29 comments/ 58860 views/ 7 favorites From Bathing Suit to Lawsuit By: ISawYourMommy The forty-five-year-old oak towered thirty feet above the finely manicured lawn, its myriad branches lost in the glorious red and brown leaves that had flourished through the wet months of spring. Buried deep in its branches, the man, unshaven and short in stature, brought the viewfinder on the Canon EOS to his right eye for what he hoped was the last time. He flexed his right index finger only briefly and the telephoto lens captured thirty-six, tight, high-resolution images of the events occurring fifty yards from the base of the old oak, on the other side of a seven-foot privacy fence. He lowered the camera, checked its digital display and found the memory card nearly full. "That ought to do it," he muttered. He then unscrewed the lens and deposited the two pieces of equipment into a hip-sack that had been secured around his bony waist. A crooked smile -- more of a smirk -- deformed his thin lips as he carefully descended the tree's trunk and scurried across the backyard, into the tree-line, and toward the lime green 1989 Chevrolet Impala that he had parked on a nearby street. * * * Her career was in shambles. Her marriage, too. Though "shambles" might have been too generous. "Over," on both accounts, might have been more appropriate. Annie Davidson had worked long and hard to achieve what she had now lost. A graduate of the Columbia School of Journalism, she had immediately entered the broadcast arena. Her concise and incisive reporting had kept her for not long in smaller -- but increasingly larger -- markets such as Des Moines, Iowa, Mobile, Alabama and Denver, Colorado. After five short, ladder-climbing years, Annie found herself renting an apartment in Chicago's Gold Coast neighborhood, having been hired by one of the major networks as sort of a roving reporter. Annie's ascension continued after she settled in Chicago. The market appreciated her largely objective reporting of local events, and she earned increasingly meaty assignments, as well as accolades from her peers. Certain aspects of that market -- men, mostly -- also appreciated her from a physical perspective. She stood nearly six feet tall. Blond, nearly platinum, tresses flowed over her shoulders to below her shoulder blades. Her body was lean and perfect posture thrust her significant breasts forward. For this part of the market, she was watched intently -- but not always heard. After six or seven years in Chicago, she felt that she had reached the height of her career in that market and began to set her sights on a more national forum, positioning herself for a transfer within the network that employed her to a posting in Washington, D.C. or New York. While she bided her time, she continued to push larger and larger stories and to rack up awards and honors. In the meantime, Annie maintained an active social life. She could often be found after work at Tavern on Rush and similar venues, enjoying a few cocktails with friends. Through it, she met and married Jim Angelo and over the next few years two children were born of the couple. But in a matter of hours, her career had shattered like so much fragile glass. * * * The weasel's assignment had been to observe -- and capture on film -- visitors to the home over the course of several weeks. Who they were, how long they stayed. During certain deployments, he had brought with him a parabolic microphone and thus: what was said. Six times he had secreted himself in the old oak tree. On three other occasions, when he had determined that the subject's neighbors were vacationing, he had gained surreptitious entry to their home and lain upon a small balcony off the master bedroom, which had afforded him an obstruction-free vantage point of the subject's backyard. Through these visits, he had captured nearly 3,000 still images and four hours of video (two of which were accompanied by an audio soundtrack). For the most part, the images were of little value to anyone. His subject had received family members, friends of his children, various maintenance personnel, his lawyer (the weasel was prohibited by his principal from using the parabolic during the lawyer visits). Not receiving any value for his investment, his principal had called off the surveillance, instructing the weasel this last shoot was in fact the last shoot. When the twitchy, unkempt man entered his principal's office that final afternoon and laid the memory card on the news director's desk, he shrugged. "Don't worry, Alex. Turns out you got your money's worth." He paused, a nasally chuckle emanating from this throat. "And then some." He then turned and left. The news director watched him go, the memory card untouched on his desk. When the door clicked shut behind the weasel, he picked up the memory card, turned it over between his fingers. Swiveling in his chair, he inserted into a port on the face of his computer, transferred the contents to his hard drive, then deleted the files from the memory card. * * * The images, captured at the noon hour, were the lead story on one of three Chicago news broadcasts at 5:00 that June evening. They were soon picked up by a second local service and hit the national wires within the hour. A collective gasp rose from the local community -- fans and detractors of Annie alike -- as images of her flashed across television screens from Lockport to Zion. Her tanned, bikini-clad body caught in still-frame as she strode across the deck of the pool toward a hot tub. Easing herself into the hot tub -- her breasts high and firm on her chest, a diamond pendant resting snugly in her substantial cleavage -- the man across from her raising his glass to her. Annie sliding around the edge of the hot tub toward him, her nipples blurred but impliedly erect, and his smile broader, toothier, than it had been a few frames earlier. Their lips meeting, a peek of her wet pink tongue slipping into his mouth, her hand disappearing beneath the frothy waterline. The man putting his arms behind him, lifting himself out of the hot tub. A blurred image of his bathing suit mid-way down his hairy thighs. And then a shot of Annie from behind, her face buried in the man's crotch, one hand resting on his thigh, the other tweaking his bare nipple between