2 comments/ 10793 views/ 0 favorites Getting It By: eals Chapter 1. Getting the News Clarisse had just pulled down her panties, lowered herself on to the toilet seat and was preparing to have a long overdue pee, when she heard the door open to the washroom. Two obliviously drunk women came into the washroom. From the sound of the voices, she thought it was Sandra and Marge who had come in. they were talking loudly and so it was not difficult to hear what they were talking about. "Well! Did you." Said the first voice. "Of course, I did." Said the second. "You told me he was a great fuck and I always like my hole well filled." "I am sure that he has fucked everyone of us by now." Said Sandra. Although Clarisse was not really sure it was she. "He is not a bad boss, but he is one great cocksman." Said, what sounded like Marge? The words struck Clarisse like a thunderclap. The only boss in this office was her husband, George. She thought to herself. "Well that explains why I am not getting any. The bastard is fucking the whole office. She also knew that he was probably fucking every other woman that he encountered. The girls, she knew, were right. George was one great fuck. He really knew how to turn a woman on. He would take the time to bring you to orgasm and he would hold himself off until he could come with you. The orgasms you had with George were monumental. You would be worn out after he got finished with you. You could only wonder were he got the energy to do the things he done for the amount of time he took. He would use your whole body like a playground; his playground and he would play you like a master. She used to have that, but in the last 10 months she knew that he had shifted playgrounds, and she was not his favorite anymore, no, not at all. "Damn him, damn him, damn him." She thought to herself. She knew from the time she dated him that his sexually prowess was incredible, but she thought she could confine it to herself. She had been available any time, anywhere, any place he wanted her. The any place was something else again. They fucked under the bleachers while a ball game was on. They had a quickie in the elevators, and in a darkened subway as they came home late. They fucked in the city parks, in the alleys, even on the beach (which is not recommended even at the best of times, the sand is a bastard on the genitals. Clarisse was sore for a week afterwards). She didn't really like being an exhibitionist, but she had to admit, they were some of the best fucks she had ever had. The excitement and thrill of being caught really turned her number one sex organ, her brain on. She was so wet that she dripped and her panties were discarded for the rest of the night. They were so wet as to be useless. She heard pee flowing in the other cubicles, flushes, and talk at the sink and mirrors. She waited until the door closed again. She wiped her pussy clean of the pee, pulled up her panties, straightened her dress and left the cubicle. She took her time combing her hair and fixing her makeup before she left the toilet. She didn't want to bump into the girls who had been talking of her husband. Outside the door she met George. "I have been looking for you, Clarisse. You certainly took your time in there." Said George "Yes! She said. "I decided to have some private time with myself. I had to get myself off as I am not getting any at home. A girl needs to be satisfied, you know, or, perhaps you don't anymore. So what have you been looking for me for? She asked. "I have had some sudden business come up that I have to attend tonight. I have just had a cell phone call from New York and they have some questions that need to be answered before the morning. I will be home later, O.K.? Said George. "Just as soon as you get the bimbo of the end of your prick, I'll bet." Retorted Clarisse "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Asked George "Who pissed in your porridge?" "Come on George, don't give me the innocent act. I know that your prick has been working non-stop over all the time you learned what it is for. You haven't fucked me in months, and I know that you cannot go without a day or less without dipping your wick. Furthermore, a couple of voices in the toilet just informed me that you have fucked every woman in this office. It won't work George. You can tell me that you have to work late, but I know that the only work you are likely to be doing is the work that it takes to bring down the panties on your next conquest." "Clarisse! Stop it. You don't know what you are talking about and you certainly can't prove anything you say. So give it up and settle down. I will be home late. Let's just leave it at that." Said George. "OK. George, but I want you to remember that if you are not in by six in the morning, you will likely miss me. I have a flight to catch for Washington in the morning. I have to be up early. I came to this party under protest, and now I wish that I had never come. Damn! You piss me off sometimes." Said Clarisse. With that she went to get her coat, and hailed a cab for home. Her ride was preoccupied. Next morning, George was not around. She got herself a cab and left for the airport. She was still pissed off. She knew that she must do something about her marriage, but she sincerely doubted that George would want to do anything about it. She had made him sign a pre-nuptial that would make her very wealthy, because George, in spite of his fucking expertise, was also an expert in insurance sales and he made tons of money. That is why he had so many girls to choose from and the office was so big. He had made it grow by leaps and bounds. He had accumulated an enormous amount of cash to himself and so, Clarisse. They had built a great house. They had vast investments. They went to their winter home in Florida, which was worth as much if not more than their own home. The pre-nuptial would see that she got her half of everything, and, Clarisse, apart from being a lonely wife, was also the financial wizard of the family. There were no hidden assets. She knew were it all was and how much it was worth. She would not have to share with the kids for there were none. George would not want to part with any of it. She was going to be in the marriage along time