, he asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to make you come Juan. We've discovered a wonderful thing. We've discovered you have a very very sensitive pussy. Now we'll take advantage. I will fuck your pussy with my cock while I play with your pee-pee. Soon you will have a nice orgasm."

My hand ran up and down his erection, making sure he was going nowhere, but still he started, "I was hoping that...," before running out of steam. 

"You didn't think I'd let you put your thing inside me, did you Juan? We only met a couple of hours ago. You don't think I'm some kind of slut, do you Juan?"

Desperate, he moved to reassure me. "No ma'am, no I don't think that about you."

A single tiny droplet of pre-cum emerged from the head of his penis, the first since I had started to fondle him; I had thoroughly drained his balls. I caught it with my thumb and brought it to his mouth. He licked it off. In the voice of a woman sharing a dirty little secret, I said, "Are you a slut Juan? Would you put your thing is a girl on the very first date. You'd do it with me if I let you, wouldn't you Juan. You're a very naughty and very slutty little boy, aren't you Juan. Are you a little slut-boy?"

My hand had returned to his penis. He moaned in response.

"You're the kind of slut-boy who believes in doing it on the first date, aren't you Juan. Tell me the truth, I want to hear you say it Juan, confession is good for the soul, tell me you're a naughty slut-boy who believes in doing it right away."

His erection throbbed and pulsed in my hand. Willie had been right, Juan was weak and submissive. The years of socialization that had taught him the opposite was crumbling; the influence of his new-found friends was a veneer.

"Juan?"

"I am a naughty little slut-boy."

"Tell me more."

"I am a nasty little dirty slut-boy. I believe in fucking on the first date. I'm a little slut-whore. Please Mommy, play with my little pee-pee, fuck my pussy. Please Mommy, fuck my cuntie, please Mommy, please Mommy."

I inserted the head of the slender dildo in his dilated lubed asshole. It slipped in easily. This episode would not be painful, he'd learn that submission was pleasurable. 

"Now Mommy's cock has a hard fat pad that sits on her clittie. If you move your little rump around it will make Mommy come. That's what your cunt is for Juan, to make Mommy come."

He groaned.

"Juan?"

"Yes, yes, that's what my pretty pussy is for, to make Mommy come. My pussy is for Mommy."

"That's a good boy, now think about how good my cock feels in your pussy." I started fucking him, moving in and out. He rotated his butt, rolling the dildo around inside him. I added a forceful twisting motion; letting him know who was in charge. 

"Unnnh, unnnhm, feels so good Mommy, fuck my pussy."

He was close, real close. I let go of his penis. "Juan, jerk yourself off."

Juan grabbed his meat, his hand racing up and down it length, desperate to gain the orgasm I had denied him earlier. 

"Do you like my cock Juan? Do you like being fucked my sweet boy?"

"Uuuuunnnnhhhhhhhhh."

"Juan."

There was only joy in his voice. "On yes, I love it, I love it. I love your cock, I love having my pussy filled. Fuck my pussy. Fuck my slut pussy."

It was but a few seconds before Juan arched his back, his anus clamped tight, and he came. He had been well-milked; only a few drops of semen crawled from the end of his cock. He worked his penis for a few moments and sank onto the counter, whimpering. I continued to pump the dildo in and out of his anus, captured the few drops of semen sitting on the head of his penis, and fed them to him.

"You came just like a big boy, Juan. Not with all that nasty stuff you used to make, just a few tiny drops. Mommy's so proud. And your pussy got all tight when you came, just like it should."

"Oh yes, my pussy felt so good. I didn't know my pussy could feel so good."

"It was a wonderful orgasm. That's because mommy was inside you. Everything will always feel better when your lovely little bottom has a woman inside it. But you forgot the most important thing, you forgot to please the woman, make sure you are of service to her. Mommy gave you such a lovely climax, but did you make sure Mommy came?"

Suddenly panicked, "No, no, I didn't. Ohnigod, I'm sorry, I'm a worthless little slut-boy. Did you Mommy? Did you come?"

"No Juan, you came quick but you didn't make sure Mommy came."

Shame flashed across his face and tears welled in his eyes.

"Oh Mommy, I'm sorry. I'm a bad boy. It's just that, just that..." A tear flowed across his face.

"It's just that you're a horny little slut-boy who can't control yourself. You were so eager to come you didn't wait for Mommy. You're so eager to come you'd give your cunt to whomever asked you, wouldn't you. That's way you need a woman to control you."

"Yes, that's it."

"What is Juan, I need to make sure you understand."

"I'm a little slut-boy. I need a woman to control me. I need someone like you. I came with out making sure you came. I'm sorry. I'm so bad." Another tear dripped from his eye. 

"Now now Juan, do you want Mommy to show you how to make it up to her? Would you like that."

He enthusiastically shook his head. "Yes Mommy." 

I stepped back. I pulled the dildo from his ass. He clenched down on it; he had learned to love the sensation of a cock in his ass; when the head popped out he let out a low groan of disappointment .

"Come dear boy."

He followed me to a large comfortable chair. I sat down.

"Kneel Juan."

He did so, the dildo hung before him. "Juan, you don't have enough control of your pussy to please a woman. So we're going to use your mouth."

He started to say something, but I held a finger to my lips, shushing him. I brought the head of the dildo to his lips. I waited; would he object? He opened his mouth and I slid the head in. He let it sit there.

"Now Juan, be a good boy, suck on it, work it with your mouth and tongue."

At first he was tentative, unsure of himself, not knowing how to proceed. However, he took comfort from the dildo in his mouth, like a baby with a pacifier, and was soon rolling the plastic head and shaft around, sucking on them with increasing enthusiasm. The base on the dildo moved against my clit and drops of juice dripped from behind the harness and down my legs. His eyes traced their progress. I started moving the tool in and out of his mouth; he adapted to the motion.

"That's a good boy, make it nice and wet."

Pleased with himself, he shut his eyes, focused his attention, and absorbed more and more of the plastic cock into his face. Two, three, and then four inches were soon spearing in and out of his mouth. When I moaned he redoubled his efforts, his cheeks became concave, his face screwed up in concentration. I encouraged him, praising him as he took more and more of my cock in his mouth. He whimpered in delight. Finally I was pushing the tip hard against the back of his mouth and although he gagged a few times, he dutifully sucked the plastic intruder.

"Oh what a dear little cock-sucker you are, you've made me so happy."

I shortened my strokes to about half of inch, keeping the dildo buried in the back of his mouth. He matched my motion. He did not know it, but he was building up the kind of thick heavy slippery saliva needed for the next step of our game. He looked at me for approval. I smiled. 

"Juan, you're such a dear boy. Now direct the head of my cock into your throat."

He re-angled his head; there was no question, no defiance in his face; he was mine. At first the head of the dildo would sit at the opening of his throat but slide away. But eventually he succeeded, keeping it fixed in position. I stroked the side of his face and cooed my appreciation, telling him what a good little slut-boy he was. When I saw he was ready I pushed forward. The dildo moved into his throat.

"That's a good boy. Now swallow, that helps pull it into you. That's it, that's a good boy, obey Mommy, work with Mommy." 

It was firmly lodged in the opening to his throat. I increased the pressure. He gagged and looked at me, a hint of shame in his eyes. 

"You're doing so well Juan, that's it, oh yes, that's it my sweet little love."

And then I could feel the pop. It had entered his throat.

"What a good little boy you are, taking Mommy's cock down your throat." 

His eyes glittered with excitement. I was slow and gentle, feeding it into him millimeter by millimeter. There was some discomfort. His eyes started to water, but the slender flexible dildo was built for this and soon his face was firmly pressed against my crotch, the entire length buried inside him. I gazed at this young man, kneeling between my legs, head tilted back, a pale plastic dildo forced into his throat. Had he really considered himself worthy of inheriting his father's business empire?

He stopped sucking.

"Now Juan, who told you to stop. Keep sucking. Use you cheeks and tongue to pleasure Mommy's cock. Suck hard my little slut-pet."

He returned to sucking and licking the plastic tool. I gave him reassuring pat on the head and wrapped my thighs tight around his head, pulling his face into me. I held of his head and worked it hard against my pussy, using the pressure to stimulate my clit. 




Amber's New Job Ch. 03



"That's a good boy. Suck a little harder my pet, suck me like a little baby." 

A moan of pleasure escaped me, reassuring Juan he was doing well. His mouth moved with renewed vigor.

The pressure on my clitoris started to get to me. I was getting wetter and wetter and drops of juice flowed from underneath the harness. Perspiration beaded up on my body and my skin took on a bright red glow. 

"That's it baby, make Mommy feel good. Your Mommy's good little fuck-toy."

I drew out the process, allowing myself to ride to the crest of the wave and slide back down it. Juan never flinched; he placed his hands on my lower back so he could firmly push his face into me. His dick was hard.

I was close. 

"You're such a good boy, making Mommy feel good. Remember what you are Juan, a little slut-boy. That's what you're for, to please Mommy, to please woman, to let them fuck your pussy, fuck your face. You're a slut. You need strong women to control you, become their toy. That's what you're for, to be their slut-toy ."

Juice was flowing down my thighs. I grabbed his head and ran the harness' ridge over my hard throbbing clit. The electricity coursing through me became overwhelming and my pussy exploded, twitching as an orgasm engulfed me. I leaned back on my hands, pushed my crotch forward, ramming the dildo deeper into his throat. Juan never wavered. He continued to work my crotch until I tapped on his head.

"That's enough sweet boy."

I kissed the top of his head and, ever so slowly, pushed his face away. I wanted him to appreciate the sensation of the dildo crawling out of his throat. 

He remained on his knees. His face angled down, he looked at me through hooded eyes and in a childlike voice asked, "Did I do good Mommy?"

"Yes, sweet boy. You took care of Mommy."

He was erect. I dropped a hand to his genitals, brushing my thumb over his testicles. His delicate warm flesh jumped. I dragged a nail over his ball sac and along his perineum. He moaned gently; his penis twitched. 

I smiled. "You did very well my sweet little boy. And your wiener is hard, the sign you take pride in pleasing a woman. That's what's important, pleasing women. Unfortunately I need to leave now and can't help you take care of it."

Disappointment crossed his face.

"But I brought someone who could." 

My gaze turned to his elder sisters, who had slipped into the room.

They opened their coats. Each sported a dildo, slightly longer, slightly wider, slightly stiffer than the one I wore.

The elder spoke first. "Little Juan, we hear you have a nice sweet slut pussy for the ladies."

Would there a flicker of resistance?

He turned his back and spread his ass cheeks "I do; it's ready for your cock. Mama likes it; she says its pretty." 

"Oh Juan, Mama's right, its so pretty."

Juan's face glowed not with embarrassment, but with pride.

As I left I said, "I'll see you later, Juan. I love you."

"I love you too Mommy."

Juan attended the evening's costume party in the company of his sisters, dressed as the blue boy from the Thomas Gainsborough painting. He was sweet polite and solicitous of the ladies. The next morning Mr. Sanchez gave us the good news, Juan had spent the evening with his sisters; all intra-family disagreements had been resolved. The contract would be signed with Willie's company.



