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Why Don?

By: Britease



A most unlikely little tale for pure amusement, so please don't complain if you find it unrealistic.

Hardly any sex and probably not very erotic, and though the story is a complete fabrication, our 'hero' does have something in common with me. I'll tell you at the end. 

++++++++++ 

"Mike!"

I stopped in my tracks and looked back to the door I had just passed, as some guy, mid thirties, about the same age as me, leant out.

"Mike," he repeated. "It is you isn't it Mike? Mike Davis?"

I stared at the guy for a moment or two, till recognition dawned.

Don," I replied in surprise. "Don Price! What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm here for a couple of meetings Mike," he responded, grinning back at me. "I didn't know you worked here. Surprised you even got a job with all the beer you used to sink."

"No surprise there Don," I laughed along with him. "We haven't seen one another since we left university and that must have been twelve years ago or more."

"Thirteen," he confirmed. "I left the year before you."

With those silly grins on our faces that men put on when they meet old friends, we stepped towards one another and shook hands heartily. 

"Look Don, I'm a bit tied up at the moment," I told him. "Got some meetings and things myself. Are you free for lunch? Maybe we could get together and talk about old times."

"Great," Don shot back at me. "Twelve thirtyish OK?"

"Fine with me," I confirmed happily, looking forward to chewing the cud with an old rugby and drinking partner. "Meet me in the lobby and we'll go out for a pie and a pint."

With that we gave each other the obligatory friendly punch on the shoulder, and he disappeared back into old man Parkinson, our head buyer's office, and I went on my way, wondering what product he was trying to sell our company, and why his name hadn't cropped up.

-------------------

Twelve thirty came and I found myself tied up with a group of other managers that I really didn't want to have to break up. I excused myself for a few moments and made my way down to the lobby where I soon spotted Don stood there waiting for me.

"Hey Don," I greeted him. "Sorry man, but I'm really tied up. Any chance we could meet up after work for a pint if you're not in too much of a hurry to get away?"

"No problem Mike. I'm staying over night anyway at the hotel opposite. I've got some specifications to sort out with some guy in your engineering department tomorrow morning."

"That'd be Tom King," I responded automatically. "He's a good engineer."

"Friend of yours?"

"Sort of," I admitted.

"Put a good word in for me perhaps Mike?" Don asked confidently. "This order is very important to us."

"I'll see what I can do Don," I promised him, remembering that Don was never one to miss out on an opportunity. 

"I'll buy you dinner tonight if you want." Don offered a bit too quickly, making me wonder whether that was through old friendship or to get me on his side. 

"I'll do better than that Don," I replied, not wanting to be too beholding to one of our potential suppliers. "Why don't you come round our place and I'll get Beth to make us both dinner?"

"Beth?" Don queried. "That your wife then?"

"We're engaged," I corrected him with a smile. "But we might as well be married as we've been living together for two years now."

"Pretty?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

"See for yourself tonight Don," I grinned back at him, knowing full well that he wouldn't be disappointed.

-----------------------

I rang Beth to warn her that an old friend would be coming round, and that was when my problems started.

"Damn you Mike," she castigated me angrily. "You know I wanted you to take me to the theatre tonight."

"Sorry Beth," I responded. "I forgot."

I had!

No, really, I had.

Trouble was that I really didn't want to go anyway, and Beth knew that. We went through several rounds of accusations and apologies and I came out the loser. It was going to cost me --- Oh boy was it going to cost me, but at last Beth agreed to put off the visit to the theatre and cook dinner for us. I even offered to take the three of us out to a restaurant, but she refused, saying she didn't want to be trapped the whole night with someone she didn't know, while we talked about our past drunken exploits all the time.

"At least I can go off to bed if and when I get bored," She ended her diatribe with.

"You won't get bored," I tried to assure her. "Don's a nice guy."

"Good looking?" Beth queried absently.

"Yes I suppose so," I replied, happy that she was at least taking an interest.

"Maybe I'll take him off to bed with me then," she joked.

"Don't even think about it," I laughed back at her. "We'll see you later."

Seemed amusing at the time.

Odd that!

------------------

The evening organised, I checked up with Parkinson and Tom to check exactly what my old friend Don was trying to sell us. I didn't say too much, wanting to make sure of a few things before I committed myself to giving his product a little push in the right direction. Turned out that he actually owned the company, and they were vying to be a preferred supplier for a range of engineering parts that we used. Turned out in fact, that this order would be very important to them, so perhaps I could influence it in his favour. It would feel good to be able to help an old chum.

The afternoon passed quickly enough and by ten past six, Don was following my car as I wound my way through the narrow streets of our town towards the apartment that I shared with Beth.

"Bloody hell Mike," Don commented as we pulled up into the private parking that went with our home. "This is a bit swish."

"Not mine," I informed him. "I only rent it."

"Even so," he gushed as he looked around the stylish modern entry lobby; "Must cost a few bob. This Davis guy who's the boss here ---Not your dad or anything is he?"

"Hardly Don," I chuckled back. "My dad worked in the shipyards. The nearest I've got to a rich relation is my Auntie Martha who owns a shoe shop in Leicester. I grinned inwardly, deciding not to tell him that I was fortunate enough to have my company supply me with such a pad for a very modest rent, and knowing that when he saw the interior, that he would be equally impressed with that.

He was!

But perhaps not quite so impressed as he was when Beth came out of the kitchen to greet us.

"Crikey Mike," Don uttered in surprise. "How come an ugly old bugger like you bagged a beautiful girl like this?"

I laughed, knowing that I wasn't at all ugly by most standards, and enjoying the look of embarrassed pleasure that his remark bought to Beth's face. 

Beth was medium height, on the slim side with long dark hair and a remarkably pretty face. At twenty-seven, Beth had been an actress since leaving school, though had always seemed to be on the edge of breaking through. Like so many others in her chosen profession, she had spent more time 'resting' than actually working. She'd done a bit of film work and a few parts in west end plays, but mainly, to her chagrin, she'd done TV adverts. It paid alright, though once or twice I had been a bit shocked at how little she had on, when she'd done lingerie adverts. She always did look good though.

But beautiful she was by any standards, and though she was well used to being told so, Don's words, I could see, had already warmed her to him. Perhaps the evening would go well after all.

We chatted and exchanged old memories of our time together, Beth joining in as all three of us laughed as we recalled some of the antics we'd got up to as students. Eventually Beth served up dinner and we sat down in out lounge together afterwards, us two men with a fine Cognac each, and Beth with the last of the 2006 Sancerre.

Beth was obviously pretty taken with Don, who I remembered as a bit of a womaniser in his younger days. Not that I hadn't been as well, but I grinned when I recalled the advantage that he'd always had over the rest of us. 

"Funny being called Don again after all these years," he remarked when there was a lull in the conversation.

"What's your real name then?" demanded Beth.

"Mark," I answered for him, not too sure if I wanted to go down this avenue. "But we all called him Don." 

"Why's that then?" Beth came back.

"We just did," I replied. "It was just a nickname."

"But why Don?" Beth continued to press.

"We just did," I got in before Don could answer.

"But why?" Beth demanded yet again, the booze making her a bit giggly. "Why Don if his name is Mark?"

"They called me Donk for the first few months and then that got shortened to Don," he explained rather unhelpfully.

"Donk?" Beth squealed mirthfully, spilling her drink a little. "What sort of name is Donk?"

"Anyone want another drink?" I tried to divert the conversation, but Beth was having none of it.

"Come on you two," she insisted. "Where did the name Donk come from?"

"It was just a nickname," I repeated.

"It came from Donkey," Don over-ruled me, smirking like an idiot, and knowing where this was going.

"Donkey? ---- Donkey?" My Beth called out with a peel of laughter. "Where on earth did Donkey come from?"

"Shall I tell her Mike?" Don asked me with a smirk, knowing full well that he was going to anyway.

I simply gave a shrug, aware that there was no way out of it. Hoping that maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

"Donkey dick," Don told her, grinning from ear to ear. "It comes from Donkey dick."

"Donkey dick?" Beth queried, a bit slow on the uptake. "Why donkey dick? I don't understand."

"That's the nickname they all first gave me when they saw me in the showers in our first week at Uni."

"But I still don't ....." Beth started, then stopped and blushed deeply as she realised where the name had come from. "You mean that you're ..... Well, that you've got ......Well, you know."

"Got what exactly Beth?" Don teased Beth with. "What were you thinking of?"

"Well," she started again, trying to find the right words. "That you've got a big ... thingy."

"Why don't you say it Beth," Don pushed her, my mild irritation turning to something a bit more painful.

"A big penis," giggled Beth, putting her hand to her mouth.

"You can do better than that little lady," Don forced the issue, teasing my woman as if I wasn't even there.

"OK then Don," she blushed. "You've got a big cock."

"Yes I have," he agreed. "It's pretty big."

"How big?" Beth demanded, her eyes shining with anticipation.

"Can we change the subject please?" I butted in, not liking for one moment the thought of my woman discussing the size of his wedding tackle with another guy.

"Don't be silly Mike," Beth dismissed me without so much as a glance in my direction. "Come on Don, just how big is it?"

"Pretty big," he continued to taunt her.

"Yes but how big?" she chuckled at him, obviously enjoying the conversation, which was a damn site more than I was. "How many inches?"

"Never measured it Beth," Don lied casually, his smirk giving the game away. "Bigger than Mike's though."

"No great problem there," Beth giggled, before bursting out in peels of laughter. 

"For Christ's sake Beth," I appealed to her. "Shut up, can't you. This is damn embarrassing."

Actually I wasn't that small at all, so I knew it was only fun. But when confronted by what I knew from past experience what Don was packing, then it simply lost all its humour.

"Come on Don," Beth carried on again, oblivious to my feelings. "How big is it really?"

"Not saying," Don cut her short, still teasing her.

"Please Don, please tell me."

"No," he replied. "I'm not telling."

"The guy I went out with before Mike had an eight inch cock," Beth shocked me with. "That always felt pretty huge."

"Who the hell was that?" I spat out angrily, but the pair of them ignored my outburst.

"Mine's bigger," the bastard led her on.

"How much bigger," she all but begged him.

"My natural modesty prevents me from telling you, I'm afraid," he continued to tease her with a grin, my insides boiling at the way the conversation was going.

"Show me then," Beth then astonished me with. "Come on Don, show me."

"Maybe," he teased her to my annoyance, the pair of them still carrying on as if I wasn't present.

"Come on Don," Beth insisted, moving over to sit next to him. "Get it out and let me look at it."

"For God's sake you two," I shouted quite loudly. "This has gone too far already. Pack it up will you?"

"See Don," Beth scolded Don. "You've upset Mister Grumpy. Get it out right now, or I'll get it out myself."

"If you want," he dared her.

"I will," she threatened.

"You bloody well will not," I warned her, appalled at their behaviour.

"You show me yours and I'll show you mine," the rotten bastard challenged my fiancé, raising the stakes and sending my head spinning. 

"Don't you dare Beth," I retorted angrily, grabbing at her tight jeans to prevent her from what I feared she might just do, but alas, misjudging her intentions.

"How about my tits big boy," Beth squealed breathlessly, grabbing the hem of her little t-shirt, and lifting it up and off in one fluid movement. I made to grab her, but Don nudged me, only gently, but caught me off balance and I went sprawling across the floor. Looking back up, I found myself too late to stop Beth reaching behind her back and unsnapping her bra, which soon joined the T shirt on the floor, her small but full round breasts jutting out in all their naked glory for that bugger Don to admire.