if he had anything to do about it. Chapter 2: Washington All of this, Clarisse milled over as she awaited her flight. Suddenly, the ancient loudspeaker blared out. "Flight 546 to Washington has been delayed. We have encountered mechanical problems and we are not sure how long it will take to fix them. The flight has been delayed indefinitely, but we are working on the problem." The squeaky speaker said. "Well! That certainly screws up my day." She said aloud to herself. "Mine too." Said a male voice beside her. "I had to register for our annual conference by nine. Now I don't know what I will do." Said Clarisse. "Me too." Said the voice again. She turned and looked at the source of the voice, and was pleasantly surprised. It was a handsome man, about her age. He looked very professional. He was taller by a head over her. He looked like a quarterback from one of those college teams. Handsome and determined. "Damn! That man's got it." Thought Clarisse. Then she asked, "What conference were you going to?" "I am going to the American Accounting Association Conference." he said. "It is being held at the Gaylord in National Harbor this year." "So am I." said Clarisse. "That's good. I will have beautiful company for the wait." Said the stranger. "Well! If we are going the same place, I think we should know our names, so that we don't have to talk to a stranger, and you know what your mother said about that. My name is Clarisse, yours? "Colin, Colin Clarke. I think my mother and dad were into alliteration." Replied Colin "Clarisse Makin is my name. Where are you from? I can't say that I have ever heard your name around here because I know most accountants in the district." Said Clarisse "You wouldn't because I am not from here. This is my junction point for my flight to Washington. I live in Missouri. I left my booking late and the only flight I could get to Washington, had to make a connection stop in Harrisburg." Explained Colin. "Lucky you! You are stuck with me in Harrisburg." Laughed Clarisse "You are right. I would call that luck indeed. I think my flight arrangements just took on a decidedly brighter look." Said Colin "You make me blush. Now to the conference and registration. Do you know if there is a number so that we can call to tell them we are delayed. There is not much play from the time we get into Regan and the time it takes to get to National Harbor. I think we are going to be late. It might help if we let them know." Said Clarisse "We can call the hotel. They can give the registration desk the news about us." Said Colin "Good plan. Your Blackberry or mine? Said Clarisse. "Never mind, mine will do. Do you happen to have the number?" "Its in my Blackberry. I thought something like this might happen so I put the Gaylord's number in the memory. Why don't I just call? It saves time, and passing numbers back and forth, besides, it's a tax write off as you well know." Said Colin. Fortunately, the woman on the speaker began again and outlined the length of their delay. She told them that the aircraft has had to be put out of service. A new aircraft was being flown in from Buffalo and the flight would be delayed for about 21/2 hours. Colin was able to contact the hotel and they assured him that they would be happy to pass the message on to those folk who were taking and checking the registrations. "Well! Clarisse, I guess that gives us two choices. You can go your way and do your emails and I do mine, or we could get together and talk about anything we would like to talk about. For my part, I prefer the second option but I don't want to thrust my unwanted attentions upon you if you chose the former." said Colin, gallantly. "Well good sir, there are, of course, other options." Replied Clarisse. "And just what might they be?" asked Colin "I could read an interesting book. I could get a coffee and listen to my iPod; I could browse the gift shop. Any thing like that." Said Clarisse with a chuckle. "Any thing but my attention. I see." Replied Colin. "A fellow must know when he is getting the brush off. Thank you then, I will find my way. I know when I am not wanted." He said with an artificial pout. "Well! If I am going to give you such pain and damage your ego to such an extent, I feel that mercy commends me to be charitable. I will compromise. Conversation over a coffee, if you please. I need to have my morning pick up." Said Clarisse The two of them set out for the coffee shop and began a conversation that would fill the space of time they had to wait and bring them a great deal of joyful interchange in the interim. They talked about work first. They talked about the upcoming conference and their particular interest in being there. They then ventured on to more personal subjects like home, schooling, university, interests, their particular accounting specialty, and ultimately, for some unknown reason they began to talk about the current state of their personal life. When Colin ventured into that area with Clarisse he immediately recognized the red flag that shot up just as soon as Clarisse was asked about her marital life. He wisely and quickly let it slide and changed the subject and Clarisse heaved a sigh of relief when he did. Colin, however, spoke with candor about his current situation, which was not unlike Clarisse's miserable dilemma, which surrounded George's infidelity and lack of interest. His wife had tired of their life together or, he added, their life apart. Colin was brutally honest about his role in the estrangement. He mentioned how he had had a very difficult time getting his accounting business off the ground. Clients had not been easy to attract when he first began. He had to do most of the work, that he now assigned to clerks, himself. It meant late nights and little time for his wife. She naturally found other interests to fill her time and, subsequently, to satisfy her sexual needs. The marriage was definitely on the rocks, but neither of them had had the gumption to pull the plug. It would have to be done sooner or later, but at the present time, they slept in separate beds and were very civil and caring of each other. It was a truce, but not really the solution to either of them and their future life. When they reached this point, the speaker lady