Amber's New Job Ch. 04



I met Regina while working for Michelle and Ron. An attorney in her second year of practice, she had joined the district attorney's office out of law school. She had made a strong impression; her courtroom work was outstanding and her feel for the politics of the office extraordinary. There was already talk about her as a future candidate for the job. She had a private practice on the side; Ron and Michelle associated her on several matters. 

Her name fit her well. In addition to being smart and savvy, she was beautiful. She carried herself with a regal bearing: posture perfect, movements graceful, and body language that signaled it was your place to petition her, not her you. She walked into every room, even in the presence of her boss, like she owned it. Her dark black skin had reddish undertones — there were no slavers in her wood pile - and her symmetrical face featured high cheek bones, deep intelligent brown eyes, and a pretty mouth with lips a bit fuller than average. When needed, she could break into a winning approving smile. Her teeth were perfect; her kinky hair cut short.

During my senior year in college, Michelle asked my opinion of Regina. I responded positively, with the thoughts outlined above, but as I contemplated Michelle's question I was troubled. Why hadn't I more openly befriended this woman? Instead of real friends, I thought, we too often acted like two alpha females struggling over the pecking order. 

Michelle saw these unspoken thoughts in my face. "And...," she added

I expressed my concern that I had foolishly failed to build a useful relationship with Regina. Michelle's nod showed I had gotten it. I called Regina and asked her to lunch. Over the following weeks our friendship blossomed. We contrasted some; she was always in control, I still enjoyed a sometimes goofy affability, but still I had found in her a kindred spirit. As I got to know her better I also realized, for all her studied solemnity, she still held onto a girl's romantic view of the world although tempered by an adult's realistic assessment of its flaws and limitations. Finally I approached Esha about adding Regina to our yoga group. Esha, after discussing it with several others, approved.

Which is how Michelle and I came to pick up Regina on the way to yoga class one Friday afternoon. Several hours later we piled our satiated bodies back into Michelle's car. After we dropped Regina off Michelle told me something I already knew; Regina was a special woman. When my phone rang an hour later with an invitation to join Regina at her place for dinner the following evening, I happily accepted.

I was five minutes early, holding a bottle of wine (the vintage was Michelle's suggestion), when I knocked on Regina's door. The business woman I had gotten to know was not what opened the door. She was barefoot and resplendent in a stunning yellow and red Oleku Ankara top and wrap skirt; I felt dowdy in my jacket, jeans, and boots. The home was full of aromas which, at least to my barely educated palette, were exotic. Soft smooth jazz music filled the room.

I joined her in the kitchen where we chatted over glasses of wine as she finished preparing the meal. Dinner was served on a low table; we sat on pillows on the floor. The first course was Nigerian, jollof rice, a spicy one-pot dish of rice, tomatoes, onions and pepper, and egusi soup, made with ground melon seeds and bitter leaf. They were delicious, the main course unworldly. Galinha à Zambeziana, a dish perfected in Mozambique, was a succulent feast of chicken cooked with lime, pepper, garlic, coconut milk, and piri piri sauce. Dessert was relatively simple: lightly spiced guava ice cream, served in one dish with one spoon, our bodies pressed together as we took turns feeding each other.

When we were done I offered to help clean up. She said we could do that in the morning. I took her hand, squeezed her fingers, kissed her palm. Then I dipped my head towards her. We kissed gently at first, letting just our lips play with each other, our hands laying on each other's arms. As we kissed I noticed for the first time - it had been masked by the aroma of the food - her perfume, light gentle feminine delicious. When her tongue ran across my lips I let them part; Regina explored my mouth. I encouraged her, stroking her tongue with my own, leaning into her body. Regina's hands became more aggressive, journeying up my arms and the sides of my body. I leaned back into one of the pillows. Regina followed me, moving forward and keeping our mouths together. I returned her kisses, my lips and tongue exploring hers as she had explored mine. 

I broke the kiss. "You know, you're extraordinarily beautiful."

She smiled, her face beatific, "I've been told, but its always nice to hear."

I tickled Regina's ear with my tongue. She sighed and kissed my hand, then sucked my thumb into her mouth, which I gently rocked back and forth. She kissed my mouth before turning to my neck and face. With her body against mine I realized she was not wearing a bra. We kissed each other ever more deeply, our tongues entwining, our sighs and soft moans intensifying. Soon we were caressing any and all the exposed skin we could reach. Our breathing became faster and deeper.

By now I was laying against a pillow, Regina holding herself above me, her legs between mine. We wiggled our hips and rocked our pelvises against each other. Our hands shaking, we greedily explored each other's firm bodies. I caught Regina's nipples between my fingertips, feeling their warmth through the cotton fabric. She gasped, broke the kiss, and stood, saying, "Amber, please come with me." She offered me her hand, helping me to my feet. She was surprisingly strong. We kissed again and, holding hands, I was led to her bedroom.

It, like the rest of her home, was decorated in an African motif. The bed was large; the bedframe dark wood in a geometric pattern. She had paid close attention to the details; the room bounded with animal prints, vibrant splashes of color, and massive rich-colored woods. Filling the open spaces were African artifacts: tribal masks, musical instruments, and images of the African landscape and the animals that call that continent home.

Above the bed, in wood, there was a quotation: "Hold a true friend with both hands." She saw me reading it.

"The lettering is Utshani," she said, "the quote Swahili."

I drifted behind her, wrapping both my arms around her waist. "It's beautiful, I love it."

I undid her wrap, letting it fall to the floor. She raised her arms and I lifted the top over her head. She was, other then her large circular earrings, naked. Her breasts were full and round and her nipples and areolas small and almost jet black. Her hands deftly removed my clothes. 

We walked towards the bed; it was covered with a blanket whose hearts and blue lines cut through patterns that twirled around its borders. I admired it, running my hand across it's surface. It was made of wool, thick and heavy.

"It's a Basotho blanket, this one is named Seana Marena. That means the king's blanket. Traditionally, it was made for the Royal Family and worn by kings. There is lore in my family that we're descended from the royal line."

I turned to look at my friend. "Of that, I have no doubt."

She smiled, almost bashfully, "You're kind."

She brought her mouth to mine. We stood in the room kissing, our hands touching and caressing the other's naked body. As I kissed her, I felt familiar needs and desires arise, spreading from my sex into my body. I realized something that had somehow escaped me. Until this moment it was the intimacy of my time with Regina that filled my mind, not my desire for her. Since I'd gone to work with Michelle, in fact for far longer than that, I had used sex as a tool to get what I wanted. I did not know what would happen with Regina, but I did know this might be a real relationship.

Regina sensed, but did not understand, my hesitation. "Are you ready?"

She had inadvertently asked the right question. I answered honestly, "I'm not sure. Are you?

"No, but I don't want to stop."

"Me neither."

We lay on the bed and kissed each others' lips, noses, ears, eyes. We laughed for no reason other than the joy of the moment. My hand explored her body, her's mine. And then, without design, my thigh grazed her pussy; she was wet and her moan intense. I walked my finger down her body and covered her sex with the palm of her hand, squeezing gently, over and over; she was swollen and wet and moaned in low need each time I did so.

I lowered my head, nibbling on her breasts, covering them with kisses, and then licked and sucked her nipples and areolas. Regina closed her eyes, content to lose herself in the sensation, to enjoy my hot moist mouth. I loved her breasts, loved the pliant flesh. I admired the dark flawless skin and then sucked her nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the areola and across the stiff nub. It grew thick and long. I turned my attention to the other breast, kissing and licking it, sending pulses of desire through her body. 

I ran a finger between Regina's vagina and rectum. It moved easily through the heavy moisture seeping from her pussy. I slid the finger into her slit. She responded with a light, "Ooohh," and pushed against it, my finger sinking inside her. I found her clitoris with my thumb; it was thick, distended, huge; it had pushed aside its hood. She was ready. I straddled her, covering her pussy with mine, and started a slow circular motion that stimulated our labias; the sensations magnifying as our labias became engorged with blood. I lowered myself, putting more pressure on her pussy and switched to an up and down motion, which splayed our labias open. Regina ground back into me. 

Her moans became deeper, more guttural. Regina placed her hands on the sides of my head, lifting me from her breast. When our mouths joined her tongue plunged inside me with a passion that matched the smoldering fire, soon turned conflagration, between my legs. Our kisses became shorter, more desperate, constantly interrupted by moans, grunts, groans, gasps of pleasure.

We were the same height and there was a sense of closeness, of oneness, as breasts meshed with breasts, nipples pressed into nipples, legs caressed legs along their entire length. I looked into her eyes; I loved looking into Regina's eyes as we fucked. My cynical use of sex over the past eighteen months had left me unprepared for this; I was making love with my body and my heart.

Regina spread her legs, fully opening her inner labia, allowing me to further penetrate and stimulate her. My strong pronounced pubic bone dragged across Regina's clit and she hunched up into me, emphasizing the impact of our motions. My vulva slipped inside Regina's labia. Regina lay her legs over mine, wrapping her ankles around my calves.

We continued making love. Rocking and rolling our hips we achieved a slow rhythmic humping that worked our juices out, coating our vulvas and inner thighs. Regina took advantage of our copious flow and, holding my hips, yanked me forward and back in rapid movements; my pussy sliding fore and aft along its length but never breaking contact with her. My vulva worked deeper into her open labia; I felt my engorged clit penetrate her slit. At the top of each movement my clit mashed into hers.

As our orgasms drew closer our motions became almost frenzied. Regina pulled me down hard against her, increasing the pressure. I felt a slight friction burn, which only served to intensify the experience. Regina came first; hot cum poured from her, coating our meshing vulvas, reducing the friction, soothing my horny pussy. Regina's orgasmic yell and the wet sloshing sound of our pussies sent me over the edge. I orgasmed, burying my face in her shoulder and moaning in delight. Regina rolled her hips up and slightly forward, merging our clits. Clit to clit, we kept going in a balletic rhythm, our naked skin covered with perspiration sliding effortlessly against each other. We fucked continuously for nearly an hour, our bodies exploding freely and without control or conscious effort; I lost track of my parade of orgams.

Nearing exhaustion, I felt my insides turn to jelly and knew there was one more orgasm struggling to be born. I struggled to comprehend the fabulous feelings, the layers of sensations. It seemed the ultimate bliss. Regina let out a deep moan and then a wail of pleasure; sounds that could only be made by someone as immersed as deep in the throes of passion as I. Her eyes were shut; I stared at her; she was so beautiful,

"Uhhgg, Oh, Oh, yeeaah. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Oh my god, yeah. Amber don't stop, please. I'm ready, oh god, I need this, Amber one more, Uhhh, Uhh, Oohhh..."

I lost all control; my orgasm broke, transforming me with the energy of a tsunami into a quivering twisted jumble of joy.

"Oohhh, god, Yes, YES, YESSSSS, AAHHHH, REGINA, Brraaa, Ooohhh, Oooooo, NOOO, YESSSSS, Nurfmmm..." 

Every muscle in me shook, my pelvis rocked back and forth, my thighs, buttocks, my breasts trembled and shivered.

We came together, shaking in total bliss, wrapped in each other's arms. It was wonderful; it was perfect. After several minutes the spasms started to subside. I was holding Regina's head; her arms were wrapped around my waist, her hands loose on my buttocks.

"That was unbelievable," I said.

She smiled; she glowed; we hugged and held each other.