manicured nails. Annie's adultery was not newsworthy in and of itself. Infidelity is not what made her the lead story for the two competing networks during the 10:00 broadcast later that evening. But the man whose house she had visited -- the man she had been caught fellating -- was the suspect in an ongoing, high profile police investigation into the disappearance of his business partner. He had been the subject of much reporting in the local media, some of it undertaken -- incredibly --by Annie herself. Not to put too fine of a point on it, but Annie had been caught on film with a mouthful of cock belonging to a murder suspect that had been the subject of her own investigative reporting. And the implication was clear: she had given up her mouth and vagina and who knew what else to get the "interview." * * * The aftermath had not been pretty. Whatever she had gained from the "interview" never saw the light of day, all semblance of objectivity now having been blown out of the water. Annie was immediately placed on paid administrative leave. But that didn't last long. In a few short days, as the story continued to be reported in local media, her leave became unpaid and, soon after, permanent. The network to which she had devoted the better part of a decade had abandoned her: she had been terminated. In the months that followed, she sought in vain to secure a new position in the broadcast world. She interviewed for jobs in larger markets like Boston, Atlanta and Seattle, then in Minneapolis, Tampa Bay and Raleigh, and finally in Lafayette, Indiana, Grand Rapids, Michigan and Durango, Colorado. No one would touch her. She was, as one anonymous source had so indelicately put it, toxic. Her career in broadcast journalism -- any aspect of reputable journalism, really -- was effectively over. Her marriage had fared little better. It had, thus far, survived, but that survival gave new meaning to the phrase "hanging by a thread." Initially, Jim had sought to stand by her. He remained stoic in public when approached by the reporting masses, and when the two were seen out they were holding hands, playing with their children in the local park and otherwise seeming the perfect couple whose largest concern was what to cook for dinner that night. But as Annie's attempts to secure new employment in the journalistic world fizzled, the strain on their marriage increased. She was depressed, which led to expressed discontentment in her life. Each rejection letter brought about fraternity-style binge drinking followed by inconsolable hang-overs. She began withdrawing from Jim, from the children, into her own dark world permeated with self-loathing. And while Jim had at first given her wide latitude, the months took a toll on him, as well. To begin, while he had maintained a positive public attitude, his wife's infidelity -- so shockingly caught on film and so publicly displayed in the mass media -- had been humiliating. And though he loved her and sought to provide for her the emotional support that one offers a loved one, he knew deep down that he could never forgive her betrayal. That led, of course, to a distancing between the once happily-married couple. Intimacy subsided, to say nothing of their sex life. Not that she was terribly interested, wallowing as she was in misery and booze. But Jim could not help but wonder, every time he looked at the outwardly beautiful woman, where she had been touched. And by whom? And how many times? How many of them had there been? His pride did not allow him to ask these questions and his resentment of her -- of the unknown -- grew consequently, deepening the divide. They were soon leading largely separate lives. He moved her into the guest room of their spacious Lincoln Park home and soon thereafter filed for legal separation. They rarely ate together. They didn't socialize as a couple -- he had his events and she hers. And over time, Annie began to suspect that Jim was having an affair, and the suspicion was reciprocal. But Jim's thoughts weren't as civilized or so kindly put -- he simply believed that Annie was a fucking slut. His belief was well-founded. * * * (A Year Later) The cool water felt good on her hot flesh. She breast-stroked toward the ladder at the deep end of the pool atop the East Bank Club. Her long, elegant fingers grabbed at the rails and she gracefully pulled herself out of the pool. She stepped onto the pool deck and water cascaded down her tanned, fit body, erect nipples evident against the hot pink top of her bikini. As she walked toward her chaise lounge, her large breasts bobbed inside the top, which appeared to be a size too small. She tilted her head to the side and knocked a little water from one of her ears and then reached behind her, wringing water from the locks that were plastered to her skull and the nape of her neck, before settling onto the lounge. A waiter stopped and asked her if he could get her anything and she ordered a vodka-and-lemonade. He gave her a questioning look, as it was barely 11:00 am on that glorious Saturday, but then quickly moved on. 'Its noon somewhere,' she thought to herself as she leaned back, allowing her golden flesh to soak up the heat of the sun, and reached into her bag for a fashion magazine. Annie tended to spend Saturdays at the club. Jim stopped complaining about it months ago. She'd wake up and, once the kids were out of bed, she'd feed them and watch a little television with them before their weekend sports activities started. Then she'd leave, announcing only, "Be back later," leaving Jim to run around town all day to different parks and sports facilities. At the club, she'd change into a pair of shorts and a tank top and spend thirty minutes on the treadmill, thumbing through People and US Weekly and, occasionally, Newsweek. She would then run a circuit of machines to tone her muscles before settling into the steam room and a quick shower. During the summer months, and when weather permitted, she'd make her way up to the pool, situated on the roof, and lie in the sun, swim a little and, more often than not, have a few drinks. 