intervened with the announcement that the aircraft was boarding and would the business class passengers please come to the desk for identity check and boarding. They picked up their carry on luggage and head together, unspeaking to the desk. On the aircraft, Colin sat in the rear of the business section and Clarisse in the front. Further conversation was not really possible. It would have to wait until they landed. At Regan, in Washington, they rejoined to collect their luggage and then they shared the cab that would take them to National Harbor and the Gaylord. At the Gaylord, they check in and found that their registration materials had been left at the desk for them. They exchanged Room numbers and took the elevator to their rooms. As fate would have it they were on the same floor and, as fate would have it again, they were within four doors of each other. Colin was at 1210 and Clarisse was at 1218. They both had lovely rooms that overlooked over the P. They agreed to drop off their luggage and meet because they had both signed up for the same session and with the delay, they would only just make it. The session was out at 2:45 pm and they both had different sessions that they had booked. They neglected to make any arrangements for future times together, so, if you have ever been to the Gaylord, you will know that trying to find a person in that monster is neigh on impossible. Being what kind of person that both of them are, they found themselves quickly involved with the sessions and with other delegates with whom they shared like interests. As a result, they drifted off in different directions. They were not to find each other until mid Thursday morning, and then only by accident. They were rushing between sessions and both wanted to take a quick comfort break in their rooms. They both did what was necessary and were on the way to the elevator when they bumped into each other in the hall. "Well, well, well, look who is here. Are you staying in this hotel too? Colin said jokingly to Clarisse. "Yes I am." Replied Clarisse. "I came here from Harrisburg with this fine gentleman I met in the airport there, but he seems to have disappeared. You know, you look very much like him. You wouldn't be Colin Clark by any chance, would you?" Colin laughed and assured her that he was one and the same, Colin Clark. He asked her what she had been doing. "I have been going to the personal tax sessions, and I suppose you have been at sessions that relate to your corporate accounting interests? Asked Clarisse. "Yes, I have. They have been most helpful for me. I am glad that I came, even though it was a last minute thing. What about you? Have you found what you were looking for? "Oh yes! It has been really worth the price and the effort it took to get here. Some of the sessions have been taped and I intend to purchase the tapes. I know there was much I missed in them and I want to review later. I am glad I came. I am sure that this will be a yearly thing from now on. "Me too." Said Colin. "I hate to admit it, but I now know just how much I do not know about my field. It is tough to admit that you didn't quite learn it all at University." "So what have you being doing with your evenings?" asked Clarisse. "I have been with some of the people who have been at the same sessions as myself. We take the time together to discuss what we have heard. It is not what I would call exciting, but it has been interesting. We are thinking about doing the same tonight at fish place down on the wharf. Speaking of that, what are you doing tonight? "Would you like to come with us? Asked Colin. "No thank you! If you are going to discuss corporate accounting then count me out. I want to have some fun tonight." Said Clarisse. "OK! I understand. Let me rephrase the question. Is there any room in your schedule for supper with me only? We could take in the fine fish restaurant down by the water without the others. Is that better?" Said Colin. "I went there last night, thank you." Said Clarisse "OK! Let me rephrase again. Would you like to do supper with me if we went to somewhere else." Proposed Colin eagerly. His eagerness was all too apparent and Clarisse picked it up immediately. "Careful now, I am not sure whether you are asking me to supper or trying to proposition me? If it is the former, I would be delighted to come, and if it were the latter . . . . Well. Clarisse didn't finish the sentence, which gave Colin a little hope for a brighter future. Clarisse continued. "The time would have to be a little later in the evening. My last session, I figure, will run late. The speaker is very interesting and the program states that at least a half to three quarters of an hour will be allowed for questions after the presentation concludes at five. I think that it will run the full three quarters of an hour. I wouldn't want to miss it because I know the speaker and he I very interesting and learned. If that is the case, I won't be able to clean up and be decent before 7 and better 7:30 pm. If you can hold off that long, I will be glad to join you." Explained Clarisse. "For you lady, anything you wish." I will talk to the concierge and see if he can make reservations for us somewhere. I have a feeling that he will have more pull with the restaurants in the area than I do. They went their separate directions after Colin had told Clarisse that he would text message her with the plans for supper. His conversation with the concierge was most interesting. "With whom are you dining?" asked the man. "It is a group or is it with just another person, a woman perhaps?" "It is with a woman." Replied Colin "An interesting woman, or a woman of interest? Continued the Concierge "Mmmmm, I wasn't prepared for that question. What an interesting question." Said Colin to the man. "If I were to speak honestly, I would have to say both." "The emphasis being on the former or the latter? Asked the man insistently. Colin again paused at that question and asked himself. "What is your interest in Clarisse? Was she just a person he had met in the airport and had pleasant conversation with or did she really 'interest' him. She was certainly a beautiful woman. She was interesting to talk to. She was oppionated and able to express and explain herself