We slept soundly that night and awoke, without ever having discussed it, a couple. Regina was frank; the notion of stepping outside her race, making a commitment to a white person, much less a white woman, had been anathema to her. My own confession, that I had not intended to become involved with anyone for the foreseeable future, seemed pitiful in comparison. 

I was open about Michelle. Regina understood as she understood the power of her own sexuality; in a world built by and for men she had long ago realized that a beautiful woman, especially one as aloof as she, could exert a power over men that they were too stupid or too conceited or too much a slave to their cocks to understand. She also understood within a few weeks of starting her job that her boss, the district attorney, was a sexual submissive who quickly became addicted to the Regina's weekly spankings. We agreed that while our spirits would be loyal to each other; our bodies and sexuality were tools far too powerful to forfeit. 

Over the next months Regina and I fell in love, but neither of us would eschew using our desirability and smarts to get what we wanted.

* * * *

Over that first weekend I unveiled to Regina the outline of a plan that had been fermenting in my mind for months. By the end of the weekend we had a well-polished scheme.

* * * *

At the beginning of this story I mentioned that when in high school Corrine, my BFF, had slept with my boyfriend Donald. Both attended the same college as I and were still together, although mutual friends informed me the relationship was often rocky. His great passion was football and he had made the football team as a walk-on in his junior year. The coach had invited him back for his senior year, but advised him to work on flexibility. To that end he was studying yoga.

Aadhya, the yoga master who trained Esha, was scheduled to visit our town during a tour of the United States. Ron and Michelle had represented Aadyha in a lawsuit brought by the family of a beautiful wealthy heiress who, after attending classes with Aadyha, decided to spend the rest of her life as Aadyha's devotee (and lover), dedicating her fortune to her master. The dispute was settled during the first week of trial on terms highly favorable to the still grateful Aadyha. 

The pieces to take revenge on Donald and Corrine were in place. At Michelle's request, Aadyha agreed to help. One week later, when Donald dumped Corrine in favor of an Indian guru and two men, mutual friends told Corinne there might be a lawsuit in it and the name of a lawyer willing to handle it. He was a former and still smitten boyfriend of Regina's. He filed suit and Ron, who represented Aadhya, set Donald's deposition. A partial transcript of Ron's examination tells the story:

QUESTION: Donald, how did you learn about the yoga class taught by Aadhya? 

ANSWER: I had been spending most of my time in the weight room building muscle, but Coach indicated I needed to be more flexible and suggested yoga. I was taking a class at The Yoga Place when the instructor said Aadhya, who was apparently pretty famous, was coming to town and had offered to do a private class with a local yoga student. The instructor said you could sign up on-line, so I did. I got a text saying I'd been selected.

QUESTION: Where was the class held?

ANSWER: At a home of a woman named Esha. She has been a student of Aadhya's. 

QUESTION: Was anyone else at the lesson?

ANSWER: Yes, two men who worked with Aadhya.

QUESTION: What were their names? Please describe them.

ANSWER: Their names, or the names they had taken, were Moti and Neelam. Both were blond, both devoid of body hair. They were well-built and muscular, but not the buffed up look of football players. They were built more like gymnasts. They had big, wide, beautiful blue eyes, full of gentleness. They were very polite, almost self-effacing.

QUESTION: Describe the session.

ANSWER: I'm not sure I can. In the yoga I had been doing the focus had been the positions. With Aadyha the focus was more about getting into the positions. It was not about how well you assumed the position, it was about appreciating the way your body moved, like you were accepting your physical presence. Does that make any sense? 

QUESTION: Yes, it does. And how did you feel as you worked in the class? 

ANSWER: A lot of ways. It felt like I was understanding my body in a whole new way, that it was not just a tool to get things done, but was something to appreciate, to be conscious of for its own sake.

QUESTION: How did these thought manifest themselves?

ANSWER: A lot of ways.

QUESTION: Let me more direct. Did you become aroused?

ANSWER: Yes, intensely, the feeling was intense.

QUESTION: I notice you took a moment before answering the last question. Why was that?

ANSWER: It's pretty personal.

QUESTION: You're right, it is. So is a lot of what I'm going to ask is. Can you answer honestly?

ANSWER: Yes, please go aheaad.

QUESTION: When you became aroused were you reacting to Aadhya or to the men in the class? 

ANSWER: Neither, or at least I don't think so. Aadhya, Moti, and Neelam were all beautiful, but it felt more an nternal intense sexual nature had suddenly been freed. 

QUESTION: Let me backtrack a second. I have to ask you about your prior sexual history and desires. Let me be direct. Before that date had you ever had a sexual encounter with a man? 

ANSWER: No.

QUESTION: Had you been sexually attracted to a man or men before? 

ANSWER: No, although I guess it depends on what you mean. I don't remember ever wanting to have sex with a man. However, I wasn't like a lot of guys I know, although I wasn't attracted to it, I didn't find homosexuality gross. One of the things I loved about playing football was the camaraderie of the team. We didn't use the word intimate, but that's what we were. I liked working out with the guys. There is something about the power of a man's body that women can't duplicate.

QUESTION: Did you admire Moti and Neelam's bodies? 

ANSWER: I thought I already answered that. Yes.

QUESTION: What was you initial reaction to becoming aroused in Aadyha's class? 

ANSWER: My first reaction was embarrassment, especially when I became erect. But that quickly passed. The desire was so all consuming, I started to revel in it.




Amber's New Job Ch. 04



QUESTION: Was anyone else having the same reaction? 

ANSWER: Yes, Moti and Neelam were both erect.

QUESTION: Did you finish the class? 

ANSWER: Yes, Aadyha thanked me for participating and left the room. I was wondering if there was some quiet place I could go to masturbate when Moti approached me. He had taken off his robe; he was naked. He gestured to my erection, said "I can help you with that," and took my hand and walked me over to some cushions, where Neelam was waiting. He was also naked. They took off my robe.

QUESTION: Did you object?

ANSWER: No, I didn't object or agree. It just seemed inevitable. I was profoundly aroused, and somehow I knew, or at least thought I knew, that these men understood, they would give me what I needed.

QUESTION: What happened next?

ANSWER: Neelam worked a liquid into my penis. He said while it would not desensitize me, it would prolong my orgasm. It is part of Hindu maithuna training. He rotated his hand around the head of my penis. Not really jerking me off, to be crude, but instead more like massaging the head. 

QUESTION: And did it work?

ANSWER: It did.

I've watched the recording of the deposition. Donald stopped here and gathered his thoughts before proceeding.

ANSWER: Yes, it was amazing. I was so aroused, I'd have thought I would have lasted about a minute in masturbation. But his hand, he, they understood my penis better than I did. He kept me on the edge of an orgasm for how long I don't know. It seemed like forever. I got lost in it.

QUESTION: How did you feel about the fact that you were letting a man touch you?

ANSWER: I know this sounds weird, but I didn't think about it in those terms. As I said, it felt like my own internal sexuality had blossomed. I was not aroused because I was attracted to Neelam. I was simply aroused. He understood my state. I was open to it. Objecting never occurred to me.

QUESTION: Were you passive while Neeyou masturbated you? 

ANSWER: At first yes, but then I reached for his penis. I touched it; I ran my hand along its length. It's weird, the day before the idea of handling another man's penis would have repelled me, but he was so hard, so hard and beautiful and powerful. I smeared a drop of pre-cum across the head and he leaned against me. I liked his body; it was lean and well-muscled. 

QUESTION: Did you orgasm?

ANSWER: Of, yes. And it was devastating powerful. I felt in throughout my entire body, my fingers, my toes, they all went numb.

QUESTION: What happened next? 

ANSWER: Neelam kissed me. I felt his mouth on mine, then his tongue on my lips, then his tongue inside my mouth. I'd never kissed a man before; I would have told you that it was gross. But his tongue was strong, but not insistent. He, it, were confident. They knew I was ready. His tongue explored my mouth. Then it retreated, inviting me to follow. I hesitated and took his head in my hands and kissed him back. 

QUESTION: At that moment what were you thinking? 

ANSWER: I had an epiphany of sorts. I knew Neelam and Moti could, would, bring me pleasure and that I could, would, do the same for them. I thought about how beautiful they were; their bodies had my power and strength, but were also gracile, graceful, elegant, perfectly formed. Odd, I had never noticed that the male body was as beautiful, more beautiful, than the female body.

QUESTION: As you were thinking this, what happened.

ANSWER: Neelam leaned against the wall and spread his legs. His penis was erect; it was long and slender, radiating sexual energy. I had the same realization about his penis as I had about his body. The penis is beautiful. A women's sex is soft and inviting, it delivers pleasure by yielding and surrendering itself, molding itself to a tongue, a finger, a penis. The penis is strong and powerful, it demands attention. I thought of my friends on the football team and how I loved working out with them, turning our bodies into powerful instruments. How our physiques demand attention; we loved it; we dressed around campus to show off of bodies. The penis is the sexual manifestation of that same power. I looked at the veins running up its side, giving it life. I wondered why I'd never noticed all this before.

QUESTION: When you came to this realization what did you do? 

ANSWER: I fell to my knees. I was an acolyte. I took his penis in my hand and did what I like girls to do, I pushed it towards him, exposed its underside, and, starting at the bottom, licked along its length. Girls are too tentative, they lick softly, like they might break it. I licked hard. Something that strong is not easily broken. I noticed its odor, powerful and musky. I had never realized a man's sex had a certain smell before.

QUESTION: How did Neelam react?

ANSWER: I wasn't looking at his face, but his penis jumped and quivered. I knew I was making it happy, pleasing it. It was an amazingly satisfying experience. 

QUESTION: Did you continue to lick his penis? 

ANSWER: I did, several more times. Then his juice bubbled out the top. 

QUESTION: What did you do?

ANSWER: I thought, I've never tasted cum before. I didn't like kissing my girlfriend after she sucked my cock. I didn't want to experience the taste of me on her lips. But I was looking at the drops on Neelam's penis and thinking this is the essence of manhood, our strength. This is the seed from which we grow. I wanted desperately to swallow it, to drink its distilled perfection. I closed my mouth over it, focusing on its taste and texture. I needed more.

QUESTION: Is that when you performed fellatio on him?

ANSWER: Yes, I took the head of his penis in my mouth. I moved my head up and down, but I had trouble protecting him from my teeth. It's harder than I thought. I told myself to relax and held him in my mouth, gently sucking while licking the head and underside of his penis. He put his hand on my head, not directing me what to do, but encouraging me. He sensed I was a novice.

QUESTION: Did he come in your mouth?

ANSWER: Yes, it didn't take long. He was pretty aroused.

QUESTION: Did you swallow his cum?

ANSWER: At first I held it in my mouth to relish its pungency and thickness. Then I swallowed it. While I did so I looked at Neelam. I felt a spiritual connection, deep and profound, like we were part of the same being.

QUESTION: Did this end the sex? 

ANSWER: No, Moti, had been watching. After I swallowed Neelam's seed, I looked at Moti's erection. His was a bit shorter and thicker then Neelam's, but also beautiful. I thought about what filled his balls. I wanted to swallow his cum; I wanted to share my cum with him. His blue eyes were gentle and knowing. He understood. I crawled forward and when our heads were over each other's penises, we started to lick each other. 