"Come on Don," Beth called out excitedly, her little tits bouncing around as she hopped from one foot to the other like an excited schoolgirl. "Let's see it. Let's see how big it really is."

At that point I guess I could have done a number of things and slapping Beth round the face or taking a swing at Don were among them. 

But I didn't!

I simply lay there on the floor where I'd ended up, watching in disbelief as the events furled out in front of me. Wondering if the woman there in front of me was really the same lovely young girl that I'd recently announced my engagement to. 

"Come and get it darling," Don ordered Beth, as he undid his belt and slipped down the zip, only for Beth, my Beth, to launch herself on him and frantically grab inside his pants.

"Jesus," she cried out. "You weren't kidding. It's ....It's ..... I can hardly get my hand round it."

But she certainly did her best, freeing his monster cock and squatting there open mouthed in amazement, as she stared at it, inches from her, squeezing it and running her hand up and down.

"It's beautiful," she gasped. "It's twice the size of Mike's."

It wasn't of course, but who was splitting hairs at that point? I just continued to sit there, paralyzed by the chain of events that had overtaken me, and feeling that maybe I wanted to be sick.

Could things get worse? 

Of course they could.

My stomach contracted in pain as I watched Beth, almost in slow motion, as it were, lean forward and gently kiss the tip of his cock, her delicate little tongue darting out to give it a couple of licks.

Then, as he reached down to cup my fiancé's bare breast for the first time, she slithered up over him, keeping a tight hold on his member, and kissed him hard on the lips.

Yuk!

Knowing where that mouth had just been, rather him than me!

--------------------

I'd had enough.

Leaving them to it, I staggered out of the room and out to the bathroom, where I dry heaved for some minutes, unable to bring anything up despite the dinner we'd just eaten. All I was left with was a bad taste in my mouth, a head that was still spinning, and a stomach that seemed to be alive and jerking, full of strange bodies and beyond my control.

After what seemed ages, but was probably only a few minutes, I forced myself reluctantly to go back and see what was happening, to find Don lying back and enjoying it, while Beth, her jeans undone by then, sucked enthusiastically on his cock. 

Well, I wouldn't be kissing her any time soon!

Then the lead weight inside me plunged to the depths when Don suddenly went rigid, grunted loudly, and a stream of obnoxious white cream spilled out from the corner of Beth's mouth, and ran down her neck and onto those lovely bare breasts.

Time froze and the room spun as I watched my fiancé lick her lips and wipe the excess spunk from her mouth.

"Come on big boy," she gasped, grabbing his hand and pulling him upright. "Let's take this to the bedroom and do it properly."

It was only as she started to tug him towards the door, that she saw me standing there.

"Oh Mike," Beth remarked in little more than a loud whisper, her eyes half glazed over. "You're still there .... I forgot .... I ..... Are you OK?"

"Do I look OK?" I growled back at her, feeling sick again at the spectacle of her tight pert tits that I loved to suck, all covered in another man's cum.

"I'm sorry Mike," she continued. "I sort of got carried away. I didn't mean to ....."

She didn't finish her sentence, but didn't let go of Don's hand either.

"How could you Beth?" I demanded pathetically, lost for words. "How could you do this to me. To us?"

"It'll be OK Mike," She tried to assure me, a wild look of lust still on her beautiful face. "Can you just give Don and me half an hour or so please honey?"

"Half an hour?" I stuttered back, my spirit just about broken.

"Make it an hour please Mike," Beth begged me, unfazed by my utter dejection. "Why don't you pop down the pub for an hour or so. We'll sort this all out later on when you come back."

"Don," I appealed in desperation to my old friend. "Don't do this to me Don. Please don't do this to me."

"I'm not the one to be asking Mike," he replied with a smile. "If your woman wants me to fuck her, then that's between you two."

"Beth," I appealed to her, turning back to face her. "You can't go through with this. Is one fuck with him more important than our entire relationship?"

"Don't ask me that question Mike," Beth answered shrilly, her face still a mask of lust. "Just go down the pub honey. Please go to the pub. I've got to do this, but I'll make it all up to you when you get back."

With that she brushed past me, pulling Don in her wake, making their way through to our bedroom. 

"Better do as she says Mike," Don called back to me as I stood there in astonishment at how my comfortable life had changed in such a short time. "This could get very noisy, but I'll try not to spoil her too much for you."

-----------------

Fuck the pair of them!

I did go out, but not to the pub. I was in no mood to socialise with my pals down there and needed to be on my own. I decided to go for a drive to clear my head, but didn't take my company Audi, preferring instead to take my 1956 Jaguar XK140 sports car. As the C-Type, 3.4 litre, straight six engine rocketed me away down the road; I slowly felt the clouds lifting.

Not saying I was happy of course, but an old powerful classic like my Jaguar takes some concentration to be driven at speed, and that's exactly what I did. An hour and some eighty miles later (yes, I did break the speed limits), I decided I'd gone far enough. Taking the next major turn in the road, I drove back by another route but somewhat slower. By the time I'd got back into town and was approaching my place, my thoughts had cleared, and expecting Don to be gone by then, I realised that at the very least Beth and I were going to have one hell of an argument. Whether we'd still be engaged at the end of it was looking pretty unlikely.

Then as I pulled into my still open garage where I kept the XK, I spotted Don's car sat there where he'd left it several hours ago.

Right ---- This argument could just get a bit physical!

-------------------

"Oh you're back," Beth acknowledged me as she turned round from the fridge that she was pulling things out of. "Are you OK honey?"


Why Don?



"What do you care?" I grunted back at her, unable to not notice how beautiful she looked in the nude, despite everything.

"Oh come on Mike," Beth went on, talking to me as if I was some errant child. "Don't be grumpy with me. It's not as if we are actually married yet or anything and it was such a wonderful opportunity for me."

"Good was it then?" I demanded, hoping that she'd dig an even bigger hole for herself.

"Not too bad Mike," she admitted uncertainly. "I've always wanted to try a really big one and Don's certainly got that, but he was a bit rough to be honest. Doesn't have a lot of finesse like you do."

"So he's going soon then is he?"

"Not yet Mike," she regally informed me. "I'm just getting us both a snack, as I've asked him to stay the night."

"And where am I supposed to sleep Beth?" I asked, not having to point out to her that our apartment, though somewhat sumptuous, had only one bedroom.

"Oh Mike, I didn't think about that," Beth replied with a look of genuine concern. "Can you sleep on the couch or something honey? It'll only be for the one night."

I simply shook my head, turned on my heels and headed back to the front door. I had other places where I could lay my head for the night and not necessarily on my own if I chose it. 

"Don't be like that Mike," Beth's words floated after me as I slammed the door behind me, but she didn't chase after me. Bit difficult when she had no clothes on I suppose.

------------------

I did sleep alone that night in the very hotel that Don should have passed the night in. Our company had an arrangement with them and it was no problem at all. Out of interest I left my mobile phone on, but obviously Beth was too busy or too embarrassed to phone me. 

The next morning I woke, had a leisurely breakfast, and wandered over to our offices on foot. There I ensconced myself in my office and started calling some of my staff in, determined to find out all I could about Mr. Mark -- aka Don --Price.

"Tom," I started when I got the head of our engineering department on the phone. "What do you know about this Mark Price guy that's seeing you this morning?"

"Well he's late for a start boss," Tom King 'didn't' surprise me with. "But he owns Price Castings and Engineering, and they've got a pretty good reputation."

"Why have we never used them before then?"

"They were always pretty tied up with Jones and co.," Tom explained to me, not having to say more, since we both knew that our competitors, Jones and co., had very recently gone bust.

"What about their quality Tom?"

"First class boss," he enthused. "They've recently bought one of those new Swedish machines that we looked at last year, so no problem there."

"They were bloody expensive weren't they?"

"Not kidding boss," Tom confirmed. "Even we baulked at splashing out that sort of money."

"Stuck his neck out then, didn't he Tom," I probed my chief of engineering. "He'd need a fair amount of throughput to justify a machine like that.

"Guess so boss, but now Jones and co. have folded, that could only be to our advantage."

"Very interesting Tom," I ended our conversation. "That's just about how I see it."

----------------

"Yes Mr. Davis," Parkinson, the company chief buyer answered me as I greeted him as I walked into his office. "What can I do for you sir?"

Bit formal was old Parkinson, the old school, and had been with the company long before I'd bought them out.

"This Price Castings bunch," I questioned him, trying to keep it casual. "How's the negotiations going?"

"They've provided us with a particularly interesting quote sir," he informed me in his own formal way. "It's a good twenty percent less than we're paying now."

"Why would that be?" I carried on, knowing that old Parkinson knew simply everything that was going on in our industry.

Rumour has it sir, that they have their backs up against the wall. They've invested heavily on the back of an order from some other company, and it didn't quite work out for them."

"Jones and co.," I threw into the conversation, just letting old Parkinson know that he wasn't the only one with his ear to the wall.

"Precisely sir," he beamed at me, genuinely pleased that the boss of his company was so on the ball. "Their customer has gone to the wall, and now they're desperate as we're the only one's left in the UK needing machined castings to that size and standard. I've calculated what their basic costs would be and suggested another eight percent discount."

"Why eight percent?"

"Less than that and they'd go broke as well sir," he told me. "And where would that get us? They're not happy, but I think they'll be obliged to go for it."

"Offer them double the order at a further twelve percent discount," I instructed him with a satisfied smile.

"They'll never accept it sir," he pointed out the obvious. "They'd go broke anyway."

"Precisely," I agreed smugly.

"But that's not like you sir," Parkinson reminded me with a frown. "Our company hasn't built its reputation by doing those sort of things."

"I know," I agreed. "But I have my reasons. Once Mr Price is nice and upset, then bring him up to see me."

----------------------

Old Parkinson wasn't too happy about it, and I hardly wanted to explain to him, or any other of my staff exactly what I planned. However he complied and a couple of hours later, my secretary (Yes --- Ok --- the one that would probably have shared my bed the previous night if I'd asked, though I hadn't done so up till then), announced Mark aka Don's arrival.

"Mr Price is here to see you Mr Davis," she sang out, adding in a lower tone, "He doesn't seem too happy."

"Send him in please Rita," I answered, surprised that Don apparently still hadn't yet made the connection with my surname.

To say that the door burst open would be a bit of exaggeration to be honest, but to say that he burst in wouldn't.

"Now look here Mr Davis," he started in an angry voice, his face very red. "You may be the boss of this conglomerate but....."

At which point he realised quite who he was talking to, and spluttered to a halt, and at last worked out that the Mr Davis who owned our company was none other than his old friend from Uni

"You!" he said at last. "I never ..... I didn't realise."

"How was last night Don," I greeted him. "Have a good time did you?"

He stood there with a look of shock on his face, as it slowly dawned on him quite what he'd done, and quite what an evening's sex was about to cost him.

"Come on Don my old mate," I encouraged him. "How was my fiancé in the sack? What was it like to have your old friend's girl friend sucking you off then?"

"But that apartment you live in," he mumbled, trying to come to terms with his surprise. "You said you rented it. Why would someone in your position rent and not buy?"

