4 comments/ 9792 views/ 1 favorites Risky Business By: Radames The Downtown Council was always looking for ways to keep office workers downtown and spending money after work. One of their longest running events was a monthly after-work cocktail party. I suppose they hoped people would stay afterward and eat at the city's restaurants, maybe even do a little shopping and see a show before heading back to the suburbs. As a rising executive in my company, I was 'encouraged' to be involved in community projects. That's how I ended up on the Downtown Council's event committee. I wasn't a top executive at work, and the committee wasn't a plum assignment. In fact, the after-work party suffered from poor attendance and was not the networking Mecca it used to be. Each cocktail party had a theme and a designated charity that received any profits. Our charity for the upcoming party was an AIDS organization. They provided assistance to AIDS patients and education for the general population on the prevention of sexually transmitted diseases. I had the committee laughing uproariously when I suggested a 'Risky Business' party. "Come on, people. Grow up," I told them. "The whole point of the charity is that unsafe sex is risky business. You've all seen the movie -- Tom Cruise dances around in a dress shirt, underpants, and socks while lip-syncing to "Old Time Rock N' Roll." Everyone will immediately understand the message. Yes, it will be titillating, but we're all adults. No one is going to be screwing on the hors d'oeuvre table or anything." "Titillating?" one guy yelled as everyone laughed again. "That's an interesting choice of words." We barely had a majority of the committee approve the idea, and actually, they only approved presenting it to the Council trustees and the charity to see whether it would fly. Knowing how conservative our city is, especially the downtown business leaders, I didn't have much hope. But I personally believed in practicing save sex, and I wasn't so old that I'd given up on reforming the rest of society. The truth is, I was rapidly approaching my 'sell by' date. I'd never found a woman, or a man, I wanted to spend my life with, and it was starting to look like I was married to my career. I had no sexual experience with men, mainly because I was worried about getting AIDS. Safe sex for me had become no sex. But it was very lonely. Our major break came when Old Mr. Weller said, "Damned good idea!" You may recognize the Weller name. It's on many of the public buildings in the city, including the Weller School of Law at the university. And there's Weller Park downtown and the Weller Wing at the Children's Hospital. Old Mr. Weller devoted his time to charity, including the Downtown Council, while his son ran the law firm bearing their name. The son was, of course, called Young Mr. Weller. No one called him that to his face, but everyone knew who you meant. He was the fourth generation Weller to head the law firm. They were our city's 'royal family'. Old Mr. Weller probably liked the idea of a no-trousers party because, at the age of seventy, he still jogged four miles every day. He didn't need to worry about having ugly legs. In fact, practically everyone downtown had seen him jog past wearing only running shorts. Too many others, though, were not as active, and the event committee debated for hours about attendance and whether we were excluding overweight people with the 'Risky Business' theme. The heaviest woman on our committee asked, "May I wear a slip under my dress shirt?" "I'd call that underwear," I replied. "Then count me in," she said. She worked in my building and I'd often passed her in the lobby. Her name was Helen, and I didn't get to know her until we started serving on the committee together. Helen was friendly and outgoing, and I think she had more of a social life than I did. Looks aren't everything; you have to aggressively approach life if you want to succeed. I was aggressive at work, but meek at other times. Most of the committee's arguments were over publicity for the party. Some of them wanted a really detailed dress code published, and the rest of us argued that a few of us 'guarding' the entrance would take care of any exhibitionists. It did me no good to suggest that 'tightie whities' weren't any more revealing than Speedo bathing suits. We ended up with a line saying, "Dress Code: dress shirt (with tails), underwear (men - boxers or boxer briefs, women - boxers or slip), socks, and shoes." For humor, we added, "No shirt, no shoes, no service! Sunglasses optional." And we advertised a 'coat check' for trousers and skirts. That was another big debate -- particularly the liability for what people might leave in their pockets. We finally decided to suggest that people wear a fanny pack or a passport pouch for their wallets and other valuables. One of the travel agencies heard about it and offered to set up a booth selling a variety of items for carrying keys, money, and documents when traveling or at the beach. That's when I first started thinking the theme was going to work -- people were beginning to look at the opportunities. A hotel was donating the banquet room, and I felt a little guilty asking for their largest ballroom. I wanted it because there were side rooms where we could set up separate dressing areas for men and women. That caused another riff on the committee. What if a transgender person comes, or a transvestite! I tried my best to start ignoring their asinine sidetracking issues. I finally said, "We'll handle it the same way we've handled it at all our other parties." Fortunately, the ballroom was available for that date, and the hotel could not have been more accommodating. The room was free, and the bartenders made their money from the cash bar and tips. The bartenders even followed the dress code, wearing tuxedo shirts with bow ties over black boxers. One bartender told me it was more clothing than he wore when he worked at a local nightclub. I'd never been to that club, but it jumped to the top of my 'to do' list. Someday. Yes, I was nervous the day of the party. Perhaps because the theme was 'risky', so to speak, I'd checked everything a hundred times. It went off without a hitch. The AIDS charity handed out red ribbons and had a display of their literature. The travel agency, besides setting up their booth, came through with a cruise to be raffled off as the main door prize. A stock brokerage firm had a banner over their booth saying, "Don't Lose Your Shirt on the Market." We had a three-piece combo with a singer, and I'd asked them to rehearse "Old Time Rock N' Roll." It was the old, familiar song, but she gave it a bit of a soul twist, and she sang the hell out of it! We used the song to fire up the crowd and get them focused on the stage. Then we made the obligatory announcements thanking everyone who contributed anything to the event, and I gave an impassioned speech on the importance of practicing safe sex. I kept it short so people wouldn't notice how badly my knees were shaking. I had envisioned a white-shirt crowd, but I had not considered how times had changed since the "Risky Business" movie came out in 1983. Shirts were solid colors, stripes, or checks. The underwear, what you could see of it, came in even greater variety. One woman wore bloomers, and there were more than a few women wearing leggings. Some women belted their shirts. Many wore diamonds, proving, I guess, that diamonds go with anything, or nothing. A couple of the older men wore boxers that came down to their knees. Not Old Mr. Weller -- he showed off firm thighs. But as a bit of humor, I think, he had garters holding up his black dress socks. I'd never seen men's garters before. For all my arguing with the committee that people would act respectable, I spent quite a lot of time looking at legs. I was grateful when Helen came over to chat with me. After the speech I didn't have much to do, and I wasn't good at making small talk. Helen had probably worked her way around the room twice already. She was in a great mood and congratulated me for the party's success even as I insisted she'd worked as hard as I had to put it together. Helen wore a hot pink satin slip under a white silk shirt. "I paid more for this slip than I paid for the dress I wore to my company's holiday party," Helen told me. Then she added, "Hell, I might just wear this slip to next year's holiday party! It covers as much skin as that dress did." We dished about what others were wearing until I saw Helen's eyes light up. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Old Mr. Weller himself, accompanied by his son. "I understand you are the young man who planned all this. Excellent! It's been quite fun. And very successful." He then introduced his son to me. I barely had the presence of mind to introduce them to Helen, and it's fortunate that I did because she immediately started leading the conversation. Helen probably would have introduced herself if I hadn't -- talking to Old Mr. Weller was too good a chance to pass up. Soon, she had Old Mr. Weller to herself as she delighted him with one story after another. Young Mr. Weller told me to call him Bob. "These are silk, aren't they?" Bob asked, as he brushed his fingers against my red silk boxers. I know I blushed. "Yes, silk," I babbled, "and I'm wearing bikini briefs underneath because I was worried about having a 'wardrobe malfunction'. I picked red to go with the AIDS ribbon." Damn! Too much information. But Bob didn't seem to mind at all. He put a hand on my shoulder as we talked. He remembered a good part of my speech and wanted to know if that was my personal feeling or just something the charity gave me to read. And when the cocktail party ended, Bob asked me to continue our discussion over dinner. Bob Weller was obviously a leader, and I decided I was more than willing to follow. Risky Business All she needed was for him to come inside her once. Just once for it to be legit, for him to think it was really his. As she lay beneath his thrusting form, she tried to moan like she was enjoying herself. In reality, his graceless thrusts did nothing to excite her and the lack of lubrication was beginning to hurt. She had tried to close her eyes to think of her lover, but each time her husband's harsh movements forced her mind back to this unpleasant experience. He was nothing compared to her lover. In fact, the whole reason she was in this mess was because they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. Whenever they were in the same room with each other, it was impossible for them to not touch each other. When he visited, they always made excuses to not be in the same room. It was safer for them that way. When they were alone, however, they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. They had become accustomed to quickies anywhere and everywhere. It wasn't unusual for him to have her bent over a bathroom sink, his hand firmly over her mouth to hide her screams as he took her from behind. More than once, he pressed her up against a wall someplace secluded, with her dainty legs wrapped around his hip as his gentle rocking teased her to climax. Her favorite was when he had visited her while her husband had stayed in the city after a night on the town. While her husband had been hung-over in a hotel, her lover had woke her up to a delicious breakfast before he made love to her all over the kitchen; on top of the island, spread out on the table, pressed up against the sliding door to the outside. It had been the only time they were allowed any foreplay and sex. They never had time for both. Of course they had pleased each other before. She knew the best way to use her mouth to make him come, knew how he loved when she wrapped her lips tightly around his head and suck as she ran her tongue along the tip. He loved when she teased him with her tongue, running it gently across the underside of his shaft. The longer she teased him with her tongue, the easier it was to make him come when she used her whole mouth. He always made sure she was pleased, however. Whether it be with his mouth or cock, he always made sure she came. Even now, she was trying to remember the way his mouth felt on her, how he knew just the way she loved her nipples licked and rolled between his calloused fingers, or how she had to bite her knuckle to keep quiet when he thrust his fingers in and out of her tightness as his tongue teased her clit. It didn't help that she was missing him. She hadn't seen him since she found out she was pregnant, and it would be a couple more days before she would even be able to contact him. He would be so excited when he found out. The thought brought a smile to her face. "Oh you like that, you little slut?' her husband grunted above her as he slapped her hip. She hated when he tried to talk dirty to her. It made her feel like she was in a bad porno. She hated it even more when thought she enjoyed his rough play. She wanted to be wooed and loved, not whipped and ridden. It may have been exciting sometimes, but after awhile it lost its appeal. If only he had learned that. This was the first time she had seduced him in months, and it was only so she could hide her relationship with his younger brother. Why did she have to marry the wrong brother? Her husband was so tactless in bed , it killed her. He thought it was all about thrusting and rutting. He had no idea where touch her to make her excited, that stroking her clit made her wet and ready for him. He was clueless that she hated having her breasts squeezed like tomatoes at a supermarket, and that he couldn't just ram his fingers into her. With sigh disguised by a moan, she flipped them over and began to ride him in a way to hasten his orgasm. Despite the pain, she rode relentlessly until she saw his face tighten from pleasure. Just a little more. As he approached his climax, he tried to pull out, but she wouldn't let him. She used her own weights and movements to keep him under her, inside her. Once more she was reminded why she was in this mess. Just a little more. With a groan, he climaxed inside her. As she felt the warm liquid enter her, she wanted to vomit. The thought of his seed inside her made her physically ill, but she thrust down on him a couple more times before pretending to orgasm herself. She wanted to roll away and shower him off and out of her body, instead she just separated herself from him and lay on the bed. When her lover had come inside of her, she had savored the feeling. In fact, it had made her come with an intensity she didn't know she could. It wasn't until later when reality set in that she began to panic. With the cunning of a true woman, she devised a plan as she was preparing dinner for her husband. The rest was history. "Where did that come from?" her husband murmured smugly beside her. Instead of replying, she just wiggled under the covers and snuggled up to him. She didn't feel like talking, she didn't feel like thinking. Instead she wrapped an arm around her still petite stomach and thought about the child growing inside. Risky Business At the center of the Chicago Loop stood Ellis Oil Tower. It was 10 p.m. and a single light remained lit on the thirty-fourth floor—one of nineteen floors owned by Grant Hill Investments. Patrick Davis, wearing his round rimmed glasses, sat in his plush leather chair vigilantly monitoring stock tickers scrolling across the screen of his trusty, yet aged, IBM ThinkPad. Patrick was the only one in the office without a MacBook. At forty, he was set in his ways. Not a soul attempted to change him because beyond his mannerisms flowed a river of gold. Patrick's success could never be confused with anything other than raw talent. Grant Hill's early major investments in eBay and Google had secured Patrick's large glass desk and the sprawling office that had become the envy of every employee. He had never been in a romantic relationship and had only kissed a girl when he was in his twenties. He also had sex that night; he just didn't remember it too well. It all started with the necessary roommate he didn't want and a celebratory dinner he had refused to attend. Patrick was twenty-four and had just graduated from Wharton with an MBA. Harrison, the unwanted roommate, dragged him to a bar after the dinner to celebrate. He coaxed Patrick into drinking more and more, causing Patrick's inhibitions to crack and the games to begin. The next morning Patrick woke up in a hotel room with his head banging and an over-filled condom sticking to his abdomen. He remembered enough from the night before to know he'd fucked the attractive, curly-haired brunette whose sleeping body still clung to his. Maneuvering away from the naked brunette, he kissed her lips, grabbed his clothes, dressed, and dashed from the hotel room. A week later, Goldman-Sachs New York hired Patrick. However, even though he was a solid investor, his extremely introverted personality made him a laughing stock among the alphas who dominated the elite firm. This was everything he had assured himself the real world wouldn't be like. After a year at Goldman-Sachs, an executive at Grant Hill's Chicago branch, Mike Paterson, stole Patrick away. Mike understood Patrick and decided to employ his unusual but lucrative skills while also mentoring him. When Mike was promoted so was Patrick. Mike built an environment that catered to and grew with Patrick. After fifteen years at Grant Hill, Patrick's office was as large as Mike's but isolated by a gatekeeper assistant. Limiting his interactions with people, the assistant in the outer office was his only contact to the hundreds that answered to him. Patrick was now one of two Executive Partners and one of the three top bosses at the Chicago office—the second Executive Partner managed the office while Patrick managed the investment side. Mike Paterson, now the Managing Partner, was Patrick's