Her Husband's Boss
Maxwell Alexander eased back in his plush desk chair and
swung around toward the massive grey-tinted window behind him.
Only two weeks ago, he had been able to gaze down unblinkingly
through the golden May sunlight to the traffic-clogged Los Angeles
intersection five stories below, but summer had come scorching in
on the heels of spring and now the air shimmered with heat and a
hazy blinding glare. The sky seemed to drop down suddenly thick
with smog, like a stifling shroud over the sprawling city. The
newspapers had been reporting that the level of air pollution was
critical and had already reached the danger point twice during the
past week. As usual, the papers had blamed it on the complexes of
heavy industry that surrounded the city and editorial writers were
crying out for more stringent anti-pollution measures.
With an impatient snort, Max turned his chair back around
toward his broad mahogany desk and picked up the latest copy of
New World Steel, Alexander Steel Company's bi-weekly magazine. He
grinned perniciously at the striking cover photograph that met his
gaze--a shapely, long-legged blonde sunbathing next to a sparkling
bright blue river with a few gleaming white smoke-stacks rising
over the trees in the background, gently puffing out pale balls of
smoke into the unsullied sky. The caption read: "Pollution--
What's All the Fuss About?" Even though the picture had been
taken months ago, it still amused him to think of how he had been
keen enough to take advantage of a steelworkers' strike to scrub
down those smoke-stacks and then burn tons of newsprint in the
huge furnaces to produce that innocent-looking white smoke.
The "clear blue stream" had been a bit more of a problem,
considering the sulfurous waste that was being constantly dumped
into the river by the steel mill, but, just as the photographer
had said, "There's nothing you can't do with the right camera
filters, and good equipment." Sure, it had been expensive and
time-consuming, but hell, he thought smugly, it was well worth it.
It was exactly this kind of clever, creative thinking that kept
him in his position as president, and major stockholder, of
Alexander Steel, the booming company that his uncle Morton
Alexander had founded.
Yes, he mused proudly as he chewed off the end of one of his
expensive Havana cigars, he deserved every damned Wing he had ever
got. After all, it had taken him years to reach his present
position, and by God, he had had to scheme and connive, in ways
that few people could really appreciate, to gain control of this
industrial empire. In a rare moment of humility, he found himself
thanking the gods of fate that he had become so thoroughly
successful, had become a man who was wealthy and powerful enough
to avoid the unpleasantness of the smoggy Los Angeles summer by
remaining safely ensconced in the comfort of his lavishly-
decorated, air-conditioned office.
Puffing reflectively on the lighted cigar, he flipped through
the glossy magazine to the pages that outlined Alexander Steel's
profits for the last fiscal quarter. Though he knew every figure
by heart, he could not help but let out a low, satisfied chuckle
at the sight of the marked increases in orders and profits that
would make him and the other stockholders many millions of dollars
richer this year. In the ten years that Max had worked under his
aging uncle, Morton Alexander, he had learned the business well,
so well that the old man had had almost no choice but to promote
his enterprising nephew up to a vice-presidency, the position of
power from which Max had gradually taken complete control of the
company. That had been almost five years ago, Max recalled
nostalgically, and the promotion had been Uncle Morton's single
grave mistake in an otherwise brilliant business career.
Max never tired of remembering the details of his relentless
climb to power and wealth. Because of his nephew's extraordinary
business sense, the usually shrewd old uncle had tended to ignore
Max's occasional unscrupulousness and the new vice-president's
obvious impatience with ideas that ran contrary to his own. Max
had a tendency to interpret everything around him in terms of
dollars and cents in his own pocket, which after all, the old man
thought, might be a good thing from a stockholder's standpoint.
At first, the younger man's trenchant greediness about business
matters had disturbed Uncle Morton a little, and the aging steel
magnate would be tense and shrill after a few hours around him.
But gradually, Morton Alexander learned to relax around his eager
nephew and had come to regard the young man's impatience and
demands as nothing more than healthy ambition.
Cautiously, and then with less care, the uncle had started to
accept Max's advice on crucial new issues concerning important
company policies and had eventually entrusted him with the
handling of entire projects without feeling the necessity to
oversee them or examine the end results of his power-hungry
nephew's administrative efforts. Ultimately, with a great surge
of confidence that Max would be able to work even more effectively
with additional responsibility, the old chief executive had
brushed aside the violent protests of the other board members and
had seen to it that his ambitious junior relative was elevated to
a full vice-presidency.
That had been the beginning of the end for Uncle Morton. He
had sown the seeds of his own downfall as the reigning head of
Alexander Steel Company.
It had been only a matter of time until, little by little,
Max had thoroughly usurped his uncle's power and had phased the
older man out of the company altogether with only a comfortable
token pension and a relatively insignificant vote as a minor
stockholder. The other executives who had been troublemakers in
Max's eyes--the ones who had been foolish enough to show any
opposition to his ruthless rose to the presidency and full command
of the company--had been forced into either complete
administrative slavery or dishonorable resignation with a bare
minimum of compensation for their years of service with Alexander
Steel. One by one, the vacant posts had been filled with fresh
personnel that the new dictator had screened personally--a staff
of people who filled all the necessary qualifications and were
willing to accept low starting salaries with promises of handsome
incomes in the future if they somehow managed to meet his high
expectations of them in their various fields. No one had been
able to stop Max from having his way as the president of the big
corporation, and he knew that there was not a single employee who
could justifiably criticize his effectiveness as a businessman--if
one of them should even dare to think of criticizing him. As
merciless and underhanded as he often was with other rival
companies, and sometimes with his own customers, he had built
Alexander Steel's quarterly profits up to all-time record highs.
And even more impressive at least as far as the employees were
concerned, he had introduced incentive programs through which
everyone, from an ordinary laborer to a vice-president, could earn
attractive bonuses if they were able to fulfill the production and
sales quotas that he had posted on bulletin boards as being
"Normal Standards," but which veterans of the industry considered
beyond the capabilities of the huge plant as well as beyond the
range of the available market. Nevertheless, sales and production
continued to soar and, occasionally, much to the surprise of the
company skeptics, Max's secretaries posted bonus lists throughout
the plant.
In short, Max Alexander was an undeniable success in the
world of business and, moreover, he enjoyed his position far too
much to feel the smallest pang of remorse for anything he had had
to do to become what he was. To the contrary, he often found
himself almost wishing that he had not gained the pinnacle of his
career quite so rapidly and completely ... that there was still
some challenge left in his life. Ironically, Max's knack for
organization had made the company operate so efficiently that
there was little for him to do now but count up the profits and
amuse himself with an occasional new project--such as New World
Steel, the company magazine that now lay before him on the desk.
The magazine, which had started out as a half-hearted effort
to keep up with production trends started by other large
companies, had become Max's pride and joy, an attractive, glossy
testament to the success of Alexander Steel ... and it's
president! The ruggedly handsome middle-aged executive thumbed
proudly through the smart little publication, nodding in pleased
agreement with everything that his young editor Henry Cummings,
had included so far. It had taken Max a good while to clear all
the fancy intellectual notions out of the recent college
graduate's head, but finally he had trained the boy
satisfactorily.