"The company owns it old chap," I gleefully informed him. "They rent it to me. It's a tax dodge you know, but perfectly legal."

"I'm fucked, aren't I?" He stated quietly what seemed to be the obvious, his shoulders slumping as he saw his business following Jones and co. down the pan.

"Not as fucked as Beth was last night by all accounts," I pointed out maliciously. 

Suddenly looking ten years older, Don turned to walk out of my office, not knowing what else he could say or offer, but I called to him to hang on for a bit.

"I've one final offer to make you Don," I informed him tersely. "More of an exchange than an offer really."

"I'm listening," he grunted, his whole body language displaying defeat.

"I'll swop my fiancé for your company," I delighted in making my offer.

"You're bloody crazy Mike," he threw back at me, but I held up my hand to shut him up.

"You're company needs an injection of capital, I'm informed. I'm told it's about three quarters of a million, and I'm prepared to provide that."

Don's mouth gaped open in surprise, but no words came out.

"In addition," I continued. "You'll get this order you've been seeking at the full price that you first quoted. In fact, we can double the order."

"Why would you do that Mike," he gasped out. "After .... Well, after last night."

"Because you're an old friend Don," I teased him a little before carrying on with the truth. "And because I want seventy five percent of your company."

"Seventy five percent," he all but squealed. "But that would leave me with ......"

"Twenty five percent," I helped him out with the maths. "And don't forget Beth. You get to keep her as well."

"Beth," he gasped yet again, his mind clearly reeling with what I'd proposed.

"Yes Beth," I confirmed with a grin. "I'm going over to Germany later today, and won't be back for three days. When I get back I want her gone, and I want you to arrange it. Don't care how you do it, but I want that whore out of my apartment and my life. You can keep her not as you chose, but I want her gone and gone for good."

"Seventy five percent?" Don repeated in a daze, that part worrying him more than the other side.

"That's right Don," I concluded. "Now if you wouldn't mind, I've got a lot to do before I go off to Germany, so you'll have to excuse me. Get the details of our solicitors from my secretary on your way out."

-----------------------

I did indeed go to Germany, and took my stunning, young, coffee coloured secretary Rita with me. She was a bit surprised, as I'd never taken her before, but was an intelligent girl and caught on quickly. Without being asked, she only booked one room for us, but it was the best one available. The bed was bloody enormous!

Move on I say, and don't look back and mope over spilt milk.

--------------

I settled for seventy percent in the end, but I was happy with that; it gave me control and I had honestly expected him to hold out for a bit more.

It was a bit of a steal really but he went for it anyway. Guilty conscience perhaps?

Price's Castings and engineering became part of my growing empire, and my good friend Tom King got that Swedish machine he'd been hankering after. 

Turned out to be a good investment as well, and even Don, now known as Mark, eventually accepted that though we'd never be friends again, that I wasn't a bad boss to work for.

And Beth?

What about Beth?

I've absolutely no idea exactly what happened to dear Beth. She was gone when I got back from Germany and I've never met up with her since and never asked Mark. Did see her in a commercial for cat food the following year, and heard a strong rumour that she'd starred in some porn movie. Haven't been able to get hold of a copy so far, but yes ---- I have tried. I'm not one to hold grudges.

Seems like Mark kept his side of the bargain somehow or other.

Comforting to know that you've got competent and loyal employees, isn't it? Now I wonder if Mark could find me a copy of that porn film?

+++++++++++ 

Hope you enjoyed it, and no doubt many of you will tell me one way or the other. 

So where's the similarity to me that I mentioned at the beginning?

I am a boss, but not of a huge company.

I was mid thirties -- once! (Long time ago though)

I've never had an actress as a fiancé, but did have a wife who became a playboy bunny after she dumped me (long, long time ago, by the way).

I did have a rather beautiful black secretary when I worked in East Africa, but I certainly never ended up in bed with her.

Ok, it's the car!

My pride and joy is a wonderful XK140 Jag just like the one in the story, for which I consider myself to be a very lucky man. Sorry, but with all this talk on the site about Mustangs lately, I thought I'd just drop my pennyworth in for Jags. 



Why Don't We Do It In The Road



I had been looking forward to the first day of rifle deer season much as I used to look forward to Christmas when I was a kid. It always falls on the first Monday after Thanksgiving in Pennsylvania and is a bit of a state holiday. Many schools close because a large number of students from junior high up, as well as many teachers, will be in Penn's Woods that Monday and not in the class room.

At the last minute a client from California pretty much insisted that I be available Monday to go over his account. I tried putting him off and even carefully felt him out about having a different company representative meet with him. The account meant a lot to the company, which in turn made it very important to me. For the first time since I was twelve, I spent the first day of deer season inside. I accepted that I would have to go to our hunting camp Monday evening, thus missing all the camaraderie we hunters enjoyed the day prior to hunting. That meant I would be behind in beer consumption and money lost at poker. With luck, I would be able to catch up on most of that lost time, beer, and money on Monday evening.

To that end, I packed my hunting gear into my pick-up truck, tossed a case of beer in the back and hit the road for the three hour trip to our hunting camp in Bradford County. My wife, Barb, had left a note telling me she was going to be out with a couple of her girl friends and wishing me luck on my hunting trip. I wasn't fooled. I knew most wives were more than happy to have us guys away from home for the first week of deer season. It was like a small vacation for them.

I was an hour away from home just as twilight turned to darkness. As I followed the twists and turns of Route 6, I saw the service van in front of me smack a beautiful buck and bounce it back to the side of the road. Even as I braked, I saw another deer, a doe, bounce off the side of the van to drop near the buck. I pulled onto the shoulder of the road and, using the headlights of my truck, I looked at the unfortunate animals. The buck had a beautiful eight point rack with a span of almost two feet. The doe was considerably smaller. Both were dead as last year's dandelions.

I made my decision immediately. I pulled my tags out of my hunting jacket and filled them both out and put them on the deer. Then I loaded them in my truck and turned and headed for home. I had to get them someplace where I could field dress them before their bodies became too cold. The process would only get more difficult and far more noxious, the longer I waited.

I stopped at a buddy's old barn about two miles from home and proceeded to turn on some outside lights. Then I field dressed both deer. As I worked on the buck, I admired his antlers. He was far and away the nicest buck I had ever tagged. It occurred to me that I had an excellent opportunity to win the big buck pool at my hunting club. I debated the moral issue that could arise over the fact that it was actually road kill and not taken during the hunt. I quickly dismissed any qualms that crept into my consciousness. 

The rule was the biggest rack on a legally tagged buck. I qualified. Besides, I had never come close to winning the pool before. This was my time!

I decided to return the few miles to my house to clean up and change my clothes. No matter how many times I worked on deer, I couldn't do it without getting blood on my shirt and jeans. I tossed the deer into the truck and headed home. My tags were full and I suddenly had no reason to be in a hurry to get to camp. It would be too late for much beer drinking or card playing by the time I pulled into the camp.

At least I had secured my tags properly on the game animals, I thought as I pulled onto the dead end road that led to my house. I had seen a friend of mine fined big time because his tag had fallen off the deer. The local district justice refused to accept that the deer had been properly tagged and that fate had intervened to blow the tag off the animal. 

The judge's name was Ray Parker and he took pride in being known around our town as the "hanging judge". He only handled petty legal stuff and law suits amounting to less than ten thousand dollars, but he was a pompous ass. Barb was on fairly friendly terms with the asshole's sister. Still, I knew better than to think that would do me any good if I found myself in front of the prick for some hunting or traffic violation. 

It was after eleven when I pressed my remote to open my garage door. The house was totally dark, so I assumed that Barb was already in bed and probably asleep. I was surprised to see that I couldn't pull into my bay. There was a new Lincoln sitting in my spot! Barb's Jeep was in her usual place. As I walked around the Lincoln, I felt the hood and it was cool to the touch. The car had to have been parked there for some time. The keys were in the ignition.

I quietly entered my house. I stood still and listened. The house was dark and very quiet. With more than a small amount of dread, I climbed the stairs that led to the bedroom area. As I approached the master bedroom, I heard loud snoring. I had been sleeping with Barb for twenty-five years and she had never snored. My gut started knotting up. 

I walked through the open doorway to the bedroom. There was enough moonlight to make out two human forms on my bed. Then I wondered why the hell I was sneaking around my own goddamn house! I reached over and flicked on the light and waited for the shit-storm that would follow. Neither person even flinched. Barb was sleeping naked with her hand on a man's prick. He had a round beer belly and a lot of hair on his stomach and chest. I reached down and pulled the pillow off his face.

It was the fucking hanging judge himself! Ray Parker was sleeping in my bed with my wife's left tit in his soft little hand! It's funny what goes through a man's mind at times like this. I found myself outraged that my wife had welcomed such a miserable asshole into her bed. Shit, she and I both knew a lot of guys that I would have preferred to have ripping off a piece of her ass from time to time!

Then I saw the empty wine bottles on the nightstand. Small wonder turning the bedroom light on had bothered them not at all. They must have drunk and fucked themselves into a stupor!

I went downstairs to get my deer rifle. The next time that fucker woke up, he'd be dead! As I dug around my truck for my rifle and shells, I started thinking about my situation. The husband is always the primary suspect. Hell, if someone else shot the prick, I would probably still be convicted for the murder, simply because I had such strong motive. I needed to be smarter than that. 

Then I noticed the antlers protruding above the side of my truck. I sure as hell didn't want to go to jail before I showed the other guys my buck, and won the pool. Parker wasn't worth missing that once in a lifetime pleasure. Barb and I hadn't been getting along very well lately, anyway. Why allow the bitch to ruin my life? I quickly hatched plan B and proceeded to carry it out.

I removed my tag from the doe that was in my truck and carefully placed it in the large trunk of the Lincoln. Then I dug out the old sawed-off double barrel 12 gauge shotgun I had bought from an old drunk a few weeks before he died, almost twenty years ago. I never told anyone I even had it. It was an extremely lethal and illegal weapon. I wiped it down with an old rag, so there were no finger prints on it and placed it in the trunk with the deer. I even found a relatively new pillow and tossed it into the trunk, after I ripped off that damn tag that warned that it was a federal crime to remove the fucking thing. 

Then I went into the house and filled a tea pot with very hot tap water. I dug out our turkey baster and returned to the doe in the trunk of the Lincoln. I poured some of the hot water into the cavity of the deer and allowed it to sit there for a minute or so. Then I used the turkey baster to suck a fair amount of the bloody water from the corpse and squeezed it into a bowl. Then I refilled the baster from the deer body. I had already parked my truck around the side of the house.

I dug out my son's hockey mask and put it on and went back up to my rather noisy bedroom. When Barb drank, she was almost impossible to wake up. My plan would work better if she remained asleep, but I was ready to wing it if it became necessary. 

I removed Parker's clothes from the chair in the bedroom and hid them in a closet. I noticed his cell phone was still on his belt. Then I placed the bowl and turkey baster on the nightstand.

I climbed onto the bed with a knee on either side of Barb. Achieving this position caused me to jostle Parker slightly, but he kept snoring. I pulled the buck's heart out of the baggy in which I had placed it when I dressed the deer. Sometimes the guys at the camp like to pickle them and have them with beer and crackers. I had never developed a taste for that particular organ.