only immediate boss. Patrick's success in growing billions in profits for the Chicago office frequently left the New York head office's profits in the dust, resulting in their frequent recruiting efforts of him. Everyone else had gone home five hours ago. Patrick sat at his desk watching numbers and writing down solutions on a notepad before shredding them and retaining all the data photographically. Below his desk, the shredder was buzzing at maximum speed to dispose of the notes. A knock on his office door soon distracted him. "Mr. Davis...sorry for interrupting, but I need to go now. I am sorry, sir. I would stay longer, but I have a family emergency," said Ashley Limpkin, his executive assistant. Patrick didn't say a word. He simply nodded, ignoring the gorgeous, southern California, blue-eyed blonde. At five-eleven, she was an inch taller than he was. Today, her sizable, natural bust was hidden underneath the blazer she had purchased on impulse. Not that she was afraid her boss was looking at her striking, statuesque body. When Patrick hired her three years ago despite her limited experience, she had assumed she'd have to tackle the usual sexual advances that would be made towards her. When none came, she had briefly assumed he was gay because shy men weren't known for advancing in management. Over time, however, Ashley learned that Patrick's confidence spilled out in his work, especially during meetings, when discussing data and trends; he was outspoken and clear when discussing business and work—a complete contrast to how he was anywhere else. She had dropped the gay theory after a month, realizing Patrick was an extreme introvert who felt safest and happiest in his work. She felt sorry for him, and she did her best to assist him by adapting to his work style. He never asked her to stay late, but she worked late anyways. Tonight was the exception; she needed a break. "Do you need anything before I leave, sir?" He indicated no by shaking his head. "Night, Mr. Davis," she said, turning, her long blonde hair rippling. "Goodnight, Ms. Limpkin," he said, finally raising his head, his eighties hairstyle sitting atop a cute enough face. "Good morning" and "good night" were the two things she was sure he would say—and some days were the only things Patrick would say to her, as he preferred to communicate with people via email instead of in person, even if they were just a few steps away. Ashley walked to the elevator bank. As the elevator doors opened, she remembered something and was about to turn her designer heels around and head back to the office, but then decided against it. Instead, she pulled out her Blackberry and sent an e-mail to Patrick to remind him that the new second Executive Partner would be starting the next day. A second later Patrick received Ashley's e-mail alert. Both Mike Paterson and Patrick were responsible for hiring Jack Elliot—the new Executive Partner—who seemed extremely outgoing and full of himself, the type of guy that could, and would, get any woman. In the end Mike was won over by Jack, despite Patrick's objections to the discrepancies in Jack's financial history. After exiting the lobby Ashley strolled over to the polished black Mercedes S-class parked outside the Ellis Oil building and knocked on the window. Seeing Ashley, the driver brought down the passenger window. "Eric, he's going to be up there late again. I apologize for him," Ashley said to the older man. "That's why I get paid the big bucks, Ashley. I'm fine. Do you need a ride anywhere? I could drop you off and be back for Mr. Davis, I'm sure." "No, if he comes out and sees that you're gone, he'll freak out." "If it's for you, I'm sure he'll be fine with it...this once." Ashley didn't understand but she got in the back of the Benz anyway. "Alistair's Bar," she directed. "Are you saying he likes me? It sure doesn't seem like it. What does he say?" "No, he doesn't talk about you at all." "I don't get it." "You're the first assistant in the ten years I've been driving him that he doesn't complain about. In the first two weeks, yes, he thought you did everything wrong, but it seems like you adapted quickly. At first, I thought he would fire you like the twenty others." "Well, I guess that's good. When you think about it, I'm lucky. All the other assistants knock on him, but their bosses are constantly propositioning them. It's a cesspool up there. He's actually a good boss." "Mr. Davis is what I call asexual. In the years I've known him, all I've ever seen him do is work and nothing else—no girls, no boys, nothing." "Jesus...that's sad." "Well..." Eric said. "What?" "For a while I thought he was seeing someone. He leaves work the normal time, once every other week. He sends me home and walks. I later found out he started seeing a psychiatrist a few years back." Eric pulled up in front of Alistair's and left the motor running. "I thought he was attending meetings when he did that... That's good," Ashley said, before sliding out of the leather cabin of the Benz and thanking Eric for the ride. Ashley sat with her fellow assistants and ordered a White Russian. The others already had a head start on her and were borderline tipsy. "I'm surprised The Ogre didn't keep you late again. He's usually such an asshole," one assistant added, as more chimed in. Ashley mysteriously found herself defending Patrick. He had taken a leap of faith when he hired her; she had been twenty-four with a bachelor's degree but zero business experience. Her beauty had gotten her so far but didn't seem to be helping in her quest to manage multi-million and -billion dollar investment portfolios. Her feelings for him were mixed, but right now she was going to the mattresses for her boss. After Ashley's onslaught of words, the others changed the subject to Jack Elliot, the hot new Executive Partner. The name rung in Ashley's head...it seemed familiar. She only knew tidbits about the new EP though; he'd received his MBA at Berkley, which meant he was from California like her, but this was the first time she'd heard his full name. She soon forgot about it and partied with the girls. Since the next day was a weekday, she didn't hit the juice too hard. The next morning, Ashley arrived early at work with Patrick's green tea and her black coffee. She knocked on Patrick's door; hearing his response, she entered his office. It was Thursday so he had on the red tie, pink shirt, and charcoal suit that his consultant had picked for that day. Even with the special occasion of his new equal's first day, Patrick kept to his schedule. As Ashley handed Patrick his green tea, someone knocked on his office door. "Patrick? Jack Elliot. Can I come in, bud?" "Sure," Patrick said, secretly wanting to say no. As Jack entered the spacious office, his eyes lingered on Ashley's skirt-covered long legs. Jack was tall with black hair and a defined jaw. His eyes devoured Ashley's form with a predatory stance, and then out of nowhere a smile formed. Ashley was pleased with what she saw too, but his smile started to shake her, especially as it began to look familiar. "Bridgett, is it?" Jack asked, sending a cold shiver through Ashley's body. "No, her name is Ashley," Patrick corrected, his eyes alternating between the numbers flashing on his ThinkPad and the numbers on the wall-mounted LCD TV's. "Well, Ashley, it's nice to meet you. Why don't you hop out and allow the men to discuss business?" He watched her ass as she walked out. Her conservative skirt did nothing to hide her raw beauty. "You fuck her yet?" Jack asked, sitting on Patrick's glass desk. Patrick failed to conceal his displeasure in Jack. "Did you come here for something, Mr. Elliot?" "Did I hit a nerve, man? Mr. Elliot...what, am I my father?" When Patrick didn't respond, Jack quickly got down to business. Meanwhile, Ashley was at her desk panicking because she realized Jack knew her dark secret. She had no clue what was happening in Patrick's office and was afraid. Jack walked out of Patrick's office and shot her a smile as he passed through the outer office. Stopping at her desk, he said, "I loved the way you used to suck my cock, Bridgett. It's been too long. How much do you charge now?" Ashley sat frozen and perplexed. Jack smiled at her discomfort. No one was in earshot as she said, "What you're saying is inappropriate. You have me confused with someone else, Mr. Elliot." "Do you have a twin named Bridgett? I never forget a face I've fucked, trust me," he said with an evil grin before adding a savage whisper, "...whores don't get to live happily ever after. This isn't fucking Disney!" Jack headed to his office to plot Ashley's submission. The days passed with the office settling into a routine that included his administrating and demonstrating his control as the women in the office fell for him. Ashley wanted to forget her years as an escort; however, it now appeared that she wouldn't be allowed to forget how she paid for college and