well. She was both interesting and of interest alright, 'but', and it was a very big 'but', he had to admit she was a 'person of interest.' "The latter." Said Colin firmly "In that case anything in the immediate area is out. Not intimate enough. What is your price range? Asked the concierge. "There is no worry." Said Colin "Then in that case, I suggest that you take her to Georgetown and to Michel Richard Citronelle. It has a great reputation. You will have excellent food. It will cost you, but you but will also impress her. It is intimate enough that you can have a conversation without being disturbed and, if your are good enough, worth having. A taxi can take you there for about $35 dollars. I will arrange it. The reservation will be for eight. It will give you time to make yourself, and your lady friend presentable and get to the restaurant in one piece and relaxed. Second thought, I will make the reservation for 8:30 pm. You can tell your lady friend to have a snack to tide her over. It will be busy, but the restaurant and I have an understanding and he keeps a couple of tables reserved for me until 5 p.m. He knows that I will fill them and I do every day. One of them will be for you." Explained the concierge. Getting It All The air conditioner rattled and hummed in the tropical air, but inside the office at the top of the iron staircase it felt as if it was doing nothing but stirring the humidity around. If there was any coolness, it came more from the big ceiling fan that whirled and clacked in the centre of the ceiling. Luca sat back in his office chair under the fan and smiled as he wiped sweat from his forehead and his muscular, almost hairless chest with a hand towel. He was wearing only a pair of loose, lightweight cotton shorts. The longer he stayed in Africa the less he wore. Now, after five months of running his employer, Oscar Riddleman's, tobacco-processing factory in Cameroon, he would have to go completely naked if he wanted to wear less. And at home he did, but this was work. Towel in hand Luca got up and looked out of the side window, seeing below him the busy floor of the open-sided factory shed where the young men and women were working rolling cigars. From above most of them looked as if they were barely more than children. And seated as they were in rows at long benches, bent over their work, with their fingers flying over the tobacco leaves they were wrapping, they might have been students studying hard. So much for the rolling of cigars against the sweaty thighs of muscular young black men, he thought, remembering his first meeting with Riddleman with a smile. As soon as they met, Luca had a good idea that his potential employer, Oscar Riddleman, was interested in more than his knowledge of tobacco processing and cigar manufacture, even though that was extensive, or his management skills. Sure Luca knew cigars like few other men did, and his were very unusual management skills, but still there was something in Riddleman's eyes that said even more was wanted. Well, Luca had no objection to that. Riddleman was a powerful and well-built man who liked control and wealth, and giving men like him what they wanted had never hurt Luca. In fact, it had helped him to climb from being a lazy, good-looking student in high school to being quite a wealthy man in his own right. If it had seen him escaping over back roads in the dead of night from several small South American countries, well, such was life. It had got him here, and with this new job he might end up doing for Riddleman, in Africa, he would become even richer. "So you don't object to something that is downright illegal then," Riddleman asked twirling a cigar between his fingers as he stood leaning on the mantle of the marble fireplace in the ground floor drawing room of his home. "Shall we say, I'm versatile?" Luca replied giving Riddleman a bedroom smile. Legal was a word that didn't really mean much to Luca who did whatever seemed like a good way to make money and get him what he wanted from life. But he had always been fascinated by tobacco and cigars, and he had some good experience in the associated business of cigarette-tobacco selection and grading. "Do you think you can handle the machinery? This is Africa. The locals in the factory wont have a clue, and there's no service guy waiting up the road on the end of the phone to help you." "I will manage," Luca replied dropping the bedroom look. He had taken a few bad steps in his time and had learnt to be resourceful. He did whatever it took to survive and prosper. "In Panama I kept the cigar machines going for six months during the trouble. I can be very resourceful Oscar. I have worked in many places that are not peaceful and quiet like this Virginia of yours, and where the workers hardly know what electricity is, let alone machinery." "That's why you are here Luca," Riddleman said looking at him and moving over to sit in the chair opposite the one Luca was sprawled back in. "I have asked around," he added. Luca wondered who he had been talking to, but decided thinking about it was pointless. "What I can do is useless if your contacts are not good," he responded instead, annoyed to be the only one having to prove anything. "This money you say we will make, is going to depend on you having good contacts, and the police and customs being taken care of." "Don't trouble yourself Luca, that side is dealt with. I can sell whatever my factory can make with you running it," Riddleman said firmly Now Riddleman was sitting opposite Luca, leaning back in his overstuffed leather chair with his legs spread wide, and he asked him, "So you think you can give me whatever I want?" while twisting a fresh cigar between his lips to wet the end of it. "I know I can," Luca had replied, smiling, and then he was kneeling between Riddleman's spread thighs and reaching for his zip. "Not so fast boy," Riddelman said, pushing Luca back, "Not so fast. This business may not be completely legal, but I still want high-quality products. Good cigars and a high quality cigarette that 80 percent of our customers won't be able to pick from the real thing. And the rest won't be sure about. I want to be in this business for a while Luca, not ten minutes." "Of course. We both want