I opened the leather snap that held my hunting knife in place and unsheathed my blade. Then I poured the blood from the bowl on the sheets and on Barb's tits. It's amazing how little blood it takes to make it look like a crime scene. Barb reached up and sort of rubbed her left tit a little as the liquid quickly dried. Then dropped her hand back down to her side.

I emptied the bowl and placed it back on the table and picked up the turkey baster. I pointed it at Parker's face and moved it to about four inches from his snoring mouth. While holding the heart in one hand, I squeezed really hard and squirted the bloody water all over Parker, with some of it entering his mouth and forcing him to choke. I quickly put the baster down and picked the knife up and began running the point over the heart in my left hand.

I watched Parker out of the corner of my eye as I cackled like the wicked witch of the North. He sputtered and suddenly sat bolt upright. He looked at the heart in my hand and then at Barb's bloody chest as he coughed up and spit out the blood he had ingested. He let out a gasp. Then I swung my mask covered face to look at him. 

That was all it took! He was out of the bed and down the hall like a rocket, I had all I could do to reach the garage as he was opening the door to his car, stark naked. 

"You're next, Mother Fucker!" I yelled as he slammed the door and peeled out my garage door.

I went back up stairs and placed Parker's clothes back on the chair. I did remove his cell phone and dropped it into my pocket. I took the time to dig Barb's phone from her pocketbook and slid that into my pocket as well. Then I took the bowl and the baster down and put them in the dish washer with the rest of the dirty dishes. I turned the dish washer on and went out to my truck, after turning off all lights and closing the garage door.

I was only a few miles down the road when I noticed a big Lincoln sitting along the shoulder. It occurred to me that there must be some truth in the old theory that a pound or two of sugar in an automobile's gas tank would have disastrous results. Half a mile beyond the disabled car, I spotted what appeared to be a naked man trotting down the highway. As I got closer, he turned and sprinted over the bank and out of sight.

What sort of sick, crazy bastard would be running around naked in late November in northern Pennsylvania? I clearly saw my duty. I picked up Parker's cell phone and dialed 911 and reported the disturbing sight I had just witnessed. I neglected to leave my name. They would have to rely on caller ID to determine just who made that call.

Less than an hour later, I drove by the location where I had seen the two deer killed earlier that evening. I picked up Parker's cell phone and dialed my home number.

The call went to the answering machine the first time I called. I hung up and rang my number again. Barb picked up on the fourth ring this time.

"Hello? Is something wrong," asked Barb with a normal amount of concern when you get a call in the small hours of the morning.

"Turn on the light and look at what's left of lover-boy!" I hissed into the phone.

I waited about ten seconds and then I heard a primal scream. Barb must have seen the blood and found the heart next to her in bed. At least, that was the only thing I could thing of that would upset her so badly.

"You crazy bastard!" yelled Barb into the phone. "You killed Ray! You'll never get away with this! I'm calling the cops."

The phone went dead in my ear. A grin washed over my face as I thought about the story Barb would be telling the police at that very moment. I pulled into the hunting camp around four AM. I hung my buck on the pole we had for that very purpose. I noticed a couple smaller bucks already hanging and chuckled to myself as I wandered into the cabin. 

Old Dan McGraw was already making breakfast as I entered. He was hired to cook for the group. Then he could go hunting until the next meal was due. He slid a plate of bacon, eggs, and hash browns in front of me and I dug in.

Tom Burton climbed out of his bed and stepped outside to check the weather. He was gone a minute or so and then burst back through the door.

"Where the hell did you get that buck, Dave?" he demanded. "That's the biggest one I've ever seen."

That question caused a mass migration out the front door. Few things give more hope to a hunter than seeing a beautiful buck taken by someone. It renews their hope and fires their imagination. I explained how I had stopped at a friend's around dusk the previous day. I had gone out into the thickest stand of brush and mountain laurel I could find and jumped the big boy. Then as he ran full speed through the dense growth, I had pulled down on him and fired once. The rest was history.

As the other guys pulled on their warm clothes and put on their insulated boots, I undressed and climbed between the sheets in my bunk and fell into a deep sleep. A few hours later, something caused me to awaken. I opened one eye. There in front of me, was a head with a state police hat on top of it.

"Mr. Reed? I truly hate to interrupt your hunting, but I have a few questions for you," he stated calmly, but with no effort to conceal his sarcasm.

I looked at him for a few seconds and then sat up and itched all the places a man has to scratch when he first wakes up. Then I pulled my pants and shirt on and headed for the coffee pot.

"That's a nice buck out there with your tag on it," he began. "Where and when did you get him?"

"On a friend's property. The time is on the tag," I responded slowly. "Are state troopers doing game commission work now?"

"Let's cut to the chase, Mr. Reed. The police in Springville received a call from your wife this morning. She stated that you had killed her lover, who happened to be District Justice Ray Parker. She said you cut out his heart and left it next to her on your bed."

"To compound the situation, Parker's car was found abandoned about a mile from your house. A search of the automobile revealed a dead deer and a sawed-off shotgun in his trunk. There was also a pillow there with the tag removed," added the trooper as an afterthought.

"Ray Parker's body has not been found, yet. It's only a matter of time, Mr. Reed. Why don't you make this easy and tell us where you put Parker's body?" insisted the trooper.

"Wow! You guys are good," I chuckled. "Skip all the CSI bullshit and get some dumb asshole to confess to a murder when you don't even have a body, a motive, or a weapon."

The trooper held up my hunting knife, which was in a plastic bag, and waved it at me as he spoke, "I think I have the murder weapon right here, Mr. Reed. Jealousy is the oldest motive there is. Not many men are very happy when they learn their wife is a round-heeled slut. All we need is Parker's body and we'll have all we need to send you to prison for a long time."

"I'm more than a little disappointed in the various law enforcement agencies dealing with this situation," I chuckled to the surprised trooper. "You make a flawed conclusion and then try to prove that it happened. Then you try to get a confession about what really didn't happen, rather than finding out what actually happened and following the clues to wherever they lead." 

"The last I saw of Ray Parker, he was running out through the woods naked. I'm not sure why. It could be that my ritual of thanking the hunting gods for granting me a trophy buck made him a bit queasy. That and seeing me in the very room in which he was sleeping with my slut wife might have sparked some sort of irrational, guilt driven fear, which in turn caused him to run naked out of the room," I surmised.

"If Parker is still alive, why was there a heart in your bed," quizzed the cop.

"As I stated, I have a ritual I go through when I am blessed with the taking of a large buck. I kneel in my bed and hold the deer's heart up in thanks. Then I place the heart in my place in bed as a sign of appreciation and respect for the hunting gods," I added with reverence.

The trooper's walkie-talkie phone thing made a ringing noise at that moment. He stepped outside and spoke in hushed tones for a few minutes. Then he came back inside.

"Ray Parker was found a half hour ago, wandering naked through the woods. A couple of hunters found him and pointed him toward the road. I guess once they realized who he was, they refused to give him any clothes or guide him out of the woods. They told him they were there to hunt, not to pack fudge," grinned the trooper.

I thanked the officer as he returned my knife. He asked me to stop in at the local police station and give a statement. I promised him that I would as soon as I finished my week's hunting. I crawled back into my bunk.

Friday afternoon I stopped at police headquarters. They were some pissed that I waited that long to make my statement, but that was no skin off my ass. It seems that Ray Parker accused me of making him believe that I had cut Barb's heart out. He further asserted that I had planted the deer and shotgun in his trunk and I had even gone so far as to ruin his Lincoln. 

"I have the right to practice worshipping the gods of the hunt in my home," I told the cop asking me questions. "If he isn't comfortable with my rituals, he really should stay the fuck out of my bed. Then he wouldn't come into contact with them. As far as the deer and the illegal gun are concerned, I've sat in his courtroom and heard him tell people that they were caught red-handed, and that anyone would lie to avoid taking responsibilities for their actions. It's time this dumb shit stepped to the plate and took his medicine like a man. I know nothing about any deer, gun, or his fucking ruined car. He has hundreds of enemies. Didn't the trooper tell me that he had a pillow with the tag removed, too? That's a federal crime. Check into it."

Friday night found me sleeping in my own bed at home. I felt the bed stir and woke up to find Barb sitting on the edge of the bed near me. She hadn't been around when I had gone to bed.

"I guess you know that I called our kids and told them to lock their doors? I told them you had gone berserk and killed my lover and they had to call the police if you showed up at their door," began Barb.

"I did hear something about that, now that you mention it," I admitted slowly.

"Perhaps you've even heard the rumor that I called the police and told them that you had cut Ray's heart out and left it lying in our bed," continued Barb as I nodded in agreement. 

"I guess you heard that Ray is being charged with some sort of firearms law violation and has been ticketed for transporting an illegal deer, and for hunting without a license," continued Barb. "The assistant DA even tried to get him for removing the tag from a pillow, but I guess that's legal once the pillow has been sold."




Why Don't We Do It In The Road



"No shit?" I responded in surprise. "You can remove those tags once you pay for the pillow? I guess the same would be true for mattresses, too? I never knew that."

"That seems obvious, Dave. That was a new pillow and now it's all bloody and nasty, along with all the linens and pillows that were on this bed. You didn't have to try that ploy. Ray's ass was in enough trouble with the other stuff he's accused of doing. I'm surprised he didn't have crack and prescription pills in his trunk, knowing your temper."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Barb. That Parker is one bad-ass dude. I never would have guessed he was into so much illegal shit. Then I never guessed he was banging my slut wife, so what do I know?" I replied.

"You won't be happy with that slut next to you for very long, Dave," complained Barb. "She's been married a couple times and wasn't able to keep her legs closed. She'll be spreading them for someone else the first time you turn your back."

"Well, Barb, I've come to accept that to be true for many women. The difference is, I don't expect any better from Doris. She's a slut, but she's a great fuck. Look at these tits!" I exclaimed as I pulled back the sheet covering the sleeping woman. "I told you a long time ago that if I ever caught you cheating on me, I'd be in your cousin's pants in a heartbeat. You were warned, so don't whine. It doesn't become you, Barb."

"You got me back good, Dave," admitted Barb. "Ray Parker was the only man I ever cheated on you with, and that was only a couple times. By the time Doris steps out on you, we'll be even, don't you think, Dave? I'll sleep in the guest room until then." 

"I was staying with Susan, but she, my only daughter, made it pretty plain that she thought I was a horrible slut. I never should have called our kids to tell them to lock their doors. They never would have known about my stupidity with Ray," mused Barb. "You never would have told them, would you, Dave? You always had a thing about never bad-mouthing me to our kids. You got me to do it myself. I have lost the respect of my husband and my children, all over some pompous asshole. What are you going to do now, Dave?"

"Wait for you to leave the room, then wake up your slut cousin and fuck her ass off," I responded with a grin.



Why Don't We Just Publish a map?



After a long morning or family obligations I knew what I had to do. I had dropped something off at friend's parents' only 20 minutes away…. always the good and dutiful girl. Even though we had closed the cottage a few weeks earlier, he and a friend had taken a load of firewood up this weekend. 

It was glorious Indian summer afternoon and I decided to make the 20-minute drive and pop in for a few minutes. I had mentioned I might drop in since I would be in the area. When I pulled in I think he already knew that at some point I would show up.