The magazine was exactly as Max wanted it now, packed with
colorful photographs of new plants and operations as well as
busty, well-shaped girls to keep the stockholders interested in
the meat of the articles. Yes, young Cummings was certainly
coming along and, if he continued to remember who was buttering
his bread, the boy might possibly have a brilliant future at
Alexander Steel.
Max turned another page of the publication and suddenly the
expression of smug-faced complacency began to fade from his craggy
features. Below the thick mass of greying brown hair, the fifty-
three year-old executive's face darkened and his broad chest began
to heave beneath his expensively-tailored shirt and suit jacket
until his appearance was that of a lion on the verge of roaring
out its fury. On the desk before him the magazine lay open at its
last page, the headline of which read: "A Message from Max" ...
"Goddammit, Cummings, where's my picture?" the enraged bull-
like man bellowed out in his spacious office. "How in the hell
could you forget that?"
Then, remembering that the palatial office had been
thoroughly soundproofed as a result of his own orders, and that no
one but he could hear his indignant fury, he rose quickly from his
chair and leaned over the highly-polished expanse of desk to jab
impatiently at the buzzer that signaled his receptionist in the
next room. His tall, still-muscular frame seemed even more
ominous than usual as he bent over the call-box, punching his
forefinger brutally down on the button until a red light suddenly
lit up on the console.
"Yes--yes, Mr. Alexander," a nervous female voice finally
chimed in from the speaker on the machine. "I-I was just away
from my desk for a minute ..."
The girl's obvious terror pleased Max in his sour mood and he
found himself smiling evilly as he roared back in to the speaker,
"You're damned right you did, blondie! And tell your friends at
the water-cooler to break up the tea party and get back to work
right away!"
"Oh, yes, sir," she squeaked timidly. Max grinned to himself
sadistically as he imagined his deliciously built ash-blonde
receptionist cowering at her desk, making frantic gestures to his
small battalion of secretaries that they should return to work
immediately. He required a fairly large number of girls in his
personal secretarial staff because some of them were dead weight
and had been hired solely for their looks. Well, what the hell,
he thought defensively, what was the good of being president if he
could not indulge himself in a few harmless amusements at the
company's expense.
"Uh, Mr. Alexander, sir," the timid female voice from the
speaker broke in again, intruding on his thoughts. "Did you want
me for anything else, sir?"
His fury of a moment ago renewing, Max was just about to
instruct the girl to summon Henry Cummings to his office when his
wandering gaze fell on the page opposite his own "message" in the
magazine. Almost against his will, he stared feverishly at the
page headed "New Products" and at the picture of a buxom, round-
hipped brunette girl seductively caressing a huge roll of
glistening heavy-duty steel wire, one of Alexander Steel's newest
lines. Though he tried to maintain his waning anger at the young
editor, Max could not help but appreciate Henry Cummings' unerring
taste in female flesh. Max wondered for a long moment if the
magazine editor interviewed his models personally. Christ, the
very idea of all those gorgeous young women clustered in Henry's
tiny office, like a whole gardenful of flowers just waiting to be
plucked by any man with balls enough to do it, made the steel
magnate leer licentiously. It was no wonder that Henry sometimes
forgot a thing as simple as including the boss's picture with his
address to the stockholders, Max mused with a chuckle. Hell, the
poor kid probably had had a hard time managing to think straight
all the time.
"Did you say something, Mr. Alexander?" the receptionist
asked at the sound of her employer's muffled laughter over the
intercom. Max sat there in silence, continuing to stare at the
juicy female morsel in the photograph, his temple beginning to
pulse and throb.
"Aw, hell, buzz Miss Stillson in her office and have her come
in her at once," Max finally ordered. "And tell her to make it
snappy."
"Yes, sir," the receptionist's voice came back, a tone of
frightened obeisance causing her to squeak a little. It was not
two minutes after the intercom had clicked off that a small door
marked "Private" sprang open on the far side of Max's office.
"Honey, you know I'm right next door, you don't have to go
through a third party," a gorgeous raven-haired woman purred as
she stepped into his office, clad only in a revealing sea-green
negligee fringed with almost incongruous-seeming lace at the cuffs
and down along the deep vee of the neckline. "I could hear you
bullying that poor girl out there even over the sounds of the
baseball game on my radio."
"Dammit, June, you're on my payroll as my public relations
assistant, and you really ought to be dressed by this time of the
day," Max grumbled with mock sterness as his glittering eyes
hungrily scanned the generous, sexy contours of June Stillson's
nearly-naked body. Although Maxwell Alexander's ravishing dark-
haired mistress was in her late thirties, her provocative,
voluptuous body was always enough to send his blood pressure
soaring, and now Max rapidly forgot the younger girls on the pages
of the company magazine.
He added with a leering grin, "What if one of my secretaries
came into your office, baby? Now what kind of public relations
work would you be doing in that kind of outfit? Christ, June, who
do you think you are?"
"I'm just me, Max, and I'd be doing the same kind of work I
always do," she replied with a confident smile as she began to
stroll casually toward him, her full outward-curving hips swaying
seductively beneath the sheer fabric of her negligee. "Don't
worry, anyway, because I always keep the door locked when I'm like
this. I just had a feeling you might want to see me this
afternoon, so I dressed for the occasion."
Smiling at him cleverly, the statuesque beauty peeled the
thin garment slowly from her sensuous body and, dropping it to her
feet, did a small pirouette in the center of the spacious office
before she walked nakedly to his desk and leaned her smooth
rounded buttocks back on the hard wood edge, wriggling back along
the top until she perched gracefully in front of him. Her deep
amber eyes flickered smokily with suddenly-ignited lust as she
stared expectantly into Max's hard but handsome face.
"By God, you really want it, don't you, baby?" Max growled
excitedly at the beautiful woman whose buttocks were already
moving slowly in tiny little circles of anticipation on the highly
burnished wood surface of his desk, a scant few inches from his
leering face. "You little whore, I'll bet you don't think about
anything but cock all day long."
"Do ... do you want me to think about something else?" June
asked quietly, her sultry face suddenly changing to a clouded
expression of uncertainty and confusion. "I always do anything
you say, Max. With anyone." In her anxiety, her golden-eyed gaze
darted nervously around the room. "Do you have some business
friends you want me to entertain now? I will, sweetheart. I'll
do anything for you. I always have ... God, without you ..."
"That's right, baby, without me you'd be right back in the
gutter where I found you," Max chuckled cruelly, delighting in her
obsequious show of absolute dependence on him, whatever his whims.
That was the way he liked his employees ... especially his women
... answering gratefully to his every beck and call. "But don't
worry. I think you're going to be with me for a long, long time,"
he added expansively, "because we understand each other, don't
we?"
