23 comments/ 42030 views/ 5 favorites Mrs. Branchbaum Fucks By: ILienBagby In the car, all was quiet. No one spoke. The chauffeur watched the road., both his hands on the wheel. Hedda Branchbaum, wife of Right wing broadcaster Swift Branchbaum for five months now, sat in the back seat of Branchbaum's Bentley Mulsanne. She was quiet, her back stiff, her stance upright, her eyes focused on the shaved neck of Moses Williams, the chauffeur. Her skirt was pulled down a conservative one inch below her carefully pressed together knees. Her hands, folded, lay on her lap. One had to keep up appearances. You never knew who was watching. Sitting next to her was Swift Branchbaum's trusted personal assistant/bodyguard, Orenthal Jackson. Jackson, too, was silent, staring straight ahead. That was the way they remained in the automobile as it sped down the highway in the heavy traffic. The quiet, staid scene remained that way until the moment the car passed through the gated entrance of Branchbaum's Hollywood Hills mansion and started to negotiate the curved private road which led to the residence. Suddenly, a burst of activity erupted in the back set. Orenthal pulled down his pant's zipper. His massive cock slithered out from its confinement. Hedda Branchbaum's right hand immediately jumped to grip the shaft of the tumid cock. She began to slowly move her hand up and down on the hard shaft, savoring its ribbed, slick feel. Quickly, she lowered her head. Her lips touched the crown of his prick. She sucked the cock head deeply into her wide open mouth. Madly, she swirled her tongue around the head, allowing her saliva to bathe it and then the shaft until the whole of the cock and Orenthal's balls were soaking wet. "Good girl," said O, and he put his large hand on the back of her head, encouraging her mouth deeper onto the cock, "Baby, you is the best.Go!!!" Hedda did her best to comply with O's demand. She bobbed her head up and down at a frantic pace, all the while holding the shaft at its join with O's body. Drool dripped from her mouth. "Hey, hey, am I gonna get me some of that too?" came the cry from the chauffeur, Williams, behind the wheel. Gretta stopped her head bobbing to nod her head yes and then went back to her hard sucking of O's cock. "How much time we got until I got to go to get the boss to get him home?" Moses Williams asked as he maneuvered the sedan into the mansion's garage. His question was addressed to Orenthal Jackson. "You mean our boss? You mean Mr. Swift Branchbaum, our esteemed leader and the smartest person ever to speak into a mike? Do you mean Ace Broadcaster and speaker of truth, Swift Branchbaum?" "That's who I'm asking 'bout," said Williams. The boss's wife, meanwhile, oblivious to the conversation going on above her head, continued her work sucking Orenthal Jackon's large cock. She sucked her cheeks in and swirled her tongue around his shaft, intent on its sweet flavor, intent in keeping it hard.. "I expect we got three hours, maybe two hours to be sure there aren't any problems," was O's reply. "Swift will be with Scott Lansford for their visit that they're doing right now and then for lunch. Three hours the least until he got to get back here in time for his beauty sleep." Hedda continued her attention to Williams' cock.. She was comfortable leaving the details of these trysts, their place, their time, the activities involved to Williams. He was very efficient. And his cock tasted delicious. She sucked harder. ########### Two men are waiting for the gold plated elevator reserved for Club owner Scott Landsford and guests. In this case, the guest is Swift Branchbaum. The men might almost be clones of each other, except they don't look anything like the other. Their haircuts were similar, thinning hair slicked tight against their skulls. Their suits came from the same expensive tailor. They used the same designer brand body powder. Their clone-like similarity ended with their smell, though. Scott was lean, his face predatory with sharp angles and hard edges. Swift's face was soft, jowly, his faced rounded by its excess fat. "You and your wife, Gretta, seem to be doing well," said Scott. Scott Landsford was the owner of the Stars. He and Branchbaum had met on the golf course. It was an exclusive course, extremely expensive, and select in extending membership. That Swift was a member was good enough for Landsford. Swift had contributed a hundred thous to Landsford's charity, and of course political clout when it was needed. Inviting the broadcaster to watch a Stars' game from the owner's box was paltry recompense. But one hand rubs the other. "Hedda," Swift corrected his host. "Yes, that's what I meant," said Scott. "Your wife seemed to enjoy the ballgame." This new wife of Swift's seemed to be a great asset. She listened when the men spoke, smiled with approval when they lit up their ninety-dollar cigars, and followed a slight half step back when they walked into a room. And she dressed great. Not like a slut, but not like a dowager either. In fashion, with just the slightest hint, the aura of hotness. Nice and classy. Good for Swift's image. Swift loved to remind his millions of fans of his masculinity. And a wife that looked just a little bit hot was perfect for that. "Oh, yes," said Branchbaum. She's a great fan of football. Thanks for inviting us to the game." "Sorry she couldn't be with us now." Swift Branchbaum chuckled, "Well, you know, she's a little shy, wasn't sure that the locker room was a proper place for her to be." I had been looking forward to meeting the team, and she had a slight headache. So I asked my factotum, Orenthal Johnson to make sure she gets back home safely. The two men were heading from the Box to honor the team with their presence. Landsford's Los Angeles Stars football team had just trounced Baltimore by a score of 41-10. Branchbaum mentioned that the team would probably, because of his stature in the world---everyone knew who Swift Branchbaum was, appreciate a nice word from him. Landsford agreed; he thought the team deserved no less. "You do know I am appreciative of your invitation to visit the locker room," said Swift. Swift, in addition to his renown as the scourge of all things liberal in America, was also known to be a great fan of N. F. L. football, his expertise about football exceeded in scope and intelligence only by his finesse at unmasking the ways that liberals were trying to destroy the American way of life. "I won't tell the players that you picked Baltimore to win the game," said Landsford with