that," Luca replied, suddenly uncertain of what was expected of him. "Whatever else I want from you, first of all I want to know that you really do know how to produce a decent cigar. And to produce a decent cigar you need to know a decent cigar when you pick it up and sniff it," Riddleman said, leaning forward and holding the cigar he had been sucking on under Lucas nose and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, making it crackle. Luca sniffed at it, annoyed, "It smells genuine to me," he said, "Not the absolute best, but real Cuban. Hand rolled. You can see that." Instead of settling back into his overstuffed club chair to smoke his cigar, Riddleman stood up, almost between Luca's thighs, and said, "That was easy. Now I think we will take a little walk." Luca joined him as he strode a short distance down the wood-paneled hallway of Mystrelle, the historic Virginian plantation house that Riddlman had recently acquired and was now living in. Part way along he opened one of the heavy paneled doors and held it wide for Luca to pass him, then followed him inside and closed it. The room was dry and cool and dark-dimly lit and lined with dark timber. Riddleman opened a panel, and Luca realised that around the walls were dozens of small paneled cupboard doors. But they were not ordinary cupboards; each one was a small humidor, and inside each humidor rested several cigars. "So," Riddleman said, "Let's try a test shall we?" And he took a cigar from the open cupboard and passed it to Luca, who took it carefully between his thumb and forefinger and examined it, then brought it to his nose to roll and sniff. "Santa Damiana," Luca said with assurance, he'd worked in the Dominican Republic, "Delicate flavour." Riddleman took the cigar back and, putting it away, opened another door and gave Luca a longer and thicker cigar. This time Luca frowned. "Ha, a good one, a Big Butt. Not as good as the one in your mouth now. Maduro, Pennsylvanian wrapper." "So, you really do know your stuff," Riddleman said, smiling broadly. "I see us getting along fine together. But I wonder what you will make of this one," he said, opening yet another humidor cupboard and taking out a huge bullet-shaped cigar. "This one has just come in. Rolled on the sweaty thighs of muscular young men." He said, smiling and laughing as he handed it over. "Phew," Luca said, wrinkling his nose. "Good leaf and not badly made, yes, from Africa, Cameroon, I think. But so big and thick, humph, who could smoke it, and the smell-yeow, it is almost animal. It is not the tobacco." He looked at Riddleman suspiciously. "Ah, but what is the smell?" Riddleman asked, his eyes hooded now as if he were in heat. Luca frowned and sniffed again, closing his eyes. Then he laughed. "It is a cigar for fun," he said, feeling his cock twitch, and making a back and forth movement with the eight-inch-long, more-than-inch-and-a-half-thick cigar. "They have amused themselves in the factory with this one." "Hmmm," Riddleman hummed, waving the cigar away as Luca tried to hand it back to him. "You may like to know it comes from the factory you may soon be managing. And what was fucked with it?" Riddleman asked in a husky voice. "The ass," Luca replied in a low voice, letting Riddleman lock eyes with him as the cigar was finally passed back to him. "And how else do you think you can satisfy me?" Riddleman asked. "You obviously know enough to make sure we produce a good cigar, and hopefully a good enough cigarette to fool most men, but what else can you do for me?" He asked, holding the ass scented cigar in front of him and still fixing Luca with his hooded eyes. Luca felt the heat rise up in his body, like a physical surge racing through him, and moved in and kissed Riddelman on the mouth. Then he hesitated a moment, not entirely sure how to go on, because Riddleman stood there, immobile, holding the cigar. Then Luca started to unbutton his own shirt. He was in a casual shirt and pants, because this had been an informal interview. No human resources manager would have been satisfied with the selection procedure Riddleman used, and Luca hadn't felt he needed to look like an accountant when he dressed for the meeting. Now Luca undressed as if he were performing a striptease to some unheard music, and he was more than aroused himself by the setting, by the thick, used cigar, and the lustful look in Riddleman's half-closed eyes. He fixed his eyes on the big cigar, sure now that Riddleman knew exactly what he wanted to do with it and that he, Luca, had guessed exactly what that was. And he was interested. He liked to be dominated like this sometimes. And Riddleman was a man who could dominate. Luca's cock sprang up against his flat belly as he removed his briefs, and he stood there naked, as he wrapped one hand about his erection and stroked himself and pinched his nipples and stroked his belly before cupping his balls in his other hand. But as he was getting ready to turn around, Riddleman extended the cigar and pressed it to Luca's lips, and Luca laughed silently as he opened up to allow it into this mouth. Then he closed his lips and made love to the big, fat, smooth-skinned cigar with his tongue and cheeks, wetting it down and caressing it, deep throating the slick column of tobacco as Riddelman fucked it in and out of Luca's mouth. Luca's eyes were locked on Riddleman's as he made love to the cigar in his mouth and stroked his own cock, though he wanted to be stroking Riddleman's cock. Wanted to be taken. The big man's free hand was flicking over his new employee's chest and squeezing Luca's nipples and then ran down to join Luca's hand stroking his cock before it descended to his balls and squeezed them. Luca opened his mouth and cried out, as his cock spouted cum up onto Riddleman's shirt and up his own belly. When the cigar was finally withdrawn from his mouth, well soaked in saliva, Luca and Riddleman both seemed to shudder in an ecstasy of shared heat, and Luca turned and bent over, reaching back and parting his firm round butt cheeks, to open his crack and present his hole to Riddleman. Luca was happy to let Riddleman believe he owned his new employee, his new factory manager, because right then in the humidor-lined room, he almost