They were outside walking around when I pulled in and we all went inside. It was still warm for this time of year but the late afternoon was getting a bite to it. Being a "boys" weekend they had already had a couple of beer when I arrived. I only planned on staying for an hour or so since I still had the long drive back to the city ahead of me. Plans with fiends prevented me from staying over.

We sat around talking, discussing an upcoming trip we were taking, what they had been doing all day…just stuff. Earlier that day they had driven up to the next lake. I jokingly asked if you had pointed out any spots of interest along the way and he said "yeah, I showed him where we had sex" with a laugh. I went ten shades of red.

He then proceeded to comment about our adventures in the lake and other places. "Why don't we just publish a map?" I asked…. half jokingly. We have a very healthy sex life as I have said before and location does not seem to be an issue. If the need arises we always seem to find a place and means.

We changed the subject and continued to chat for a while. As it began to get twilight I decided to head out.

On the drive home over roads I knew well, my mind wandered. I started actually thinking about what a map of our sex life that first 5 months would look like. I laughed to myself at how diverse it would be if we just took the area around the cottage.

The very first time we went to the cottage it was to drop something off for a neighbour. It was only our second "date"…mind you it lasted almost 48 hours. We were there for a very short amount of time but it involved a quick release. I love sucking his cock. It feels wonderful and for some reason excites me. Feeling him grow…feeling that hot cum rushing up his cock drives me crazy. As time has gone on I have come to learn what drives him crazy…. how to control his pleasure and can prolong it and tease him unmercifully. And he loves it. But I digress. So on our first visit that lasted 20 minutes, a quick blowjob in one of the bedrooms.

A few weekends later there was family around but our passion did not seem to go away. We went into town and ended up going for a drive, just to have some time alone and it turned out to have sex. We discovered this little loop off a main, if you could call it that, road. We pulled off there to just sit. Well that did not last long. We started kissing which drives us both crazy. My bra came off and when he started playing with my nipples I had to have his cock. My nipples are very sensitive and he has this way of gently touching them that send shivers right to my pussy. When his tongue is on them I start flooding… I had to have him. We grabbed a towel from the trunk and figure the hood of the car would work. We spread the towel…. I spread my legs…. he entered…and I slid off. So much for a sloping hood. We tried the seat (bucket seats suck). He came up with idea of the trunk. Have to give him credit for being inventive. Sitting on just the edge of the trunk he entered me. Now not only were we extremely horny but this was to be our first "bareback" encounter. Feeling HIM enter me with nothing between us was incredible. I could feel the heat from his cock and he felt all my wetness on him. "You caused that you know" was my response when he commented on how wet I was. Feeling him sliding in and out, driving into me, and knowing we were feet from passing cars gave things that extra edge. Perhaps there is a slight exhibitionist streak in me…. He continued to slide in and out and then picked up the pace and really fucked me. That drove me...and us...over the edge. Feeling his cock explode inside me just made me want more. Unfortunately time and location was against us. That and the mosquitoes.

As I continued to drive and think about all the places we had sex I must say I was getting a little moist. My mind wandered to the boat. A great party boat but also a wonderful place for us to play. There has been the time I sucked him dry while tied to the dock. What a wonderful way to spend an evening. A nice bottle of wine, a gentle breeze and my favourite cock sliding down my throat. This always made him groan. As soon as my lips touch his abdomen at the base of the cock a low groan always comes out. He feels so good in my mouth I cannot resist taking every inch of him I can get inside. Mmmmmm..just the thought of it now makes me damp. My lips completely surrounding him…turning is a slight corkscrew motion and my tongue circling the head of his cock. For some reason he really seems to like this. But again I digress….

The boat has also seen us fuck on the lake watching a glorious sunset. Feeling him sliding into me and the gentle rocking of the waves was heavenly. We also spent one of the last sunny afternoons of the season on the water, relaxing, having a couple of drinks and playing around. We anchored and were sitting talking. We soon ended up with me snuggled up to him and one thing lead to another. Soon my hand was on his cock and to my surprise it was hard (I wasn't really surprised). Since it was such a nice afternoon the lake was very busy so actually fucking was out of the question. But I wanted his cock. And when I want something I usually get it. I dropped to me knees on the floor in front of him. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Isn't it kinda obvious? No one can see my face and if they see the back of my head I don't really care. Live a little….now just sit back and enjoy". We were anchored a fair distance from anyone else so we thought everything was OK. I spread his legs and licked that sensitive spot just behind his balls. I licked his balls taking first one then the other in my mouth and sucking them. I licked up that line between his balls and swirled my tongue around the base of his cock. At this point I don't think he would have cared who went by. As I started to really suck his cock he started noticing more boats going by. No big deal. I continued what I was doing. I took him deep in my mouth swirling my tongue around. I moved my head up and down…faster…faster…then slowed off. The sun and breeze felt great….as did his hard cock…and I wanted this to last. When people started going by and honking and waving we thought something might be up. But hey….I really didn't care.

The first time we had sex in the water was after a celebration of a family engagement at a neighbour's. We came back to the cottage and decided to go skinny-dipping. You have no idea how impressed at his "ability" I was considering the water temperature and the amount of celebrating that went on. Feeling the cool water around us and his hot cock sliding into me was an incredible feeling. We were standing on a slippery rock and my natural double D flotation devices helped keep us buoyant but the moss on the rock eventually won out. I am really hoping we can continue this little adventure on our upcoming trip to the Caribbean. Making love in the water was a wonderful feeling.

I guess one night we got a bit carried away and were a little louder than we thought. The next morning other people commented that surely we could go a couple of days without sex. Well I suppose we could, but why would we? Often with schedules, etc. we only see each other on weekends and let's say we make up for lost time. We went to bed with the intent of going to sleep. I never wear anything to bed and have gotten him into this habit, at least when he sleeps with me. We started kissing and touching each other. We were both so horny that we had to do something. To make sure we were a little more discrete we retreated to the back porch one night, blanket in hand. I leaned over the top step and he came up from behind. He thrust in deep…god that felt good. He pulled out to thrust again and somehow now was aiming at my ass. Now this is something that he has wanted to try for a while and that night he came very close. Maybe something else to try on our upcoming vacation (you bring the condoms and I will bring the lube). We got back on track and he drove in deep and fucked me hard. I rolled over and with my legs over his shoulders we both exploded. God he feels so good inside me. Even after being there more times than I can count feeling even the head of his cock enter me still sends little shockwaves through me.

Cooler fall weather didn't even stop our little adventures. One particular afternoon I was feeling a bit stressed. It had been a weird weekend and I needed some time alone with him. We went for a walk in the bush, just to talk and be together. We stopped in what looked like it could have been some kind of quarry years ago. He took me in his arms and we kissed. That kiss took some of the stress I had been feeling way. It was exactly what I needed and I told him so. Without feeling as stressed I was back to being myself…which meant when around him horny!! Due to circumstances and time it had been a couple of days since we had done anything and I needed him badly. As I said I LOVE sucking his cock. Now of course I would much sooner be fucked but sometimes that is just not possible. If I couldn't really have him inside me I was going to have his cock down my throat. He sat down on a slope between some rocks. I knelt between his legs and lowered his pants to reveal that cock I knew so well. I wanted it….needed it to release what stress I had left. I licked him and sucked him dry in that cool autumn air. It was only after I had another wonderful load of cum down my throat did I realize I had been kneeling on a very pointy rock. Thankfully it was beyond short weather or someone would surely have asked how I got this abrasion on my leg.

The lights and increased traffic of the city brought be out of my wonderful diversion. I must say these thoughts made the drive much more pleasant.

We are very fortunate to both have healthy libidos. It makes things very interesting. On one weekend trip we fooled around 12 times in 2 and a half days. I can't believe we actually kept track but that was early in our relationship. Even now playing around two or three times a day is not unusual. We are going away for a week soon and I think we should aim for a nice round number….how does 20 sound baby?



Why Don't You Come Over?



"Fuck you, you fucking bitch!" I hissed, each syllable of "fucking bitch" rendering a sharp crack of my whip to connect with her rosy ass. The duct tape over her mouth allowed nothing but low grunts and moans in response. Slamming my whip on the ground, I grasped two handfuls of her hair and yanked her head back. I bit into her earlobe, and another low groan sent electricity flowing through my veins. I stood there, my grip strong, just panting in her ear. All the pent up anger and frustration of the past few years was ready to be released onto her body in a blind rage. I was shaking. I wanted to tear her apart. I closed my eyes and released her hair, backing away slightly. When I opened them again, it was as though my line of vision burned. I wanted blood.

Without notice, I released her tight wrist bindings and she fell to the floor on her hands and knees. Before she had time to react, I grabbed a fistful of her hair again and shoved two fingers from my other hand into her mouth. I jammed them down her throat and felt her gag. With a shudder, I removed them and quickly found her asshole. With little finesse I worked my fingers inside, delighting in her yelps of pain. I let her head fall and smacked her ass open-palmed again and again as I thrust my fingers inside. The air surrounding us smelled of shit and sex. Suddenly the anger in me rose again, and I added two more fingers without any lubrication. Thrusting violently, I pounded against her begging and screaming. Finally, anger subsiding, I removed my hand from her abused asshole. 

On my knees I watched her feeble attempt to pick herself up before basically throwing her sideways so she lay on her back. For control, I held her hair once again. Her eyes were glassy with lust, and drove me wild. She was sweaty and out of breath. I held the hand I'd just fucked her with over her face. "Clean your shit up." I said, and smacked her cheek just hard enough. Her lips parted, and I shoved all four fingers in her lovely, sweet fucking mouth. "Suck it, cunt!" I yelled, desperate. She complied and I closed my eyes again, focusing on the sensation. Focusing on the control.

 For three years, my daughter retained friendship with one lovely little cunt named Katherine. I'd come home from a 12 hour workday ready to sleep the day away, only to find this sweet little thing in my living room, prying me from my rest and, eventually, my sanity. Everything this girl did subtly resembled sex. I might have been the only one to see it, but I was entranced. And she was a wonderful tease with her hot-and-cold attitude. Her touch was always afraid. Those fucking eyes... my god, those eyes could fuck. It was as though she entered me, tore apart my inner world, and made it her project to pretty it all up again. Then she had to go and leave. Fuck. Fuck her.

Focusing on the control. I took my hand back and braced myself, for balance. I jammed my knee between her legs, coming into contact with that pussy. I rubbed a little and watched her eyes roll back. Oh, how her pleasure infuriated me. I cried out angrily and smacked her in the face again. I had no idea what I was doing, I'll be honest. She was finally struggling against me, trying to pry my fist from her hair. I sneered down at her, and made the mistake of looking into her eyes.

She fucked me. Again. I cried out angrily. Again. I got up off of her and walked to the other end of the basement, where my kit was. I grabbed the smooth, sharp knife I'd placed inside. When I turned around, she was already standing and when she caught sight of it, she began backing away. "Fuck with me with this in my hand, why don't you?" I hissed. I watched her slow intake and exhalation of breath. 

"Deb..." she started, but I wasn't hearing it. 

"No! No you fuckingbitch you will not address me." In response, she nodded her head. I continued, "You. Left. Me. You left me all fucked up. You fucked me up. And then you were gone. YOU FUCKING BITCH! You knew what you were doing! And you disafuckingpeared." In no time, she was pressed against a wall, and all the was between us was the knife. I wanted to stab her until she didn't exist anymore. Until there was nothing left. 

