Eliza had been looking forward to her vacation in the Caribbean for several months. She had gone to a tanning salon to get a good all over tan, she had been working out so that she would look great in a bikini or even on a topless beach. She had managed to get up her nerve enough to go into an adult store to pick up a few toys for her "honeymoon" with Ted.
She missed her husband Ted. Ted was an international banker and often traveled abroad. He'd been in Venezuela now for three months, and would be for three more.
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"Jesus!" I bleated in my wife's ear while watching her best friend, Melissa, pull her husband's giant cock out of his shorts. They were only a few feet away from us, snuggling up on the couch across from our own, but tonight they were taking their exhibitionism to new heights.
Melissa and Tommy had come over to hang out, something we've done countless times before, but, tonight things got a little heated, and it all seemed to start before I even got home from work.
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Saturday afternoon on a brisk November day in Calgary. I was into my second month of a six month stay, having come up from Houston for a consulting job in the oil fields. So far, Calgary had been nonstop hard work, and this day was the first break I'd taken. Keith, a foreman with the company I was contracted to, had invited me to watch a hockey game with his girlfriend Danielle and his crew of tough, muscled roustabouts and roughnecks.
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I don't claim to speak for all cock suckers but what I'm about to reveal isn't going to come as a surprise to those who have given this subject any thought at all. Married cock suckers, in general have a guilt complex! That's right. If you think about it why would a normal, healthy, married man actively seek out men to "service"? Something is rotten in Denmark.
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As a newly appointed detective assigned to a special police operation Georgina was less effective than the effect she had on men, which was electric. It wasn't just a pair of long legs or the tiny waist emphasizing large breasts, it was more than that, it was the innocent look upon her face when listening to them. She had a way of tilting her head to one side looking intently into a mans eyes as though he were the only man in the world and what he had to say was important. Sitting in his car with her Sergeant, Angelo was getting the full treatment.
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"Hello. I'm Mr. Devereux to see Ms. Hill," I said to the receptionist. My voice was clear and authoritative, but not overly aggressive. I was standing in front of her desk, which had the usual assortment of secretarial accoutrements; a large phone, pens, paper, rolodex and computer, which she was busily typing away at.
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