did. Luca's breathing was jerky as the wet cigar was pressed to his rim and moved around it, rimming him with the damp, tightly rolled end of the column of tobacco. His hole twitched wildly, opening up, wanting Riddleman to force the thick cigar in. Then the cigar was being pushed in, lubricated by its saliva coating. His own spit and Riddleman's, helping it move into his well-used channel. Luca couldn't suppress his moan of pleasure as it dragged along his walls on its slightly painful entry. And as it was rotated and fucked into him, he bucked and begged as eagerly for it to go deeper and harder as he would for any big cock that might be filling him. Maybe even more, as knowing it was a cigar already worked inside the passage of at least one of the young men in the factory he was going to be taking over, aroused him even more. Only when the cigar had opened him fully was it withdrawn, and Luca still held his cheeks apart in anticipation, though his own cock ached for some attention. Riddleman was not as thick as the cigar had been, but his full length could enter Luca, burying itself deep until his mass of dark pubic hair was crushed against the Latin's skin, and Luca groaned as the big man drove his hard tool into him. When Riddleman was pumping him hard and deep, Luca finally reached for his own cock and stroked it. But Riddleman had other ideas, and wanted control, and taking hold of Luca's wrists, jerked on his arms, up and back, pulling Luca back to him as he thrust deep, getting even more depth to his fucking as Luca felt pain in his arms and a deep fullness and real possession. Then Riddleman had pulled out, his big fat cock slurping, and with both men panting, had pushed Luca to one of the walls and turned him around facing him, and had him hike his legs up around his hips and settled him back onto his cock. Luca embraced Riddleman as he lowered himself down ad lifted himself up fucking himself, rubbing his own throbbing tool up against the big man's slightly bulging belly, moaning and opening his mouth for a kiss. Riddleman dug his tongue into Luca's mouth and explored it briefly. Then Riddleman was pushing Luca's chest back and moving away from the dark wood-paneled wall. Luca suddenly lost his grip and his head and arms fell back to the floor, Riddleman's big, surprisingly strong hands gripping his hips, the fingers digging in until Luca had himself balanced on his shoulders, Then Riddleman fucked down into him, and as Luca looked up his belly he saw a cigar, and screamed out as Riddleman lay the tobacco pole against the top of his cock. Luca was almost sobbing with relief as he saw it was the Cuban cigar Riddleman had been mouthing earlier, not the African monster, that was now pressing to the top of Riddleman's own cock. A cock pulled back in Luca's hole so that the tip of the cigar could work its way in the first small distance. Luca arched and moaned and spread his thighs as wide as he could, crying out at the rough stretching that the thick cock and the premium cigar were giving him, and moaning loudly as Riddleman expertly worked the two hard tools together in his stretched passage, in a wild plowing that was over too soon in a flooding creaming of Luca's guts. Then a hand encased Luca's throbbing cock and squeezed and rubbed his cap and in a wild spasm, he spouted cum up onto Riddleman's chest and chin, then spouted another load as his cock was milked again. Totally spent, Luca's legs let go and he slid to the floor, looking up at Riddleman, who stood between his tangled legs and looked down at him with a satisfied smile on his face. It was then, while observing Riddleman's expression as he looked down on him, with his cum dribbling from his ass, that Luca decided he didn't like Riddleman and was going to see how much money he could screw out of him. And Luca knew almost as much about screwing money out of wealthy men as he did about cigars. **** Those Luca saw working below him as he looked out over the cigar factory through his office window were mostly bone and ropy sinews. Big heads and undernourished, with flashing white teeth. He was no philanthropist, but he knew the factory workers were better off than most of the others in their villages, than most in Cameroon, in fact, and work in the factory was eagerly sought. Then Luca walked to the other side of his office and looked out on the other part of the factory. The part that he had spent the time since his arrival setting up for Riddleman. It was smaller, but the floor was concrete and fully enclosed, and it was filled with modern cigarette making machines, with several young men working in the hot, steamy conditions, watching the machines as they spun out hundreds of thousands of cigarettes each day. They were being wrapped in fine white paper with a tan patterned band below a strip of type that said, "Marlboro" on it and packed in the familiar red and white packet. And, in fact, the quality of the cigarettes Luca knew was very good. They were good enough to be accepted in most places in place of the real thing and even went to the Canary Islands and Spain. This part of the factory was where the brightest and best workers were employed, and here the young men were more filled out. As he watched, one man walked up the corridor between the two rows of machines, and his hips moved in a way that showed-off his full-rounded butt. Luca smiled, sure that Misoni was hoping he, Luca, was watching him. Luca flipped the intercom switch on the phone on his desk, "Misoni," was all he said. Several youths looked up at the window, or at Misoni, and grinned as the young black man made his way up the metal staircase, which clanged with each step, telling Luca when he had arrived in the outer office where Margaret, Luca's secretary sat. She knew better than to ask any questions, or to gossip, and just looked down her nose at Misoni, the latest young man to be making the climb, barely looking up from her computer screen as the young man opened Luca's office door and stepped through. The young man's mouth was split in a gleaming white smile, and he was dropping his shorts and grasping his already-engorging dick as the door closed behind him. Luca had also shed his shorts and pushed his chair away from his desk, so