"Please..." she begged, and her tone struck a chord. A deeply sexual, frustrated chord, but a chord nonetheless. I threw the knife and kissed her, forcefully. She responded, it was as though we were trying to mash our mouths together, but it thrilled me. She wrapped her arms around me so tight I could hardly breathe, but I didn't really want to. Our tongues were so forceful it was almost painful. When I couldn't take anymore, I pushed away. She just fucking stood there, breathing like an idiot. I fucking hated her, right there. I fucking wanted her, so terribly bad.

 It was a miserable day in September, and I wanted nothing more than to come home to my daughter and Katherine, to lose myself in a little sexy game of cat and mouse. I came home to emptiness. God, was I miserable. I mixed myself a drink or five, and sat on my porch, watching the miserable rain. I'd just helped Amy, my daughter, buy a new Jeep, and my stomach turned when I saw her pulling into the driveway. I really wanted nothing to do with people. I laughed. I really wanted nothing to do with myself. She got out, along with a newer friend of hers, Jamie. The two of them made me ill. Well, more ill than usual. Jamie and Amy. Fucking disgusting. The times when Katherine hung around became more and more rare. I guess that was what irritated me. The two of them were walking towards me, bitching to each other about some bitch or another. They hardly greeted me. I flicked them off as the front door closed behind them. I guess I am pretty damn childish.

I still fucking wanted her, I couldn't believe it. "Will you listen, for a second?" she pleaded, and I nodded my head. I felt like I was shrinking. Dissolving. "I didn't leave you. Goddamnit you should know I couldn't leave you unless you wanted to be left. Fuck it, Debbie! I needed you! I still fucking need you, after how many years? Two? Goddamnit, Deb, you know..." I interrupted.

"So, you're telling me I wanted to be left?"

"No... no, that's not what I meant." I shoved her backwards, fuck it if I would listen to her lie. 

"Fuck it!" I cried out, and shoved my hand at her pussy. She cried out in pain and/or pleasure, and I smacked her cunt to drive the point home. She wilted, and the dissolving I'd just felt was reversed. She began weeping, and I was lost. 

"You don't... understand..." she managed, and I had to admit, I really didn't.

Suddenly, I was on my ass, and she was on top of me. Gripping at me, nipping my neck, sucking it. I moaned and clung to her. My mind was wiped. She found my mouth again and we kissed more, not so forceful as before, but just as passionate. One hand moved to my cunt and I responded feverishly. I must have scratched her, I gripped her so tightly, wanting us to become one, I suppose. She massaged my clit, hard, and I was pressing up against her hungrily. 

"Aghgod Kath!" I cried out, I just wanted her. More. She fucked me with her hand, who knows how much of it. All I could feel was the sweet friction in my pussy and the fireworks in my head. She was doing something with her mouth on my tits, I don't know what, I just know it was amazing.

The need came on quick and strong, like nothing I'd felt before. She was moving inside me and teasing my nipples, I was crying out and grasping for her body all over. All I wanted was more, always more, never enough. Finally, everything within me pressurized. Built up and built up until I was deaf and blind and I exploded, screamed, exploded. I could barely breathe as I came, I must have screamed her name a dozen times. I might have even blacked out, for a moment. All I know is that, when the most intense moments were over, I was paralyzed and she, too, was motionless, laying atop my spasming self. I began to cry. Not weep, not sob, but fucking cry. Never in my life had I cried like this, and she held me as I shook. I let it all, everything, go.  

 After a few weeks had passed without sight or word of Katherine, I managed to ask Amy of her whereabouts. Of course, Jamie was there too. So, of course, she was the one to answer, "Ha, that fuckingbitch? She's off killing herself, somewhere."

Upon hearing of my lovely little trinket referred to in such a way, I instantly became irate. "What the hell does that mean? ...Amy?" She looked at me and rolled her eyes. 

"We're not friends with her anymore. She's psychotic." I was floored. I was angry. How could this be ending? Katherine had confessed to me that she felt she was getting too close, and I told her there was no such thing. So she left? God, I was enraged.

But, I let it all, everything, go beneath her embrace. I couldn't feel a damn thing except white-hot relief, and it flooded me. She held me tight, and I think she cried too. After most of the sobs subsided, she rose and I followed. "We should go upstairs. It's more... comfortable" she said, in a low, husky voice. I simply followed, zombie-like. She led me up my cellar stairs, through my kitchen, up another set of stairs, into my bedroom. We both collapsed onto my bed, facing each other. She looked into my eyes and injected me with love, it seemed. Without a word, she leaned forward and kissed my lips tenderly. Not so heated as before, but filled with a more gentle passion. Her lips were so soft, I just wanted to devour them. Just as our tongues began intertwining again, she gradually pulled away. Offering me only a semi-smile, she tucked my hair behind my ear.

It was as though she'd put a soothing spell on me. All of the violent emotions had vanished, leaving only pure, untainted love. I blushed and looked away when I thought of this, I was embarrassed. Reading my mind, Katherine said "It's okay." I gave her a doubting look. "Really, Love, it is. I understand. I really do." I couldn't believe it, but I got choked up again. And again, she just held me. I was overwhelmed. Overjoyed, too, but overwhelmed by these events.

 I sauntered through the vegetable isle, mind reeling about nothing and everything. I stole glances at everyone around me to see whether or not they were stealing glances at me. I was wearing a rather short skirt, at least for a woman my age, and a very sheer blouse. No bra. And, of course, the vegetable isle was rather cool. I did this all on purpose, do not be fooled. The exhibitionist in me comes out all too often. Quite frankly, I hadn't been fucked - and I mean, any type of fucking - in over a year. Not even by myself, I couldn't really stand myself. So, needless to say, I was heated.

When stealing one of those glances, I stole an image of something that nearly stopped my heart. Not something, someone goddamnit. Katherine. Katherine - beautiful, natural, sapphic, romantic, fucking Katherine. I didn't know what to do, or how to react. I didn't have to, though, because she reacted first. She simply said "Debbie..." and I nearly melted. I barely mustered a "Hello."

"Debbie, I... I. Wow. I miss you!" She exclaimed, and hugged me. Tight. Her smell, her embrace, was almost too much. I nearly fainted, I think.

It was all too much to take in. I wanted to explain myself, right then. "Katherine... when I saw you today, I just... God, I nearly died, I think. And I didn't want you to see it. I didn't want you to realize your power over me. That's why... well, that's probably why I was so... you know..."

"Fucked up?" She interrupted.

I laughed. "Yes... I guess, yeah. Fucked up. I'm so, so sorry."

"You really don't have to be. I said I understand... and I mean it. Everything. I understand it all. I understand you. All of you." She was just so perfect. She kissed my forehead and pushed me onto my back, pinning me down and kissing my chest, neck, and ears until I nearly combusted. Gradually, she stopped and continued talking. "When you asked me over today, I almost had a goddamn heart attack. Actually, I was mid-heart attack at the moment, since I'd just caught sight of you. You don't even know. I'm not like, a stalker or anything, but every time I saw you somewhere over the past year, I froze. It was bad."

"Where did you see me, exactly?" I was honestly curious, since I hadn't seen her once.

"Oh, just around. Like... once, I went to the pizza place next to the nail place, and you were in there, and I just kept walking. Like a fucking moron, or something. And another time, I was driving and you were driving the opposite way, and I think I almost crashed into a telephone pole." I had to laugh. I knew the feeling. Emotions taking over the brain. I was so glad, in that moment, that I had shoved my confusion aside long enough to ask her over.

 Standing there in the stupid vegetable isle, her embrace ended too quickly for my liking, and I stiffened - afraid of my own possible reactions. "How have you been?" She asked, and by her tone I knew she didn't mean in general. She meant emotionally. She knew me like that, and it bothered yet thrilled me. 

"Well, fine." I knew I sounded bitter, but I really didn't want her to know. Despite the fact that I really wanted her to understand. She paused, caught off guard by my shortness, it seemed. Her face looked kind of sad, right then, and it murdered me slightly. 

"Oh, Debbie... I miss talking to you. I just miss you. I hope that doesn't sound awful to you. But I so, so do." 

I focused on my breathing. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. "Yes, I miss it too. Listen... I don't really want to talk here. No, well, I just don't feel comfortable. Why don't you... oh, I don't know Kath." I thought about my options in a split second. Amy was off in New York with Jamie for school, so there was no risk in that area. I just gave in to myself, and popped my question. "Why don't you come over?" I swear, her face was glowing. Radiant, her beauty. She hugged me again. I lost my sense and hugged her back tighter, this time. The date was made. For the next week, I would be left to fume, to contemplate, and to plan.

Again, we were kissing. Neither one of us seemed able to get enough. She was so gentle, it was blissfully suffocating. Her delicate hands touched every part of me, lingering on my breasts and, therefore, giving me goosebumps. After a while, we stopped kissing, and she was just running her hand across my skin, setting it ablaze. I watched her looking at me as if I was a precious work of art. My heart was swollen, my body immobile. One look at her expression showed her unending adoration, and it was enough to make me swoon. As if on cue, she focused on my clit and I responded quickly, breathlessly. She shifted her body until my pussy was level with her face, and tongued my slit for just a bit too long. She was so. Fucking. Overwhelming. She massaged all the right places, and sucked and nipped on my clit until I was growing desperate again. Then, like a true tease, she snuggled up again to me, face-to-face. She kissed me, and I could only faintly taste my own juices. At the same time, we moved until our bodies were completely wrapped up in each other. I have never felt so entirely comfortable in my time of existence on this goddamn earth. I was amazed.

She devoured my neck again, and I went crazy. She drove me insane. I started moving about in our embrace, and wound up grinding against her leg. She moaned audibly next to my ear, and it just made me more wild. In a most sensual, sapphic, yet animalistic way, we were making love. I didn't have one rational thought. We just moved into each other - mind, heart, and soul. We fed off of each other's pleasure, driving each other to countless orgasms. Not one word was spoken, but we communicated volumes. That evening was the first sound sleep I'd had in at least five years. The years following, and the years to come, hold many nights of the same.



Why Don't You Do Right?



A/N: I hope you all have a safe and SEXY Halloween. Enjoy my dark, twisted fantasies.-QueenOfTheNile

*

I wanted to be at home with my wife instead of this corporate bullshit Halloween party. It was mandatory the newly promoted partners attend to mingle and socialize with the senior partners, but I did not understand why the formal introductions could not have just waited until I could meet them the following Monday when they weren't drunk off their asses over the usual bagel and cream cheese continental breakfast the firm hosted before the big strategy meeting on the Williams vs. Harrods case. I needed to be at home with my wife, Ariel, to work out the kinks in our marriage. Lately, I have not been home as much as I should have and been pushing her to the wayside due to work and a full caseload. I was Lake and Thompson's first African-American partner in over thirty years- the first to be of full African descent- and damn proud of it. I had worked my ass off all throughout law school, graduated with outstanding markings and honors, did a lot of pro-bono work to get name recognition and status, and worked for the petty District Attorney's office before finding my way to Lake and Thompson. After working with Lake and Thompson for eight years, giving them outstanding results and an 89 percent success rate, I was promoted and it was highly publicized. Because of my newfound success, it caused me to take on more daunting, strenuous cases that either had me coming home in the wee hours of the morning, if at all; leaving my wife to sleep alone in a cold, lonely bed until she became too fed up to handle it any longer.  