a chuckle.. "I didn't really mean it when I said the Stars would get beat," Branchbaum said. It was a long-standing tradition that a visitor make a slight wager on the ballgame, but that the money from the wager (on both sides) somehow ending up as a contribution to a Landsford charity. Swift did not appreciate being wrong. He appreciated less being reminded of his mistake. If Landsford had been a caller on Swift's radio call-in show, Swift Branchbaum would have cut him off. But Swift was Landsford's guest right now, and Landsford was richer even than Swift was, so Branchbaum smiled. "The cheerleaders are still around," said Landsford. He winked. "A few of them will be available in a little while. I usually keep a couple of the more willing around after each game, you know, for relaxation. Do you think you might enjoy some relaxing time with a few of them?" "Thank you, but I will have to decline your kind offer," Swift replied. "You know, new wife. Have to conserve the energy." "Yes, of course," said Landsford. "Mrs. Branchbaum is a lovely young lady. I am sure she is keeping you quite busy." He added to the statement an unsaid, wink-wink, nudge-nudge. Branchbaum smiled in reply. It was a modest smile. "Yes, but here we are," said Landsford. The elevator had stopped and the men could hear the winners in their dressing room celebrating their win. ############# Hedda Branchbaum was being supported by the huge hands of Orenthal Jackson. He was holding the twin globes of her lovely tight ass up in the air. Her legs were bent at the knees and were spread wide around Orenthal Jackson's waist. Jackson's cock was deep in her cunt, Her back was arched, only her head resting on the edge of the couch. Orenthal, pounding into that glorious pussy, was working as hard as a man could. Sweat was pouring down his face, his chest soaking wet with perspiration. Her eyes were wide open. ."Yes, yes!!!!" she shouted. The big man grunted as he buried the base of his cock into the hairy cushion of her cunt. "Fuck me good. Fuck me with that big black COCK," she screamed. Orenthal plunged deeper into her cunt. "I love ITTTT! I love that dick. Pound it to me!!!" she yelled. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Harder, you dumb scumbag. Faster, you son a bitch. Deeper, deeper, you cocksucker.," Her shout was half shout, half groan.. If it weren't for the cockeyed happy smile on Orenthal's face, a person might have been inclined to pity him his hard work and the unceasing commands. But his big smile indicated that his, at the moment, was a labor of love. Moses Williams, meanwhile, was sitting on the couch, his pants down at his ankles, his erect cock just inches from Hedda's face. "Fuck me haaaaaarder," shouted Hedda Branchbaum. "Deeper, faster. Harrrrrrder!" She continued her orders to Orenthal. After a while, she turned her attention to Moses. She looked over at the chauffeur. He.had trouble believing this, but he was tired. He wasn't positive he was up for more. This woman was something else. "What are you waiting for?" she demanded. Moses sighed, moved on the couch and re-inserted his cock into her open mouth. "Mrrrmephhh, godddddammit, Shhhurrrppp," her shouting wasn't really decipherable, but she never let up screaming her approval and demands for more as Orenthall's prick burrowed deep into her slippery, cum filled hole and while she slurped on Moses' hard cock. Orenthantal grinned as he fucked Hedda and as he watched her suck on Moses' cock. She was no doubt the baddest bitch he had ever fucked. She was also, no doubt, the noisiest slut he had ever fucked. He always worried echos of her screams would rebound around the house for a long time and bounce back when Swift was at home. And for sure, he worried about the smell. Cunt aroma filled the room whenever Mrs. Branchbaum had sex there. Lucky, Swift Branchbaum liked that aromatic candles were always lit in his house. . ################# First thing that Swift Branchbaum noticed as he walked into the locker room was that,hey, most of the players weren't any better cock packaged than he was. Well, they were a bit bigger, but not by that much. Scott Landsford explained: "steroids." He further explained, "I make them take steroids. Makes them better performers. Hey, and they end up with penises smaller than mine." He laughed and clapped Swift on the shoulder. The Stars' locker room was a scene of raucous revelry as Swift and his host entered. The win today clinched the conference championship for the Stars and they were celebrating loudly and happily. Swift Branchbaum was thrilled to be in the Stars' locker room. It made him feel more a man, part of the club of macho athletes. He hadn't had time to do sports when he was a kid. He was too busy learning the radio trade. But he was sure that he would have been a good football player if he had gone out for the team. Swift had taken up golf a few years ago, and he had shot some pretty decent rounds of 18 holes. He would be sure to tell his wife, Hedda, all about this visit when he got home. Hedda was a great audience. She was a good listener, attentive to his opinions. His eyes scoured the locker room, searching for Bob Justice, the team's quarterback. He saw Justice at his locker being interviewed by the minions of the working press. Swift, following Landsford towards where Justice was talking and drying his hair with a towel, smiled widely and, intruding himself between the sportswriters and Justice, held out his hand to shake the quarterback's. Justice looked up and saw Branchbaum standing there along with the team's owner, Scott Landsford. Noticing Branchbaum's outstretched hand, Justice swiped his hand with his towel before dropping the towel to the ground and reaching for Branchbaum's hand. Still smiling, Swift Branchbaum gripped Justice' hand. "Wonderful game, my compliments," he said. "I especially noticed when you changed your throw in the last second to hit Stankiewicz on the zig out for that touchdown. Brilliant." "Thank you, sir," said Justice. Justice. However, was unable to mask the fact that he wasn't sure who, exactly, Branchbaum was and was not able to hide the fact that he hadn't a clue as to what this pudgy guy with wattles had just said.. . Landsford moved Swift away from the crowd around the quarterback. "Don't worry about he didn't know who you were. Concussions. He's had two already this year after I don't know how many last year. Makes him sort of ga-ga." Branchbaum, Landsford holding his arm, moved deeper into the chaos of the locker room.. Branchbaum, of