survived prior to moving to Chicago. The following Wednesday, Jack walked into Patrick's office. He simply smiled at Ashley as he walked by, torturing her again. He spoke to her on his way out. "Bridgett, it's lunch time. Come with me." They arrived in Jack's office after passing Hannah, his cute, petite executive assistant. Jack closed the door. He and Ashley were now alone in his office. "Can you believe your nerd boss's office is triple the size of mine and that he gets nine million a year, twice what I get? Fucking you should come close to making things even, for now." "Can you just forget this, please, Jack?" "So now you remember?" "I'm not that person anymore, and even then I only did it part-time for a select few." "I'm not forgetting anything. I paid two grand an hour to fuck you in the past. How much now?" "I haven't done that in three years. It's not who I am." "You will, or you won't have your job for long." "Excuse me?" "No, I won't, but you can suck my cock." "No ...I'm going to HR right now." "Are you going to tell them how you were a Beverly Hills whore?" Ashley paused. "Exactly! Get on your fucking knees," he said, grabbing a remote and closing the blinds to the windows in his office. "It's your word against mine. I haven't been an escort in the three years since moving here, and I won't do it again. Again, it's not who I am anymore!" Jack walked into the center of his extravagantly decorated office and pushed a button on the same remote. Instead of market data showing on his LCD TV, a clear-as-day video of Jack fucking Ashley doggy style appeared. "You fucker...when did you video-tape me?" "Such is the risk of an outcall," he said, making her sick to her stomach, to the point where she became queasy and spewed up all over his green leather couch. His smile quickly faded. As he turned off the DVD, Ashley ran out of his office. "Are you alright?" Hannah asked, questioning Ashley as she ran past her. That evening and the rest of the week, Ashley searched for a new, comparable job. The salaries for the few listings she found were on average eighty thousand less than what Patrick paid her. It seemed she was far luckier than she had thought; it just took a dark period for her to realize it. Another week went by. It was Thursday and Patrick was leaving at five o'clock like everybody else. He had a psychiatrist appointment, which he attempted to keep secret. Just as he left, Jack swooped in. "I didn't know I was such a disgusting person, Bridgett." Ashley didn't respond. "Do you have a key to his office?" "Why?" "Don't ask fucking questions." Jack extended his hand, and she reluctantly placed her key to Patrick's office in his palm. As he unlocked the office door, Ashley pleaded to his soulless humanity. "Jack, please don't do this." "I'm not forcing you. You can leave this job, or suck my cock. New deal...I'm not asking to fuck you. I just want a simple blow job. Most of the assistants here do it already. You know that. Do it, and you get the tape...I swear to god!" he said, guiding her into Patrick's office. "That was a long time ago," Ashley said, tears rolling down her face. She now stood in the middle of Patrick's large office facing Jack. "My cock better be in your mouth in ten seconds, or the entire company is getting an anonymous e-mail with a video of you being fucked—with my face blocked out of course. Do it now. This is your last warning." As Jack lowered the blinds with a remote, Ashley used a wristband to tie up her long, blonde hair before dropping to her knees on Patrick's carpeted floor. She unbuckled Jack's belt and soon had his semi-hard penis out of his pants, licking the tip, her tongue now reluctantly spanning his length. "Put it in your fucking mouth," he demanded. Ashley reluctantly covered his long cock with her plump lips and moved her head up and down his shaft. His enormous hands soon gripped and pushed her head, forcing her down deeper. Without a care for her, Jack kept working more and more of his cock into her hot mouth. "There's a good whore. Ohh...ummh," he said, fucking her face as tears swam down from her eyes. His hands soon moved to squeeze her breast. "Oh shit!" he let out, as his legs weakened. He pulled his cock out with a pop with enough time to cum all over her face. "Take off the dress and get on the floor." Ashley looked up at him with her blue eyes and said, "I thought it was just the blow job?" "You really are a stupid bitch...but fuck, you're hot. That's why I kept coming back. No, this is never, ever going to stop. Get on the floor," he said, shoving her. Her dress was partially off, showing her flat stomach and ample, bra-clad bust. Jack lurched down, getting on top of her. She tried to look away, but he forced her face up toward his so she closed her eyes. "Tell me if you want me to stop, Bridgett. I'm not forcing you. Just keep in mind everyone will know that name forever." Quickly, Ashley's dress was off and he was on top of her, his cock at her front door. "Put a condom on," she dictated with venom. Hoping to finally fuck her without one, Jack said, "No, you don't get to—" "Wear a fucking condom, or I'm yelling rape." "—alright, fuck," he said, getting up and grabbing his wallet before plopping right back down on top of her. Ashley closed her eyes while his cock breached her smoothly shaved slit. "Sweet, sweet home," he mused. She played a song in her head as he pushed in and out while removing her bra, mauling at her large, full breasts. "Tell me how much you like me fucking you, Bridgett." "I hate you!" she declared, just as he exploded into the condom. He grabbed her smooth jaw with his hand. "You're making this more difficult than it needs to be," he said, standing up. Ashley stood as well. While she dressed, Jack watched her as if he was marking territory. "With the millions you get, can't you get yourself someone who can tolerate you?" she asked coldly. "I will when I'm old and boring. I think I'll fuck you in the ass next time for that crack. I'm going to make you break all your rules." For the first time in three years Ashley called in sick. She moved out of her apartment into a new one unknown to Grant Hill. She came into the office on a Tuesday after a week of calling in sick, thinking Patrick had probably gotten a temp by now. As she walked in that morning, no one was around her desk, and then she remembered how her boss was. He'd do everything himself before working with a stranger. As if he were the devil himself, Jack appeared as Ashley neared Patrick's office. "Bridgett, are you trying to avoid me? I even stopped by your apartment. Did you move?" Ashley ignored him as she walked toward Patrick's office with a letter in hand. "Don't do that. No one ignores me." "I do," Ashley said with fire in her eyes. "Do you want to continue working here as the only six-figure secretary?" he said degradingly. "No, I don't, actually...I'm quitting," she said, leaving Jack in stunned shock. He grabbed her arm before she walked into Patrick's office. "You make as much as an MBA graduate starting here. No one...no one like you gives that up." "Let me go—now!" she screamed, causing Jack to leap away as she walked into Patrick's office and slammed the door behind her. "Ms. Limpkin. Good morning...feeling better?" "I need to talk to you." Patrick's eyes left his laptop and he looked up, giving Ashley his undivided attention. She had the letter, but instead of giving it to him right away, she grasped her Blackberry and sat down in a chair on the other side of his glass desk. Patrick looked on, waiting patiently. He took off his round rimmed glasses and scratched his head after reading her resignation email. He responded with an offer of more money. Ashley froze when she saw the new salary that he offered in an email, $300,000 a year. Speaking now she said, "Money is not the issue." "Is it me?" Risky Business "No, it's not you. You're fine...great actually. I can't say what it is." Patrick stood, closed his laptop, and moved to sit beside Ashley. He sat there not saying a word until she began to stand. "I'm sorry." "Talk to me?" Patrick asked pleadingly. "I can't." "Talk to me. Trust me." Ashley took a breath and sat back down. "Talk to me...Ashley," he said again, struggling to connect by using her first name. She leaned back and took a breath. "I...I..." she stammered. "Trust me." She took a deep breath this time. "During college, and after for a while... I had sex for money." "You were an escort?" Patrick asked with an unchanged steady, emotionless face. "Yes, but I haven't been one in three years." She stood as her eyes swelled with tears. "Sit...it's okay." He handed her his handkerchief. "I'm assuming this has something to do with Jack the Jackass." "Yes...he videotaped me. God, I can't believe I'm telling you this." "You don't feel safe here anymore." "Yes, that's why I need to quit," she said, standing again. Patrick stood as well, and Ashley fell into his arms. Feeling