'Just to take the edge off,' she'd tell herself. The waiter returned with her drink and she took it from him without thanks or even a smile. When she finished it, she ordered another and then another -- "Make it a double this time" -- occasionally sliding her lithe body into the pool to cool her sizzling flesh. Midway through the afternoon, as she was reading the latest People, a voice sounded over her left shoulder. "Mind if I sit here, ma'am?" "Whatever you wanna do," she intoned, flipping the page and not even bothering to look up. A bead of sweat, and then another, gathered at the top of her cleavage before coursing down the chasm formed by her breasts. The man made himself comfortable and ordered an iced tea from the waiter. After a while, Annie looked up, found her drink and brought it her soft lips, the rim smeared with her frosted pink gloss. Her eyes roamed easily over the man's body before she realized that, if a man, he barely was one. His chest and washboard stomach were well-developed and largely bereft of hair. His legs were equally muscular. But when her eyes rested on his smooth face, she realized that the man, strikingly handsome as he might be, could not be far from his teens. Her previously cool demeanor thawed a little. "Sorry for being rude earlier," she said, her voice soft and sweet. "Huh?" he uttered with a slight jerk of his body, startled by the sound of her voice. He rolled his head toward her. "I said, sorry that I was so rude to you when you sat down." "Oh. That. Yeah, don't worry about it." He then re-settled into a relaxed state. Annie took another swig from the pint glass and swallowed slowly, savoring the cool liquid as it flowed down her esophagus, chilling her stomach. Behind her oversized sunglasses, her bright blue eyes again swept over the young man's chiseled body and, despite the heat, her nipples hardened. "I'm Annie, by the way." He lifted his head and Annie nearly groaned aloud as the taut abdominal muscles popped along his stomach. After a moment, he leaned up on an elbow, sweat running liberally from his chest, and offered her his opposite hand. "Scott. Good to meet you." "You as well." Her hand was soft and warm in his, the pads of her fingers and the tips of her crimson nails dragging along his palm as she withdrew her hand. A moment of silence. "Nice day, huh?" He looked over the pool and nodded his agreement. "So, Scott, interested in a drink? I feel like a lush drinking alone." He smiled at her and brushed loose hair from his eyes. "Thanks, but I have this," he said, touching the rim of his iced tea glass. She cocked her head slightly, flirtatiously, and returned his smile. "Yeah, but I didn't hear a 'Long Island' in there when you ordered it." Scott shrugged his shoulders. "A little early for me." "A little early?" she chuckled, glancing at her watch. "It's nearly three o'clock. What are you, eighteen? I thought young boys like you drank early and often?" Scott laughed along with her. "Yeah, I do. Sometimes. But I drove over today. And no, I'm not eighteen. Twenty-two." Annie shrugged her shoulders and settled back against the lounge. She took a sip of her vodka-lemonade and flipped through a few pages of a new fashion magazine. "You should learn to take cabs in the city," she said absently. "Or do you live out in the 'burbs?" "No, I live down here. In the city." "Yeah? Where?" she asked, adjusting one of the shoulder straps of her bikini top and swiping a bead of perspiration from her collar bone. "Park Tower." She frowned at that, lifting the glasses off her eyes. "And just how do you manage that, at twenty-two?" "My dad bought it for me. He's an asshole, but wants his son to live well, I guess." "Well, as long as you get the benefits of it," she said after a moment, shifting to her left side to more fully face him. Her breasts squished together in the process and the soft, pliant flesh threatened to spill over the top of the neon pink fabric. "Yeah, but it's not really for me. It's so he can tell all his friends that he takes care of the family that he left behind when he started sleeping with his whore girlfriend." With that, Scott finished his iced tea. Annie noticed and prodded him. "Time for a drink with me now?" "Uh, sure. I guess. Just one, though. I really don't like to drive after I've been drinking." Annie leaned toward him, her large breasts swelling even more inside the revealing bikini top, and rested her manicured fingers on his muscled forearm. "Well," she began, her nails scraping lightly at his flesh and tugging softly at the blonde hairs along his arm, "drive first, then drink." He looked into Annie's shockingly blue eyes. "What do you mean, 'drive then drink'?" She patted his arm. "C'mon. Let's take a drive in your car, and then get a drink somewhere." He considered this a moment, eyes squinting. "Uh, what did you have in mind?" She smiled at him sweetly, her straight, white teeth gleaming, and leaned in closer, whispering. "How about the Park Hyatt?" A smile creased his features. "Like NoMi? Or somewhere else?" Her bright, flirtatious smile remained. "Somewhere else." * * * A few minutes later, Annie and Scott stood beneath the portico waiting for the valet to bring his car up from the garage. "Sure you can drop me back here after we . . . uh . . . have our drink?" she inquired, her bare shoulder bumping his playfully. "No problem at all." His tone was confident and he was smiling, but the heat of her flesh against his left his knees weak and caused a stirring in his groin. "Thought not," she muttered as a silver Porsche came to a stop at the curb and the valet alighted from it. Scott held the passenger door for Annie and nearly shivered when the flimsy sundress she wore over her bikini slid up her luscious thighs as she eased into the seat. When he closed the door on her, he stole a quick glance down her top, into the dark cleavage formed by her healthy breasts, and then quickly skirted around the car and got in. "Nice car, Scott," Annie teased, wriggling against the seat and finding a comfortable position. "Thank the asshole," he said, slipping the stick into first gear and turning right out of the driveway. A few minutes later, he rolled the car up to the residential entrance to the building, jumped out and opened the door for her. "So, NoMi, or do you still want to go 'somewhere else'?" She smiled at him and then patted him lightly on the bottom. "Definitely somewhere else." Scott shrugged and led her through the revolving door into