course, hated what he called the Washington elites, the Liberals, and their attempts to regulate everything from how coal mines should be kept safe to where oil might be drilled. "Washington is sticking its nose into this too," said Swift. "It's not any bureaucrat in Washington's business whether a player had a concussion or not. They're fuckin' adults. Crybaby Liberals are going to screw football up too. Make it into a game for sissys like that congressman from Mass A Choo Choo Sits." Swift was proud of his ability to make fun of the gay congressman. Just then, Landsford and Branchbaum were confronted by a naked, wet, six-foot-three inch, 320 pound offensive lineman, Lyle 'Bighfat' Humminger who had just stepped from the shower. Humminger put his massive arm around Swift and hugged him close. "Mr. Branchbaum," he said, "I am you biggest fan. Love the way you put it to those Pansy Liberals and the Femma Nazis. You is my man!" and he hugged Branchbaum even closer. Branchbaum tried to move away from the player's embrace. He looked down and saw the lineman's cock swinging loose and hitting Branchbaum's body just above the waist. hug from Humminger. "I just love you," Mr. Branchbaum," said the giant as he continued to hold Swift close. Swift felt his clothes getting wet. Worse, he felt his cock twitch again. Worse yet, Humminger wouldn't stop saying how much he admired Swift. Swift feared that the big lineman was going to kiss him. Fortunately, Landsford was able to extricate Swift from the lineman's embrace. Swift noted his meeting with Humminger, telling himself that he could relate to his wife later just how loved he was by those football players. He was sure she would be thrilled by his popularity in the locker room. He would tell his radio audience all about the visit, too, although there were always a few of them, the unmacho few, who expressed no interest at all in his popularity with the football players or even with his skill as a golfer. ########### Hedda Branchbaum was still nude. She was looking and feeling good.. "Gentlemen," she said, "put some James Brown on the audio," I am feeling good!. Orenthal Jackson laughed, "You are absolutely the hottest wife Mr. Branchbaum ever had." "Ýou ever fucked the others?" Hedda was Swift Branchbaum's fifth wife. Two had left and divorced him before he had made it big on radio, The next two had divorced him after taking what the pre-nuptial had allowed. Hedda was the fifth. "The first two, I never knew," said Orenthal. "I was hired when Mrs. B. number three was being let go. Mrs. B. 4 was really serious about her morals. Soon as her kids graduated from college on Mr. B's dime, she was gone." Hedda Branchbaum was wearing a towel hung loosely round her neck, covering only her shoulders. At the moment, she was circling the room, lighting the many scented candles in the house. Swift Branchbaum liked that his house smelled of the aromatic candles. Orenthal watched as she sashayed across the room with the wand lighter in her hand.Not only was she hot, and he did mean HOT, but she was also one smart lady, and, she had the prettiest ass, round, firm, packed. "The boss'll be home in exactly one hour. I gotta get dressed and ready, and I know you got to get cleaned up and dressed too." Moses Williams had left the house five minutes ago, summoned to pick Mr. Branchbaum up at the stadium. "Got plenty of time," said Hedda. She walked over to Orenthal and reached out to hold his flaccid cock, which, as soon as her hand reached out towards it, began to stir itself out of its quiettude. "Oh. How cute," she said, "Orenthal junior is getting ready to wake up again." Orenthal waved his hand at Hedda. "Wait a minute. Oh shit," his cock had jumped to attention all by itself, by itself and a little help from Hedda Branchbaum's flicking finger. She was down on her knees, between his spread legs."Oh, poor little Orenthal Junior," she said. "Little?" he complained. "Oh, do forgive me," Hedda said, "did I hurt your feelings? I didn't mean it. Here, let me make you feel better," she kissed the head of his now nearly full tumescent cock. "Oh, he isn't really so little anymore." Orenthal tried to get up, but Hedda's hand pressed against his washboard abs prevented him from standing. "We really don't have time for this," he said. "Swift, Mr. Branchbaum, will be back soon." Hedda didn't reply to Orenthal. Instead, she spoke to the head of his quivering cock. "Poor Junior. Big, big Junior doesn't have time to visit my cuunnie. Little Cuunnie feels so lonely." "Little?" That was from Orenthal. Hedda couldn't restrain her laugh. "Ok, you win." She dropped the hand that was cupping his balls, let them fall and stood up. "Let's get ready to greet the great one when he returns." Orenthal wasn't sure whether he was happy that this fuck session was ending. But all good things had to end. And he knew that Hedda would be back for more of his cock tomorrow when Swift was on the air busy saving America from socialism. "Do you mind," he asked Hedda, "if I ask why you dislike Branchbaum so much? I mean, you been married for less than half a year." Hedda looked at Orenthal. She was busy picking up her clothes, bra, panty, slip, dress, stockings. "You really wanna know? Look, it would take more than the time we have now for me to explain. He's a fucking hypocrite. I can tell......Wait...He is scum. I don't have the time before I get out of here and go upstairs to wash up and change. But, you want to know? He is complete scum!You can be sure that before the week is over he'll offer my ass to Scott Landsford." "What?" "Don't doubt me," Hedda said. "I saw how Landsford looked at me, I saw how Swift looked at Landsford. I got to go now, get clean, get dressed." ############# Swift Branchbaum was getting ready to leave the stadium. His car was waiting at the V.I.P. station. "Once again, thanks for everything," Swift said to Scott Landsford. "It was a great game. I enjoyed the visit to the dressing room." "Are you certain you aren't up to a brief visit with the cheerleaders?" asked Landsford. Swift smiled. "Thanks. Thanks very much. But I really must get home to the missus." "Okay," said Landsford, "and please be sure to give my regards to the little woman. She is a fine lady." ############ This is the end of part one. Part Two of this story is scheduled to be submitted soon, dependent, of course, on the response, comments, and votes of readers of this story. ILienBagby (author) Mrs. Branchbaum Fucks Ch. 02 They were lying on the floor, quiet, spent, totally