Sarah, getting dressed for work in her lawyer blues, decided life was not over. Just because her husband decided, at 35, that the priesthood was his real calling in life, why should her life be over? She hadn’t had intercourse in three months and, while she knew about fellatio and cunnilingus, those experiences were really distant memories.
The priesthood! For the love of Christ, why didn’t he just tell her he was gay? Either way, he was telling her she was not enough, that she lacked something. Of course he denied all that, assuring her this life change had nothing to do with her. Sure! Right!
Sarah took a look in the mirror. Not bad, she thought. Not bad at all. California beach blonde from the neck up. Not much from the neck down, but that’s the fault of the suit. Without it, an observer would see the body of a very fit 25 year old, 5’7″ tall and well proportioned. The observer would never think she was actually 35.
The suit. What to do with the suit? No court appearances. No client meetings. And it was Friday. Sarah’s law firm had no dress policy. Her eight partners–seven men and Beth–always dressed professionally. Over time, though, the men had shifted from suits to slacks and jackets to, from time to time, “nice casual.” Sarah and Beth had not, however, made the shift. Sarah always thought that, as a woman, her life did not include dressing “nice casual” in a law office.
“What the hell,” Sarah said out loud to the mirror as she quickly began undressing. “It’s not like anyone can fire me.” Off came the jacket, skirt, blouse and pantyhose. Through the closet Sarah cruised, finding an “above the knee” skirt which matched up well with a black silk T-shirt. On came the new clothes (sans hose) and sandals. “Lookin’ good,” Sarah said, wondering what had possessed her to change her clothes and start talking to herself.
* * *
In her Range Rover, Sarah decided to treat herself to a latte. She’d stopped going to Starbucks, deciding she should watch the bucks. Arriving, she found a parade of large boxes on wheels, none of which, she felt certain, transported more than one person or anything “off road.” Oh well, she thought, 20 years ago it was little Beemers. Everyone must conform!
Walking in, Sarah saw her old counter boy. Barista? Whatever, he hadn’t changed a bit. 22, if he was a day, about 6′ and loaded with physique and charm. “Will he remember me,” she wondered, “and why do I care.”
“Venti skim latte, ½ caff, very hot, right?”
“Huh,” she said.
“Your order, Sarah.”
He knows my name. And my order. God, was I that good a customer?
“Sure, that’s it,” she said. “But how did you remember. I’ll bet I haven’t been here in six months.”
“And why’s that?”
We’re having a conversation, she thought. Why? And what about the line behind me? Reflexively, she glanced behind her. No one was there.
“I’ve been out of town a lot,” she mumbled, embarrassed to admit that she’d been trying to save a few bucks. “God,” she said to herself, “get a grip. You’re a lawyer. People pay you $250 an hour and you’re nervous in a conversation with a punk kid who, if he wasn’t selling coffee, would be scooping ice cream or bagging fries.”
Sarah paid and stood around, looking at merchandise that interested her not at all.
“Here’s your latte, Sarah. Do you live nearby?”
“Yes,” she answered automatically. “Why?”
“I thought I’d call you sometime. Maybe we could catch some tunes or something. Shake it a bit.”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said, grabbing the latte and barely avoiding a man who had walked up behind her.
Out the door. To the Rover. “Where are my fucking keys? Where are my fucking keys?” Sarah could not figure out why she was so distressed, but knew she needed to get a grip on her emotions.
* * *
Arriving at her office, Sarah stopped at the reception desk to check for mail and messages. Old habits die hard, she thought, as mail now gets delivered to her office and messages get left on voice mail.
The stop did, however, provide opportunities for a client in the lobby, the office runner and the receptionist. In differing ways, they all let her know she was noticed.
The client, a man she recognized but had not met, was a local power broker. Rich. Big, in the way that powerful men are big without being fat. Fit, for a man of about 60. Well cared for. And unmarried, a fact she knew because her office had handled his divorce.