Relief registered clearly in the handsome woman's facial
features and then, once again, desire kindled in her eyes. "You
bet, sweetheart," she purred throatily and ran her slim fingertips
lightly and teasingly down the front of his white shirt until they
rested inquisitively on the buckle of his belt. Her long thick
eyelashes trembled excitedly as she asked in a soft tremulous
voice, "Do you have any ... public relations for me to carry out
today?"
"No, but I've got some private relations for you," Max barked
harshly, suddenly impatient with the wastefulness of mere
conversation. He rose hastily from his overstuffed chair and
began to pull at the stubborn fastenings at the fly of his
trousers. "My big old cock has just been waiting for the feel of
your sweet lips around it, baby, and it doesn't want to wait any
longer."
His lust-bright eyes fastened greedily on June's naked,
tantalizing body as he pulled down the zipper of his trousers and
jerked free his suddenly-hardening cock from the confinement of
his undershorts. The hot-blooded brunette had been Max's live-in
mistress ever since the high-powered executive had become bored
with a life of all business and damned little pleasure, and he had
discovered her one night where she worked as a cocktail waitress
in a flashy nightclub bar. Though he had never claimed to be
faithful to the willing, uninhibited brunette, the sexual
electricity between them had never faded and now, as his
appreciative eyes played lewdly over the exciting curves and
valleys of her lush body, he felt ripples of hot desire rushing
swiftly through the sensitive nerve-ends of his skin. His long,
purple-veined penis jutted out of the opening in his grey flannel
trousers and began to rise stiffly up below his slight paunch as
he stood at the back of his desk staring down at his mistress's
white, cream-like contours, displayed nakedly before him. His
gaze rested hotly on the sight of her plush, full breasts, the
narrowest of valleys running between the magnificent firmness of
the twin globes. His thick heavy cock jerked higher as his eyes
dropped lower to take in the milky, voluptuous hips that led down
to the delicious sweep of long slender legs. Between the shapely,
breath-taking thighs that draped enticingly over the edge of the
desk, Max could see clearly through the soft pubic hair covering
her ripe loins to the fleshy pinkness of her vaginal slit
glistening wetly in the afternoon light filtering through the
tinted glass window
"Now, baby," he suddenly groaned, hoarse with mounting need.
"Come over here and give me some of those sweet lips, the way I
taught you."
With a soft moan of pleasure, his naked mistress wiggled
across the desk, then leaned on one elbow until her beautiful face
was poised directly in front of him, within inches of his now
hard, pulsing shaft of flesh rising menacingly up from the
unzipped front of his trousers. Her long, red-lacquered
fingernails scratched lightly over the heavily-veined surface of
the rock-hard prick, causing it to jerk convulsively as the hot
air of her breath blew softly on it. Max's breath quickened even
more as she began to expertly massage the massive cock, lovingly,
up and down until one glistening drop of pearly translucent fluid
seeped out from the broad, mushroom-shaped head. She then moved
her slender fingers down lower to his sperm-bloated balls,
cradling their softness in her palm. Max groaned and gritted his
teeth at her expertly tender ministrations of his stiff cock and
large drooping testicles.
"Do you like it, sweetheart?" she asked coquettishly, fully
aware of the heated effect that her naked female body and the
teasing touch of her fingertips was having on him. "Does it make
you forget all about those nasty business problems that always
bother you?"
"You know damn well I like it, bitch," Max growled, irritated
by her mention of the business annoyances that he was trying so
hard to forget. "Don't tease me, goddammit. Just suck my cock!"
Suddenly, he moaned and jerked his anxious loins forward
involuntarily as the delicious wet warmth of her parted lips
closed over the sensitive, blood-swollen glans of his penis. He
moaned louder and reached down to tangle his fingers tightly in
her dark wavy hair, guiding the rhythm of her now-bobbing head
below.
God, how he had needed this!
Max looked down to watch the beautiful woman's penis-filled
face, her soft lips stretched wide with the thickness of his
aching cock buried at least halfway up in her sucking mouth. June
sensed his increasing excitement and began to suck harder,
twirling her smooth red tongue titillatingly around the moist
stickiness of the bulbous head. As he felt the tips of her teeth
digging gently into the rubbery, resisting skin, he turned his
head to gaze sideways into the huge mirror that filled the wall
beside his desk for a better view of his gorgeous, willing
mistress's face as his turgid, hard rod began to saw rhythmically
in and out of the brunette's wetly ovaled mouth. Christ, just the
sight alone was enough to drive him insane, causing his loins to
tense more and jerk up into her laboring face until the reflected
image he saw looked as though he were ramming his long, hard prick
more than halfway down her slender throat. Practically all of his
thick fleshy penis now seemed to disappear with each new powerful
thrust he made until finally only a short stretch of it showed
shining wet and white, protruding from her distended lips. She
was gorged with his fiery blood-filled flesh, his pulsating length
like a savage creature with its own existence and needs that had
taken control over his body and mind.
Jesus, he swore to himself, the bitch could really suck cock,
as though she had been born with one in her mouth and had learned
to treat it as part of herself. Sure, he often desired other
women--the younger and more innocent the better--but he could
always depend upon June to deliver the kind of pure satisfaction
he wanted ... like this ... and without any bothersome
preliminaries.
June's experienced tongue worked with a nerve-tingling swipe
of its tip on each out-stroke and was making his cock-head throb
and lurch as if a live electric wire were being touched against
it. The impassioned middle-aged steel executive was completely
mesmerized by the lewd spectacle in the mirror, watching the pink
moist flesh of her tightly compressed lips being focused on the
labor of giving him this obscene pleasure. Her full, heavy
breasts bobbed and swayed against her rocking torso, and the very
sight of it incited him to increasing heights of brain-reeling
passion.
"Keep on, keep on sucking my cock," Max hissed through
tightly clenched teeth, wishing that all of his employees could
give him as much pleasure as this one, this mature, full-bodied
woman. Shit, if the editor of the company magazine were a woman
and not Henry Cummings, how he would love to shove his stiff prick
deep down in her throat, as far as he humanly could, to teach her
a lesson she would never forget, so that she would never again
forget to include the face of Maxwell Alexander in any future
issue. The thought of the missing picture in New World Steel
filled him with a renewed momentary anger and he wound his hand
brutally in his mistress's soft brown hair, driving her face down
viciously into his thrusting loins.
"Suck harder, suck faster, goddammit," he snarled down at the
woman slaving between his wide-spread, trembling legs. Her ripe
body was beginning to gleam from the light beading of sweat
forming on her ivory skin, and he was gloating and enjoying the
sight of her lying subserviently on the desk, her lipstick-ovalled
lips wrapped tightly around the thick roundness of his stone-hard
cock as he stood over her, lunging his hips furiously into her
lovely twisted face.
He could feel a powerful pressure building relentlessly up to
a fever pitch in his painfully full balls, and he knew it would
not be long now. His huge cock felt like it was ready to explode
and spew the hot creamy sperm in his bloated testicles in all
directions, everywhere in the room.