relaxed and satisfied. In the background, hardly audible, was the officious murmur of talk radio blather. "My pussy is going to be sooooo sore," Hedda Branchbaum said. "Oh, let me soothe it a bit," said Orenthal Jackson. He eased his body closer to hers and moved his mouth over her sore pussy, slowly lowering his lips to hover over her bush-covered pudenda. He breathed in the sweet pungency from her cunt. He inhaled again. "Smells good." Hedda smiled. She spread her legs to offer him better access. He looked up. She looked down. Their eyes met. His eyes held hers while he slid his finger into her wet cunt. A finger from his other hand replaced his tongue on her clit. He lifted his head. "You really get off fucking the help, don't you?" he said. "Just you, not all the help." "And Moses." "Yeah, and Moses. But not all the help." Hedda gently urged his head down with her outstretched fingers, "But right now, shut up and keep doing what you are doing. It feels sooooo good," He began to burnish the slightly swollen lips of her pussy with his tongue, smoothing the tender lips. He spread the oily lubricant of mingled pussy juice, semen, and saliva evenly over the entrance to her cunt. When he heard her coo in pleasure, he inserted his tongue past her now partially opened cunt lips and into her vagina. "Oh, ooooh," she moaned. "Oh my, oh my." "Good?" "You needn't ask." He moved his tongue in and out of her slit and then up against her clit, all the while using his lips to add pleasure to her tingling cunt. He continued to do that for another minute or so and then looked up again." You doing this, 'fucking the help' to get back at Swift, ain't you?" "I assure you," Hedda Branchbaum said, "That I am fucking you because you fuck me very well." She kept her fingers on the top of his head exerting their slight downward pressure, "You've got a nice cock and a swell tongue, a very swell tongue. Yes, yes, keep doing that. Look, if I wanted to get back at Swift, there are a dozen ways I could do it. I could tell him his program stunk today. I could hide his oxycontin." "So, why you fuckin me then?" "It's getting back at Swift, yeah, but like I said, you sure do know how to fuck a lady." "You want to be having big black cock?" "O, get over it. Do I look to you like I don't know about Big Black cock?" Orenthal looked at Hedda Branchbaum. He considered her question. "I would by lying if I didn't say that right now you look like a woman who knows a thing or two about B.B.C." "Thank you," she said. He bowed his head. "Look. Truth of the matter is that I'm a slut. I'm also a whore. To Swift, I'm a cunt. Oh, and when I'm hanging on to his arm and we walk into a party or to a speech he is giving, he's the man, the testosterone soaked hunk who fucks like a member of the Hells Angels, Macho man." She thought for a moment then decided to continue talking. "I'm a whore. I knew what I was selling. I knew what he was buying when I married him." "What I don't get, what you getting back at him for then?" "You know what Orenthal, I didn't know the extent of his fuckin hypocritical stupidity. He is stupid about himself. He really thinks he's the man. He really thinks he's Mr. Macho stud. He really believes every lie he says even when he knows his lies are lies." Hedda paused. She looked at Orenthal. "You been working for Swift for six years now. "Six-and-a-half years." "What do you think of him?" "He's my boss. I don't gotta think nothing about him." "Okay. Don't you care that he's an idiot and he owns this mansion and owns you for however hours a week?" "He pays me good bucks." "Doesn't it bother you that's he's a fool?" "Not my business," said Orenthal. "I am not going to go postal over some fat white guy! He says stupid lies. To me, it's water off a duck's back" Orenthal waited for a second. "I'm fucking his wife and she's as good a piece of ass as I've ever enjoyed." "No you're not. Right now, you aren't fucking, you're talking to his wife." She moved her body so that they were now face to face. She could smell her pussy juices on his lips. "Okay, buddy," she said, she reached down, "let's get that nice little cock of yours hard and ready to fuck his wife some more. We don't have that much time." ######## . In the control booth, six people were busy. The call screener was on the phone. The director was watching the sweep second hand on the clock. The Engineer was managing the mic levels. The researcher was busy on the computer. The audio man was checking the order of commercials and tapes to play. The intern was busy trying to stay out of everyone's way in the crowded control room. And Swift Branchbaum? Swift Branchbaum spread his legs wide, just a bit more apart than they had been, to make his heavy thighs more amenable to his girth. He rolled his chair (Chairman extra-large by Era, top of the line, really comfortable) on its well-oiled wheels a few inches from the microphone. That was better. He was ready now. He was doing what he was born to do. He was educating his public. "Have you checked yet?" Swift was yelling at the people in the booth. The commercial would be over in a second or two. There wasn't that much time left. Swift coughed to clear his throat. Swift's engineer raised his hand, finger extended, then quickly lowered his hand and pointed at Swift. His Microphone (ShureSLX Beta, top of the line, set to ad timber to his voice) was live. Swift Branchbaum was on the air! And he still wasn't sure about his caller, Holly Poppa. Holly, who said she was an eighteen-year-old high school student and a Swift Branchbaum fan for five years now, had called because one of her teachers at Southwest Upper High School was a liberal. He had told his class and Holly that labor unions had a purpose, that they helped workers in their struggle for better wages, more safety, and more security on the job. The call was right up Swift's alley. Unions, teachers. Innocent high school girl on the phone. It was almost too good to be true. And that was why the people in the control booth were so busy making sure that Holly Poppa was real. Vigilance was their byword. Paranoia their friend. Swift Branchbaum was NOT going to allow people who disagreed with him an opportunity to use HIS airtime, HIS program to spout their propaganda. The only propaganda allowed on his program was Swift Branchbaum propaganda. "She's legit," the message on his studio computer read. "We've got her Facebook page up." And the page was displayed on Swift's computer. A pretty young girl. Sweet and innocent. Swift Branchbaum's kind of