Bob Falham looked her over, top to bottom, liked he owned her. Nothing, from the rapidly developing goose bumps on her legs and arms to the nipple erections, seemed to escape his notice. When he got done looking at her he looked away, returning to his magazine and quietly moving his hand to his crotch to make a minor (major?) anatomy adjustment.
Jeffrey was the office boy. Good looking and buff, he had the brain of a gnat and an attention span of no measurable length. Sarah had been begging the office manager to fire him.
Jeffrey lacked Mr. Falham’s finesse. He said, in a too loud voice, “Wow, Sarah,” causing Sarah’s face to blush deeply, the skin to remain goose bumpy and her nipples to grow larger and harder.
Helen, the receptionist, watched the scene unfold over the 15 or 20 seconds, curious about what Sarah was going to do. Helen, in her early 40s, was the picture of frosted elegance. Perfect hair, makeup and a summer weight suit. No casual attire for her.
As Sarah moved away from the reception desk, Helen beckoned her back. “We need to talk,” she whispered in Sarah’s left ear. “Buzz me.”
Sarah walked toward her office, briefcase in hand, puzzling out the lobby situation. Did Mr. Falham really adjust his penis, and was it because of me, she wondered. Why did Jeffrey, the airhead who probably did it upside down with 105 pound blonde cheerleaders dumber than himself, find her attractive enough to make a scene when, usually, he ran away from her, fearing for his job? And what does Helen want?
Settling into her office, Sarah felt damp. Her forehead felt wet and, more important than that, her privates were not “clean and dry.” She knew she’d showered, dried off well and powdered herself. So why the wetness?
Sarah did not get much time to think about the matter, as Tom Faust (her partner/mentor) walked in, followed by Bob Falham.
“Sarah, you know Bob, don’t you.”
“No, I don’t think we’ve met, but I know a lot about you, all of it good, welcome, please sit down,” Sarah said in a rush of syllables, knowing her body was heading into goose bump/blush/nipple erection mode.
The men sat down, Tom trying to figure out what he was missing and Bob looking bemused. Bob took the lead.
“Sarah, I know we haven’t met, but Tom’s always said great things about your work. I’ve got some litigation that needs handling and I’m tired of paying Bauer, Shearson prices. Interested?”
Sarah regrouped, stifling the “huh” that almost escaped her lips and said “sure” with all the enthusiasm she could muster. Suddenly, she realized the dampness between her thighs had returned. Damn, what a day.
Bob looked at her and said, very pointedly, that he hoped she would have time to focus on the work. Then he winked at her and suggested they get acquainted over lunch.
Sarah, still in a trance, said “sure” and got out of her chair and moved toward her purse. Bob, laughing, looked at his watch and asked her if she often ate lunch at 9:15 in the morning.
Sarah blushed very deeply and, with that, said “whenever.” Bob said he’d call, Tom shook his head and the men left.
Sarah moved toward the door, locked it and flopped down in her chair. Totally exhausted, she looked at her watch and noted the fact that it was only 9:16 a.m. “God,” she mumbled, “I’m ready for bed and I just woke up.”
Sarah’s immediate concern was the dampness. Pulling up her skirt, she examined her bikinis. They reeked of vaginal discharges. Gawd, she thought, do I reek!
Sarah was a strong, assertive woman. She knew she needed to gain control over herself. Relying on her lawyer training, she mentally removed herself from her emotional state and evaluated her situation. “Assess. Re-assess. Act.” That was her mantra.
Sarah got up, unlocked the door and walked back to her desk. Sitting down, she hit her intercom button.
“Zoe, please get in here right away.”
Zoe, Sarah’s devoted assistant, ran in. “What’s up,” she asked.
“It’s my time, and I screwed up this morning. Can you dash over to Macy’s and buy me some panties before I make a real mess of thing?”
“What style,” she inquired, knowing Sarah’s size. “Briefs.”
“No, ah, ah, see if you can find a thong. It’s, ah, it’s this skirt I’m wearing. If I wear briefs I’ll show.”
“Back in a jiff,” Zoe promised.