the building's lobby. "Hey, Willy," he said, waving to the doorman. "And how are you, Mr. Paulson?" "Just fine, Willy, just fine." Scott nearly bounced past the lobby desk, Annie Davidson in tow. She waved shyly to Willy as she passed and he tipped his hat at her. Scott and Annie waited for the elevator and the two remained quiet as it rose, exiting without a word when the doors swished open. When they stopped in front of his door, he slid his key into the lock and pushed the door open, following her into his apartment. Annie walked down the entrance hallway and into a large, open living room with windows for two of its walls. She paused where the two windows met and looked down Michigan Avenue and then across, over the Museum of Modern Art toward Lake Michigan. "Beautiful," she whispered, almost to herself. From Bathing Suit to Lawsuit "Still want that drink, Annie?" Scott asked, moving toward the kitchen, his eyes locked on her firm bottom as she took in the view. "What do you have?" she responded, turning from the window and passing through a grouping of couches and chairs arrayed before a wall-mounted television. "Beer, wine -- both red and white," he called out. "Plenty of vodka, gin, whiskey, tequila. You name it, I probably have it." "Mm, you know, I think a beer sounds good." Scott raised his eyebrows. "Didn't figure you for a beer girl," he said, pulling two Stellas from the refrigerator, popping their caps. "Belvidere, or Krug, yes. But beer? No." He walked to her, handed her the bottle, and they lightly clinked them together. Annie looked around at the fully furnished apartment and recalled the Porsche that had carried them here. "Tell me, Scott, what does your father do that you get to enjoy all this at your tender age?" "He's a doctor, a neurosurgeon. At Northwestern." "And you?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm thinking about law school. Right now, I'm not really doing much of anything." "The good life." Annie moved back to one of the window walls and eased along it toward the breakfast bar that divided the kitchen from the living and dining areas, taking in the view from several hundred feet above terra firma. "How about you, Annie?" Reaching the bar, she leaned against it, elbows back, breasts thrust forward, and took a swig of the amber fluid. When she pulled the bottle from her sensuous lips, they formed into a sly smile. "Are you from here, Scott?" "Mm-hm. Yeah." "Don't watch the news much, do you then?" She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, causing them to surge together and upward, her delicious flesh peeking above the neckline of the sundress and revealing a crisp tan line running diagonally across the top of her left breast before it plunged into the shadows of her cleavage. "Uh, no, I guess not. Why?" "Well, Scottie, I used to report the news." She paused; took a sip, her lips pursing around the bottle's head. "And then I WAS the news." Recognition became apparent behind his soft brown eyes. "You mean . . . oh, yeah! You're . . ." he stuttered, almost laughing. "Annie Davidson," she completed the sentence for him, her smile bright and broad. "No, no. You're the one who got caught . . ." And then he caught himself. Annie just smiled, took another sip of her beer. "Mm-hm. That got caught sucking that guy's cock." "Holy shit!" he laughed. "I thought you were familiar, but I thought maybe it was from seeing you around the club or something." She shook her head and pushed herself off the bar, slowly striding toward him. "Nope. You saw me on TV. With a cock in my throat." Fresh from college, her coarse language did not give him any pause. Yet Scott stood stock still as she approached. "Caught on what turned out to be national television." She came closer, her breasts bouncing beneath the sundress, and took a long swig of her beer. "Caught cheating on my poor husband," she pouted in a mocking manner. She stopped before him, their faces inches apart. He was frozen in place. The faint scent of chlorine and suntan oil assaulted his senses. "Tell me, Scott," she began, running a bright red nail over the faded tee-shirt that covered his chest. "Do you want me to suck your cock?" A long nail scraped over one his nipples before sliding softly down his torso, prodding him toward the window. He allowed it and, with his back against the cool glass, Annie leaned in and her sensuous lips brushed lightly against his and she felt him shiver. "Is that a yes?" she breathed into the kid's mouth before her wet tongue slithered out and slid along his lips, before plunging into his parched mouth. Scott merely groaned but then primal instinct took control of his brain. One of his hands dropped to her waist and slid around to the top of her butt cheeks, pulling her warm body close, and the other wrapped around the back of her head, pulling her mouth hard against his. Their hot, wet tongues twisted around each other as he massaged the taut muscles of her ass and she ground her moistening crotch against his, feeling his hardness press into her. Teeth gnashed and lips bruised and the couple was breathing through their respective nostrils like thoroughbreds just finished with a derby race. Annie suddenly pushed away. Her hands went to his chest, slender fingers splayed against his pectoral muscles, and pushed him hard against the window. She tweaked his nipples lightly as her knees bent, taking her to a squatting position before the young man. She pushed his shirt up out of the way and yanked roughly at the drawstring of his bathing suit. The loose knot gave and the nylon covering fell easily around his ankles. "Yessssss!" she hissed as Scott's thick cock sprang up and bobbed before her gleaming, hungry eyes. She wrapped a hand around the veiny shaft and lightly tugged at it, coercing a moan from deep in the kid's throat. She leaned forward and spit along the length of his shaft to lubricate the job her hand was doing on him and then dipped her head below the impressive shaft. Scott's knees nearly buckled when he felt her hot breath along the inside of his thighs. Her tongue darted from between her gloss-smeared lips and licked at the smooth flesh. She breathed deep and shuddered at the scent of him -- a familiar mix of sweat and chlorine -- and then buried her face below his