caller. So Swift imagined himself bent over, close to young Holly's ear, inhaling the smell of her herbal shampoo, speaking to her in an almost whisper, avuncular, earnest, feeling. He wasn't going to pat her head or touch her ass. He wanted to do those things, but he worked hard to ignore those impulses. He was proud of his ability to convey sincerity and empathy. He was proud of how he could inspire his listeners. Getting too close physically was a no-no. Swift had gotten in trouble for that in the past, and he was very careful now. "Holly," he said, " please call me Swift. Mr. Branchbaum is much too formal." He felt that by demeaning himself, by putting himself at an equal level with the hoi polloi, his listeners, he was creating an aura of intimacy. Swift ran his tongue over his lips. He put his mouth closer to the microphone. And he began his rant about teachers, unions, liberals, and women. He told young Holly that she needed to be wary of her teachers. They had an agenda and their agenda was to destroy her verities, the wisdom of her church, her mother and of Swift Branchbaum "Oh, I know," said Holly. "Lucky that my mother took me to the Creation Museum in Kentucky last year. Otherwise I might have believed our teacher in biology about Evolution. Oh, oh," the girl continued, "We saw in the museum how the world was created in seven day and how the scientists are fooling us." "Six days, the seventh God rested," Swift interjected. He was proud of his knowledge of theology. "Yes, God created the world and he would never have created people in a way that they would harm the world. So you don't have to worry about global warming." Swift was feeling good. He was in a teaching moment. Swift could feel his cock fluttering towards a full erection as happened often when he spoke with a young listener. Deep in the folds of his smooth silk boxers, his cock was beginning its struggle, Viagra-less, to stand at attention. He spread his legs apart another inch. His cock was extended; he could feel its four-and-a- half inch length touch the quivering fat of his thigh. He lifted his ass off the chair for a second and twisted his body with a shake, managing to get his cock to lie against the seat of his chair. When he sat his ass back down on the chair, his cock was underneath his thigh, wedged between thigh and chair, ready to be stroked every time he moved his leg. It kept his cock hard to sit this way. But he knew it kept him alert, took his conversation past smart into brilliant. Comfortable now, Swift continued explaining the ways of the liberal to Holly. He was in his best attack mode, free association running rampant. He explained how Eleanor Roosevelt (Rosenberg was how his parents had referred to her) had meddled in the coal mines and about women's rights. He was unable to hide the contempt he felt for that former first lady. Swift didn't remember how they had begun speaking about Eleanor Roosevelt. He didn't really have many facts about her at the ready. But Swift never let facts get in the way. She was a communist, look at the clothes she wore. She had buck teeth, probably a lesbo. She was ugly and that was why she was for women's rights. Swift was on a tear. He moved to his other favorite topics. The unions just wanted their worker's money so they could elect democrats. Corporations would take care of their workers without the union's interference, blah, blah, blah. Swift stopped to take a breath and Holly jumped in, "Yes, I really learned from you how the liberals really are trying to control the people so they can turn us all into atheistic communists." Swift felt that tinkle of a flutter again, that slight movement deep in the recess of his silk boxer shorts where his cock was snug and comfy. He pushed his thigh forward, creating smooth pressure for his cock. It felt good. Swift glanced at Holly Poppa's Facebook page for inspiration. The picture of her in a bathing suit was really hot. Her tits were nice and round, firm. Swift rocked back and forth over his cock, driving it along under his fat thigh, sliding it along the ridge of his seat. "You make everything so clear," Holly affirmed. "I am soooo proud to be on the radio and to be talking with you. It is such an honor." Swift felt that tinkle of a flutter again, that movement deep in the recess of his silk boxer shorts. It happened. He ejaculated. Perfect. He felt free now to once again show his feeling, his understanding and his earnest sympathy for even the youngest of his listeners, and, by extension, to all of his listeners and all of mankind, even liberals. "You sound as if you are an intelligent, well-informed young woman. Eighteen years old, are you? I am sure you are a pretty young lady, too." "Oh thank you. Thank you Mr. Birchbaum. I really try to learn stuff.....I mean Swift, Swift......I really try to learn stuff about everything from you. My Mom says that you are so smart." His caller had only mentioned her mother. His researcher had contacted the mother's minister as part of the hurried anti-liberal vetting process in the seconds before Swift spoke to Holly on the phone. The minister had vouched for Holly and for her mother, sort of hinting, to Swift's mind at least, that he had fucked the mother. Swift wondered how this girl's mother, who he imagined as being a bit sexier than the innocent girl, a bit rounder at the hips and, of course, lonely, would react if a warm hearted person like Swift himself was would offer succor. But his control room was gesturing. It was time to make money, time for his commercials. "You are a person who is brave and not afraid to speak up." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, "Keep educating yourself. Don't let the main stream newspapers or the teacher lackeys of the liberals poison your mind. You will go far." Swift's microphone was off. He relaxed. He let his mind wander. He was imagining fucking young Holly when a voice from the control room interrupted Swift's reverie: "Beautiful, Mr. Branchbaum. You handled that young girl with great aplomb. You are the greatest." Swift smiled at the confirmation of his talent. It came from his own people, but he was sure it was sincere and heartfelt, just as sincere and heartfelt as his conversation with the young listener had been. ########### Hedda Branchbaum held the long, wet cock in her hand. It was slimy, coated with his and her cum and finally soft. "I am going to go upstairs and wash up. Mr. Branchbaum will be home in a couple of hours." "Mister Branchbaum. That is so cold.You really don't like him," Orenthal said. "How come you married him?" Hedda stood up. Man, she was a looker, thought Orenthal Jackson as he let his eyes search her body. Long, shapely legs, nice firm ass, lovely tits with prominent nipples, flat stomach, and that sweet, pretty face with lips that announced they existed for fellatio. "I needed the money," she said. "I told you I was a whore." Orenthal said nothing but apparently was not happy with Hedda putting herself down. "I had to do something after Broward died. He was rich enough to piss away two fortunes, but pissing away three fortunes was just two much. When he died I was left with a Mansion I couldn't afford the upkeep on, debts I was just about able to cover and nothing much else. I was exactly the woman Swift was looking for after his last divorce. I had travelled in the circles he wanted to join. I had been a member of the club since I was born. Rich dad, society mom, cotillion babe. I fit for him. He was super stud with me, the nympho slut, on his arm. In college, I was a Kappa, President of the sorority. When I was a junior, I was ass fucked by both the presidents of the Beta Nu's and the Lambda Gamma's. My rep as the major slut of my group was made. Broward could care less. He was a generous, loving husband. Too bad he was a stinker of a business man. Ol' Swift, the limp tool fool is a lot of things, but bad businessman is not one of those things. Look, Swift, my husband, your boss, will be taking me out for dinner. Tomorrow, we visit Scott Landsford." End of Chapter 2. In Chapter 3 Hedda is seduced by Scott (if seduced is the right word) while Swift, no cuckold he, doesn't know what is happening. Stay tuned. Mrs. Branchbaum Fucks Ch. 03 Is the fact that a husband is a big fat idiot, a good enough reason for a wife to cheat? * Swift Branchbaum was on a quest! Scott Landsford had hinted that an oh-so hard-to-find box of Arturo Fuente Opus X BBMF cigars was going to be auctioned today. Swift Branchbaum would not to be deterred. He ascertained where the auction was taking place, and he called his chauffeur, Moses Williams. After he was assured by Landsford that Hedda was in good hands staying at the estate until he returned later that evening, he left for the auction. The Opus X BBMF's weren't known as the big Bad Mother Fuckers for nothing. They packed a kick. MF's for sure; it took a man to smoke one, an uber-mensch to own a whole box. Swift Branchbaum wanted that box! ################### Hedda Branchbaum sat straight, her hands demurely clasped on her lap. Her knees were pressed together. Her feet, in their 4 inch heels were firm on the floor. The chair on which she was sitting was an odd one. It looked almost to be a throne. The chair was narrow also, reaching upwards, high enough to allow her to support the back of her head which she leaned against it. Her eyes looked straight ahead, staring but not looking at anything. She was 'in the moment.' Behind the chair, Scott Landsford stood. His hands reached over, rested at the side of Hedda's neck, and gently kneaded her tense shoulders. "I take it that Swift is treating you well?" Scott said. "He's a fuzzy-wuzzy bear. That's his term for himself. He treats me well," Hedda replied. Her voice, even to herself, sounded distant, far away, removed from the situation and separate from what she was saying. "He's a soft, pleasant, fuzzy-wuzzy to me," she repeated. A warm fuzzy wuzzy and she hated him. Scott lifted his hands from her shoulders and placed them under her arm pits slowly moving them so that his fingers pointed downwards just brushing the side of her breasts. She breathed heavily, and he shifted his hands so that his fingers now smoothed the sides of her swollen breasts. "It's been a long time," he said, "and you still feel good." "Hmmmn, hmmnn," Hedda's voice was subdued, not yet a moan. He moved one hand to just under her right breast and then down to just above her belly button. "Are you treating him well?" Scott asked. His voice was low, confidential. "I let him fuck me in the ass when he asks," she replied. She wondered why Scott was wasting time discussing ol' fuzzy-wuzzy. Scott's hands continued their exploration of Hedda's body. One hand now rested on her thigh and squeezed gently. "He fuck you good?" "Fuzzy-wuzzy," was her reply. "He fucks me." Her voice was without much inflection. It gave away nothing of her feelings. Hedds Branchbaum thought that even if Swift had, improbable as that was, fucked her 'good,' she still would hate the man. His hand had moved to her knees and then under the hem of her dress, exploring now the flesh of her upper thighs. "Does this feel good?" Scott said, his finger was now rubbing her silk panties, pressing against the gibbous folds of her labia. "Feel good?" For answer, she breathed in deeply, drawing her stomach in, pushing her breast out. "Mmmmm." His voice was private, whispered into her ear, "Shall I stop?" "No. Please. You don't have to stop. Don't stop. You'd better not stop." His fingers, two of them, were now inside her panty, pressing now against her vulva, touching the sheath that covered her clitoris. "Once a slut, always a slut," he commented, making it a secret between them. She offered a slow nod of her head to agree with him. "Let's go to my bedroom," he said. She tried but was unable to quiet her breathing as they walked up the stairs, he behind her, his hands underneath her dress hard against the skin of her waist. "Is Swift aware of where I am?" she asked. "Swift aware?" Scott answered. "If he was aware, he wouldn't be Swift." Scott stopped their climb up the stairs and pushed Hedda against the wall. He wanted to fuck her right there, but, forbearing that, he kissed her instead, forcing his tongue into her mouth, lifting her dress to where it bunched just beneath her breasts, pressing his unpantsed cock against her body. Her mouth was opened wide. His tongue was in eager motion against hers. She rubbed her stomach against his cock, making meewing sounds as she rubbed her tummy against his tumescent cock. Scott continued to grind his cock into her. Suddenly, wanting to say something, Scott stopped kissing her. "Swift knows what he wants to know. He knows that I am showing you the house. He does not want to know more." "What if I told him that you had your cock out and that my dress was all the way up to under my tits?" Her breathing was more of a gasping. Scott began to laugh. "Would you tell him that your pussy was soaking wet?" She pushed him away and knelt down in front of him, taking his cock into her