He drove his pelvis heartlessly into her face, even more
cruelly now, and heard with delight the mumbled cry of protest
that came from her as his long hefty prick drubbed deeper and
deeper into her tortured, warm wet mouth, driving far down into
her working throat. But he heeded nothing in his quest to end
this exquisite agony, the ecstasy that was building, building,
building to the peak of spectacular relief in his burning loins
and within his balls.
Suddenly he felt a great upheaval in his lust-swollen
testicles as the boiling white sperm began to race in a hot stream
up the length of his thrusting cock. His own lips pulled back
over his teeth in an ecstatic grimace and he gasped hoarsely as
though in excruciating pain. His thick fleshy penis began a
sudden wild staccato jerking that, without warning, flooded his
beautiful mistress's hungrily sucking mouth with burst after burst
of heatedly sticky cum, ballooning her smooth cheeks outward with
each bullet-like spurt, so that she had to swallow quickly to keep
from choking, yet still mewling and crooning at his driving loins.
"Don't stop, baby, suck it, suck it!" he rasped as he
tightened his hands in her tawny hair and convulsively slammed his
pulsating cock farther and farther into her lipsticked mouth and
deep down into her distended throat. The naked woman obeyed and
continued to suck insanely as he shot his lewd sperm into her,
filling her mouth, almost drowning her, until at last he gave a
shuddering sigh and pulled himself back and out of her lips for
one final thrust. But he missed her still eagerly sucking mouth
by a fraction of an inch when he lunged forward again. The blunt
inflamed head rammed against the side of her face by mistake,
leaving a long sticky trail of hot cum smeared lewdly along her
upper lip and her right cheek. Undaunted, June twisted her head
and maneuvered her voracious mouth to seize the base of his hard-
throbbing staff of flesh between her teeth, like a dog with a
stick. Then, grasping his scrotum with her fingers, she lifted
her head to guide the glistening tip back into the warmth of her
open mouth, squeezing up on the cock with her fingers to milk out
and devour every last drop of the delicious white fluid.
Little by little, his sated penis deflated between her
ovalled lips and, at last, Max collapsed back into his chair in
exhaustion, pulling his prick from her lips with a wet little
slurping sound that resounded wetly in the stillness of the
office. A great sigh of relief escaped his lips, and June lay
back happily on the desk, a loving, contented smile spreading
across her beautiful, cum-smeared face. She lay there for a few
moments, catching her breath, then sat up again on the edge of the
desk.
"That's something you can't get in a board meeting, isn't it,
Max?" the perspiring brunette asked with a proud little smirk, a
sparkle of female triumph in her brownish-yellow eyes. Catching
sight of the magazine that lay crumpled beneath her rounded thigh,
she picked it up and added with a silly giggle, "Why don't you
have Henry do a story on my blowjobs, Max? Think of the publicity
you'd get!"
At the sight of the copy of New World Steel, Max's face
darkened and he felt his irritation returning anew. He knew that
it was no use trying to explain to June what that irresponsible
punk, Henry Cummings, had done, for she would only laugh and tell
him he was being too sensitive. Still, though, it was his
magazine and his company, and he had a good mind to teach that
young editor a lesson. Perhaps June might have some ideas, he
mused inwardly.
Just then, his angry thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing
of the intercom.
"What do you want?" he barked gruffly into the console,
abruptly motioning to June to get off his desk.
"You have a visitor, sir," the receptionist's half-frightened
voice informed from the speaker. "I wouldn't have bothered you,
sir, but she said it was personal and very important. She says
her name is Mrs. Cummings--Mrs. Henry Cummings. Isn't Henry
Cummings the--?"
"I know who he is, dammit," Max interrupted impatiently. At
the same moment, however, a strange light of interest began to
fill his crafty eyes. "Personal, is it? Well, ask her to please
wait for five minutes or so, and then send her on in."
The red light on the console blinked off and Max looked up to
see June standing before his desk, her hands placed defiantly on
her full hips, hurt glittering in her amber eyes.
"Max, I don't try to tie you down, but after all, this is my
territory!" she angrily protested. "Can't you take that girl
somewhere else? I mean, after what we just did, that makes me
feel awful!"
Max chuckled at her words, then broke into laughter at the
pain-stricken expression that immediately came over her face.
"Oh, but baby, you don't understand," he finally managed to say
through his cruel mirth. "I don't even know this broad, but I do
have a little score to settle with her husband," he added a bit
more soberly, smoothing back his slightly greying hair with the
palm of one hand.
Reaching across the desk, he gave June a quick reassuring pat
on a generously rounded buttock cheek, then turned his thirty-
four-year-old mistress around and shoved her gently toward the
door through which she had entered his office earlier.
"Don't worry, baby," he consoled her jovially, "this is just
business. If anything comes up, I'll make certain to call you
in."
June shot him a long, unbelieving glance and started across
the room, pausing only to pick up the flimsy negligee that she had
dropped to the carpet when she had first entered the office. As
Max watched the provocative sway of her smooth, cream-like
buttocks on crossing the room, he felt a brief moment of regret
that he had not had more time to spend with this always-exciting
woman. She was so damned dependable. But then, just as quickly,
he marshaled his thoughts back to matters of the immediate moment.
He quickly zipped up his trousers, then, and sat back down in his
chair, beginning to speculate over what Mrs. Henry Cummings could
possibly want with him. Whatever it was, Max was going to make
damned sure that that young editor, bright as he was, never forgot
to put the company president's photo in the magazine again.
Chapter 2
"Mr. Alexander is engaged right now, Mrs. Cummings, but he'll
be free to see you in a few minutes, if you'll be kind enough to
wait here."
Lost in her own thoughts, Kathy Cummings was startled by the
sound of the blonde receptionist's voice, but after a moment, she
murmured absently, with embarrassment, "Oh yes, of course, I'll
wait. I know he's a very busy man."
By the time Henry Cummings' young wife had collected herself
sufficiently to speak, the pretty receptionist had already
returned to her desk and was answering one of the insistently
buzzing lines on the switchboard in front of her. With a
fleeting, nervous glance around the spacious, modern waiting room,
Kathy ascertained that, curiously, there was no one else in line
to see the president of Alexander Steel. She stiffened with
irrational apprehension as she wondered again exactly what she
would say to the powerful mysterious man who was her husband's
boss. Now that she was here, sitting in the very building in
which Henry worked, the nervous young woman wondered if perhaps
she had made a foolish mistake by coming here. For the flash of
an instant, she was tempted to turn right around and go back home
again, to its relative safety, but the mental image of her and
Henry's home made her remember exactly why she had come downtown
today ... and why she would not go home until at least some small
step had been taken to set their marriage straight again.
But what on earth would Mr. Alexander think when she
attempted to explain why she wanted to get a job, she wondered
nervously. How could she ever make him understand that perhaps
the very future of her marriage with Henry depended upon whether
or not she could really prove herself to be a contributing,
productive member of their marital partnership?
Kathy shifted anxiously in her chair, picked up a magazine
from a nearby table, then quickly put it down again, deciding
instead to make a last-minute check of her makeup in a tiny mirror
which she withdrew from the expensive shoulder bag now on her lap.