her soft mounds pressed against him, he fought his natural feelings and patted her on the back. Letting her go, he said, "Can you work from home until next Monday?" "Sure, but I can't work from home forever." "Trust me; he'll be gone by Monday." "You're okay with everything?" "You've been okay with me for three years. Go home, and come back on Monday morning." "Are you sure?" "Yes," he said with certainty. Ashley left Patrick's office with a smile, wanting to hug him but knowing he would feel uncomfortable. She ran into Jack at the elevator bank. "You really are just a stupid whore. It doesn't matter where you go. I know who you are now..." Jack ranted on until people neared him, giving Ashley the opportunity to exit. She feared for Patrick a little, not knowing if he could outmatch Jack. On Friday, while watching CNN, she got her answer. There was a reason why Patrick was the boss. This is CNN's Wolf Blitzer and you're in the Situation Room. Yesterday, a federal grand jury indicted investment executive Jack Elliot, who was then promptly arrested by the FBI. Mr. Elliot, who was facing multiple counts of securities fraud, amongst many other charges, has been quick to accept a plea deal that will see him spend the next twenty-two years in federal prison, instead of what could have been fifty years. These charges are limited to his career at Rosewood Schmidt & Company in San Francisco prior to his start at Grant Hill Investments in Chicago. Grant Hill, of course, is a name synonymous with investing. Managing Partner of Grant Hill Chicago, Mike Paterson, said, and I quote, 'Grant Hill's investments are solid and remain secure. Mr. Elliot's move to Grant Hill was part of an orchestrated investigation, coordinated with the SEC and the FBI. Our clients' finances were never in any real danger.' As more details arise, we'll keep you informed. CNN, the most trusted name in news. Ashley smiled as relief swam over her. Later that night she received an e-mail from Patrick telling her what she already knew—he'd rescued her, and Grant Hill was trying to cover their ass. "Thank you," she emailed back. "Come back to work. I need you," he fired back seconds later. Ashley had unusual dreams that weekend. She kept dreaming about Patrick—nothing sexual—just him—running with him, playing chess with him. In the last dream, she took off his thick glasses and gave him a single kiss. She was in the office extremely early on Monday, for once finally beating Eric and Patrick. She wore a tight dress that fully maximized her assets while still being conservative enough for the work environment, with just enough risk entwined in the vibrant colors. She had never worn the dress to work before; she didn't know why she did today. "Good morning, Ashley," Patrick said, using her first name, which was unusual. Her eyes popped like he had offended her. "Sorry...was that inappropriate? I'm sorry, Ms. Limpkin," he said, rushing into his office. Ashley walked into Patrick's office with his green tea. "No, that was fine. Thank you for everything. I can't imagine what you think of me..." She paused. "Well, I should leave you," she said, turning around. "I lost my virginity to an escort," he dropped. "What?" she asked in shock. She closed the door and sat down, listening eagerly. "I don't know why I said that. I was just trying to say that we're in the same boat. I mean, I didn't know she was an escort...I should get to work." "I trust you, and you can trust me." As she sat across from him, he confessed how his friends had gotten him drunk the night of his graduation and paid a beautiful escort to deflower him. "This was—" Patrick began to say. "Good...this was good. I've never really known you for the three years I've worked here." On her way out of his office, Patrick said something that caused Ashley to turn. "My psychiatrist said to be more open with you." Ashley questioned him, but he turned all sweaty and nervous, so she left. "Did he like me this whole time?" she thought. Ashley brushed it off, and over the course of the next month everything seemed to smooth out. That was until Ashley realized Patrick had arranged for her to be transferred to the Investment Management division as an Associate. She'd been waiting for the upgrade since she had started and had taken all the credentialing exams. Because Patrick already paid her exceptionally well, there was no change in pay. However, she would have her own assistant, independence, and the ability to make much, much more money later. On her first day at the new job, Ashley accidentally exited on her old floor. She saw a guy working where she once sat but thought nothing of it. A few weeks later, she returned and discovered that the guy who had replaced her had been replaced by another guy. It was then that Ashley discovered that Patrick had requested only male assistants. She waited one night until his assistant had left; Ashley then barged into Patrick's office. Did I become the slut you couldn't stand being around...are you afraid of me...are you afraid of women now?" Patrick began to sweat, stammering, "I...I don't think poorly of you." "Why can't you work with me then?" "Because..." "Because what?" "Because I finally worked up the nerve to at least come close to asking you out...and I couldn't put myself in the same position as Jack. Plus, you deserved the promotion. I—" Ashley smiled inwardly. "Was this what you wanted, or was this your psychiatrist?" "—Look, I'm sorry. I should have handled this differently. Everything was better the way it was. I don't know what I was thinking." "I quit," Ashley declared with a sense of relief. "Why?" Patrick asked, all wide eyed at the tall, beautiful woman. "I'm doing what I should have done originally. I have enough money saved. I'll go back to school to get my MBA and earn my place." "You don't need to quit for that. You can work part time. I can arrange it." "No, I need to do this for me." She stood up, walked over to Patrick, and kissed him on the forehead. She walked out of his office and headed toward the elevator. Patrick left his desk and walked after her. "I'm sorry if I treated you badly." "God, Patrick you're the nicest guy I've ever known. You should never change. I'm not leaving because of you," she said, walking over to him and kissing him flat on the lips. Then she pulled away, leaving him heaving and breathing wildly. "I'm just curious. When were you planning on making that move?" "What move?" "Asking me out?" "In the future," he said, sweating. Ashley smiled as she entered the elevator, hoping that he'd actually do it on his own, knowing he'd have to change just a little for them to work out. She found herself genuinely wanting to be with him. She left Grant Hill for the very last time and walked out of the Ellis Oil lobby. Passing Eric in the sleek Benz, she waved at him for what she predicted was the last time. Turning back, she lamented about the one guy she had grown to trust with all her heart. She realized then that she had deeper feelings for him than she'd ever had for any other man. It didn't make sense to her. He was an extreme nerd, and he was average looking—but still, she kept seeing him in her dreams. A year had now passed by. Ashley had taken another assistant position with a dramatic drop in pay, but with much less work, which allowed her to focus on her full-time studies at the University of Chicago's Booth School of Business. She was halfway finished. Without asking, Patrick had e-mailed her a glowing reference that had secured her entry into the highly regarded MBA program. He'd kept in touch with her, e-mailing her often throughout the year. She realized he was getting better; she didn't know how much until one day when she received one particular e-mail. "This Saturday, would you like to go to dinner, as in a date with me?" She smiled and broke into laughter because of the shock, not because she was laughing at him. Ashley didn't respond. For once she was in Patrick's shoes and didn't know what to do. She knew he was probably fretting in anticipation. The next day, with intel from Eric, she stood next to the shining black Benz outside the Ellis Oil building at normal closing time. Exiting the building with a stream of workers, Patrick appeared in a classy designer suit. Ashley noticed he'd abandoned his suit schedule. She waved at him, but Patrick seemed to be the only man who didn't notice her. When he finally saw her, he was like a kid in a candy store. Smiling, he walked over to his driver and his love interest. Ashley was wearing a white dress that ended just below her knees and showcased her beautiful, ample bust and her long, beautiful legs. Mindful of the fact that she was an inch taller than Patrick, she wore flats. Before she could ask Patrick where he was heading, even though she knew he had a psychiatrist appointment, he floored her with his compliment. "That's a beautiful dress, Ashley." "What...thank you," she said, her eyebrows