fist, preliminary to taking it into her mouth. "I'd tell him my pussy was soaking wet and it was because I was giving you a blow job on the staircase." This was all play, preliminary to the real action to come soon, but it was fun, part of how she enjoyed her sex. She took his cock into her mouth. He couldn't tell exactly what she was doing with her hand, her lips, her mouth and her tongue, but whatever it was, it rendered his prick as stiff as it was capable of getting. She loved this. Hedda loved being the slut, sucking a big prick on a staircase, getting it hard, being in control. She liked the taste of a stiff prick, the feel of pubic hair against her nose, the smell of a sweaty perineum and whiff from a not-quite-clean-as-it-might-have- been ass. She placed a finger at the entrance to his ass, inserted it, removed it, and, letting his cock fall from her mouth, replaced the cock in her mouth with the naughty finger. "Let's get us to the bedroom," said Scott, holding Hedda by the wrist and moving up the stairs quickly. She felt her cunt as being beyond wet as she followed him up the staircase. The bedroom was huge. Scott's bed must have been a double king size. Hedda sat down at the side of the bed and Scott pushed her down. "It's my turn," he said. He lifted the skirt of her dress from her knees up her thighs. Hedda raised her ass off the bed a bit and Scott pushed her dress skirt higher so that it was now bunched at her stomach. He then pulled her panties down. They hung at her ankles until she managed to kick them off. Scott buried his face in her cunt and began tonguing her slit and her clit. He knew that whatever pleasure he delivered now, she would reciprocate later. He dipped his tongue deep into her cunt, his lips rubbed against her labia. He groped outward with his hand until he found her arm and brought it down, placing her hand against her clit so that she could excite her clit with her finger, his hands and fingers squeezing and spreading the skin of her inner thighs. Hedda began to moan. Her moan grew louder as Scott continued his ministrations. Her moans grew in length as well as in volume until her body began to shudder, her toes curled and her legs shot upwards and, as her body climaxed, she grabbed Scott's head and repeated, "wow, wow, wow," over and over again. Scott Landsford pulled himself up onto the bed, at the same time pushing Hedda Branchbaum down so that they lay next to each other. "I haven't lost my touch. Have I," Scott asked. "Not at all," said Hedda. You've been practicing?" "Don't need practice. I'm a natural," said Scott, a wide smile on his face wet from Hedda's discharge. "Tell me," he continued, "Swift fuck any good?" Hedda let out a loud exhale. "I'd much rather be fucking than taking about Swift. He tries. Ol' fuzzy-wuzzy tries. But he doesn't have a clue, can't stay hard no matter how much Viagra he takes, and cums in 30 seconds to a minute. Did I say he tries? He follows a routine. He showers. Then he comes into the room and tells a dirty joke (usually not funny). He repeats part of his radio monologue that he thinks was particularly brilliant, he puffs out his chest and sucks in his stomach. Struts around like that. Gets up on the bed and then gets down and does his duty: a lick up and a lick down my slit, then a touch of my clit from his tongue. Oh, Scott, it's so sad, and I've got to keep myself from laughing the whole time. It's like he read about how to fuck in a book that was in a foreign language. When he finally gets his pecker into my cunt, I got to work my keagles to keep him hard until he trickles out his cum." Hedda Branchbaum paused for a second. She looked at Scott. "You really want to hear all of this?" "Truth?" he asked. Hedda nodded. "Not interested at all," he said. "So," she said She cradled his balls with one hand, stroked the staff of his tumescent cock with her other hand, and maneuvered his and her bodies so that he was three-quarters sideways and just above her as she lay one-quarter open on her side and just below him. They each concentrated on the feeling the other was bestowing at the site of their sex. And then they were ready to fuck...which they did in earnest for ten-fifteen minutes. Sliding in and out of her was so easy, she was so wet. For her, it seemed as if he touched a new spot in her cunt, a different point at her clit with every stroke. She came...a quiet yelp accompanying every shudder of her orgasm. He didn't some, but rolled off her anyway and lay quiet next to her as they recovered their breath. "That was fun," he said. "You didn't cum." "Later. Soon. You aren't too happy with Fat Swift." "Oh," Hedda sighed, "He is such a fool. Scott, you know me. I like the parties. I like sex. I enjoy the theatre and ballet and all that stuff, good restaurants and all that. I don't care about politics. But he is such a fool. He doesn't care true or false. He says what he reads in the Sludge report and ...last week, he did that stupid imitation Chinese accent. It's offensive but he thinks it is the epitome of humor. Shit, he pulls at the sides of his eyes to narrow them as he says 'yah bing ya hey chop suu'. Mostly, it is not funny. It's pathetic. Oh shit, Scott, What passes for thinking is just vomit inducing." "Poor Hedda," said Scott. "I know, poor Hedda in his mansion and with his credit card," Hedda said. "But, oh jesus, last week he had some high school girl on the show. She didn't believe in evolution and global warming and he told her that she was so smart and not to listen to her teachers. He's worse than an idiot. He came home and bragged to me how well he had handled that call." "Poor Hedda." She looked at Scott. "You were doing me a favor when you set me up with Swift." "It was a favor to Broward. I, we all owed him favors. Swift needed someone to boost his ego after the last divorce. We figured you needed his legal tender. We thought you would be able to handle Swift." "Oh, I can handle Swift alright. Good ol' fuzzy wuzzy. I can't handle myself dealing with his stupidity. If only he had an ounce of self awareness. When was it? Two weeks ago? One of his listeners asked him if he knew about the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Good ol' Swift. There never was anything he was willing to admit to his listeners, to himself, that he didn't know about. He's got that crew in the control room with him. Comes a question like that, they rush to the internet and flash him the answer on his computer and, voila, he reads the answer and is a genius who knows everything. Except