It would not do, she knew, to walk into Mr. Alexander's office
with smudged lipstick or a grimy face from the long bus ride she
had made from their suburban home into the industrial section of
Los Angeles.
It took Kathy but a minute to pat her long, shiny strawberry
blonde hair into perfect place and then apply just a touch more of
pale beige lipstick, adding a slightly more pinkish color to her
already full, sensuous lips. The thin line of eye makeup around
her wide brown eyes was still perfect, though, and she knew from
experience that, no matter how determinedly she powdered her face,
the light smattering of golden freckles across her nose and part
way down her cheeks would show through anyway. Even though she
was almost twenty-two years old, those puckish freckles gave her
the appearance of a teen-aged tomboy, despite her alluring curves,
but she had learned to live with them over the years consoling
herself with the memory of Henry once having said that they were
"cute" and made her actually prettier. Despite what was to her
the annoyance of the freckles, she could see in the little compact
mirror that she was indeed a very attractive young woman, the kind
of young woman whose sweet, almost childlike facial features were
a direct contrast to the delectable, curvaceous symmetry of her
sensuous-looking body. The long, lucent swing of her shoulder
length reddish-blonde hair tended to sophisticate her pixyish
beauty, so that she almost looked her age.
Replacing the mirror in her handbag, the exquisite young wife
shook her golden hair ruefully. It was disconcerting to look
always so cherubic and inexperienced, especially at times such as
this afternoon, when she was determined to impress Henry's
formidable boss with her maturity and potential efficiency--
impress him enough to land a decent job. With an involuntary
gesture of nervousness, she reached down to smooth out the short
skirt of her crisp, navy-blue cotton dress over her silky,
suntanned thighs, hoping that the prim little frock with its lace
cuffs and collar was proper and demure enough to help her in her
plan. It was the longest dress she owned now, one left over from
high school days, and yet it still exposed a fairly daring expanse
of shapely, sun-browned leg well above the knee, and its slim
figure-hugging design did little to hide the lush contours of her
body, the high-set, swelling breasts and firm, circular buttocks
that accentuated her tiny girlish waist to such good advantage.
Well, so what if she did look a little daring, she rationalized,
it could not hurt her chances for the job--though, God knows, it
had not been doing her much good in her own home.
At the thought of her dismal home-life with Henry, her
bright, ambitious husband, the slight, satisfied smile that had
begun to play across her perfectly-formed lips faded away and her
high, clear brow wrinkled with anxiety. In the six months since
her marriage to Henry, the beautiful strawberry blonde had been
forced to arrive at the conclusion that something was basically
wrong with their relationship, something serious, and until last
night, she had been unable to put her finger on precisely what it
was. Now she knew and the realization had spurred her on to the
desperate action she was taking today. She would get a job and
show Henry once and for all, that she too had a mind, a mind
probably just as good as his, and that she was perfectly capable
of making some decisions concerning their marriage--even if she
did occasionally make a mistake.
The mere memory of what had happened after dinner last night
made Kathy's heart race furiously and she felt the blood rushing
to her pretty face at the humiliating recollection of her own
husband's cold, objective lecture about her "irresponsible
conduct" ... as though she were some sort of capricious school
child who needed to be rapped across her knuckles for naughtiness.
All she had done was take advantage of a "once-in-a-lifetime sale"
on needed household goods in a local department store, considering
very carefully before she had bought the bathroom scale and ...
well, an electric blender. They were things they should have and
no doubt would have bought sooner or later anyway, but Henry had
acted as though her decision had driven them to the verge of total
bankruptcy. The whole thing was almost too silly to take
seriously. After all, Henry made more than enough money to live
on--and, really, who needed a bank account anyway after less than
a year of marriage? Seriously, who did, she fumed to herself,
thinking with resentment of her husband's cautiousness.
"Why do you always have to be such a grouch?"
Kathy started at the sound of her own voice and, realizing
that she had spoken her thoughts aloud, looked furtively around
the waiting room, afraid that the receptionist or someone else
might have overheard her voiced complaint. But the reception area
was still deserted except for the busy blonde at the desk, who was
working the switchboard and writing out messages, oblivious, it
seemed, to Kathy's presence in the room. Her embarrassment
quickly waned and was replaced by defiance again. What if someone
had heard her, she angrily asked herself. Perhaps, somehow
someone might have figured out who she was talking about and told
Henry what she had said about him.
She hardly had the nerve to tell him anything and the fact
that she always became so intimidated in his presence made her
madder than ever, when she actually stopped to think about it in
the light of their latest disagreement. All she ever said was,
"Yes, darling," "No, darling," "I'm wrong again, darling," even
when she knew perfectly well she was right--at least part of the
time! Well, this time she was going to surprise him, really shock
him, and be right for a change. As soon as she had a job, they
would have so much more money that they would be able to afford a
truly nice house as well as a healthy savings account ... and
maybe that would do something badly needed for their sadly
disintegrating sex-life.
Kathy sat up straight in her chair and her hand flew to her
cheek in horror that she had even thought such a thing. For a
moment she wondered at her own audacity at daring to even mentally
criticize her own beloved husband's judgment in matters which she
knew so little about. After all, except for a few sessions of
back-seat petting in college, she had been virtually innocent when
she had married Henry and he was the one male in her life who had
ever taken the time and trouble to be patient and teach her what
bit she knew about physical love. At least he had in the
beginning. But now that she was finally beginning to lose her
fears, to relax and truly enjoy the sensation of her husband's
hard penis pistoning in and out of her most secret place, instead
of being frightened to death as she had been when they were first
married, Henry seemed to be losing interest in her sexually.
There, she was thinking the same thing again, the pretty
blonde realized with a sense of self-irritation, she had decided
early in their marriage that it did her no good at all to question
Henry's judgment in matters like this and yet ... and yet, there
was obviously something wrong. Her chocolate-brown eyes clouded
over with regret as she remembered the nights, seemingly so long
ago, when Henry would spend hours coaxing her to do things that
seemed so terrible, like actually touching his hard, lustfully
throbbing penis before he put it into her, and he had always been
right. They never hurt her and Henry had always provided both of
them with a strange extra enjoyment. That is, all except for the
weird things that he could never convince her to do, things that
she had heard about in school but did not really think normal
people did. Lately, instead of talking about them, he became
angry when she refused to let him perform those perverse acts with
her, and angrier still, when she refused to do them to him. It
was not as though she had not tried sometimes. God knows, she
always wanted to keep him happy and in love with her, but she just
couldn't force herself to go through with them, not and feel
normal. Even now, in the business-like atmosphere of Mr.
Alexander's waiting room, she felt herself quivering with
revulsion at the memory of one night, not long ago, when Henry had
tried to push her head down under the sheets and then the coldness
with which he had treated her afterward, when she had tearfully
refused to obey him. Why wasn't he more understanding, she sadly
wondered. Why couldn't he realize that she had fears and doubts
just like anybody else?