I never intended to neglect her and my state of mind was never intentional, but it caused her to drift and wander into another man's bed for a night. I found out when she told me she was pregnant by the man and that she deeply regretted the one-night-stand because her heart truly rested with mine. Since then, our marriage has not been the same and I could not help but retain some of the responsibility. Maybe if I had been a little more mindful and occasionally dick down my wife like a normal husband would do after a hard day's work, the growing baby in her stomach would bear resemblance to me and not the Asian man next door. 

I took a sip of my cognac and coke, swirling it lazily around my glass. I scanned the room. Co-workers that are usually uptight and stuffy were half-naked, intoxicated, and lust ridden as the office tramps found their way into the pants of a few of my fellow partners. A friend of mine, Kennedy, was in the middle of the dance floor, shirtless, covered in candy corn, gummy-bears, and sugar cubes, with a witch's hat on doing the Macarena with his long-term love interest, Sarah Marshall. My boss, William Lake, was royally perched up against a corner in his office getting a blow job from an intern- though he thought he was inconspicuous but from the angle I was standing, I got quite the show- as a few of my other colleagues were either downing shots of Don Julio or grinding their sex hungry loins against one another. Even Stella, the Cambodian cleaning lady that spoke only in short sentences, was 'pussy popping on a handstand' against Robert, the South American janitor. I cringed at the thought; knowing once Monday rolled around, either no one would remember this night, or they would claim to have forgotten. 

I took one last sip of my drink, placing it gently against the table. I reached inside the chip bowl and grabbed a handful of chips, taking out my phone. There was a missed call from Ariel and Morgan. I smiled at the thought. Morgan was another one of my colleagues and a good friend of mine. She and her fiancée had just broken things off due to infidelity issues on his behalf and with my wife doing the Russian tango in the neighbor's bed, we connected greatly since we were suffering through the same emotional bullshit heart ache. As much as I loved my wife with every fiber of my being, since her scandal, I could not envision her in the same light as I used to. It was not that I considered her to be impure or some trollop, but I often found myself unable to even touch her because the thoughts of another man kissing where only my lips should ever kiss would fill my mind as dirty thoughts of his penis inside of my wife would drive me close to insanity. 

Morgan, on the latter, was a very attractive woman. She was twenty-eight, African-American and of Mexican heritage, a curvaceous, voluptuous beauty with large breasts, and a stunning intellect that made my dick hard when we discussed politics. I realized back in college that I was a sapiosexual and that a woman's physical features only amounted to half of the attraction I needed to get me fully interested in romantically pursuing a woman. The biggest turn on for me was an intelligent woman that was not only opinionated, but also a feisty little minx that wouldn't take shit from anyone. Morgan was exactly that. Ariel was a bit dense, submissive, and...normal. We married young right out of high-school because our own little pregnancy scare that turned out to be false, but stuck with our marriage because neither one of us wanted to be another stereotypical black couple divorced. I sent Morgan a text, asking her where she was and if she was still planning on coming to the Halloween party. She sent one back asking my location and I told her posted against the snack table. There was no possible way I was going to be caught dead on the dance floor next to a witch, a giant banana, and an Adult baby. 

I took out my phone again, hoping for another text but the screen was bare. I poured myself another drink. Maybe something came up. Morgan and I were discussing Halloween costumes for the office party yesterday afternoon over coffee. She was uncertain as to what she wanted to be- if she was coming at all due to her divorce proceedings earlier that morning- and I told her I was coming as James Bond. All I needed was to put a red rose in the right suit breast pocket of one of my many tuxedos and I was James Bond. I was never a Halloween person due to my religious beliefs I had since I was a child, but I took pleasure in the spirit of the holiday. I wasn't one of those Christians that felt as if Halloween was "The Devil's Birthday" or some satanic day where the worshiping of demons is no longer condemned. Instead, I just chose to not celebrate a day that had not only religious and historical questionability, but it also pissed me off when fucking teenagers would egg my car and grown men found it socially acceptable to prey on young women who dressed as sluts the only day of the year where they could not get any flack for it. 

The lights grew a deep shade of crimson as the music simmered down into a low, solo bass guitar from center stage behind a large velvet curtain. The DJ had stopped spinning, dancing coming to a halt as all eyes became glued to the appearing jazz band. There was a pianist, a bass guitarist, a trumpeter, and a percussionist seated as a lone light illuminated the four, a one magenta one kissing the corner of the large velvet curtain. A familiar tune began to play.

"You had plenty money, in 1922...You let other women make a fool of you..." And then Morgan appeared, stretching a single leg from behind the curtain before it revealed a stunning 'Jessica Rabbit'. It took me back to my first childhood crush; the one I had on Jessica Rabbit when I first saw her in the movie Who framed Roger Rabbit? back when I was a boy. I was only eight when I laid on the buxom beauty, but old enough to understand that even though she was a cartoon, that was what a woman was supposed to look like. "Why don't you do right, like some other men do?... Get out of here and get me some money too."

Her voice was angelic, her body majestic as the long, red, sequin evening gown that graced her curves outlined her body flawlessly. Her large 42DD breasts were perfectly perched as her impeccably shaped ass protruded effortless; the deep plunge in the back of her dress that stopped at the crook of her backside showing her infamous dragon tattoo that ran from her left shoulder blade down to her right pinky toe. All the men in the room gravitated towards the stage as Morgan began to shimmy against a neighboring wall; combing her auburn hair with her purple gloved hands, biting her sinfully red lips with a soft moan. I began to salivate. 

"You're sittin' there and wonderin' what it's all about....You ain't got no money, they will put you out..."

My boss, William Lake, was the first person to get the conveted attention from 'Jessica'. Morgan had placed her sheathed nipples against the lips of Mr. Lake, draping her hair over to the side of her head as she leaned back. A single red stiletto became rested upon his shoulder as she pushed his chair back, pulling his tie completely off- much to his pleasure. She hiked the slit of her dress higher to expose the heart-shaped garter she had laced around her luscious thigh. Mr. Lake begged for more. Kennedy was next, getting a small, yet sensual, lap dance from Morgan as she carefully began to unzip her dress to reveal an equally stunning red glittered bustier, matching boy shorts, and garters. Kennedy helped slink the fabric down to pool against her ankles, playfully kissing and biting her thighs as he had the most difficult time keeping his hands to himself. He went to touch the contours of her spine, being knocked away by a fast-acting hand and a wink. There were a series of wolf whistles, howls, and claps; urging her to continue to enchanting vex.

"Why don't you do right, like some other men do?... Get out of here and get me some money too..."

One of the male interns, Malcolm, hid behind Kennedy, gawking at Morgan before she made her way over to the poor boy. 'Jessica' carefully pulled 'Tarzan' and undid his loin cloth, revealing an unwavering erection that she happily massaged through the confines of his tight briefs. Malcolm damn near exploded against her touch, sweating as the lights grew an even darker shade of red, the mood of the room becoming more lustful. I watched attentively as Morgan slid her plump ass against the tip of Malcolm's dick, gyrating her hips against his crotch as she ran a single finger over her left nipple. Malcolm's hand became embedded upon her hips, pulling her closer to his touch but she pulled away, leaving him devastated. "If you had prepared twenty years ago...You wouldn't be a-wanderin' from door to door..."

Mr. Morris, the fax guy, reached out his left hand; twirling 'Jessica' slowly against the smooth rhythm of the bass guitar. 'Jessica' had grabbed his Fred Flinstone getup, yanking him towards her as she extended her right leg upward to lay against his left shoulder. More howling, wolf whistles, and displays of affection. Mr. Morris began to kiss her ankle delicately, running a single hand against her supple skin before planting against the crevice of her womanhood. 'Jessica' licked her lips as he deftly circled his index and middle finger along the thin fabric of her boyshorts against her wet sex. 'Jessica' moaned, embracing 'Fred' as she grew closer; rubbing against his obvious tented pole with her right knee. A kiss on the cheek was all he was given before she sashayed across the room.

"Why don't you do right, like some other men do?... Get out of here and get me some money too..."

I took a sip of my forgotten, watered down drink, eyes glazed with desire as Morgan made her way towards me. The magenta light was now posted up against the two of us, hidden longing now center stage as she rubbed herself against my tuxedo jacket. She removed the red rose, placing it in between her teeth before she painstakingly undid all of the buttons to my dress shirt; revealing my heavily toned torso and valley of abs. She let out a small gasp before biting her bottom lip, running her gloved hands against my stomach before she settled against my belt buckle. "I fell for your jivin' and I took you in..."

My breathing grew ragged; her palms rickety as she wistfully undid my belt loop and unzipped my pants. Our eyes never unlocked with one another. She took a handful of me through my boxer briefs and her eyes widened, a sinister smile creeping against her lips while her hands slid inside my underwear. She seemed incredibly pleased. "Why don't you do right, like some other men do?"

'Jessica' gave a corporeal glance over her shoulder, giving a small wink to her captivated audience filled with ravaged hounds of men and jealous catty women. She whispered something in my ear I could not quite make out before placing a deep, passionate kiss upon my lips. Our tongues intertwined as my hands roamed her goddess of a body; resting against her plump ass that I wanted to desperately fuck. "Get out of here and get me some money too." She pulled away, winding herself downward towards the evident bulge in my pants. With a single movement, she released me; revealing my thick, eight inch cock that beautifully contrasted against her caramel-complexioned skin. She wrapped her lips around the tip, sucking gently before bobbing her head lower against my shaft. She placed a gloved hand against my heavy sack, massaging it gently with the rhythm she had set in place to match her tune. I leaned back further against the table, damn near losing my balance from growing weak in the knees. Her touch was like liquid fire. I've had head before, but never any this fucking spectacular. 'Jessica' carefully hummed as she sucked in sync with the pumps of his wrist. She came up for air one time before she commenced to deep throat my dick. She never once deviated her gaze from mine and it only turned me on even more. I caressed her hair, running strands of auburn in between my fingers for added measure before palming the back of her head to meet my sudden thrusts. I was so enticed by the pleasure that I no longer cared that I was being sucked off in public...in front of my boss at that. She pulled away slowly, a single trail of saliva mixed with pre-cum connecting the both of us before she began lapping the underside of my wood. 

My thrusts grew hungrier, lusting to be deeper against her throat. She began to gag but enjoyed the sadistic pleasure of her pain. Her sucking grew harder as my dick became embedded deeper against her tonsils. I pulled out several times to maintain my stamina and prolong my orgasm, but I was nearing that blissful satisfaction I desperately needed since becoming partner. She gaged a bit more before completely pulling me out of her mouth to suck and nibble on my balls; carefully gnawing at them before showering them with their personal amount of attention with her expertly skilled tongue. She slowly stoked my dick as I tea bagged her sweet, innocent little mouth, occasionally sucking the tip before swirling her tongue alongside the edges. I wanted nothing more than to turn her over, rip off those damn fairy shorts, and fuck her sweet pussy sideways until she begged for me to stop. I would begin to growl, my dick growing as hard as cast iron on a cool winter morning. 

Then suddenly, she stopped; turning to her left to meet the cloak of night encasing the entranceway. There was a figure standing in the doorway, eyes widened with a mixture of fear and sorrow before shielding itself from the prying eyes of the room. I heard the harsh clack of heels escalate down the long corridor of the office before the loud, harsh buzzard of the elevator rang throughout the hallway. I turned to look at 'Jessica' and noticed that her little performance had turned an office Halloween party into a flat out costume orgy. 