this time, the second law of thermodynamics, they flashed the Wikipedia page explaining the law. Problem was the Wikipedia page is pretty complicated and the law has all sort of separate applications. "All he needed to be able to say to deal was that entropy increases. Instead, he ended up reading from the Wiki page. It was as confusing as three dimensional algebra. He kept on reading and explaining and it only got more confusing. He started about 'Adiabetic Accessibility' and Clausius...you should have heard his pronunciation. But you know what, Scott, Swift, he was so enamored at how well he read the Wiki page that he thought it was a genius broadcasting coup." Hedda paused, "Oh, Scott, let me quit talking about him. Help me quit speaking about Swift. It is so depressing." Scott smiled. He laid Hedda down and ran his hands over her breasts. "Nice breasts," he said. "Very nice." He put his lips to her nipple, teasing. He moved his hand back down to her groin, his palm against her vulva, a finger into her sex. He took his finger out and brought it to his nose." I love your smell down there." It was a sweet smell, a clear fluid of treacle, perfume to his being, her own particular sachet. He inhaled deeply. "You're a dirty old man." "And I'm proud of it." She held the shaft of his tumescent cock in her right hand, cradled his balls in the cup of her left hand. Hedda slipped her body down and took the head of his cock between the lips of her mouth and then moved up again, kissing her way up When their lips met, they began to kiss. Hedda held Scott's hard cock in her hand, gently pulling it, keeping it hard. "Nice and slow," she said. "Slow is fine. Nice not so important," Scott said. Hedda lifted herself up and straddled Scott's body. She positioned her cunt above his cock and lowered herself onto the rigid staff, firmly sliding it past her vulva into the warm pink tunnel of her vagina. Scott let out a long, sustained moan. Hedda raised her body until only the head of his cock remained in her vagina, and then dropped her body down again to take all of his bony staff into her cunt. Slowly up and then slowly down she rode, holding her position when her cunt lips were flat against his groin and pleasing his cock with her keagle muscles while her body remained still. She lifted again and dropped again, again using the interior muscles of her vagina to pressure his cock. She could feel her cunt juices coat his cock and fill her vagina, soaking down to wet her labia and his groin, the viscidity of her mucus seeping through to join them in its slippery glue. The smell of her sex lifted from where they were joined to sweeten the air around them. Both Scott and Hedda breathed in deeply. Now, Hedda, bent at her stomach over Scott, began to bounce, levering herself up and down using her knees, her extended arm maintaining her balance above Scott as she increased the tempo of her bounce then slowed the tempo. Scott remained lying down, his breathing even, a smile on his face. After a while, Hedda lifted herself off of Scott and lay down. He turned on his side next to her and reached over. He put his finger into her sex... "Please," she whispered, "Please." "Please what?" he asked, his finger moving in tiny circles inside her cunt. "Fuck me. Put that lovely cock in me," she said. He moved over her and thrust into her. Hedda felt his cock slide into her slippery sex. She raised her head just enough to begin kissing Scott. His mouth opened and their tongues intermingled. He began his thrusts into her. Her pelvis moved to meet his movements. He varied the rhythm of his fucking and Hedda caught his rhythm, finally. They fucked in tandem, they fucked each for his/her own pleasure and then in tandem again. Hedda, her thighs wrapped around Scott's waist, pulled him against her. Their stomachs rubbed against each other, their chests, sweat-wet, glided against each the other. Their mouths were locked in an extravagant, inelegant kiss. Her arms lifted and circled his body, squeezing him close. She began a low wailing, a deep moaning as she felt her body tense for its approaching orgasm. "Oh my, oh my, my my. Please! Oh Scott, oh my god. Oh please," she said, "Ahhhhrahhhh." She felt him ejaculate into her womb. She came. Their bodies parted. They lay next to each other satisfied. "That was good," she said after a while. "It was better than good," he replied. They rested. "You've been fucking the help," Scott said. "Oh shit," Hedda said. "How long have you known? Does Swift know?" "We've known since the first time. But for heaven's sake be careful. Even the totally oblivious Swift Branchbaum will catch on eventually. "I think the guys are more nervous about the situation than I am. We'll quit. Very soon," she said. "That would be prudent," Scott said. "Four-and-a-half years, that's when the pre-nup expires. In the meantime, you gotta stay with Swift. I have no idea of who I can find to hook you up with if Swift gets rid of you. I promised Broward that I would take are of you. I really thought Swift was the answer. On his arm, you were testimony to his prowess as a man. A bit of ego stroking. He does have the money..." "Oh, Scott. That's all true. Swift is generous even. But, Scott. Scott. The other day he told his audience that Fracking didn't cause any environmental problems. Ok, I get that there's lots of money in coal mining, but Swift just says what he wants to say regardless of the truth of the matter and then he's proud of what he says. He believes he is informing people and that the world is better off for whatever it is that he says. OH, let's nolt talk about Swift anymore. De we have enough time for some more sex?" "He'll be back in an hour. I just got a text," said Scott. "We had better start getting ready. Shower?" ########### Hedda Branchbaum and Scott Landsford were in Scott's study when Swift returned. He was ecstatic. In his hand, the box of the Arturo Fuente Opus X BBMF cigars. "I"ve got them. I got them. Less than 14-hundred for the box of 12. It was a private sale and I didn't have to pay tax." Swift said goodbye to Scott and thanked him for taking care of Hedda while he was gone on his quest. To Hedda he said, "Let's get home. I am going to smoke one of these just as soon as we get there." Hedda Branchbaum smiled. * The End of chapter 3. Next: in Ch. 04, Hedda makes some new friends and Swift just keeps right on truckin'. . In the meanwhile, this author is interested: Does that fact that Swift is a big fat idiot, excuse his wife's cheating? Your opinion? By ILienBagby