rising before lowering. "It's true." "That's why it was so sweet...thank you. Do you want to go to dinner now?" "I have an appointment with my—" "Your psychiatrist? I know, Patrick. I don't think he'll mind." He smiled at Ashley as he held the door for her to get into the Mercedes. She had noticed the subtle differences in him as they drove to a restaurant. Sitting on the patio of a five-star restaurant, Patrick closed his eyes and pointed to a random dish on the menu. His method caused the waitress to smile. "Lamb, that's different from the tuna sandwich you order every single day." "I'm trying new things," he admitted. "Do you want to have sex with me, Patrick?" Ashley said straight faced. Patrick's eyes widened in surprise; spouting socially unacceptable phrases was his thing. "Yes." She sipped her red wine. "How much would you pay me to do it?" His sweating began. "I wouldn't do that. The time I told you about, I didn't know. You're not like that either—" "Sorry, I was just testing you. We women do that sometimes. I'll try to be honest and direct with you because I know you'll be the same." He nodded, and they had their meal. When it was over Patrick started to pay, but Ashley wouldn't let him. "I invited you to dinner. I'll pay now, you'll pay on Saturday." They left the restaurant and entered the Benz. Ashley gave Eric the directions to her home and then asked Patrick if he would like to join her for dessert in her apartment. "Thanks, but I'm full," he replied, at which point she smiled and got out of the Benz. "I'll see you on Saturday," she added. Five minutes after Ashley entered her apartment, someone knocked on her door. When she opened it, Patrick kissed her. She pulled him inside and they landed on the couch, with her on top. She began to disrobe. Patrick tried to control his now erratic breathing, while saying. "You're the most beautiful...prettiest woman I've ever seen." Ashley smiled, rising above him enough to pull away his belt. "Stop!" Patrick said, shocking her. "We should go to your bedroom." Seconds later, Ashley was dashing to her bedroom, holding Patrick's hand behind hers. Her white dress fell to the floor along with her bra, leaving only her black panties. Patrick, except for his jacket and belt, was still clothed. Ashley sat on the end of her bed and slowly eased down her panties as he struggled to unbutton his shirt. His hands went faster and faster and soon the shirt was off. She bit her lips in anticipation, knowing she'd already committed emotionally to Patrick for the long haul. His underwear came down next. At six inches, his cock wasn't the longest she'd seen. Girth was another story as Patrick's cock hardened. It was at least the circumference of a soda can, or bigger. When it was fully hard, her fingers couldn't meet when she encircled it with her hand. His girth would scare most women, but Ashley knew the full pleasure of a thick cock and smiled at the rigid monster. She was excited about the journey ahead. With Patrick now lying on his back, she straddled his waist. Lowering her breasts to his chest, and then her mouth to his, they kissed for ten minutes. His tongue was stronger than expected, which made her wet with anticipation. Pulling her face back, Ashley looked into Patrick's brown eyes and said, "Your cock is beautiful." "Thank you." "Don't be afraid, Patrick. Touch me wherever you want," she said, upon seeing his hands planted to the bed. His hands slowly rose, spanning her back. He slightly squeezed her ass cheeks as their mouths rejoined. She removed his glasses, deciding she would buy him contacts later, and paused. Looking down as she straddled him, the whole picture didn't look bad at all. "Can you...?" Ashley listened, waiting. "Can you put your breasts around my...penis?" "Only if you don't phrase it to me as a question," she said, smiling and pushing her long blonde hair out of the way. "Tell me to do it. Patrick." Patrick swallowed down some saliva. "Put your breasts around my penis—" "Call it your cock, Patrick." "Put your breasts around my cock!" At his order, Ashley lowered her body. Her full breasts surrounded his girth, and again she told him how beautiful his cock was. With the first touch of her soft breasts, his cock began to spasm. "Oh crap, look out!" he cried, as jets of cum erupted upward and landed on her large, firm boobs. Ashley pressed on as she made his penis hard again between her mounds. Her tongue stretched forth, licking. Her mouth didn't dare tackle the gigantic girth. "I want to have sex with you now." "Say 'I want to fuck,'" she corrected him. "I want to have sex with you, make love to you...not fuck you!" he said, bringing a smile to Ashley's face as she straddled him. He shocked her when he suddenly flipped her over and got on top. He had her breathing faster and faster as his cockhead began to breach her tight pussy. Then he paused, nearly causing her to cry out. "Do I need a condom?" Patrick asked. "I'm on birth control and—" Before she could finish, he pushed his cock head inside her slick pussy. "—Jesus Christ, yes!" she cried out. On only a handful of occasions in her life had she ever felt this full. "Are you okay?" "Move your hips. Fuck me...make love to me later, Patrick. Fuck me now. Please, please, fuck me now!" As Ashley spoke, Patrick moved his hips back and forth, causing her mouth to open. Her hands forced him down further and further. "Oh Christ...lord yes...right fucking there!" Wrapping her agile legs around his back, she screamed. He briefly silenced her by putting his lips over hers. His cock sped up, guided by her hands and legs. Her hands now spun into his hair to pull his head in for a rocking, passionate kiss. She couldn't control her senses; she wanted more. Ashley's toes curled and her neck arched backward. Patrick's chest started heaving and his breathing increased. "I'm going to—" "Cum in me. Yes, fuck me! Patrick...Pat...Yes...Oh!" she moaned. Her legs weakening around him. "Faster please...move your hips faster...faster!" she pleaded as he fucked her pussy raw until his eruption. Not done yet, she flipped them around, getting on top. Her hand balanced the amount of cock that entered her. "This couldn't be your first time!" "It isn't. It's my second," he said. Ashley smiled before closing her eyes and lowering herself so that he sank deeper and deeper, stretching her snatch further and further. "Oh fuck!" she exclaimed painfully, straining her vocal chords and emptying her lungs in one last blissful outcry. Soon, she was lying next to Patrick, panting. His lips trailed down her body and he lowered his face to her pussy. "You're just full of mysteries," she sighed. "Can I kiss your pussy, please?" He didn't get it right at first, but she had learned that Patrick tried his hardest at everything he did until he did it perfectly, and this was no different. An hour later Ashley was screaming in release during her second orgasm of the night. In the morning, she begged him to stay. She went downstairs with him and gave him a deep kiss before he got into the Benz with Eric, who had just arrived. "Don't change him too much. I still need a job," Eric quipped. That day all she could think about was Patrick, and that afternoon she surprised him in the office with a random lunch and a pack of contact lenses. As Ashley passed the assistant's desk, she threatened the cute brunette with her eyes. She was tempted to recommend that Patrick go back to only hiring males. Shocked when she realized she was jealous, she soon came to grips with her feelings for Patrick. When she considered all the times she'd defended him, Ashley realized she had had deep feelings for him before that afternoon. Sitting in Patrick's lap at his desk, she could see in his eyes how much he loved her, and she hoped he saw the same in hers. "You look hot with contacts. We should change your hair next." "No...I like my hair!" His uncharacteristic assertiveness was making Ashley wet. "Fuck me?" she begged. With one swipe of his hand, Patrick sent his ThinkPad and the other items on the top of his desk crashing to the floor, making room for Ashley's long bombshell body. Soon enough, Patrick was between her legs and sucking on her tongue. His confident business personality had begun to take over. A new day had begun. Risky Business John stared at the huge mansion from across the street, the place was lit up like a christmas tree and he could see dozen of cars parked in the driveway. This far away he could only see that huge curtains had been drawn across the tall windows. The bright welcoming lights contrasting with the dark windows. John knew why and it was that knowledge that was making his guts tie themselves in knots. It was what was making him take so long to get out of his car and walk up to the door. His fingers played with the small black card he had been given to get him in. He had received the invitation from his boss after they had gone on a business trip together. Some