QUESTION: What did Neelam do?

ANSWER: He came up behind me and ran his foot along the back of my legs. It was very sexy, I had goose bumps all over my body. When he pushed on the inside of my knees I spread my legs. He kneeled behind me, I remember the muscles of his calves against me. He took hold of my hips. He was gentle; his touch was strong but never harsh, it's as if I weighed nothing. He smelled clean, his body displayed no sweat. I felt his erection, it was hot and strong, against my leg. He fitted its head to my anus. Then he entered me. 

QUESTION: Was it uncomfortable?

ANSWER: Some, not as much as I expected. He later told me he had applied a lubricant which made the entry easier and excited my nerve endings. I'm not saying it didn't hurt, but I'm an athlete. I know progress involves pain.

QUESTION: So you enjoyed it?

ANSWER: Very much and it didn't take long. It was weird in a way.

QUESTION: How was it weird?

ANSWER: I've talked to other men about the first time a man entered them. Most say their anus instinctively clamped down. Mine didn't. It welcomed the invasion.

QUESTION: What happened next?

ANSWER: We were soon moving as one, as a team. Moti was far more experienced than I and brought me along slowly, moving me towards a climax. I was eager, licking his shaft and testicles, taking him in my mouth, sucking on him. The three of us were like one; the pleasure of each was the pleasure of all, and it kept building until my climax. We came together.

QUESTION: Did the sex continue?

ANSWER: No, after we rested Neelam and Moti led me to my clothes; they were sweet and polite, but as I dressed I began feeling strange. It wasn't that I hadn't enjoyed it, I had. I kept thinking how could I enjoy something that would have been repugnant to me that very morning. I wondered what had happened to me and, to be honest, whether they had done something to cause the transformation.

QUESTION: Have you ever been able to identify such a thing?

ANSWER: I don't understand.

QUESTION: My question was unclear. Have you been able to identify, at that time or to this day, anything that Aadyha, Neelam, or Moti did - drugs, hypnosis, seduction, brainwashing - anything, that caused you to have sex with them? Was the decision entirely yours?

ANSWER: No, they did nothing. It was my choice.

QUESTION: Did they put pressure on you to return?

ANSWER: No. Moti gave me a phone number and told me they would be in town for four more days. I was welcome to call.

QUESTION: It is my understanding that you then called Corrine, your girlfriend. Is that correct?

ANSWER: Yes, I drove back into town and kept thinking the whole thing was insane. I was straight, I was a football player, I had a hot girlfriend and a few chicks on the side. Why was I making it with two guys I'd never met before. I called Corrine and asked her to meet me at my place. I left little question what I was looking for.

QUESTION: Did she agree to do so?

ANSWER: Yeah, Corrine was always willing.

QUESTION: Did you two have sex?

ANSWER: Yes.

QUESTION: Please excuse the crudity of my question, but I must be explicit. Your ex-girlfriend has claimed, explicitly, that you were brainwashed to give up a perfectly satisfactory heterosexual relationship with her for a homosexual lifestyle in service to a yoga guru. When you had sex with Corrine did you orgasm? 

ANSWER: Yes.

QUESTION: Did you fantasize about another partner when you were with her?

ANSWER: What do you mean?

QUESTION: You had just had sex with two other men. When you were having sex with Corrine did you think about them or anyone else?

The recording of the deposition shows Donald shifting uncomfortably, glancing briefly at Corrine, and looking down. Ron was on to something.

QUESTION: Do I need to remind you that you are under oath and that your ex-girlfriend has made some serious allegations? 

ANSWER: No, you don't. I didn't think of Neelam and Moti, I fantasized that I was with my old girlfriend, Amber.

QUESTION: Was this the first time you thought about Amber when making love to Corrine?

Another glance at Corrine. His voice was apologetic, ashamed.

ANSWER: No, I did it often, probably most of the time Corrine and I had sex.

QUESTION: After you made love to Corrine, how did you feel about Moti and Neelam? 

ANSWER: I couldn't get them out of my mind. Corrine and I had sex again that night and three times the following day, but it was doing no good. I started contemplating throwing away the life I had for a new one with them. That's when I called Amber.

QUESTION: Tell us about the call.

ANSWER: I hadn't spoken to Amber since we broke up. I'd see her around campus. It was hard not to notice her; she was more beautiful than ever and carried herself with a confidence and grace I'd never seen in her. I had heard that she was doing well, that she, in fact, was doing extremely well. She was acing her classes and displayed a calm self-assurance. I had regretted cheating on her; now I saw her as the only thing that could keep me from chucking it all for Moti and Neelam. I called and asked if she would see me.

QUESTION: Did she agree to do so?

ANSWER: Yes, she asked me to come to her apartment.

QUESTION: How did the meeting go?

ANSWER: As I said, I hadn't spoken to her in years. Everything I had heard about her was true. She was as charming and open as ever, but there was a self-confidence and a discernment in her I'd not seen before. I had always been able to play on her insecurities and I tried to do so again, but couldn't even find them. I apologized for what I had done and asked, I guess begged, her to take me back. I said cheating on her was the biggest mistake of my life and I meant it.

QUESTION: What did she do?

ANSWER: She listened, thanked me, and said people only get to hurt her once. She wished me the best of luck.

QUESTION: What was your reaction?

ANSWER: I was sad, but I understood. She had a point.

QUESTIONS: What did you do?

ANSWER: I returned to Corrine's bed. When we made love I fantasized she was the new and improved Amber, but I knew it was hopeless. I called Neelam and Moti the next morning and have been with them, serving Aadyha, ever since. 

Corrine dropped her lawsuit. During what was left of her senior year she earned a campus-wide reputation as a floozie, willing to sleep with any man who'd have her, desperate to live down Donald's testimony. After graduation she took a job teaching high school in a rural school district. I hear she lives with two brothers in a mobile home; they pass her back and forth and share her with friends. She has a reputation for bedding some of her students, preserving her job by being available to members of the school board on demand.

On first glance Donald got off easy. While he gave up everything - friends, family, sports - that had meant anything to him, he remains Aaydha's loyal servant and Moti and Neelam's devoted lover. However, I like to believe the name he has taken, Embara, tells us something. Embara is Hindu for Amber.

* * * *

After the lawsuit was dismissed I took Regina, Ron and Michelle out to dinner to celebrate. We ate too much; Regina and I fell onto, more than crawled into, bed that evening. It was a clear night and we had opened the windows; I listened to the gentle sound of the night drift into the room and ran my fingers trough Regina's short hair.

"Regina, I'd like you to meet my parents."

"Are they ready for a gay daughter with a jet black girlfriend?"

"I am not gay, I'm omnivorous; its just that you're so damn terrific I don't want to stray. And no, I'm not sure, but it feels like time."

I brought Regina to Saturday dinner the following week. Regina instantly won over my parents. At one point, after Regina wandered off with my Dad to look at some of his paintings -he has exhibited in several local galleries - I had Mom alone.

"I was nervous, I wasn't sure how you'd react?"

"Amber, Regina's wonderful. And now I can brag, my daughter's got herself a lawyer. And what makes you think we didn't know. This town is full of gossips."

My Mom's calm acceptance washed away what was left of my nerves and when Dad and Regina returned, I motioned her to sit on the couch next to me. Our legs brushed together, I held her hand, sparks flew up and down my body. I had started the evening worried my parents might lose their minds, but Regina had impressed them instantly and how, I wonder in retrospect, could someone not be impressed by Regina. We were for them a happy couple. I lost track of the conversation as I mused about my situation, proud of my parents, and in love with the woman next to me. I would make her very happy when we got home.

We said goodbye about thirty minutes later. I, while kissing her neck and hands, running my fingers lightly up and down her leg, and whispering all the naughty things I had planned for her, started undressing Regina on the way home Five blocks from the house, at a stoplight, I got my fingers between her thighs, struck, as I often was, by the contrast of my slender white fingers with her dark brown skin. Regina glanced around and with no one in sight spread her legs. I could feel her pussy getting wetter. I looked into Regina's eyes, which sparkled even in that dim light, then put my lips to hers. Our tongues playfully wrestled while my fingers worked their way between her wet pussy lips.

The car started up again; the light must have turned green. Regina pulled her head away, focusing on the road. I brazenly lowered my face to Regina's pussy, tugged the wet panties to the side, and licked her clit while slipping a finger between her moist vaginal lips.

Her hand came to rest on my head. "You are one horny white girl."

Taking a quick break to answer, I said, "You have no idea."

While she stroked my dark thick hair, I slid my tongue along her vagina's outer lips. When Regina pushed my head down I flicked my tongue over the smooth skin of her hot pussy and sucked her labia's wet lips into my mouth. I tried to slip my tongue inside her cunt, but with my head wedged between Regina and the steering wheel, I couldn't quite reach.

We pulled into the driveway. Regina stopped the car and turned towards me, raising her left leg and draping it over my head. I forced my tongue inside her pussy. She pressed her hand down on my head and I tongue fucked her hot juicy cunt. I pulled her panties down past her knees. Regina clamped her thighs around my head, trapping my face in her smoldering cunt, sliding her pussy over my mouth. I felt the orgasm building within her. She was feeling aggressive: her hips thrust powerfully; her pussy rode my happy willing face from chin to nose. She squeezed her thighs tight around my head. The scent of her arousal filled the car. And then, suddenly, she bucked hard, moaned, and an orgasm ripped through her, cum spurting into my mouth as she ground her pussy fast and hard on my face. 

Regina fell back against the car door, gasping for air. I got out and walked around, opened her door, helped her to her feet and let her lean on me, her chest still heaving in a desperate search for oxygen. We headed to the house. When we reached the bedroom I stripped to my bra and panties and Regina to her bra; I have no idea where her panties ended up. I scanned her magnificent body, my eyes stopping on her nipples, stiff and their dark hue visible though her bra. Her face reflected equal parts love and lust. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed up and down her neck from ear to shoulder. Regina shivered, happily reveling in my attention. She pressed her lips to mine for a long sensual kiss.

I took Regina's hand in mine and led her to the bed, motioned for her to lay down, and slid my hands from her face to her chest, massaging her shoulders and moving closer and closer to her breasts. Regina's eyes drifted shut as she waited for my hands on her nipples. And while I pushed aside her bra, instead of touching her nips, I cupped her breasts and sucked an areola into my mouth. Regina gasped at the sensations flowing through her body. 

We didn't play racial games often, but tonight, after the open acknowledgment of our inter-racial love in front of my parents, it was sitting in the front of both of our minds. Under the expertise of my tongue it spilled out of Regina.

"White girl, you are something else. If you're like this every time, we will be spending a lot of time with your honky-ass parents."

Laughing, I replied, "Black bitch, you ain't seen nothing yet." I pounced on her. I was a wildcat. I kissed her over and over, loving the way her lips felt on mine, so soft, hot, and thick. My tongue swirled inside her mouth and my hands were everywhere at once.

Regina's hand found the band of my panties and tugged them down over her my thighs and ankles. As I kicked the panties aside, she removed my bra. Her dark black body glowing, she rolled me onto my back and now on top, smiled, running her hand though my hair. Her lips pressed to mine in an electric kiss. We made out, our kisses passionate and deep, our tongues rambling through the other's mouths. I wrapped my arms around my beautiful black friend in a tight embrace; our bodies burned with lust and desire.