crotch. The broad head of his cock felt hot against her forehead as she dove in and it coursed through her silky tresses. Her teeth nipped lightly at his flesh before she turned her head slightly and felt his heavy balls roll across her make-up-free cheek toward her mouth. Her head continued to turn and her lips parted and she sucked his sac between her soft lips and past her gleaming teeth. Above her, Scott moaned and his hands fell easily to the back of her head, pulling the older woman's face deeper into his crotch. His hips bucked in an even rhythm, his fat shaft fucking her wet, warm fist as she sucked his cum-laden balls. She gently ejected his saliva-soaked balls from her mouth and took a deep breath, inhaling once again before pulling her face away, her fist still cranking away at his slab of boy-meat. Somewhere, the air conditioning clicked on, muting the soft clanking of her bracelets. "You're . . . fuckin' . . . incredible," he breathed, a sheen of sweat forming along his forehead and atop his upper lip. She smiled sweetly at him before spitting on his cock again, the pace of her shucking hand increasing. "No," she intoned, her attention returning to the fat shaft fucking her fist. "That was good . . . you're about to get great . . . incredible comes later." As the last word spilled from her shiny lips, Annie plunged her head toward the young man's cock, her jaw wide, and didn't stop until she felt the bulbous, overheated head sear into the back of her throat. Her gag reflex kicked in momentarily but she quickly stifled it, slamming her soft lips around the base of his cock and dragging them forcefully back up the length of his shaft. "Holy . . . shit!" Scott nearly screamed, his breath immediately ragged. Annie slipped one hand around to his ass, her manicured nails scratching along his taut flesh, while the other cradled his swelling nut sac, gently rolling his testes through her slender fingers. Her nails then dug deeply into his ass cheeks and pulled hard. His twitching cock slammed into her soft gullet before violating her throat, her esophagus contracting hard around the shaft as she swallowed him like a snake would its prey. Annie alternately pushed his hips away, causing his cock to withdraw until the crown was just beyond her teeth, and pulled them towards her, the shiny deep-purple cock head rubbing her throat raw. "Oh, Lord," he groaned. Annie smiled inwardly and only momentarily pulled her sloppy mouth from the shaft. "Even the Lord can't help you now," she muttered before thrusting her face toward his pelvis again, her nose crushing against her stomach as the fat shaft slid into her throat once again. Against the window, Scott's body shook and quaked and trembled. His feet were planted firmly against the hardwood floors, pushing his body hard against the window wall, that way keeping him from falling atop buckling knees. Annie released his nut sac and the soft fingers that had been massaging it joined her other hand behind him, her manicured nails digging deeper into his ass flesh. His hips moved of their own accord, with little prodding from her now. Soon, Scott was forcefully fucking the adulterous woman's beautiful face as saliva and pre-cum dripped from the corners of her mouth, coating her chin before splashing down onto her heaving breasts. "Oh . . . fuck," he whimpered, his fingers curling tightly around the rail that separated the top part of the window from the bottom, his knuckles white. "Oh . . . fuck . . . O fuck . . . Ofuck . . . OFUCK!" came the crescendo from deep in his lungs. His balls jumped beneath his shaft as they swung repeatedly against Annie's soft, slobber-covered chin. He felt them contract and, not wanting to cum so soon, he pushed the adulterous woman away from him. His fat shaft popped from her mouth -- a thick rope of their combined fluids dangling between his cockhead and her chin -- as she nearly fell back on her haunches. "If that . . . was . . . the great," he breathed, sweat dripping from his nose and chin, running down his tanned, muscular torso, "I don't know . . . if I can handle . . . the incredible!" Annie ran the back of her hand across her lips and chin, clearing the slippery concoction of pre-cum and spit. A lecherous smile lit in her eyes as she hurriedly pulled the sundress over her head and discarded the too-small bikini top, saying, "That was definitely NOT the great!" "Jesus Christ," Scott groaned in awe when her full breasts sprung from the top of her bathing suit. Her torso was deeply tanned save for two triangles of creamy white flesh that were her breasts. Reddish-brown nipples sat at the center of the triangles, thick and distended. "THIS is the great!" Annie dipped her chin and allowed a mass of saliva to drip from her soft pink lips so that it fell between the massive breasts that rose and fell upon her heaving chest. She grabbed Scott's dripping shaft and eased her chest up to his crotch, firmly planting the veiny stalk in her cleavage before again spitting on the shaft. She closed her fists, eased them against the outsides of her breasts and pushed them together, enveloping him in the slippery channel formed by the hot, slippery globes of flesh. "Fuck my tits, Scottie!" she ordered, letting her torso fall forward against him, pushing him against the glass again in the process. She moved herself up and down him, the thick shaft slipping smoothly, like quicksilver, between the sweaty mounds. Scott's pelvis reacted to the sensations enveloping his cock and her protruding nipples digging into his thighs, and began to develop a rhythm of its own, so Annie steadied herself, letting the young man thrust his swollen shaft up into her cleavage. When the slab of meat inadvertently slipped from between her tit-channel, she quickly pulled it back and readjusted the position of her hands, shoving her tits around the tube and interlacing her elegant fingers over it, her blood engorged nipples poking through the gaps between her knuckles. "You wanna cum on my tits, Scottie?" she whispered, her head tilted coquettishly to one side. "Oh . . . fuck . . . yeah!" he groaned, his eyes rolling up into his head. "Or would you rather . . . FUCK . . . ME!" she hissed, slamming her breastbone against the sensitive underside of the kid's twitching shaft and