expo in a huge convention centre filled with bored businessman staring at the latest advances in pipe cleaning technology. As is true of most of these kinds of thing they spent more time in the traveling than the actual event itself. So it was that they found themselves sitting on a train talking about contraceptives. When his boss had offhandedly mentioned that he and his wives sex life had improved tenfold when she went through the menopause, John had said he was jealous. He hated wearing condoms, but with all the disease around you had to play it safe. His boss had asked him if he wanted kids and he told him that he like the idea but didn't want to have to raise them, at least, not right now. At that his boss had gone quiet and he didn't think anymore of it, nor did he think it strange when a week later he was asked to provide a urine sample for a random drugs test. So when his boss had came into his office a week after that and put forward the invitation to this "get together" he had been taken aback. So now here he was, taking a deep breath he pulled open the car door and headed up the driveway, the invitation held tightly in hand. The imposing doors of the house loomed over him and he again felt the urge to just run away. Instead he pressed the call button on a intercom beside the door. "Yes! Who is it" Came the curt male voice from the intercom John swallowed before replying, "I'm here for the Exhibition. The names John West." There was a short moment of silence before a he heard a buzzing sound and was told by the voice to step inside. Heart in his throat John stepped inside. There was a Doorman waiting for him,although he looked more like a bouncer to John's eyes. He took John's name and his invitation, checking it against a clipboard he held. Satisfied he turned and led John deeper inside. The place was huge, instead of the usual design of a single large staircase in the centre there were two off to either side. Both of them curved the main atrium, leaving a wide open space that went up to a high white ceiling. Looking straight ahead, John could see straight through what looked like the kitchen and out to the garden. He could make out maybe a dozen people milling around in the garden, even from here he could tell they were all naked and he found his eye drawn to what he realised with surprise where two men sat beside the pool. One of them was sat on a sun lounger with his legs spread a the other was bent over his lap. his head rhythmically bobbing up and down. A few feet away there was an elderly woman talking animatedly to a younger woman, seemingly unaware of the scene going on a few feet from her. There was something so surreal about it all that John felt the urge to laugh out loud, it was only his nerves that kept him silent. "This is your first event isn't it sir?" Asked the Doorman. John snapped back to the now, "Eh, yeah." He stammered in reply. The door man nodded solemnly. "Then allow me to explain the layout." He said, gesturing to the two doors that led off from the atrium on either side. "The downstairs is mostly for conversation, it is split by the two kind of sexual relations you may seek." He pointed to the left doorway, beyond which he could see a crowd of people, all in varying degrees of undress. "The left of the house is for those who seek to practice "safe" sex," He added, pointing to the large bowl of brightly colour foil packets by the door. "We provide prophylactics to meet your needs free of charge." Turning back to the right door, "the right side of the house is for those that wish to practice unprotected sex. Everyone here has passed the same checks as yourself. Everyone here has been certified disease free." Finally he directed John's attention up the stairs. "The upstairs is for those who seek purely sexual relations and the split is much the same." He turned back to John who was trying to take this all in. "You are not required to undress but we do ask that you remove your socks and shoes. we can also deposit any valuable in our safe for you. If you wish to undress we can provide a robe." Finally the Doorman handed John a small pamphlet before leading him to a side room where there were small changing rooms. Thinking back to the way he had seen the other people dressed, almost uniformly nude or in the red satin robes that hung from the wall in the changing rooms. He decided it would be better to change. Whilst he stripped his clothes off he looked at a large notice that had been screwed to the far wall. At the top of the notice, in large script where the words "RULES OF PLAY" below these was a list of the rules. The core points were that you must ask permission before touching another person in any way and must also stop whatever you are doing if asked. There was also a reminder of the split of the rooms and a warning that breaking these rules could lead to being expelled from the party and possibly prosecuted. Pulling on the robe and handing his clothes over to the Doorman John stepped back out into the atrium. Needing a drink to steady his nerve, he headed to the kitchen. Walking into the kitchen he saw five people milling around a table that had a variety of drinks on it. The people in the kitchen all seemed to have some form of clothing on and were locked in conversation with each other. As he watched he saw a few people playfully fondle each other before walking away with each other, either into one of the other rooms or out to the garden area. Looking out to the garden John caught site of the two men again. As he watched he saw the man receiving the blow job put his hand on the other man's head, pushing it further down on to his cock as he screwed up his face in pleasure. After a few seconds he released the other man's head, his slick cock falling from his mouth. Then the other man grabbed his head and, holding his mouth open, poured a stream of semen from his mouth to the other man's. John was shocked, partly at what he had just seen and partly at how unfazed every other person seemed by it. He should not have been surprised really, the kind of people that come to swingers parties are not going to be fazed by the sight of two men trading cum. Heading over to the table he poured himself a rum and coke and tried to collect himself. Wandering over to a door that led into the right side of the house he saw that it seemed to be split into several rooms. From where he was he could see a living room area that was mostly taken up by a huge semi-circular couch. A few people were relaxing and chatting on the couch so John wandered over and took a seat, sipping his drink. Taking in the rest of the room he saw that there were about 10 people spread around the room. It seemed to be an even split between men and women most of which were either wearing the same kind of robes as John or nothing at all. Everyone seemed to have already paired off in the room, directly opposite him on the couch there was a burly man with a huge black beard. His hand disappearing between the legs of a middle aged blond woman, his other hand pulling her robe open and fondling her large breasts. Her hand was wrapped around his broad, rigid cock and they seemed lost in each others pleasure. Movement in the corner of his eye made John tear his eyes away from the spectacle before him. A woman was walking toward him across the room, she was one of the few people he had seen wearing regular clothes, although ironically that only made her stand out more. She was wearing a grey and black hoodie jacket, with the front zipped up completely. Along with that she had on an extremely short tartan skirt that gave John tantalising flashes of her sex with every step. The clothes, combined with her short raven black hair and petite figure made her look like she was fresh outta high school. Sitting down beside John she gave him an appraising look up and down. "Would you like to fuck me?" She asked bluntly, almost making John burst out laughing and the harshness of it. Looking into her Opal eyes he found himself lost for words, the way her top somehow managed to hint at the pleasures hidden within made it hard for him to concentrate. Instead his body gave his answer for him, his cock rising to full hardness and sliding between the gap in his gown to stand proud in his lap. "I'll take that as a yes then?" She said, looking down at his erection, her tongue darting across her lips as she did. John could only bring himself to nod in affirmation He had never really considered himself well endowed, his cock always seemed a little too thick to him. But the women seemed pleased with it as it jutted up from his lap The head red, dully reflecting light. She gave it an approving nod before standing up in front of John. Behind her John could see that the other couple had got bored of just using hands. The woman, her robe now on the floor, had climbed into his lap and was riding his cock with wild abandon. Seeing his fat cock sliding in and out of