Amber's New Job Ch. 04



Regina then raised herself up on her knees, looked into my eyes, and broke into a wide smile as she ambled forward until she straddled my face, planting a knee on each side of my head. I looked up, first at my friend's smiling face, then at her smooth shaven ebony pussy. The lips were swollen, puffy, and wet. Regina was excited, ready for me to eat her again.

"You like it, Amber? I shaved it just for you baby. Ready for chocolate pudding?" 

I stroked Regina's legs. Her skin was hot to the touch. I kissed and licked Regina's inner thighs and raised my head and licked the skin between her labia and inner thighs. Spreading my tongue flat and wide, I journeyed around both sides of her pussy. Regina shuddered and moaned loudly. I licked the area between Regina's pussy and asshole and then, in one long stroke, drug my tongue the length of her vagina. Regina was looking at the bedroom mirror and I did the same, watching this majestic black woman sitting on her white lover's face.

She saw me looking in the mirror and hissed, "Put your tongue in me, Amber. I want it, now!" 

I slid my tongue inside her hot wet lips, licking the sticky sweet juices.

Regina writhed, rubbing her wet black twat over my face. "Oh yes Amber! Lick me out baby!" 

I pulled away for a second. "Does that feel good baby? My black queen, does it feel good?" 

"Oh god baby, don't stop. Mmmm, you're great, you're the best!" 

I was some turned on. I loved pleasuring my beautiful ebony princess and ran my tongue inside her.

"Uhmm, you little white bitch, I want your tongue deep, deep in my black pussy." 

I tongue fucked her, thrusting my tongue in and out of this insatiable goddess. I captured her clit between my fingers, massaging and stroking it. Regina pushed her cunt down onto my face, driving my tongue deeper inside her.

"Oh my god, I'm gonna cum baby. This is amazing. Oh fuck, baby."

Regina started gyrating above me, screeched, and her pussy exploded, spewing cum like lava from a volcano. The first spurt hit the back of my mouth and then Regina hit her stride. Her pussy spurted all over my face; she bucked wildly and tangled her fingers in my hair. I desperately swallowed, but captured but a fraction of her cum.

As she came she talked. "Oh my God Amber, I'm cumming in your mouth baby! All over your face! Lick me baby. Ooohhh eat me out. You like this black pussy, baby? Hhhmmm? Cause this black pussy loves you." 

I swallowed her sweet sticky juices in gulps.

Finally, she stopped, slumped forward, and curled up next to me. 

"Oh damn Amber you are great." 

She looked at me. My face was a sticky mess. My lips glistened with Regina's lust, but it was also on my eyebrows, forehead, and hair. I even felt some drops on my ears. Regina kissed me, tasted her juice, and then, on shaky legs, went to the bathroom, returning with a wet washcloth.

"I hope you don't mind if your black queen cleans your slutty white face."

I smiled.

When done she took off her bra, which had remained askew on her body, put a hand on my chest, and pushed me onto my back, taking her place between my thighs. "You have such a pretty pussy Amber. Time for some vanilla ice cream." She circled my hard clit with her sexy lips and began to suck, running two fingers inside me. My pussy clamped around the fingers. She dropped her head down, stuck out her tongue, and lightly licked my slit while working me her fingers. Encouraged by my moans her mouth worked its way back up to my clit and, with the tip of her tongue, touched the tender nub lightly before sucking it in her mouth and rolling it between her lips. After working over my clit she visited every inch of my happy pussy while her strong fingers rubbed my clit. When her tongue moved inside me, I rocked my cunt on her face. 

"Mmmm that's right baby, feels so good."

I was profoundly aroused, but still Regina found a way to push my libido higher and higher. After a vigorous tongue fuck she lightly licked my labia. She knew exactly what I needed, she pushed me to the edge and then postponed my orgasm. I was at her mercy; I trembled in excitement. She inserted one, then two, then three fingers into my body; stroking in and out, finding the magic spot each and every time.

"Ohhh... Regina, you're perfect, right there touch me right there. Harder, lick harder you sexy black bitch!" 

I pulled my lover's mouth tight to my cunt, grinding my pussy against her face, my body shaking fiercely at her practiced and wonderful assault. Regina looked into my eyes, sensing the orgasm building inside me. My hips were moving rhythmically, my soaking wet cunt riding quicker and quicker on her face. I felt lightheaded, warm sensations flooded my body. Regina's tongue lashed my clit as her fingers worked my g-spot. 

"Oh my God. I'm cumming. Oh my God, baby, yes." Convulsing with pleasure, waves emanating from my cunt, my hips shaking frantically, I came. Regina drank hungrily from my spewing pussy. My body was on fire, my back arched, I bucked wildly and the orgasm continued ripping through my body. 

Regina held me as I trembled through the aftershocks of my orgasm. It had never been this good, even with Michelle it had never been this good.

It was 2:00 A.M. Exhausted, we headed for the shower, letting the warm water cascade over our bodies, using a washcloth to spread soap over each other's body. Our forms tangled together, I was once again struck by the differing colors of our skin. I had never imagined I'd fall in love with a black woman, but I had.

I sat while Regina blow-dried my thick hair - her short hair needed no such treatment. We put on our pyjamas and headed back to bed. I drew Regina into my arms, and whispered, "I love you so much, you are so wonderful to me." We were soon asleep.



Amber's New Job Ch. 05



Richard & Richard's biggest case was an environmental degradation lawsuit filed on behalf of the residents of Clear River, a town located downstream from a large chemical plant. While establishing liability and damages would be difficult, the potential award was in the hundreds of millions of dollars. The firm, unfortunately, had bad luck with the judge assigned to the matter. 

Annette Bush was in her mid-forties. At thirty-five she married a man ten years her senior. He was well off, politically influential, and had gotten his wife elected judge. She had the worst record on appeal of any judge on her court and her demeanor on the bench was unpredictable, swinging from pleasant to ornery without explanation. Although not completely biased, she was from and had married into money; she had no natural affinity for either our case or its low-income plaintiffs. The case would be heard by a jury. Judge Bush would influence, but not control, the final decision.

Six weeks before the trial I sat down with Ron and Michelle.

"The Clear River trial is set to start on the twentieth of next month. If this case hits, Ron and I will shut down the practice. There is a piece of property on a mountain in Hawaii we've been eyeing for years. If we get the verdict we want, that's where we're heading. Don't worry, you and Denise will be set for life.

"I've asked Regina to assist us and any extra time you can spend in the office will be appreciated. However, that's not your most important job."

She paused to organize her thoughts. "This is what we know and what we think. Judge Bush's husband is gay; she's a beard. How much of that she understands I'm not sure. I suspect she gets it at some level, but is doing her best to live in denial.

"I strongly suspect - to the point of near certainty - that Judge Bush is gay. Her dating history before she married is almost nil. At conventions she gets a few drinks in her and starts flirting with the girls, especially the young ones. It's nothing she can't excuse as alcohol-induced, but it's real.

"She prefers them young and sweet. A friend in the Sheriff's Office who provides courtroom security checked the history on her personal computer: she has a taste for schoolgirl lesbian porn. For the past few years she's volunteered to act as a judge at the local Catholic girl's high school moot court competition. When there her eyes linger on the cute girls in school uniforms.

"How aware she is of her own predilection or whether she's ever fully ventured out of the closet is unknown, but if its happened I can't find out anything about it, which means it probably hasn't.

"Her rudeness and volatility in the courtroom, and especially the way she picks on young lawyers, confirms what is evident in even short meetings with her: she has a weak personality. The strong ones don't need temper tantrums to get their way.

"Briefs in the case are due tomorrow. You will file the originals with the clerk and bring her copies. If you just beat the 5:00 o'clock deadline with the clerk you should be in her office just after her staff leaves. Your assignment: make Judge Bush your pet."

The three of us adjourned to the private room at our favorite Italian restaurant for an evening of brainstorming.

The next day at 4:55 P.M. I filed pleadings in the clerk's office. I was wearing a red plaid skirt that came below my knees and a pink button down shirt. It matched my pink head band. My hair was straight and pulled back in pig tails. I wore yellow ballet flats. My make up was minimal, my fingernails pink, and I wore small girlish earrings. I was not a naughty school girl, I was an innocent one. 

I grabbed one of the lollipops the in-take clerk kept in a bowl by her desk and headed upstairs. It was a few minutes after 5:00; the Judge's staff was leaving. I buzzed. A cranky voice asked, "What is it?"

"I'm from Richard & Richard with your pleadings."

"They were supposed to be here by 5:00. Wait, I'm coming."

Judge Bush opened her door to a sweet young thing with tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry Judge, there was a long line downstairs. At the office they told me to make sure I got here by 5:00. It's my fault. Please don't tell on me."

The Judge's eyes took a bit longer to drink in my form than they should. She grasped my hand in hers. The handshake lasted a bit too long.

"I apologize, it's been a long day. Please come in."

I followed the Judge to her office and, at her invitation, sat down. She was not an unattractive woman, but invested almost nothing in her personal appearance. She wore flat shoes and dowdy clothes. I handed her the papers. She put the envelope on her desk and asked if she could get me something to drink. I asked for milk. She didn't have any, so I accepted a cola. When she left I evaluated her office. Judges were responsible for buying their own furniture and decorations; her expensive antiques and original art work confirmed her wealth.

She returned with the drink. I slipped a straw into the can and sipped politely. The Judge opened the envelope and asked me my name.

"Amber."

"It's very nice to meet you Amber. Have you been in a judge's office before?"

"No ma'am."

She began an open ended conversation. I let her know I had time to kill. My delivery to her was the last of the day. I didn't need to rush anywhere. I said I still lived at home with my Mom (I made that up) and I didn't have a boyfriend or anything. When the Judge expressed surprise that a girl like me didn't have a guy I said, "You know, they're all interested in only one thing." She nodded in sage agreement. 

I was energetic and peppy. I was optimistic and positive. I told her how much I admired successful woman like her; how I couldn't wait until I graduated from college and got a real grown-up job. I mentioned that my Mom helped me land the job at Richard & Richard, talked about going to an all girls high school (I also made that up), and told her I was an excellent student, and how romantic I thought the Twilight books were. The Judge's eyes shimmered with desire. Michelle had her pegged just right; her secret, only half-understood fantasy, was sitting across the desk from her.

I gave the Judge a chance to show off. I said I'd thought about becoming a lawyer, but I didn't like mean people. "I just hate it when people are rude." The Judge related a few stories about how she dealt with dishonest people while remaining a lady. The Judge, who had at first resisted the urge to openly check me out, was also getting lazy. She, more and more brazenly, drank in my looks. It was fifteen minutes to six. She had swallowed the hook; it was time to reel her in.

In a childlike tone I said, "Judge, do you think I'm pretty?"

"Yes." She hesitated, "Why do you ask?"

"Well, the way you look at me, it reminds me of the way some of my high school teachers looked at me. They would tell me I was pretty."

"Your teachers were right, you are very pretty."

"Thank you Judge, it makes me feel good when a smart woman like you thinks I'm pretty. When the lady teachers at school told me how pretty I was they'd ask to see more of me. I wasn't sure if I should, but they were the teachers. You're lots more important than a teacher. Are you like them? Would you like to see more?"