"Why don't you do right, like some other men do?"

I lifted her up, turning her around to lay her forcefully against the snack table. I pushed and knocked down that damn bowl of chips that had kept me company for the past two hours and threw my drink into oblivion. Hastily, I glided down her boyshorts and tossed them over my shoulder, revealing a nicely shaven, clearly aroused 'rabbit' at my disposal. I ran my index finger against her exposed clit, circling the beautiful nub with my thumb. She let out a deep moan, undoing the metal clasps of her bustier to expose those heavenly breasts I have grown to adore. I allowed 'Jessica' to grab my member and guide it home before I began my sacred rhythm. The band had long stopped playing, the room now filled with erotic moans of sex and gluttony that we only added on to. I had 'Jessica' in traditional missionary position to get my first off before I fully went in on her delicate flower for round two. I allowed her some time to adjust to my rather large width before picking up pace, beating against her sopping wet heat like hands to an African bass drum. She grabbed hold to the sides of the table, screaming my name like a mantra before arching her back in climax against the metal sheet of my chest. I leaned down to kiss her one last time before I stroked her body, releasing my seed against the outer lips of her kiss to run down towards the table. She reached down to lap up the cream from the folds of her sex; erotically swirling its unique flavor against the skin of her lips. 

"Like some other men do."



Why Don't You Just Fuck Me?



"Why don't you just fuck me?" Wow, after four years it was finally going to happen.

-*-*-

Leslie and I were having our first dinner with our new downstairs neighbors Robert and Donna. Robert was a pretty good cook, as it turned out; an interest that he and I shared. Neither Leslie nor Donna were cooks, but they were both bright women and, surprisingly given Leslie's introversion and Donna's overt sexuality, comfortable together. Conversation was flowing freely, as was a pretty decent red wine. We talked about schools jobs, moves. They talked about jobs, previous marriages, and moves. Pretty clearly we had come to where we were from very different backgrounds by very different routes. Leslie and I were young, early 20s, tag-teaming our way through grad-schools, early into our first marriage. Robert & Donna were about 15 years older, both long out of school and in the workforce, each in their second marriage. We were intellectuals, a little short in the upward mobility department to be considered yuppies, but working on it. They were people who'd seen a good bit more of life. Robert actually knew how to fix a lot of things mechanical and electrical, which impressed me a lot. Donna had had some acting experience in an earlier life, but had given up on that and was working as an over-qualified secretary with a part-time rep theater hobby. 

We did, however, share some things: physical proximity; a love of good wine and good food, a liberal outlook on life and intellectual curiosity. Beyond that, Donna was, in ways that I could not define but was definitely able to recognize, extremely sexual. Robert had a sexual outlook that would put the average tomcat to shame; one to which I aspired but had never been able to jump-start.

When we met Robert and Donna, Leslie and I had been married for 3 years; lovers for 4. Both of us had been virgins when we first bedded each other. I was acutely conscious of the sexual revolution going on around us at the time, and I had been wanting for some time to join in. Leslie, on the other hand, turned out to be a happy monogamist. The most we could agree on was an open relationship: do what you want to do as long as you don't bring anything or anyone home with you. This was pretty easy in theory, but it was harder to put into practice since our lives tended to revolve around each other.

For the first few years of our marriage I had tried to get Leslie interested in something extramarital, either with or without me. It just didn't work. Aside from a greater tendency than I had to equate sex with love, Leslie's very strong introversion made it hard for her to meet anyone in a situation with serious sexual potential. The farthest we'd gotten was one trip to a bar that she'd made by herself, from which she retreated when the first guy offered to buy her a drink. (As for myself, it's taken me another few decades to figure out why I was uncomfortable in the role of a male bent on sexual conquest, but I was. Suffice it to say that at that point I was not much for hunting on my own in strange situations, and that our social lives tended to revolve around each other and our mutual friends. In my code you didn't screw your friend's wife unless it was a universally agreeable thing, and I hadn't yet found any friends like that.)

Unbeknownst to us at the beginning of that dinner, Robert & Donna were seasoned swingers. By the time that dinner was over, there had been some more overt hints in that direction. I'm not sure how much Leslie was picking up on these because she was showing more effects from the wine than the rest of us. When we moved to the living room to continue the conversation Leslie tried to keep up with the rest of us, but she was clearly pretty woozy, and was having trouble keeping her head up. Donna took her off to the bedroom so that she could lie down, and then rejoined Robert and me in the living room where we continued to chat for a half-hour or so. At that point Robert got up and said he needed to go to the bathroom and that he'd check in on Leslie on his way back. About 5 minutes later, when Robert had not returned, Donna got up to go check on Leslie and shortly after that she beckoned me to join her at the door between the dining room and the bedroom.

When I got there, the lights were off in the dining room and the bedroom itself, but light coming in from the hallway on the other side of the room gave us a pretty good view of the bed. Leslie was lying on the bed and Robert was kneeling on the floor beside, kissing her. This was perhaps not completely surprising to me given the sexual hints that had cropped up in the conversation over and after dinner. What was surprising was that Leslie was not passed out, and far from resisting Robert's kiss, had a hand on the back of his head, running his fingers through his hair while she kissed him back.

Donna moved me out of the doorway and back a ways into the dining room and said "Are you cool with this? We're very into sex, as you've figured out by now, but we're not into rape. If you want to stop this or Leslie wants to stop this, Robert knows how to stop. I can get him back into the living room, right now without a big scene. Leslie can come out when she's ready or you can go get her and take her home, and this will never have happened unless one of you brings it up."

I honestly did not have to think about it; my little head was handling all that. My comeback was simple, and totally self-centered: "What about us?"

"Oh, we'll be just fine," said Donna. "Whatever happens in there, I love to fuck and Robert is cool with me fucking anyone I want to. We're just a matter of when, not if."

"Then let's let things play out between them," I said. I'd like to be able to claim that my next thought was out of a sense of wanting to be there to protect Leslie if she did change her mind and Robert didn't. That may even have played a part in it. But it could be that I just wanted to watch this thing happen that I'd been waiting on for so long. At this point I can't honestly be sure. Whatever the reason, the next thing I said was "I want to watch this. Do you mind if we wait until later for our fun and games?"

"Not at all," said Donna. "It sounds like this is a marriage cherry that's being taken, and I want to see it too. That's about the sexiest thing I can think of at the moment. But let's not get too close. I think Leslie will do better with this if she thinks they're alone."

So we moved back to just outside the doorway to the bedroom, where we had a good view of the bed but we were completely in the shadows. Since she had small breasts and this was the early 70s, Leslie wasn't wearing a bra. By the time we got settled Robert had unbuttoned her blouse, exposing those lovely little tits. Her right nipple was fully erect. I couldn't swear about the left nipple because Robert had it in his mouth. Leslie was still caressing the back of his head, now with both hands, and her eyes were tightly closed. After a while Robert switched his attention to her right breast, and moved his hand down to her belt and jeans button which he undid as easily as you'd expect from the experienced cocksman that he was.

Meanwhile I'd managed to get Donna's shirt unbuttoned and her bra unsnapped, and I was rolling her nipples between my thumbs and fingers. We tried kissing, but gave up on that because it meant that one of us wouldn't be able to watch what was happening in the bedroom. Instead, I just held her from behind, playing with her breasts and eventually, like Robert with Leslie, working my way into her pants. She was very wet bythen, and I was very, very hard. It would have been great to run off to the front bedroom at that point, but neither of us wanted to miss out on what was to come next in the bedroom.

After playing inside Leslie's panties and kissing her for a little while, Robert got up off the bed and took off her shoes. He started to pull down her jeans and panties but ran into some trouble because Leslie was lying on them. Then something wonderful happened, something that she'd done often before for me but that I'd never seen from this angle. Leslie put her feet on the bed and lifted her bottom up so that he could slide her clothes off from under her. Then she dropped her bottom back on the bed and Robert was able to slide them off with no trouble at all. And there she lay, almost naked, with just her unbuttoned top on, legs parted. The light from the hallway brought out the highlights in her neat blonde bush, and glinted off the wetness between her legs. The smell of her sex was beginning to fill the room.

It was one of the most erotic things that I have ever seen, before or since. I do not know how I kept from coming on the spot. Donna, who'd had the benefit of my finger rubbing over her clit, did come at that point, as she half turned and gave me a mouth-closing kiss while her body shuddered against mine.

Robert dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed and started to lick his way up Leslie's thighs. I could have told him that this was a bad move; Leslie had never much cared for being eaten out, though she'd let me do it from time to time just to humor me. But I couldn't, and I didn't have to tell him, because before he reached her cunt she uttered those magic words: "Why don't you just fuck me?" And when I heard that I did come, hard, my prick pulsing against Donna's ass.

Robert didn't need a second invitation. He quickly got up and dropped his shoes, pants and shorts, stripped off his shirt, and climbed onto the end of the bed. I didn't know if he knew that Donna and I were watching; later he told me that he was pretty sure he'd heard us and that he wanted to give us a good show if were. So, he spread Leslie's legs wide, making sure that we had a good view of her wet pussy, and then he guided his cock to it so that we could see when the tip made its first contact. As he lowered himself slowly and she took his weight and his cock Leslie gave a short gasp followed by a contented sigh; and then she closed her legs over the back of his and turned her mouth up to kiss him. 

Robert fucked her slowly for a while, nice long slow strokes in and out, until Leslie started to respond with her hips and hands, urging him to go faster. He picked up his speed and she started to moan and gasp - she's always been pretty vocal, though not very verbal as her orgasms mount. I counted two quick orgasms from her, and then after a little while she cried out in a third one as Robert slammed his prick deep into her, went rigid and gasped out his own release. After that they just lay still for awhile except for their panting as they got their breaths back.

Donna and I went to the kitchen where I cleaned up my pants as best I could with a paper towel and Donna cleaned up my cock as best she could with her mouth. Then we went back to the living room and made a date for the following afternoon when she got in from work.

In about 5 minutes Robert came in and joined us and about 5 minutes later Leslie, fully clothed, came in as if nothing had happened. She looking very tired, a bit puffy in the face, but not the least bit unhappy. I suggested that it was late and that I needed to get Leslie to bed, to which Donna rolled her eyes at me and mouthed a silent "I'll bet." We said our goodnights as if nothing unusual had happened and caught the elevator up to our floor.

When we got back to our apartment I continued to act as if nothing had happened. I really was interested to see how Leslie was going to play this. I couldn't decide which would be more exciting: that she'd fuck somebody else and not tell me or that she would come right out and tell me all about it.

We each did our normal bathroom things and got into bed. We usually slept in the raw then, which is how we were that night. Our routine then was to cuddle for awhile, then drop off to sleep if nothing pressing came up. This night, as Leslie rolled onto my shoulder she said, as a simple matter of fact, "I just let Robert fuck me. I hope that's okay with you."

I didn't let on that I knew this already, just hugged her and said "I thought you guys were in there for a long time. If it was okay with you, you know it's okay with me. Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, I had fun. But I still love you like I did before."

"I know that, and I'm glad about tonight," I said. Then I kissed her.

She broke off the kiss. "I'm glad too," she said. Now, why don't you just fuck me."