pulling her sweating tits up and down the saliva-slickened shaft. "Uugghh!" he managed, his brain largely incapable of forming a coherent response to the cheating slut's inquiries. "Tell me, Scottie," she taunted him. "My TITS? Or my MARRIED . . . CUNT?" "Aagghh . . . pleeeeeaaaaasssseeeee!" he wailed, his heavy nut sac twitching between his legs every time it swung against the soft, warm, damp flesh of her stomach. "Please what?" she continued, her smile lascivious. "Please . . . let me . . . fuck . . . you!" he grunted, pushing himself suddenly off the window wall. Scott's abrupt movement almost caused Annie to fall to the floor, but she caught herself with an outstretched hand and quickly righted herself, moving toward the dining room table that had just moments ago been behind her. She reached first to her left hip and then to her right, brutally yanking the ties that held her bikini bottoms together and the thin fabric floated to the floor with nary a whisper. Scott followed her the two or three steps to the table, his angry shaft bobbing before him, pre-cum dripping from the head and leaving a trail along his path. Annie reached the table, turned quickly and hiked her sweaty ass cheeks upon it, her supple thighs spreading wide to reveal a clean-shaven cunt that glistened against the late afternoon sun that poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. "Get that fucking cock over here!" she commanded, reaching for him when he approached. Her slender fingers closed roughly around most of the bloated shaft and pulled it toward her wanton cunt. When the broad, mushroom-shaped head spread her labia apart, Scott leaned into her and covered her mouth with his, their tongues dueling and lips mashing. Annie groaned aloud and shivered noticeably when Scott forcefully pushed his cock head past the opening to her cunt, her lips flowering outward, inviting him in. He grabbed her ass with one hand to hold her steady and pushed again, burying half of his shaft in her sodden hole. "Yyeesssssss!" she hissed into his hot mouth before pulling her head back and shaking her sweaty locks from her beautiful face. "Harder! Jam that thing in me harder! Now! NOW!" Scott pulled back a fraction before slamming his hips against Annie's pelvis. Like a freight train hurtling down from a mountain top with no brakes, his engorged shaft split her unfaithful cunt until the head of his cock slammed into her cervix and his pubic hair flattened against the baby-soft skin atop her fuck hole. "That how you want it?" he growled as he bottomed out in her slippery fuck-hole "Aaaagggghhhh!" she screamed, her head thrown back and eyes screwed shut. Annie arched her back in a vain attempt to ward off the initial pain of Scott's brutal violation of her spoken-for cunt. Her oversized tits rolled atop her torso, a sheen of perspiration glimmering in the diminishing light, and her turgid nipples pointed to the ceiling. Scott withdrew slightly, before pushing back into the quivering woman, and bent at the waist, his soft lips fastening themselves around one of the thickened beacons that capped the rolling flesh of her tits. "Uuuunnnngggghhhh!" Annie moaned when the wetness enveloped her sensitive nipples. She ground her hips back at the young man, attempting to pull even more of his young cock deeper into her boy-hole and to grind her agitated clit against him. But Scott withdrew, leaving just the head buried in her mass of wet warmth, and his tongue swarmed around the fat nipple that was ensconced in his mouth. "More . . . please," she whined, wriggling her pelvis, trying to coax him back into her. "Pleeeeaaasssse!" Scott's agile tongue washed across the enflamed teat again and then withdrew. At the very moment that Annie felt his teeth clamp down on her nipple, he savagely thrust back into her, sending the bloated head of his cock against her cervix again, threatening to break into the womb that had carried her two children. "Aaaaaggggghhhhh!!!!!" the lecherous woman wailed, her head thrashing back and forth, audibly slamming against the wood surface of the table. "Uuuugggghhhh!!!!" As Scott continued his brutal battering of her married cunt, Annie quivered and her supple body writhed atop the table, and the perspiration that sheathed her body turned to sweat. "FUCK . . . ME . . . HARDER!" she bellowed, hunching her pelvis up against his. She pushed herself off her back so that she was sitting up on the table and threw her tanned arms around the young man's neck, her lips slamming into his, her tongue shoving inside his mouth as complete, total and unadulterated lust overtook her entire being. Scott's pelvis jerked and slammed, jerked and slammed, pummeling the unfaithful wife's cunt mercilessly, erratically. Her oversized tits flattened against his chest, slippery between their sweaty bodies, fat nipples crushing against his. Scott crashed his cock into her again, crushing her engorged clit between their pelvic bones. The pleasure-pain was agonizing and Annie threw her head back, sweat whipping off her platinum tresses as she hung onto the young man's neck. Scott ground his pelvis into her, mashing her clit around, and slipped his hands between their shaking bodies. His strong fingers quickly found her obscenely erect nipples and clamped down on them, pinching and twisting and tugging and pulling. "Is this what you like, slut? Like it a little rough?" he taunted. "Uuuunnnnnggggghhhhh!!!!!!" Annie roared. "I'm . . . I'm . . . gonna . . . cuuuuummmmm!" His fingers still insistent at her nipples, twisting them around and distorting the shape of her tits, Scott pulled his cock from her dripping hole and slammed it back into her brutally, his fat cock head tearing at the entrance to her womb. "Aaaggghhh!!! Yesssssssss!" she spat. Her head whipped back up, her lips curled into a snarl and her eyes bore into his fiercely. "More, you FUCKER! Harder! Harder!!!!! Fuck . . . me . . . HARDER!!!!!" Scott obliged the sexually delirious woman, releasing her nipples from his vicious grasp and slamming his hands onto her ass. He lifted her off the dining room table and stabbed his cock into her stretched-out fuck-hole repeatedly, sure to grind his pelvis against her abused and battered clit on every in-stroke. Holding her firmly against his body, Scott felt the