"Mrs. Cummings, Mr. Alexander will see you now."
"Th-thank you," Kathy muttered as she rose automatically,
flustered by the sudden presence of the blonde receptionist a few
feet in front of her chair. Though she knew it was silly, she
could not help but be embarrassed by the idea that she had been
mulling over such personal things, right there in the anteroom of
Mr. Alexander's office. Suppose his receptionist had been able to
tell what she had been thinking by the look on her face? It was
ridiculous, she knew, and yet Kathy felt relieved as she stepped
into her husband's boss's office and heard the door shut quietly
behind her.
Chapter 3
"How do you do, Mrs. Cummings," Maxwell Alexander greeted
smoothly as he rose courteously from his chair and extended his
hand to the desirable, fresh-faced young blonde, a wide charming
grin on his face. "It's certainly a pleasant surprise to see--I
mean, meet you this afternoon. Now tell me, please, what can I do
for you?"
"Well, Mr. Alexander, it's a little complicated," Kathy
admitted slowly and rather shyly as she glanced covertly at the
ruggedly handsome, middle-aged man who had seated himself again
after making certain that she was comfortable in her own chair.
From Henry's occasional descriptions of his boss's appearance and
temperament, she had expected Mr. Alexander to look like a little
old wizened man and not at all the hearty, he-man-like individual
seated before her. "You ... you are Mr. Alexander, aren't you?"
"Yes, the very same, my dear," he informed her with a broad
chuckle. Max's gaze intensified as he drank in the sight of Henry
Cummings' young wife's lush, girlish figure, the birth of a notion
sparking in his narrowing eyes. God, what a juicy little bitch,
he thought with salacious delight. Her long coppery-gold hair and
big fluttery brown eyes were like something out of one of his
wildest fantasies and her body, hell, his mouth was watering just
looking at it. It was sensationally ravishing, an erotic dream,
and he fully intended now to make that dream come true. God, how
had that punk Cummings ever managed to land a sexy dish like this,
he wondered in speculative astonishment. Max's mind was already
working on the interesting possibilities of getting a devilish
revenge against his forgetful magazine editor as well as reaping
the sexual fruit of the fool's savory little wife. He smiled
suavely and murmured suggestively, "Well, I'm sure I have enough
time for a lovely young girl like you. Here, why don't you sit
down over there, on the couch, where we can be comfortable during
our chat?"
"Thank you, Mr. Alexander," Kathy replied in a soft but
uncertain voice as she rose and followed the important, older man
to the plush black leather couch that lined the span of almost one
entire wall of the huge, sumptuously decorated office. Her
thoughts reverted automatically back to Henry's words about this
man, his employer, that he was "a powerful, dynamic leader of
men," but all she could think of at the moment was how Max
Alexander's penetrating gaze threatened to bore right through her
clothes to her bare flesh when he stood for what seemed an
eternity beside the couch, above her. She felt a cold shiver of
apprehension course through her, as though his piercing eyes were
stripping her bare, and the ever-fatherly, too-friendly, tone of
voice he used with her made her feel even more uncomfortable and
worried.
"It--it's very kind of you to see me without my having made
an appointment," she excused herself, carefully avoiding his eyes
as she settled herself more sedately on the sofa, struggling not
to betray her discomfort around him.
"No, not at all," he reassured expansively. He recognized
the sudden fear blazing clearly in the beautiful girl's brown eyes
when she caught him blatantly inspecting her stunning, voluptuous
body and he realized with lecherous delight that she was no doubt
just as young and innocent as she seemed to be. Christ, what else
should he expect, since she was married to Cummings, he concluded
sarcastically. And that was all the better for him, the boss, for
what could be more fun than introducing this perky-looking, hot
little piece of exciting ass to a couple of things that she could
take home to show her husband? He would make Maxwell Alexander a
name that her husband would remember for the rest of his life.
But first, Max decided, he would have to make this sweet young
bitch feel more at home with him, not so touchy and afraid. He
could hardly wait to get his eager hands and mouth on those ripe
alluring curves of soft flesh and bring her to a grand pitch of
abandonment and ecstasy that would make her beg, beg for what he
had to give her--good hard cock!
But she had to be ready, he reminded himself and for the time
being he would have to be content just to relish the youthful
choiceness of her tender, intoxicating body from a discreet
distance.
"Forgive me for staring at you, my dear," he said softly with
the same sly practiced sincerity that he used so often with the
more difficult members of his board of directors. "I don't know
quite how to say this, but I certainly never expected Henry's wife
to be so ... so attractive ... and intelligent, too, I imagine."
"Oh, thank you for being so kind, sir, but I'm just a plain
housewife and probably don't deserve so much praise," Kathy
demurred, yet was secretly pleased that the handsome mature man
had immediately discerned the very thing that she had been trying
so hard to show Henry. It was rewarding to be flattered so
generously and the conversation was going so easily that she could
not resist the temptation to get directly to the point. "Most men
don't think a mere wife needs any brains to function, but I'd like
to show Henry that that's not really true."
"Oh, that's too bad. I didn't know you two were having any
trouble. I'm afraid I can't understand how any man could possibly
underestimate a charming woman like you. You can tell me about
it, if you want to ... And please, call me Max," he said good-
naturedly, tilting his face downwards to conceal the little smile
of triumph that was twitching at the corners of his mouth. Holy
Christ, he had already found the key to this gorgeous girl's
emotions--on his very first attempt--not to mention what was
surely the way into her pants! There was no doubt about it, Henry
Cummings did not know how to handle his tasty young wife, but, by
God, he, Max Alexander, certainly did ... more than she knew ...
and he would keep on understanding her so well that she would
still be thanking him for his kindness when he gained control of
her luscious body. "Now, would you like to have a bit of
refreshment with me?"
"Well, I ..." Kathy blushed faintly as she tried to make up
her mind about the wisdom of accepting a drink with Henry's boss.
"Oh, come on, we can talk more easily if we're relaxed," Max
encouraged, a sudden flash of inspiration triggering his scheming
mind on to fresh designs.
"Umm, well, yes, I guess I'd like a small one," she heard
herself say, even though she had never imagined that she would
become friendly so quickly with her husband's employer. Though it
was already well into the afternoon and Henry would be getting off
work in a few hours, the delicious strawberry-blonde decided
courageously that it could not hurt to talk with this obviously
warm-hearted man for a while longer. After all, he had
immediately understood her predicament, the kind of problem she
was having in her marriage, and she definitely needed someone to
commiserate with her anyway. Besides, she was almost positive now
that she would get the job whenever she worked up the necessary
bravery to ask for it. It would be nice to become friends with
her future employer--perhaps even convenient. "Uh, Max," she
began hesitantly, using his first name for the first time as she
watched the tall, brawny man walk quickly toward a Chinese
lacquered cabinet on the other side of the commodious office,
"please don't make mine too strong. I ... I haven't had much
experience at drinking."