he was sitting in plain view of the door, with his own heavily veined erection in his fist and a smile on his face. Misoni dropped to his knees between Luca's spread thighs and, holding his bosses meaty tool steady, the young African took the huge pole into his mouth, his experience with sucking showing in how quickly he was deep throating its full length. Luca growled in response and took hold of the black man's hair as his black curly head bobbed up and down over Luca's lap, his cock sliding in and out of Misoni's tight lips and sinking into his even tighter throat. What he lacked in sophisticated technique Misoni more than made up for in enthusiasm and his ability to take it all. Luca fucked the ready mouth for a while, moving his tool about inside the soft cavern as Misoni worked his tongue about, eagerly slobbering and sucking on what he was being fed. Then when he was ready, Luca pulled himself out of Misoni's mouth and pulled the young man up and turned him around and lay him across his desk on his stomach From his desk drawer Luca pulled out the lubricant and condoms and fingered the gel roughly into Misonis's hole, enjoying the young man's squirming and yelping. When Luca was done with Misoni's passage, he crowned himself and sat back, and the young African came up and lowered himself onto Luca's throbbing pole, Luca guiding his cap to Misoni's hole and letting him impale himself slowly on its full length. Luca groaned at the slow encasing of his tool by the experienced bottom settling down on him. "Yes. Nice and tight," He moaned and pulled Misoni down hard. "Oh boss. Oh boss. You is so big," Misoni squealed. "Ha," Luca gasped, fully encased and starting to lift Misoni's hips, "Tell me, I am the best fucking boss you have ever had?" "You are the best fucking, fucking boss I have ever had, boss," Misoni cried out as he lifted himself up along the rod buried inside him, and then settled down on it again. "Yes boss, you are sure the best fucking boss," he sighed as he lifted his butt again, wriggling as he settled back, moving Luca's long cock inside him, so it was rubbing new places on its journey up and up. There were voices outside briefly, talking English, and then a giant of a black man opened the office door, stepped inside, and closed it, and Luca looked up into the face of Ahmadou, the locally based American agent for the cigarette manufacturing equipment. The new arrival already had his pants unzipped and his big fat cock out, stroking the dark rod to hardness. Getting It All "How long have you been watching?" Luca asked, with a lazy laugh, his cock growing even longer inside the youth he was fucking at the idea of the huge black man watching through one of the windows as he plowed Misoni "Long enough to enjoy it and to be ready to join you," Ahmadou replied in perfect English with an American accent. Ahmadou threw a folder onto the desk and dropped his pants and briefs, kicking them off as he walked over to join the two men. Misoni was pushed forward over Luca's desk and his boss moved with him, never loosing his depth in the young man in his lap. Ahmadou then rolled the office chair away from behind them and moved in, pushing Luca forward further over the back of the youth under him so his hole was conveniently positioned. Adding spit to his fingers, Ahmadou dug two of them into the puckered hole between the white ass cheeks, as Luca bit down on Misoni's neck and shoulders to stifle his yelps. Then Ahmadou rummaged in the condom drawer, quickly covered his pole, and was poking his mushroom cap at Luca's hole as the white man wriggled his ass and widened his legs to open himself and ease the pain of Ahmadou's rough entry. Ahmadou watched as his black dick slid into the hole between the white mounds of Luca's cheeks and then was plowing Luca hard and deep, while Luca managed to do shallow pumps into Misoni's ass. It was a wonderful sight, Ahmadou thought, as he looked down at the almost white body caught between the black "bread" of the sandwich the three of them made. He hummed happily as he watched his big black tool work in and out of Luca's pale white ass, seeing below Luca's balls and the base of his cock the black arse of Misoni, with the light cock slipping in and out of his tight hole. "What a sight," Ahmadou murmured, "White meat in the sandwich. Oh baby." The two foreigners came together; Ahmadou felt his balls tighten and was pounding Luca's ass when he saw Luca's balls move and his cock twitch as it deposited its seed in the condom deep inside Misoni. Then Luca felt Ahmadou pull out, heard the slap of the rubber coming off, and felt cum shoot over his back to the gasps and pants of the big American. The young African, Misoni, only came after the two men had come off him and he was able to reach for his own tool and stroke it to completion. "Ahh, you young men," Ahmadou said, laughing as Misoni's eyes rolled and his jizm shot across the floor. "Now go back to work" he added, and the young man grabbed his clothes and pulled on his shorts and T-shirt and was out of the door in seconds. Ahmadou had been known to turn nasty when he wasn't obeyed. "So, you go to America to see Riddleman?" Ahmadou said to the spent Luca once the youth was gone. "Yes. Riddleman's invitation to come and discuss progress was very convenient," Luca replied, lying back on the desk and playing with his nipples, wondering if he could get the black giant interested in another round. He was also reminded of Riddleman's indication that there might be some more satisfying private entertainment available during Luca's visit. "So our plans are going well?" Ahmadou said smiling broadly. Luca shrugged and reached for Ahmadou's arms and pulled himself up, seeing that, unfortunately, the American was all business. "You have got the paperwork?" he asked, "All official, and signed by the president?" "Of course. He is a great friend of Riddleman, but I am also his good friend," he laughed, "And as this is only for the disposition of his friend Riddleman's Cameroon businesses if he dies in debt to us, Mr. President was willing to sign the papers for the fee we offered, and here are your copies," said Ahmadou, pulling some documents from the folder he had brought in. "And we can prove