estranged housewife quiver and shake as she wrapped her supple thighs around his waist, her ankles locking at the small of his back, and impaled herself on his fat shaft. His strong fingers pried her ass cheeks apart as he continued his assault on the married woman's lithe body. She slipped a little from the sweat that formed between the palms of his hands and her ass and one of his fingers slid cruelly against her puckered asshole, penetrating her ass to the first knuckle. "OH FUCK . . . THAT'S IT . . . RIGHT THERE!!!" she screamed, wiggling her hips in a desperate effort to suck more of the young man's finger into her asshole. The sweat cascading down her toned back provided ample lubrication. Scott brutally yanked her down, skewering the delirious woman even deeper onto his punishing shaft, and his finger slipped all the way into hot, dry confines of her crinkly asshole. "YYYEEESSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!" Annie screamed and then her body went rigid. She remained that way for two or three seconds. Her legs and then her torso shook violently. Her slender back arched involuntarily. And then her cunt erupted around the thick shaft that had plugged her so tightly. "UUUNNNGGGHHH!!!" came the guttural moan from deep in her lungs. Her fluids dripped and then flooded and then sprayed from around the tight seal formed by her deformed cunt lips and the overheated tower of meat that plunged to her depths and battered against her womb. It plastered Scott's stomach and hers, too, and ran copiously down his thighs, puddling on the carpet beneath his feet. Annie hung on to the young man as the earth-shattering orgasm continued to pulse through her trembling body. She buried her sweat-soaked face against his shoulder and continued to hump her abused little cunt against the still-engorged shaft. Her body tingled from her lust-curled toes to her snapping cunt to her meaty nipples. From Bathing Suit to Lawsuit As her orgasm began to subside, Scott eased her exhausted body back onto the dining room table but, not letting her recover, speared his fat cock into her loosened hole just as her ass made contact with the wood, forcing a yelp from the now-hyper-sensitive woman. A single burst of laughter rumbled from her lungs as she leaned back, bracing herself with her hands. His cock slowly slicing into the older woman's stretched-out fuck-hole, Scott leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips, her wet tongue lazy against his as she slid into post-carnal bliss. Then he stood straight again and ran his fingers over his taut stomach, slick with the liquid explosion that had come from her cunt. "Messy," he breathed. "Yeah," she chuckled. "Sometimes." "Not all the time?" he asked, pulling her ass off the edge of the table and lifting one of her legs up and over, rolling her so that she was now bent over the table. "No," she grunted as her body was manhandled. "Only when it gets a little on the rough side." "Mmm," he acknowledged, spanking her lightly on the bottom, watching her ass flesh ripple momentarily. Annie closed her eyes briefly but then turned her head to look over her shoulder at the young man now mounting her from behind. "Harder," she said, her voice a mere whisper, her eyes molten with lust. Scott raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Harder, I said." He stabbed his cock into her and spanked her harder. "Yesssssss!" He slammed into her again, harder this time, and Annie stretched her arms toward the far side of the table, flattening her body across the wood top. Her breasts squished out from beneath her, bulging from the sides of her torso. Scott spanked her again and she slammed her pelvis back at him. "I like it . . . rough," she muttered almost to herself, her face pressed hard against the top of the table. "Good, slut, 'cause that's how you're gonna get it," Scott managed, the speed of his cock in her drenched hole increasing. A quick slap of her ass left his handprint, red and angry, on the golden, quivering flesh. "My nipples yanked," he heard. "A finger . . . in my . . . asshole." He spanked her again and she jerked her hips, rotating them so that the top of her pelvic bone crashed against the underside of his cock. "The degradation." "Yesssss!!!!" he hissed, his breathing erratic now. "You're a . . . fuckin' whore . . . Annie!" "Uugghh." Her body shivered beneath him. "Yes . . . I am . . . Treat me . . . like I'm a . . . whore . . . Pleeeeaaasseeee!!!!" Scott spanked her again before pulling his pulsing, dripping, blood-engorged shaft from her battered cunt. He tugged lightly at her hips and drew Annie up and off the table, then urged her to the ground, on her back. He stepped over her prone, lithe body and knelt, straddling her. "Jerk me off, slut," he commanded, resting his cock in the slick cleavage of her substantial tits. Her eyes fluttered and one hand found his slippery shaft, the other his achingly-full balls. Her slender fingers gripped tightly at the base of his shaft, her thumb pressed against its underside, and she tugged on him, softly at first but then harder. Above her, Scott stretched an arm to his right, his fingers grasping at the edge of the table to hold himself steady. He looked down his sweaty, heaving chest to find Annie double-fisted, her elegant fingers and soft palms gliding up and down the length of his shaft, one of her thumbs occasionally pausing to apply pressure at the base of his cock. Her eyes were locked intently as the tube of meat swelled in her fists. "Fuck . . . yeah," he groaned, his hips rocking involuntarily, fucking her slimy fists. "Cum . . . Scottie," she breathed. "Cum all . . . over . . . me!" He arched his back violently, slamming his cock through the hard-gripping channel formed by her jerking fists. His cock head surged. It lost texture to become smooth. Shiny. Its hue changed from light pink to angry purple in matter of moments. His balls lurched beneath him and released a torrent of cum. Annie, with her fists still grasping tightly at the quivering cock, knew what was coming. She felt the shaft expand in her hands. She felt in the increase in heat emanating from the spit- and cum-soaked flesh. She saw the broad head of his cock darken. And then she saw Scott's cock head wink open. Without hesitation, she