* * *
Sarah got down to work, leaving her feelings behind. In a half hour she’d gone through her mail and her e-mail, billing almost two hours worth of “receipt and reviews.” The knock on the door startled her.
“I’m back,” said Zoe. “I hope these are O.K.”
Sarah barely looked up, feeling the blush and the goose pimples. “Just leave them on the chair. Thanks, and I’ll pay you back before lunch. Oh, and please close the door. Thanks again.”
* * *
As soon as the door closed Sarah was removing her briefs with her left hand and grabbing for the Macy’s bag with her right one.
The thong was black satin, sexier than anything else she owned and not what she’d expected from Zoe.
Pulling on the thong, Sarah realized she’d hardly solved her problem. She was as wet as she’d been, just from having removed a pair of panties in her office and from seeing and feeling the new thong.
“Assess. Re-assess. Act.”
She quickly removed the thong and placed it, along with the stained briefs, in her bottom desk drawer, behind the box of leftover holiday cards from last year. She grabbed some tissues, dried her crotch and sat down, placing some uncrumpled tissues under her crotch. She reminded herself not to get up from her seat without achieving a permanent solution for her situation.
* * *
Sarah worked, solidly, for an hour and a half or so. Happy with her progress and her morning’s production–4.75 billable hours between 9:15 and 11:45–she had just started thinking about where she should get take-out from when her phone rang.
“Sarah, Bob Falham. Are we meeting for lunch?”
Sarah paused, gathering her thoughts as she felt the flush, the goose bumps and the hardening nipples. Ready to say yes, Sarah asked Bob when and where. When he told her he could meet her in ten minutes and take her to the Downtown Club (in the next high-rise), she “heard” her mantra and suggested that they meet at 12:45, in about an hour. Bob agreed, and they ended the call.
Sarah needed the hour to get ready for her luncheon meeting. She didn’t plan to study up on her client, although she knew that would be a good idea. She didn’t plan to do any other work, although she knew the meeting could swallow up a chunk of the afternoon and that she had some work she ought to get done before she went home.
Her mantra did not tell Sarah she should act like a lawyer. Instead, her mantra told her she’d better have an orgasm before she left for lunch, or she’d make a fool of herself at the Downtown Club!
* * *
Sarah debated her choices. A stall in the ladies room seemed very tacky, and not so very private. Her office–with a locked door and a depressed DND button on her phone–would be more private, unless someone heard her.
Suddenly, Sarah saw the solution to her problem. The firm’s war room–where trial preparation occurred–had a lock on the door and, more importantly, a lock on the closet door. She did not think anyone would wander in during the noon hour and she was very experienced in the art of manual self-stimulation. This would work!
Pleased with herself for finding a solution so quickly, Sarah grabbed more tissues–she’d better get a new box, she thought–and headed for the war room. Entering, she closed and locked the door, opened the closet door, stepped inside and locked the door.
The closet was dark, and barely large enough for one person. Perfect (so long as no one dropped by).
Sarah quickly unzipped her skirt and let it drop to the floor. Reaching down to remove her panties, she realized she wasn’t wearing any. Suddenly, she remembered her mental note: deal with the tissues keeping her crotch dry while she worked.
“Oh God,” she mumbled, realizing what she must have left behind when she got out of her seat to come here. Then, in an uncontrollable way, she started giggling as she thought about the silent double entendre. “Come here/cum here.” This was just too much.
Stifling her giggles with her left hand, Sarah started diddling with her right hand. Soaked and sticky, she was thoroughly enjoying her place in the universe, even if it was only three feet square and very dark.
Soon, Sarah’s left hand left her mouth and joined her right one. Right hand on her clitoris, left hand in her vagina, she stroked and plunged. She knew she should hurry, but she was enjoying herself too much! The clock and getting caught were not issues on her radar screen.
* * *
“Knock, knock. Anybody here?”
Helen, the receptionist, had just entered the war room. A 2:00 meeting was scheduled and she liked to make sure the room was ready for its occupants.
* * *
Sarah’s arms stopped in mid-stroke/plunge, as she heard Helen’s voice. Thank god, she thought, it’s only Helen.