"Don't worry yourself, because I'm just going to give you a
bit of rare French liqueur. It's special, some stuff I had
imported," Max assured her, still grinning.
And you, my dear, are going to find out just how special it
is in a few minutes, Max chortled to himself with a vulgar grin as
he withdrew a crystal decanter from an ornate liquor chest in the
corner of the room. As he reached inside for two cordial glasses,
the gloating executive peered surreptitiously over his shoulder,
slyly feasting his eyes on Kathy's exciting, sensual body like
some sort of monarch about to enjoy a ritual sacrifice. He could
barely wait to see the effect this drink would have on her, to
watch her, to watch her sweet, innocent face when she first began
to feel the effects of the potent aphrodisiac on her nervous
system. This licorice-flavored liqueur was generously spiked with
absinthe and Max knew from his own lewd experience that there was
not a single woman in the world who could successfully resist its
legendary lust-producing powers. He poured an ample portion of
the liquid in the glass he planned to give Kathy and then measured
out an equally large dose for himself, just in case he might need
a bit of extra stimulation after his delightful session with June
earlier that afternoon. But he doubted he would need it, not with
such a fresh, naturally-arousing young morsel of female flesh such
as Kathy around. Hell, he could already feel his prick beginning
to jump impatiently in his trousers, just at the idea of ramming
it in someone as young and magnificently formed as Kathy Cummings
appeared to be. The fact that she was married to that
intellectual kid, Henry Cummings, who had slighted him so rudely
in his own company's magazine, made the prospect all the more
pleasing to think of.
Actually, he was not even really interested in his revenge
anymore, Max decided with a feeling of irony, as he turned from
the liquor cabinet and walked back briskly toward the opulent
leather couch. Seducing young Cummings' pretty wife had been
merely an intriguing idea at first but now he was much more
excited by the nearness and fragrant scent of the naive, full-
breasted girl seated on the couch before him. He had fucked a lot
of women in his life but seldom did a man find an opportunity to
get his hands on anything as sweet and fuckable as the thrilling,
tawny-haired young housewife who was now smiling up at him
gratefully as he handed her the brimming glass of aphrodisiac he
had poured and she unsuspectingly accepted. The beautiful Mrs.
Cummings might even try to play hard-to-get, at least at first,
and that would make it all the more fun, watching her being slowly
subjugated despite all the moral values and idiotic principles
that she had obviously built up into a kind of fortress during the
relatively short span of her life. Seeing them all crumble in
one cataclysmic fall, when he rammed his stiff cock deep between
her soon-to-be wide-spread legs, would be a pleasure that was well
worth working for and one that should not be bought too easily.
It might cost him a pretty penny to purchase a rare aphrodisiac
like this, and to maintain an office as impressive as this one,
but that was a cheap price to pay for the ultimate thrill of that
one final irreparable lunge of his penis into a tight, obviously
little-used pussy like hers.
Max pictured the almost angelic-faced blonde lying flat on
her back with her long, splendid legs pried wide apart and just
the thought of the helpless mewling grunts of pleasure he would
force from her soft, pink lips goaded his limp prick into aching
hardness inside his trousers, so that he was obliged to sit down
hurriedly beside her before the throbbing bulge betrayed his true
intentions.
"Oh, I really do like this drink," Kathy beamed with a smile
of surprise after she had lifted her glass and taken a small
experimental sip. It tasted like liquid licorice and went down
very smoothly, like velvet. She lifted her glass again and took a
longer sip, relishing the satiny sweetness.
"Now isn't that better, my dear? Drink up," Max chuckled,
smirking to himself as he raised his own glass and drained it with
one great gulp. He watched the innocent wife finish off the
contents of her glass and had to resist the temptation to pour
them each a second portion. But he knew he had to be careful.
After all, the little lady would be going home to her husband that
evening and Max found himself wondering sardonically if the
forgetful punk would even know what to do if his choice little
wife suddenly began to behave like a sex-crazed slut. It would be
interesting to observe some other time, he thought, but for now he
would have to watch his step until he had her completely under his
influence, which, if he had his way, would not take very long to
accomplish.
"So then, tell me about your problems, Kathy," the older man
said in a fake but convincingly paternal tone of voice as he
settled his husky frame back into the softness of the black
leather sofa, his hip a scant few inches from her sleekly formed
thigh. With studied nonchalance, he slipped one arm up on the
cushions behind her shoulders, leaning closer toward her as he
added jovially, "I can't imagine any problem with Henry that you
couldn't handle with just a flutter of those eyelashes of yours."
"Oh, Max, this is serious," she protested almost gaily,
giggling in spite of herself. Strangely, she was already
beginning to feel the effects of the drink he had given her, a
warm, euphoric lightheadedness and slight tingling sensation all
over her soft ivory flesh, and suddenly she was no longer as
afraid of this wealthy imposing man who was now sitting so close
to her.
Having made up her mind to be absolutely frank with Max, she
looked down at her hands clasped in her lap and slowly announced,
"Henry doesn't take me seriously at all, Mr. Alexander ... I mean,
Max. No matter what I do, to him I'm either stupid or just plain
wrong, and to tell you the truth, I'm getting awfully tired of it.
I want to show him that I have a good mind and am perfectly
capable of using it!"
"Of course, my dear, of course you can," Max soothed as he
reached over and patted her arm to confirm his words. "And I'm
sure that together, you and I will be able to figure out a way to
show him that you're not someone who deserves to be sold short.
As a matter of fact, if you weren't married to Henry, you'd
probably have a career of your own and, if you don't mind my
saying so, there would be quite a few men after your beautiful
young body."
Kathy shivered slightly from the abrupt change of tone in his
voice and at the unexpected boldness of his somehow clammy touch.
Before, he had been gracious and rather fatherly, protective in
his understanding of her marital troubles with Henry, but now,
suddenly, he had changed in a matter of minutes. And she also
detected a certain brazen confidence in his manner that frightened
her and for some reasons made her feel even more apprehensive than
she had felt when she had first walked into his office.
She picked up her glass again, hoping to find more of the
comforting warmth that the liqueur had given her, but she found
that her glass was empty.
"I think that one of those is enough for you," the middle-
aged company president advised her with a deep laugh as he caught
her staring down unhappily into her glass. As the exquisitely-
shaped young blonde looked up at him in confused dismay, he
grinningly added, "Well, we wouldn't want you to go home drunk,
would we? Your husband might think that you were out doing
something naughty this afternoon, instead of staying home to be
the good little housekeeper he thinks you are."
"Yes, while he's interviewing all those beautiful models all
day in his office," Kathy said bitterly, unknowingly echoing Max's
own thoughts of earlier that afternoon. Sitting up straight then
on the plush couch, she suddenly shook out her long, glistening
red-gold tresses in a gesture of angry defiance. "Maybe I should
do something naughty for a change, to show him that he can't
always take me so much for granted. I'm not just a piece of
furniture in his house, you know!"
"I'll say this, dear--if you were, I'd like to buy out the
store where he bought you," Max smiled, nodding his head up and
down. "In any case, believe me, you're much more beautiful than
all of those other gorgeous girls who keep floating in and out of
his office all the time."