he owes us money," Luca said, opening a manila folder containing details of the cigarette machine purchases and some extra items Riddleman had never ordered from Ahmadou, or paid for, but which sat downstairs in the factory. "Well, my plans are all in order too," Luca said. And he went into a deep kiss with the African. "Yes. In a week Riddleman will be gone, very sad, and there will be no doubts the factory, the plantations, the mansion in Douala, the cash, all of it, are ours. In a week." Ahmadou looked at Luca with hooded eyes, and Luca knew that the well-connected African-American probably had little intention of letting him, Luca, enjoy any of it for long. When Ahmadou left, Luca pulled open the lower drawer of his desk, and, taking the papers, Ahmadou had left he put them together with the ones he already had and put them all into a large envelope. "Unfortunately, my good friend Ahmadou," Luca said to the empty room, as he tapped the envelope, "I have already sold the plantations and the factory to the Chinese state tobacco company, which has more influence with the government here than either you or Riddleman do. Once I am in the states and Riddleman is gone, the deal will be finalised to my great advantage, and I will not have to return to this sweaty dump again." Luca sat there gazing into the future, a future where he never needed to work for anyone else again. "But I'll miss the fucks," he added wistfully, thinking of Ahmadou's big meaty cock and the obligingly eager young African workers he had enjoyed for the last few months. Getting It "Eat me, eat me babe. I love it. I love it." She said, only giving enough time to take out his penis to speak. She had to have it back quickly. She had lovely work to do and she wasn't going to miss a second. Eventually, they turned. There was no command, no signal. They turned as one. It was time for them to enter into each other. She wanted him and he her. They could wait no longer. She spread for him. He entered her and went to the depth of her cunt. It was an easy and delightful passage. Her legs wrapped him in, like a spider pulling in its victim. She would not let him move. She had him deep. She needs to savor him. He did not want to move either. He felt as if he were home. It was the place that he was meant to inhabit. They kissed again, and again, and again. They whispered lovely things to each other. They wondered why it hadn't always been so for them. Why hadn't they had this before? What made them so ripe for each other? Fucking became lovemaking. It became rich in passion and love. They were, like the Bible says, one in body, mind and spirit. They knew they had been meant for each other. The moment of discovery had come. This was there moment when happiness would enter their lives, even as Colin had entered her and she had taken him in. Words were lost in action and actions went into the unspeakable. There was nothing that would describe this moment. It could only be experienced. Clarisse and Colin ceased to be two. They were one in each other. It was a spiritual moment sealed with penis and vagina, prick and pussy, cock and cunt. It was primitive but ethereal, lust and love. It was everything. Slowly movement began again. Imperceptibly at first, then it became more noticeable. Their bodies began in rhythm, in sync with each other. Their lovemaking began to take on urgency. Their need began to show again. It picked up speed. His cock went faster. Her hips rose to meet him. Deep he went and she took him in. They were soaked in sweat, but they still kept on. Her cunt was anxious and his prick was desperate. Lovemaking became fucking again. Urgent, violent and passionate. Slowly, the hormones pored in the estrogen, the testostorone and the desire. Words became heavy with sex. "Fuck me you bastard." She ordered. "Bring it to me bitch. I want your cunt. Give it to me." He said. "Finger my ass. Rub my clit. Fuck me, fuck me. Fuck me," she wailed She grabbed his ass and dug in her nails. The pain struck him and he flinched. He went deeper. He moved faster. He felt her respond. He could feel the orgasm coming, but he was waiting, holding on. He wanted her with him. She could feel it coming too. Her asshole was twitching. Her juices were flooding her. Her vagina was contracting and she was pulling with her pussy muscles on his cock. "I'm coming you bastard. Come with me, come with me." She cried to him "Yes, yes, yes, let me know when you want it. I'm waiting for you." He said to her. "Now, now, now, let me have it now. I am here. Let's do it now. Give me you." She screamed. She let go and he went with her. They clung to each other, the shook and panted together. Their juices mingling and their bodies became as one. They didn't want it to stop. They wanted each other, for now for eternity. This was everything. It was passion, lust, need, and love. They basked in the fullness of their orgasms. It was everything at once. It could not end. It would not end. They lay on the bed, exhausted but together. They were a mess. The bed was a mess. They had no idea of time, of place. They knew peace. They knew joy. They knew love. For the first time in their lives they felt complete. The clung to each other and let time pass. They would make love again, but at the moment, who cared. It was they in union with everything that was. This was their time. All night and into the morning they slept and fucked. They explored all the holes they had. The afternoon was for the birds. They were going nowhere. Room service gave them the added strength and the housekeeping crew could wait. Chance had brought them together. They were not moving. A day stretched into the weekend. They extended their stay and took one room. Flights were changed and calls were made to two people who could have cared less what they were doing. They made plans for the future and the question then became urgent again. "Your place or mine." They would get it all figured out. Divorces would be finalized. A ring and a ceremony would make their union perfect. For the rest of their life Colin would lift her skirt, finger her pussy and suck his finger and then say. "Clarisse, you have the sweetest pussy I have ever tasted." And she would reply. "About the same as your cock. Love."