Judge Bush's mouth was open. She was staring at me, not sure what to say; her face a mixture of confusion and lust: too scared to move forward, too entranced to step back. The best she could do was punt. "What, what do you mean?" 

"They'd ask me to show them," I dropped my voice a tone, glanced around the empty office, and then whispering as if in embarrassment, " my breasts. Lots of girls like to show theirs off in tight clothes and low necklines, but I don't. But still, I think they're pretty. Would you like to see my breasts? I mean we couldn't tell anyone, but I'd like to know if you think they're pretty. "

Eyes fixed on my chest, mouth open, she nodded. 

I undid my shirt, fumbling with the buttons, advertising nervousness and inexperience. When done I stood, pulled the shirt from my skirt, and undid the front clasp of my lacy pink bra.

"What do you think Judge, are they pretty?"

The Judge stared, but said nothing.

"I guess you can't see from over there. I'll come closer." I walked around her desk and stood before her.

"Well, do you think their pretty."

Unconsciously she licked her lips and croaked out, "They're beautiful."

"You're so sweet. I'll tell you another thing. Sometimes the teachers kissed them. They said it was okay because they were teachers and were way smarter than me. I guess you're even smarter than they are. Would you like to kiss them?"

Her resistance collapsed. The Judge lunged at me, desperately sucking a dark brown areola and nipple into her mouth. I felt it stiffen and held her head. 

"That feels so nice, even better then when my teachers did it."

And then, on time, the security deputy buzzed the office to let himself in. The Judge's frantic eyes darted around the room. I, calmly and carefully, snapped my bra back into place, buttoned up my shirt, and tucked it in. The deputy walked in. 

The Judge, feeling guilty, felt a need to explain. "Hello officer, this young lady delivered some pleadings to my office. She was just about to leave."

"Yes Judge. I enjoyed meeting you so much, it was so interesting. I hope I'll get to see you again."

The deputy offered to walk me to the courthouse door, but I hung back to tell the Judge one last thing. "Don't worry, our secret."

* * * *

It was 4:00 P.M. the following day and we had not heard from Judge Bush. Even unflappable Ron seemed worried. Michelle was sanguine. "Don't worry, she'll call."

At 4:15 Denise answered the phone.

"Richard & Richard."

"This is Judge Bush, may I speak to Michelle."

Michelle picked up.

"Good afternoon Judge."

"Good afternoon. I left one of the memoranda you filed yesterday at home, the one addressing the evidentiary issues. My computer is on the fritz, I can't receive e-mails or faxes. Do you mind dropping off a copy."

"Not at all, I can bring it myself."

"You don't need to go to that trouble, you can send the girl you sent yesterday."

"I'm sorry Judge, but she's on another assignment. She won't be back till 6:30."

"That's fine, I'm planning to work late anyway." 

She gave Michelle her cell phone number and said I should call when I arrived; the Judge would let me in. 

* * * *

The me the Judge met at the door was a vastly different creature than the me she had seen the day before. I was dressed to the max: I was wearing a white turtleneck and a small black leather jacket with an Isabeli Fontana Leather maxi leather skirt and Stuart Weitzman dress boots, which featured a two inch platform and narrow six inch heels. I towered over the Judge. I had straightened my hair; it ran past my shoulders. In place of my pink short fingernails were long ones of an opulent deep red. I carried an expensive leather satchel and wore an understated wide gold bracelet. The Judge was speechless.

I winked, "You miss me, pet. No cops to bother us this time."

"No, I just need the papers."

"Of course, pet. I've never seen your courtroom, let's take a look." 

I strode past her. She hurried to catch up. The click of my boots on the marble floor echoed in the empty building, contrasting nicely with the silence of the Judge's sensible shoes. The elevator was waiting for us. She followed me in; I hit the button for her floor.

I pushed her against the wall and kissed her. The kiss was not gentle: I violated her mouth, mauled her, my tongue went where it wanted, taking control. When the elevator door opened, I stepped away. The Judge took half a step forward. Her tongue came through her open mouth, flopping around, searching for mine. 

"Come with me pet."

I walked down the hall to her office suite. She scurried behind. "Which is the door to the courtroom?"

She pointed to it.

"Come." 

She followed. 

I walked up the steps of the podium on which her chair, the seat of her power, was stationed. I undid the buckles of my skirt, letting it fall the floor. I was wearing a strap-on dildo.

She started, "I'm not sure..."

"Yes you are. You're absolutely sure. You're just afraid. Afraid to admit it's women you want, women you've always wanted. I'm gonna kick down the door and drag you through it. You see, I know what I want; I get what I want. Lean on the podium." 

She hesitated, but was helpless before my complete self-assurance. 

I smiled, an evil smile, "Now." She did as she was told.

I pulled up her dress and tore off her panties. Her pussy was swollen and wet, nectar coated her inner thighs. I ran a long red fingernail the length of her snatch, making sure to scratch her clit. She shuddered. I brought the nail to my mouth and tasted her juice. "Your body knows what it wants."

I positioned myself behind her and fitted the head of my dildo to her cunt.

"In private you shall call me Ma'am."

I pushed the head of the dildo inside her. She was tight, tighter than I expected. I kept going and bumped into her hymen. It was intact. She was a virgin! 

"You're a virgin, aren't you pet. I'm going to be your first. You play big, but you're just an innocent little girl aren't you?"

She didn't answer. I started to pull out.

"Yes."

"Yes what!"

"Yes, Ma'am, I'm an innocent little girl." 

"That's good pet."

I slid the dildo back in, stopping at her hymen. I considered ramming through, but decided to go slow and gradually heighten the pain and draw out the experience, burning it into her memory.

"I will fulfil all your fantasies. In turn, you're going to my pet. You'll do whatever you're told."

I pushed forward. She squinted, her jaw tightened, she made no effort to disguise the pain. The torment reinforced her disorientation. Yesterday's cute schoolgirl, transmogrified into a dominatrix, was taking her virginity in the room, on the very chair, where she was supposed to be powerful.

"Pet, you didn't respond."

"Please, yes, whatever you say."

I started to withdraw.

"Ma'am, I mean Ma'am. Please, I'll be you pet, I'll do what you say, Ma'am."

I increased the pressure. Beads of sweat formed on the Judge's face as her hymen deformed and then popped. The Judge, used to a life of luxury where discomfort was an unknown, howled in paid. I was disinterested. 

"That's my girl. You thought about me all of last night, didn't you. You dreamed of my sweet breasts in your mouth, but you never dreamed I'd be the one to take your virginity?"

I slapped her ass and began to pull out.

Her voice, ragged with the pain, responded without hesitation, "No Ma'am, I never dreamed."

I fucked her in long easy strokes, digging the nails of my right hand into her flank, slapping her ass with each thrust. I ordered her to turn her head and watch; engraving the moment on her consciousness.

"Tell me how beautiful I am." 

Smack!

"Ma'am, you're the most beautiful woman in the world. You're lovely, sexy, strong."

Smack!

"You're perfect."

Smack!

The Judge started bucking, fully absorbed in the moment. I slapped her ass hard. 

"Talk to me pet. Tell me what you're feeling." 

SMACK!

"Ma'am, ohhh Ma'am. I need this, need this so bad. This is what I need. Yes! Fuck me Ma'am, fuck me. OH YEAH! FUCK ME! UMMMMM OH YEAH! YOU'RE SO BIG AND THICK! FUCK I LOVE YOUR COCK! UMMMM! OH! I LOVE IT! FUCK ME! FUCK YOUR PET, FUCK HER!"

SMACK!!

I grabbed her stringy brown hair - we would need to work on grooming - and pulled her head back. "You're mine pet. Do you understand, you belong to me."

SMACK!!

"Yes ma'am, I'm yours."

SMACK!!

"I can't hear you."

SMACK!!

"YES MA'AM. YES. OHHHHHH! UMMMMM! FUCK! YES. I DO, I DO, I DO! I BELONG TO YOU MA'AM."

SMACK!!

"FUCK ME PLEASE."

"You may come now."

She did. Screaming, thrashing uncontrollably, wildly, on her desk. "OH FUCK YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS... I'M CUMMMMMMING! OHHHHHHHHHHHH, OHH GOOODDDDD, I'M CUMMMMMMMMMMING!"

I pulled out and, as if scripted, the Judge's bladder released. She pissed all over herself.

"Pet, you've made quite the mess. You don't know anything, do you?"

"No Ma'am, please teach me, please show me. Show me about my body. I'll do whatever you say."

"I know you will, pet. You were a virgin. Even your husband doesn't think your good enough to fuck."

"Yes Ma'am."

"I'm going to change that. You're going to get fucked a lot."

I removed my dildo, laid it on her desk, and took another from my satchel. It had two heads. The narrow one would take the Judge's anal cherry. The short thicker prong, which featured an internal vibrator, was destined for her cunt. I lubricated both shafts with the oil Neelam had used on Donald; the lotion that excites the nerve endings. The Judge came writhing and screaming a dozen more times before I stopped. 

I removed the dildo, pushed her exhausted body off the desk and onto the floor, and sat in her chair, and pointed to my crotch. She worked my cunt with her mouth. I had a passable orgasm. When done she looked up.

"Ma'am, did I do okay?"

"No pet, you did not. But I think you can be trained."

And the woman kneeling on the floor of a courtroom where, a few hours earlier she'd been the ultimate authority, beamed.

After midnight we drove to the home of a tattoo artist Ron and Michelle had helped beat a drug charge. She trimmed the judge's pussy, removing the hair immediately above her vagina and leaving a rectangle of hair floating above it. Stenciled in the newly bared area was a single word: "Amber's." I snapped a picture and reprogrammed her phone. When I called it would display her tattooed pussy and Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl."

* * * *

Through Regina we knew the Judge has a meeting with counsel in a high profile murder case at 10:00 A.M. the next morning. The district attorney would be there. At 10:15 Katy Perry's voice disturbed the conference. The Judge answered.

"Good morning pet."

"Hello."

I cleared my throat.

"Hello Ma'am."

"Tell the lawyers there is a family emergency and reset the conference for 2:00. Then go to the courthouse parking deck and get in the green van parked in space 3-D. Bon appetit.

The Judge obeyed without hesitation. In the van there was a homeless woman I'd found on the street. She ate the grungy stinking pussy until the vagrant came. 

* * * *

That night I tied the Judge to her mahogany conference table and fucked her silly. The following night, Friday, she was instructed to go to Mizell Airport, the private airport that served our area, and board the HA-420 HondaJet at Welden Air. She was the only passenger when the jet landed on a dirt field on a ranch near Las Vegas. The Judge was escorted to a small cottage and given a cup of tea laced with a sleep inducing drug.

* * * *

The next morning the Judge awoke. She was naked. There was a television remote control on the bed next to her. She turned it on. My face appeared on the screen.

"Good morning pet. Take a shower, wash your hair, light make-up, hair in a bun. You'll find what you need in the bathroom. Your clothes are in the closet. When done, go outside." 

The Judge said, "Yes Ma'am," and emerged about forty-five minutes later. She was coiffed as instructed and dressed conservatively, wearing a long sleeve, loose-fitting, black dress that hung close to her ankles, pantyhose, and sensible shoes. Her only jewelry was her ornate diamond wedding ring. 