Clucking softly, he reached over and draped his arm around
her wispy waist, tightening his hold as he pulled her close back
against his broad muscular shoulder. She little realized what she
was doing as she allowed herself to fall limply back against him,
all the fight taken out of her by Max's last words about her
husband's constant contact with the lovely models. She had never
dared to ask Henry who actually found and hired all those girls in
the magazine but now a terrible suspicion began to form in her
mind about why their own sex life was suffering so much. Good
God, if a man had dozens of beautiful sexy women in his office
every day, why would he bother to care about his devoted wife who
was always waiting at home for him? Why would he take the time to
discuss strange and unusual sex acts, though, when he could
undoubtedly find all the variation he wanted right in the privacy
of his own office? Surely they would gladly do all he asked, and
more, even worse perverted acts than his own dumb little wife
could think of, the blonde reasoned in a sudden fury of jealousy.
Maybe, just maybe it was because Henry was even more of a stranger
to her than she had imagined lately; maybe he got some sort of
evil thrill out of having a faithful wife as someone he could
always count on and a stable of pretty girls at the same time.
The hurtful humiliation that had plagued her ever since their
argument the night before, was suddenly magnified a thousand-fold
and a slow, biting anger seethed inside her, burning away the
tears that had begun to form from the shock of the notion that had
just occurred to her.
But her thoughts were brought to a swift halt as Max slipped
his hand slowly up along her side and cupped her delicate rib-cage
warmly in his palm, under her breast. He could see the change in
her expression as the suggestive hint of the proposal of her also
doing something naughty he had planted in her slowly blurring
brain took better hold and he waited, knowing that at any moment
the absinthe would begin its gradual conscience-killing effect on
her unguarded nervous system. He knew it would not be long now
before this bewitching little creature was his, in his own
personal trophy bag. She was not quite ready yet, but in a few
minutes at the most, the aphrodisiac and a little friendly
persuasion on his part would quell any resistance that she had
left to frustrate his plans for her.
Kathy's wakening body stiffened momentarily as she felt the
older man's hand daringly caressing her full right breast,
stroking and squeezing the gently palpitating white flesh until a
delicious fluttery feeling began to take command of her nerves.
She flushed with guilt as she felt a shameful fleeting desire to
press the satin-smooth quivering mound more solidly into her
husband's boss' excitedly sweating palm. Something strange was
happening to her mind and body, something that she was absolutely
powerless to understand, and she squirmed her smoothly rounded
young buttocks nervously against the corded edge of the couch
cushion, trembling with disbelief as she felt the shocking
electrical contact against the soft hair-lined lips of her
moistening pussy under her navy-blue dress and silken panties.
God, it was horrible to admit, but it felt better than anything
she had ever felt in her life and, powerless to restrain herself,
she ground her hips down furtively with greater force against the
cushion edge as her breath began to quicken more and more. Could
she be drunk from that one innocent drink that Max had given her,
Kathy wondered with breathless perplexity as she felt the nipples
of her breasts grow twitchingly hard in unwanted physical arousal?
She had only been joking when she had said that she should do
something "naughty" and now it was all she could do not to throw
herself wantonly on Maxwell Alexander and press her blazingly hot
body against his.
She shuddered and chilled from the sexual acceleration that
thinking something forbidden gives, even while still struggling to
resist the sensations of raw forbidden lust that were now pulsing
maddeningly through her surging veins.
"This couch is almost like a bed, isn't it?" Max's low voice
insinuated into her thoughts. "Are you comfortable, my dear? How
do you feel now?"
"Fu--funny ... I--I don't know ..." she answered in a strange
other-worldly voice, her girlish heart pounding savagely in her
rapidly moving chest. She was aware of nothing but Max's brazen
fingertips rubbing lightly over her painfully erect nipples under
her dress, stopping occasionally to pinch each one to an even more
stinging hardness and causing a series of ripples of fantastic
sensations to dance freely through her alerted nerves each time he
did it. Her breath was steadily quickening, coming in tight gasps
as the burning sensation in her trim little belly grew with
maddening intensity. She knew that she was in trouble now,
trouble of her own doing, but she also knew that she should not
allow Henry's boss to squeeze and knead her breasts this way.
Still, though, she did not really want to estrange this warm,
suddenly exciting man who had, until a short time ago, been so
gentle and compassionate with her.
"Please, Mr. Alexander, I m--mean, M--Max," she objected
weakly as she tried desperately to ... I came to talk to you
about ... about a job. I have to ... to prove--"
"You don't have to prove anything to me, baby," Max growled
suddenly in obscene delight as he saw the helpless confusion that
was registering on Kathy's vibrant young face. "If that punk
husband of yours isn't man enough for you, there's someone here
who is!"
Max jerked her head abruptly toward him with his heavy hand
and pressed his muggy lips wetly to her, grinding his mouth
tightly against her mouth. The terrified young wife groaned and
struggled uselessly for a sudden panicky moment, feeling his hand
pressing then even more demandingly into the pillowy softness of
her ivory breast.
"Relax, baby," he whispered into the fragrant warmth of her
full-fleshed young lips. "Just let yourself go ... and you won't
be sorry."
Uncertain of what she should do, Kathy let herself go almost
completely limp as he had commanded, surprised at the softness of
his lips pressing onto her moist mouth. The thought crossed her
befuddled mind that this was the first time another man had kissed
her since
Keys: blackmail bond humilation boss office
The Dildo in mom 2.
As it clattered to the floor she laid back on her bed saying, "It's your turn now; show Mommy how you stained all those sheets." Her voice was soft and sultry. I didn't need to be told twice, within seconds my clothing was on the floor.
I jumped ont
..continue reading Incestous love
Linda Hall stood, shaking her head as she had so many times in the past. Her boss was persistent, but she was not about to change her mind, this time or any other. Once again she wished she knew what it was about her that made him and so many of the
..continue reading Lesbian erotic story
Cindy had a free period at school, in the Afternoon,
and as the weather was warm, she decided to sit at the
side of the School sports field and read a book, and
watch a boy's football match. 11 Year old Cindy was not
all that interested in Footba
..continue reading
Photo Shoot: Pregnant slutwife
My head spun and my mind raced a thousand miles an hour
to catch up the events that had brought me to this
narrow street. A street in the arts district, a row of
quaint frozen in time buildings in this small coastal
town I had come to call home.
..continue reading My Sister Paid the Price
When I turned 18 I had saved enough money to but my
first car. It was a 96 Olds, 2 door, but it had a big
powerful engine in it. That's what I wanted. Anyway my
sister Kelly got to thinking I was only put on this
earth to drive her and her friend
..continue reading A wife attends a trade show with her husband
This story may or may not be true... I'll let you decide.
My husband is in sales, so we travel a lot on incentive
trips that he has won. Unfortunately, he often spends time with
his boss and the other sales people, leaving me on my own. But
sometime
..continue reading