her slick pussy so easily only made John feel more aroused. The woman in front of him looked over her shoulder at the other couple, unzipping her top and revealing her bare flesh beneath. Turning back to John she smiled down at him. "Quite a show," She said, turning around and starting to back herself onto John's cock. From this angle it gave John a perfect view of her shaved pussy, moisture beading on her outer lips. The sight was enough along to make John want to cum. Reaching one hand between her legs she grabbed John's cock, guiding it into herself. As John saw her lips start to be parted by the head of his cock she turned her head to look at him. A mischievous smile on her face. "Let's show them how it's done." With one smooth motion she buried John's cock inside of her down to the hilt. John felt himself about to explode so, not wanting it to end so soon, he grabbed hold of her hips. Pressing her down on to him and stopping her moving. His head pressed into the back of her neck as he fought to keep himself under control. For her part the woman had let out a primal cry of pleasure when she bottomed out. Drawing glances from the other people in the room as she did. Holding on to her tightly John eventually felt in control enough to loosen his grip and sit back. It seemed like had been waiting for that moment because the woman immediately began to buck her hips madly. John's cock sliding easily in and out of her tight pussy. The sensation causing the cum to rise in his balls yet again. Knowing he was not going to last much longer he decided to be proactive. Without thinking he grabbed the woman's hips and heaved her up off of him. She was surprisingly light and he almost withdrew his cock from her heavenly pussy as she let out a surprised yelp before slamming her back down into his lap. Quickly he did it again the sound of their flesh wetly slamming together filling the room. He soon had a fast rhythm going, the woman moaning loudly as fluid dribbled down john's cock on to the couch below. God only knows how he managed to hold out for as long as he did, every second was a brutal fight to not explode. Eventually however he couldn't fight it any more, the pressure in his balls became too great to stop and he felt himself beginning to cum. "Gonna...cum," He managed to gasp out in warning to her before slamming her down into his lap, burying his cock deep inside of her needy sex. The woman let out a throaty moan of pleasure and he bottomed out, the sound was enough to push him finally over the edge. He had never felt an orgasm as intense as this the spasms were vicious, every spasm of his cock firing another thick load of seed into her pussy. The force of them was almost painful to him and he was almost glad when he felt himself coming down, his cock starting to soften inside of her pussy. They sat for awhile in the afterglow, both breathing heavily as her hands played through his hair and John's hands caressed her breasts. Playing over her erect nipples before sliding down between her legs to find her swollen clit. She sighed softly and pushed her body back into his, resting her head on his shoulder with her eyes closed in bliss as he drew slow circles around her small hard clit. Her soft lips were flushed with arousal and without thinking John kissed her. Sliding his tongue into her mouth as his now flaccid cock slid from her pussy, his fingers quickly replacing it as she moaned into his mouth. They sat like this for a long time, cum slowly starting to leak from between his fingers as he worked them in and out of her pussy. Her breathing began to speed up and his motions matched her breath, eventually plunging his fingers inside in a blur. The motion raining cum down on to his crotch. His efforts were rewarded when, with a desperate cry of pleasure, she finally came. Doubling over in his lap as she did, her whole body shaking as she pulled his hand away from her crotch. It took a good few minutes for her to be able to speak again afterwards and even longer to walk. When she did stand up her legs were shaky under her and her face was bright red. Turning back to John she smiled down at him, taking in his soaked crotch and sated expression. "When you feel up to another round come and find me." She said before turning and walking out of the room. Leaving John with nothing but the smell of her pussy on his crotch. "Risky Business" Before continuing on to the next true story I have to get this across to the readers. I've only posted one of these stories so far and I've already gotten feedback calling me "Fag." Well I can tell you I am far from being one. If there were a willing man in front of me and a willing woman I would go for the woman every time. So fuck off. ***** As if Chris and I hadn't done some risky shit before by messing around out in public while we were fishing it's what happened one summer day that puts all the other risky shit to shame. Chris had invited me to go swimming at his house something that's happened dozens of times since their pool was installed. Most of the time we were in the pool Chris and I didn't do anything but swim around and maybe toss a football back and forth for a few minutes. Sometimes one of us would float around on a pool tube while the other just swam around for a while. I was on the tube when I noticed Chris standing in the corner of the pool I knew he was up to no good but didn't know exactly what at the moment. I would soon realize that he was jerking off. He still had his shorts fully covering his cock but was stroking it underwater. I hopped off the tube and swam over to him and slid my hand into his shorts. I started stroking his cock for him while he reached into my shorts and started stroking mine. After only a few minutes we were startled my Chris's mom coming out of the house. She had no idea what we were doing she was only coming out to get in the pool for a while. As she got closer Chris and I swam away from each other and I remember one of us picked up the football that was floating around on the surface of the water and we started tossing it back and forth again. Roxanne, Chris's Mom, walked up onto the deck and tossed in a pool lounge. The mesh kind with light blue styrophome arms complete with cup holders. She lowered herself back into the lounge and began floating around the pool. It was a serious "La la la do dee do do." situation for Chris and I. We thought we were busted for sure but I knew that if Roxanne had seen anything we would've known by now. A little time went by and I could see that his Mom was sleeping so Chris and I swam back over to each other and started where we left off. We stood belly to belly reaching into each others shorts and stroking each others cocks. Both of us tried to keep a tab on Roxanne's location in the pool but we were so into it at one point that we weren't paying attention to where she was. I remember turning and I saw Roxanne and her pool lounge floating only about five inches from where Chris and I were standing in the pool. Chris and I tried to remain as quiet and as still as we could and I watched as his Mom floated by. I had thought Chris's Mom was attractive before but at this particular moment I found myself extremely turned on while I looked at her. Roxanne kind of reminded me of the fitness guru Denise Austin as far as her looks went and seeing Roxanne in her tight dark blue one piece bathing suit really got me horny. It seemed to take forever for Roxanne to float by us on the lounge but I'm glad that it did take that long because I eyed her up the entire time. I couldn't make out any details but as she floated by us I stared down at her crotch and could see the hump that was Roxanne's Pussy and as I kept eyeing her up I focused my eyes on her tits which were pushed flat by the tightness of her bathing suit. Once Roxanne had floated past us Chris and I silently went back to business. For the entire rest of the time Chris and I was stroking each other off I was fantasizing that it was Roxanne stroking my cock for me. Chris came first and then I came a short time later and it couldn't have been better timing because once I had cum Roxanne had climbed off of her pool lounge and climbed up the ladder to get out. As Roxanne walked across the deck and down the steps I continued eyeing her up. I now wanted to fuck Chris's Mom. When Chris and I were done swimming we got out and dried off before going into his basement to change into our regular clothes. After changing Chris and I walked down the alley way separating out two streets and we made our way to my house. During the walk I admitted to Chris that I wanted to fuck his Mom. Well, as one could guess that didn't sit very well with Chris. He didn't get super pissed like I thought he'd might but he did tell me that that wasn't cool for me to tell him that. Right after I told him I wanted to fuck his Mom Chris admitted to me that he wanted to fuck two of my older Sisters so it was only fair.