released one of her elegant hands from the cock and wrapped her slender arm around his waist and pulled him down on top of her. His cock slammed into her chin and then slid into her mouth just as the first power-jet of boy-cum flew from the end of his shaft. Annie swallowed hard as his pubic hair crushed against her upper lip and nose, taking both his fat cock and the first load of sperm down her throat. "Uugghhhhhhhh," Scott shuddered, nearly falling to the ground atop Annie's writhing body. So powerful was his orgasm that it wracked his stomach violently. He caught himself on outstretched arms and pulled back slightly, feeling the ridge of his cock head catch at the entrance to her throat, and slammed his pelvis at the unfaithful woman's face. Below him, Annie gagged. She had been unprepared for his violent re-penetration of her tender throat, but swallowed hard to end the gagging. Scott began pulling out as her throat muscles contracted around his cock, coaxing a second massive load of cum from his shaft that splattered against her throat and then began filling her mouth as he withdrew. She again swallowed hard, her nostrils working to desperately suck much-needed oxygen into her lungs, and Scott violated her abused mouth for the third time, another torrent of cum filling her oral cavity. Annie couldn't keep up and she coughed violently, Scott's sperm leaking from the not-so-tight seal formed by her soft lips and his engorged shaft. Sweat poured from his body as his pelvic bone settled against Annie's mouth. Another mass of cum spat from the end of his cock -- less forcefully than the previous blasts -- and Annie easily swallowed it down. After a fifth and sixth deposit into the adulterous slut's mouth, Scott pushed himself up so that he was once again straddling her. His rapidly deflating cock slipped from her wet mouth, down her sperm-coated chin and flopped between her heaving, swollen breasts. "I think . . . that was . . . the . . . incredible," he breathed, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Annie coughed once below him and reached to her side for her sundress. Using the thin material to clean the young man's seminal fluid from her chin and cheeks and mouth, she then cast it aside, the slender fingers of one of her hands encircling the thick but soft tube of flesh that had just defiled her mouth and throat and stomach. "Maybe," she responded with a playful smile. She lifted her head and slapped the light pink head of his cock against her full lips and then, her lips parting, against her wet, pink tongue. "But there's still [SLAP] one hole [SLAP] that this massive [SLAP] cock [SLAP] hasn't violated." Scott groaned and rolled his eyes. "As much as I'd love to continue playing with this body, I can't, Annie." She groaned beneath him and playfully slapped his rippled, sweaty stomach. "C'mon, Scottie. Pleeeeaaassseee?" He laughed, but persisted. "Really, I can't. I'm supposed to meet my dad and the slut he's dating for dinner." "Aaww," Annie whined, her slender fingers tracing over her stomach, down her pelvic bone, and swirling lazily over her still-engorged clit. "Tell you what, go get in the shower and clean this slut body up, okay? I'll have a surprise for you," he offered, pushing himself off the woman. A glob of cum dripped from the end of his shiny cock and dropped to her belly. "And keep playing with yourself. Right on the edge of orgasm. I want you ready when I get out of the shower." She pushed herself up and Scott led her into the guest bathroom, turning on the water. He left her there, sitting on the toilet seat with two fingers buried in her bald cunt while the water warmed, and went back into his bedroom, starting his own shower. While he waited for the water to heat up, he picked up the cordless phone next to his bed, and hit one of the memory buttons. After two rings, a familiar voice answered. "Park Tower Lobby, this is Willy. How can I help you?" "Willy, Scott Paulson here." "Hey, Mr. Paulson. What can I do for you?" "Well, first of all, cut the 'Mr. Paulson' crap. But more importantly, it's what I can do for you." "I like the sound of that." "Yeah? Did you like the look of that chick I brought back this afternoon?" "Oh, yeah. She's fine. Familiar, too. Think I've seen her before." "Probably have. Used to be on the news? Got caught on film sucking some dude's cock?" "Ooohhhh, yeaaaah. Now I remember." Willy paused for a moment. "So what's the deal, Scott." "Willy, that little slut is so fucking hot for cock right now, and I can't give her anymore. Gotta go meet my dad in a little bit. I know you're getting off duty right about now." "Harry just got here, so I'm done. So what's up?" "So, how about you come up here and help the lady out?" "What the fuck?!?" "You heard me, Willy. Just let yourself in. I'll be in the shower back in my room. But you go into the guest bath, just down the hallway? I guarantee you: you're gonna get some of that pussy!" "Well, Scott, my brother. I don't think I can pass that shit up." Scott disconnected and put the phone back in its cradle. He checked the water temperature and climbed beneath the head, rinsing the day's sweat, suntan lotion and Annie's cum from his flesh. * * * The story of Annie Davidson is not over. It may never be over. She made a mistake -- a big one -- and it led to the irretrievable breakdown of her marriage and the shattering of a career that she had worked so hard to build and maintain. And from there, she had slipped into a depravity generally unseen in a woman so driven. But while Annie freely acknowledged that she had made a mistake -- that it was not within the code of journalistic ethics to become sexually involved with those who you are interviewing or investigating -- internally, she laid the blame for her current state of life at the feet of the news outlet that had originally reported the story and the news director that he put the weasel high up in that forty-five year old oak tree. Consistent with American values, Annie Davidson had filed a lawsuit. While the lawsuit said many things, one of them was most incredible: defamation. In other words, Annie contended that the reporting on her "relationship" with the murder suspect was false. Fortunately for the network and its new director, truth is the ultimate defense.