In a waiting automobile she found a cup of coffee, a light breakfast, and a folder containing a daily lesson plan for a high school class on the judicial system. She reviewed the material. She was dropped off at a windowless building.

Inside was a mock up of a high school classroom. The students were seven beautiful young woman - one black, one Asian, one Hispanic, one Native-American, and three white girls, blond, brunette, and red head - dressed as schoolgirls. They wore name tags. They had been selected from among Las Vegas' most-skilled prostitutes, chosen for their beauty, youthful appearance, and acting ability (you'd be surprised how many struggling dancers and actors populate America's most desired prostitutes). They were costing a fortune.




Amber's New Job Ch. 05



The Judge stared. The girls, well-prepared, said in unison, "Good morning teacher."

"Good morning class," she replied. I could see the hunger in her eyes. She'd let this fantasy envelop her.

The class took fifty minutes. The Judge was neither a trained teacher nor had she the time to prepare. To ensure the presentation did not falter the girls were ready with questions and a lively class discussion. When the bell sounded all but the black girl filed out. 

When they were alone, fiddling with the thick dark hair which hung past her shoulders, she said, "Miss Bush, I need to talk to you about the exam last week. My grade was terrible. I had a big fight with my boyfriend the night before and I couldn't focus on studying."

The Judge checked the name tag, trying not to lose herself in the woman's beauty, and said, "Yes, Shamika, boys can be very inconsiderate. What can I do for you?"

Shamika moved closer; her voice dropped a tone; she adopted a husky seductive timbre. 

"Is there anything I can do to make up for it. Anything at all?"

"What did you have in mind Shamika?"

Shamika took the Judge's hand in hers and ran a finger across the palm and wedding ring. 

"I don't know, Miss Bush. An extra-credit assignment, a paper, something more personal?"

"What do you mean?"

Shamika's hand moved to the Judge's hip. "Miss Bush, in class you look at me like my boyfriend looks at me." Shamika's hand moved up the Judge's side. 

"If I let you do some of the things I let him do, would you be nice to me the way he is."

The Judge glanced at her wedding ring, trying to find some strength in it. 

"Shamika, that would be against the rules."

"Ms. Bush, rules are made to be broken. And think of the nice things you'll get." Shamika started undoing the buttons running down the front of the Judge's dress. 

"The rules aren't what you want. I'm what you want."

Shamika slipped a finger inside the Judge's bra. The Judge inhaled sharply, her body trembled.

"Your nipples, Miss Bush, they're hard. All you need to do is say is, 'Shamika, I'll give you an 'A' if you let me kiss you.'"

The Judge's glanced around and then, lips puckered lips, leaned forward. Shamika pulled back, laughing. 

"No, no, Miss Bush, first you need to let me know what I'll get if I let you kiss me."

"I'll give you an 'A' on the exam, please let me kiss you."

Shamika's hands curled around the back of the Judge's head, bringing their mouths together. Employing the power of her athletic body, her self-confidence and experience, Shamika's tongue speared inside the Judge's mouth, teased, then battered, her tongue, and went exploring. There was nothing sweet about the kiss; it bordered on rape.

The Judge, enthralled, reached for Shamika's breasts. Shamika stepped back.

"Do you want to play with Shamika's breasts? Our deal was kiss only. My boobs cost alot more."

Most, but not all, the fight had left the Judge. When she did not immediately respond, Shamika stood up to go. The Judge's resistance fractured. "Please don't go, what do you want, please tell me!"

"If you want to play with my breasts you need to promise me an 'A' for the entire year. You'll do that, won't you Miss Bush."

"Yes, yes, I promise."

Shamika, casually and deliberately, removed her shirt and bra. I could see why people paid to play with those things, her breasts were fricking perfect. They were full, but not too large, "C" cups most likely. Round, they sloped naturally, gracefully, gently from her chest, projecting forward with a tight cleavage; there was no sag. The nipples and areolas, which were slightly darker than the creamy chocolate of her skin, tilted forward and were round, symmetrical, and proportionate to the size of her breasts. Shamika took a breast in each hand and gently squeezed. They were firm, but not hard, the skin soft, almost shimmering.

The Judge was mesmerized; she wouldn't have noticed a brass band marching by. 

"Come here, Miss Bush. You may kiss Shamika's breasts."

The Judge, eyes on Shamika's chest, cupped the left breast with both hands and, mouth wide open, swallowed the areola. Her lips quivered as she sucked it into her mouth.

Shamika moved the Judge's head to her other breast. 

"Miss Bush, you've been dreaming about Shamika's breasts a long time haven't you. You should had let Shamika know, I wasted a lot of time studying."

As devoted to the second breast as she had been to the first, the Judge's body was shaking with lust; the aroma of her arousal scented the air. Then, without warning, Shamika pushed the Judge's head away. The Judge cried in anguish, her tongue flailing against the air. Her lips were covered with saliva, a drop ran down her face.

"You want to eat Shamika's pussy, don't you Miss Bush? But you don't have anything left to give Shamika, do you Miss Bush?"

"Anything, anything you want, please."

"You already promised Shamika an 'A' for the entire year. What else do you have?"

"I don't know, anything, anything you want."

Shamika looked away and took a second to think.

"I know. It's my birthday tomorrow. I'm having some friends over. You will come, serve us food, fetch us drinks, do whatever Shamika wants. You'll be my servant. How about that?"

"Yes, yes, I will, I'll be your servant, whatever you want."

"Good, now you can eat Shamika's pussy."

Shamika dropped her skirt - there were no panties - and sat on the teacher's desk. Her pussy was newly shaved and had a powerful animalistic odor; I would later learn her diet was controlled for exactly that effect. Judge Bush unhesitatingly buried her face in Shamika's sex. When she pulled her head away to gulp in some air, Shamika's nectar was smeared across her face. Considering how pungent Shamika's odor was from my hiding place, it must have been overwhelming the Judge. The Judge took long licks from Shamika's vagina to her clitoris. 

Shamika, however, barely reacted to the Judge's mouth. "Oh, Miss Bush, is Shamika's the first pussy you've eaten? You're not very good Miss Bush. Try harder, try hard to make Shamika feel good."

The Judge tried harder while Shamika continued her critique. Finally the Judge stopped and apologized. 

"I'm sorry Shamika, I'm new to this, but I'll figure it out, I promise."

"Miss Bush, you should have told me you don't know how to eat pussy. Our deal is off. You can't come to Shamika's party tomorrow."

The Judge, near tears, begged. "Please, let me try again. I'll do better, I promise. Please."

That was my cue. I entered the room, wearing a gray power suit with a tie. My blouse was white, my hair up, and shoes expensive three inch pumps.

"Ohmigod," Shamika said, "it's the principal."

"Shamika, what's happening here?"

"Miss Bush said she'd give me an 'A' on an exam if I let her kiss me, then she said she'd give me an 'A' in the class if I let her kiss my breasts, then she said she'd be my servant if I let her eat my pussy."

I turned to the Judge. "Is this true?

Judge Bush, immersed in the role I had created for her, responded in a plaintive voice, "She asked me to."

"That's the best you have? You're supposed to be in charge and you blame a student? Corporal punishment may be forbidden for the kids, but the rules don't say anything about teachers. Lean over your desk."

When the Judge - more stunned then defiant - hesitated, Shamika shoved her forward. I yanked up her dress and, using a pen knife, sliced open her pantyhose. While the juice on her leg reflected her recent arousal, the flow had stopped. She was frightened.

I brought my hand down, smartly slapping her thin ass.

SMACK.

'Unnnnffff," the Judge moaned in pleasure/pain. 

"You're a very bad girl, Ms. Bush."

"I'm sorry."

SMACK.

"Uuuunnnnnfffffff."

"You need to be punished."

"You're right, you're right, I need to be punished."

SMACK.

"Uuuuuunnnnnnnfffffffffff."

"You need a spanking, don't you?"

"Oh yes, spank me."

SMACK.

"Uuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnfffffffffffffff."

"It's what you deserve for being such a nasty little girl."

"Yes, yes, you're right."

SMACK.

"Uuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnfffffffffffffffffff."

She was panting in need. I ran a finger over her vaginal lips. She was dripping wet. "Is there anything else you need to report Shamika?" 

"Yes principal, although she said she'd eat my pussy, she didn't tell me she was a lousy pussy eater. She didn't get me excited at all. She didn't hold up her end of the bargain."

I turned back to the Judge, "Is this true?"

Excuses tumbled out. "I tried, I tried real hard. You've got to believe me, I wanted to eat her pussy good, I just don't know how."

"Well, Miss Bush, it appears you didn't hold up your end of the bargain. You can learn, can't you?"

Frantically, "Yes, yes, I know I can."

I stood still, letting a grimace flash across my face. Finally, having let her stew in her own failure, I said, "This is what I'll do. I'll show you how to eat pussy, but it will cost you." Then more to myself than her, I said "What do you have that I want?" 

I surveyed her, my gaze finally alighting on her ring. "That, give me your wedding ring."

She hesitated, played with it for a moment, and handed it to me. I held it up to the light as if evaluating its worth and slipped it on the gold chain I wore around my neck.

By now the other students had wandered back into the room. I turned to the Hispanic girl. "Selena, come here."

Selena undid her skirt and sat on the desk next to the Judge. Sans panties, her pubic hair was freshly trimmed and scrubbed. 

"Watch very carefully Miss Bush."

I stood between Selena's open thighs and kissed her sweet lips, a peck here, a peck there. We ran our hands along the sides of each other's bodies, our gentle practiced caresses quickly escalating the heat. Our mouths and lips started playing with each other. My tongue caressed her lips, forced them open, and slipped inside. I ran a hand over her inner thigh, sending shivers through her. She took my head in her hands, held me firmly, and became the aggressor, her tongue teasing mine and pushing into my mouth. A thin sheen of sweat covered her body and her breathing deepened. I fondled her breasts through her shirt. They were warm and her large nipples erect and throbbing. Her hips started rocking, her legs shook. She was ready. 

I had a short stool placed between Selena's legs and sat. I kneaded her strong legs with my hands and kissed along her inner thighs, teasing and exciting her, building the anticipation. Soon she was squirming. It was time for the main course. 

I licked her like she was an ice cream cone, in long thick strokes from perineum to clitoris. I increased the pressure with each trip, noting how she responded. I spread her labia with two fingers, opening up her most sensitive area, and explored its interior. 

Selena leaned back on her hands, dropped her head, and groaned. The other girls murmured and moaned as hands found their own or their neighbor's pussy.

I licked around Selena's vulva and sucked the lips of her labia into my mouth. I sampled the vaginal lips, tongued the entrance, caressed it with gliding motions, then shifted to circles and light strokes. I probed her vagina with my tongue; pushing it in and out like a soft supple penis. After every few thrusts I licked her clit.

Selena, her hole flooded with juice, was putting on a show. She squeezed her tits, moaned, and whimpered, "Oh god, it's good, really frigging good. You make my cuntie feel so good, so good. Yes, oh yes."

I ran my tongue up and down the sides of her labia, varying the speed and pressure, sometimes using the tip, sometimes it's full width. On each trip I grazed her clitoris. One finger entered her snatch, honing in on her g-spot; another worked her perineum.

Selena was squirming, babbling, gasping, moaning. I knew I could do what I was doing a tad longer, but it would border on cruel. She was ready. I focused on her clit, applying indirect pressure by circling it with my tongue and then, with her panting in delight and the other girls in the room moaning with her, I attacked her love-button, pushed aside its hood and licked it with quick, flicking motions, the tip of my tongue moving up and down, back and forth, in small circles, clockwise, counterclockwise.

Selena lay flat on the desk, kneading her breasts, humping my face.

My cheeks concave, I took her clitoris in my mouth and sucked on it while licking it with my tongue and humming, infusing it with the vibrations of my mouth. I varied direct stimulation of her g-spot with finger thrusts, sometimes straight, sometimes in a corkscrew motion.

"Unhhhhh, unhhhhhhh, unhhhhhh!"

I took her clit between my teeth and rapidly licked its head. Selena's hands plunged into my hair, desperately pulling me into her. Her pussy spasmed and locked down on my fingers. Water gushed from her as she came.

"Oh sweet Jesus, Oh God, I'm coming baby, I'm coming, I am so fucking cuuMMMMINGGGGG! OH GOD CUMMMMINNNNGGGGGGG."

Selena's body jerked hard, then shook. Her arms and legs danced spasmodically. And, after several long minutes, she lay still, sucking in air.

I looked at the Judge. "Pet, that's how you eat pussy."

The wedding ring around my neck was coated with Selena's juices. I gave it to the Judge to clean and addressed the group.

"Class, Miss Bush was naughty. She promised to give Shamika good grades if she could play with Shamika's breasts. She promised to be Shamika' servant if she could eat Shamika's pussy. Miss Bush can't show favoritism like that. I will leave Miss Bush with you. She will need to do for each of you what she did for Shamika, suck your tits, eat your pussies. When I come back I want a full report. Then I will determine her punishment."

I returned three hours later. The Judge was on the floor, naked, exhausted; her face and hair drenched in pussy juice. Her tongue hung limply from her mouth. Splotches on her skin showed where she'd been manhandled. Her nipples were inflamed from being twisted and pulled. The girls, on the other hand, were perfectly made-up, looking as fresh and innocent as when we started.

"Well, how did she do."

Dawn, the Asian, answered first. "Well, she made me cum, but it wasn't that good."

After the other girls provided similar answers, I turned to the Judge, "It looks like, at best, you've got a low 'D.' Shamika, how about you?"

"She didn't make me cum."

I looked at the Judge, eyebrow arched. Her eyes reflected panic and in a slurred voice - her tongue numb - she said, "I'm sworry, my towngue's exhausted. I twied, just couldn't."

"Ladies, please help Shamika out. Miss Bush, time for your punishment." 

The girls gathered around Shamika. A mouth latched to each breast, two girls licked her pussy, two others nibbled on her butt. 

There was no fight left in the Judge. She grabbed a chair, struggled to stand, and lay on the table, face down, ass up. I picked up a yardstick, swished it through the air, and brought it down on her ass. Whapp! It would sting, leave red marks, and make a satisfying smack, but would not cause injury. I did it again, delayed a moment, and did it a third time. Whapp! Whapp! The Judge, physically exhausted and emotionally battered, shuddered and whimpered, accepted her punishment without objection. And, although bone-weary and her body enervated, her eyes still flamed to life as they fixed on the lesbian tableau before her.

"Ms. Bush, you broke some important rules. How many of these do you deserve?"

"I was very bad, Ma'am. I'm not sure how many. A lot."

I continued at a slow steady pace, letting the sound of each blow echo through the room. By the time the Judge's butt glowed a light red, she had started to move her ass up to the stick as it whizzed towards her. Liquid dripping from the Judge's pussy pooled on the table; her red swollen clit emerged from its hood. Moans of need replaced whimpers of pain. She humped the table, pain and humiliation combining to foment a level of excitement she had not never imagined. 

Shamika's eyes were shut and her legs wobbly; she was lost in an erotic fog. Being made love to by six of Las Vegas' premier call girls will do that to you. "Ahhhh, thank you, you're making Shamika feel so good. Ohhhhhh... uuuhhhhmmm... yessssssss...," she moaned over and over and then, head lolling back, she screamed, "Fuck, Ohhh God," as an orgasm whipped through her. She collapsed into the arms of her lovers.

The Judge, spellbound, was beyond rational thought. She slammed her hand into her crotch, desperately fingering her pussy, her entire body quaking. Her cunt was slick; juice flooded her hole, her cunt grabbed at her fingers. She twisted, squirmed, and groaned as the yardstick continued hammering her ass. Her fingers worked faster, stabbing into her spasming cunt; her thumb squashed her pink clit against her body.

The ladies in the room watched and commented. 

"Wow, look at Miss Bush, she's such a slut."

"Look at that little whore go."

"Man, I thought she was a cold fish, but it turns out she's a pain slut."

"She's a depraved bitch, ain't she.

"What a harlot."

"Can I beat her next?"

"Check out the floozy."

The Judge muttered, half consciously, "I am a whore, I am a whore...," pushed the heel of her hand against her clitoris and came, her cunt-spasms all but shaking her to pieces. Pleasure from her climaxing cunt and red ass rippled throughout her body, her cries of ecstasy tore around the room. Her snatch clenched down on her fingers one last time, and then, slowly, the shivering tremors of her orgasm faded. 

As she lay exhausted on the table I addressed the group. 

"Miss Bush promised Shamika to be her personal servant at her birthday party tomorrow. However, it wouldn't be right for Ms. Bush to prefer one student over another, so tomorrow she will be everyones' servant. How many guests will you have Shamika?"

"More than thirty."

"Does that sound fair to you, Miss Bush."

The hunger in her eyes said it did.

I and the ladies left the room. The Judge lay on the table, body and mind numb. When the driver arrived forty-five minutes later the Judge said she'd been a bad girl and begged the driver, without success, to spank her.

On her return to the compound she found me with a glass of champagne. She knelt.

"Ma'am."

"Pet, you look terrible. Go inside, take a quick shower. Your clothes are laid out."

The Judge appeared thirty minutes later wearing a pair of stained too tight jeans, a white tee shirt sans bra, a Phillips 66 baseball cap, and cheap cowboy boots. Her erect nipples tented the shirt. Her hair was pulled back. I applied make-up, perfecting her white-trash look. 

"Pet, you dress down well. You were offered your fantasy today, a room full of school girls, and you failed. You need more training. Its amateur night at Eat More Possum, its 

a bottom-of-the-barrel red neck strip joint. It always turns into a girl-on-girl show. Get up on stage, eat some pussy, get yours eaten."

The Judge, stinking of cigarettes, whiskey, and beer, reappeared four hours later. She knelt.

"How did it go, pet."

"I did as you said Ma'am. I lost track of the number of pussies I ate. I know a made a bunch of girls come. I think I'm getting better at it. Girls ate me out, five, six, seven of them, I lost count. I was, I am, so horny."

The driver nodded, confirming the Judge's report. 

"Excellent pet. Ready for a whipping?"

"Yes Ma'am!"

She leaned over the porch bannister and there, before a group of spectators, I spanked her with a wide flat hickory panel. She orgasmed over-and-over. 

* * * *

It was early afternoon of the following day. I was looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows that ran along the back of Jill Anderson's bedroom. Jill was the madam who supplied the students for our classroom. On the back lawn the Judge, naked, was on her knees eating one pussy, fingering two others, and being fucked from behind by a woman wearing a dildo. 




Amber's New Job Ch. 05



Jill was sitting on her bed a few feet away. A stunning lightly freckled red head in her early 40's, her trim figure featured some of few non-silicone enhanced breasts in her stable. They were small and delightfully pert.

"How's she doing? This is her second run through the crowd."

"My girls report she's completely compliant and an orgasm machine: she just keeps coming. She keeps asking about you; she wants the girls to tell you what a good little whore she is." She stopped, then added, "I think she's broken."

"A little more breaking won't hurt. We have big plans for her."

She got off the bed and walked over to me. "You must, considering what you're paying me." I turned to face her, our naked breasts touching. I kissed her, my lips lightly brushing hers.

"You've earned every penny. Your performance has been remarkable."

She nibbled on my ear and sank a tongue inside it.

"I'm glad we could be of service. In fact, by my calculation we've made so much money I've decided to write off my time. I'm on the house."

My hands went to her ass, pulling her wet pussy to mine. We exchanged a longer deeper kiss and headed back to bed.

* * * *

That night, on the flight back from Las Vegas, I handed the Judge her wedding ring.

"Ma'am, I don't want it. I belong to you now."

"I know you do pet. Look at the engraving inside."

"I am Amber's," was stenciled on the ring's inner surface The Judge read it out loud. Close to tears, she said, "It's beautiful."

"I need you to pretend to be a judge and a wife a little bit longer."

"Whatever you say Ma'am."

During the weeks before trial my prime responsibility was to tighten my hold on the Judge, but that was easy. She was thoroughly broken. Each night we met in her office for a spanking, after which she ate my pussy - she got pretty good at it - and then I fucked her with an array of dildos. Several times a week I interrupted her with summary order to service a stranger drawn from society's dregs. On weekends I passed her around lesbian clubs like chattel.

As the trial approached Judge Bush ruled in favor of both parties on a variety of issues, but sided with the defendants on the most important questions and on anything that could lead to reversal of the Court's decision. Her tone when discussing the case was not dismissive of the Richards' position, but expressed healthy doubt.

Two days before trial, after the parties spent a fortune bringing expert witnesses to town and preparing testimony, the Judge announced she had a medical emergency - a diagnosis procured with Willie's assistance. After two weeks to allow her medications to flush from her system she would need surgery. The case could not be presented to a jury in two weeks. The Judge offered to work late each day and decide the matter herself. The defense accepted immediately. The Richards, after a night of faux deliberations, agreed.

Five weeks later the Judge issued her ruling. The decision was well-reasoned and thorough - Michelle wrote it - and awarded our clients $457 million. The defendants made noises about an appeal, but knew they had little chance and the award was earning more than $50,000.00 interest daily. The case settled for $425 million. The Richards shut down their practice to build their mountain-side Hawaiian home; their future called for the more leisurely life of consulting. Denise and I got bonuses that would have allowed us to retire.

I prepared the Judge for life without me. She returned her wedding ring - I still have it, it is my talisman - and worked out a happy accommodation with her husband. I got her to the gym and re-did her hair and make-up. While she'd never be gorgeous, she became an attractive middle-aged woman. Michelle introduced her to a well-known Southern California divorce attorney - I'm sure you've seen her on television - who is also a lesbian dominatrix. The Judge took a job with her in Los Angeles. By all reports she is quite happy.

I applied to several top graduate schools. The strong performance of my last two years, an exceptional GRE score, and strong recommendations got me to the interview process where I, of course, excelled. 

I returned to our community and established a regional executive search firm. I've considered taking it national, but, as structured I have complete control, something I do not want to surrender. I also make more money than I know how to spend. 

Regina, my sweet sweet lady, and I remain devoted in spirit, if not always in body. She is our district attorney and the most influential politician in our county, able to elect, or un-elect, the sheriff, county president, or any councilperson. Our devotees, still introduced through our yoga group, form a web on which we rely.