Using her voice to mask the rustling of her skirt and the sound of the zipper, Sarah called out to Helen that she’d been looking for a looseleaf binder in the closet and gotten locked in. By the time Helen got to the door and opened it Sarah was properly dressed again (albeit without panties), and hoping Helen wouldn’t notice the odor or her very frazzled demeanor.
Accustomed to taking the offensive, Sarah asked Helen to have someone check the lock on the door right away. She also told Helen someone ought to check on the cooling system in the office, as the closet was very warm.
* * *
As Helen watched Sarah’s lovely ass leave the room, she noted the absence of the panty line she’d seen when Sarah left the lobby earlier in the day. She wondered what had really been going on in the closet.
* * *
Sarah walked back to her office and, as she entered, she glanced at her watch. 12:25. Not quite time to go.
As Sarah sat down at her desk, her phone rang. Unthinkingly, she picked it up.
“Sarah, Ben Davis here.”
Ben Davis. Pompous young fart. Never does what he says he will do and assumes, just because he has good manners, that rules don’t apply to him.
“Where’s your disclosure statement, Ben?” The disclosure statement that should have been received at least 45 days ago. The disclosure statement that, most recently, the court said she must have by last Friday.
“That’s what I’m calling about, Sarah. My client had an emergency and can’t get me what I need for another couple of weeks.”
“No,” said Ben. “That’s it. Just no.”
“No. Not just no. No and goodbye, Ben!”
* * *
Sarah hung up as Ben blathered on. Without glancing at her watch (or, for that matter, seeing the damp wad of tissues near her desk), she grabbed her purse and headed for the elevator.
Sarah arrived at the Downtown Club at 12:40. Bob Falham was waiting for her in the elevator lobby. As she got off the elevator he greeted her and asked her if she’d like a drink before lunch.
Lawyers–lawyers who work for a living and work all day–don’t drink at lunchtime. When they do, the day ends early and “billables” goals are not met.
“A martini would be great,” Sarah said, wondering who had just spoken those words.
“Good,” Bob responded. “We’ll have a drink and I’ll fill you in on what I need. That way we can enjoy lunch.”
* * *
While Sarah and Bob were discussing the litigation–a very good piece of commercial litigation that could keep Sarah busy, on and off, for more than a year–Jeffrey was doing the afternoon office clean-up. The firm had found, over the years, that mornings and the noon hour tended to generate a lot of trash. Lawyers eating breakfast and lunch in their offices and throwing the residue in the trash had taken something away from the firm’s carefully, and expensively, acquired ambiance.
Walking into Sarah’s office, Jeffrey awakened from his walking slumber. Moving toward her desk he thought: God, I’d like to fuck her.
Grabbing the trash can, Jeffrey removed the plastic bag and mindlessly opened the extra bag the cleaning crew had left in the bottom of the can. As he walked away his eyes focused on the paper on the floor. Reaching down to pick it up–something he wouldn’t have bothered doing in any other office–the scent hit him. Pussy!
What in the world, Jeffrey thought. Did Sarah get off right here in this office? Why didn’t she throw the tissues in the trash? What’s going on?
* * *
Sarah was ready for a third martini when Bob suggested wine with lunch. That sounds nice, Sarah thought, responding with a “hmmm.” Sarah thought she was handling herself well, and the client seemed to be happy with her. Besides, they had finished the discussion about the case, so her brain cylinders did not need to be on full alert anymore.
* * *
Bob was also enjoying himself. He knew he shouldn’t be drinking at lunch, as his doctor had told him to reduce his intake of alcohol, exercise more and go on a diet. Of course, his doctor also told him to reduce his stress level, and he was certainly feeling better about the lawsuit. In fact, but for how he was feeling about his doctor and his doctor’s advice, he was feeling damn good!
* * *
Sarah and Bob ordered and continued their chat. Bob, getting comfortable, asked Sarah why she didn’t wear her wedding ring.
“I’m not married anymore,” said Sarah.
“So you must have abandoned the poor guy?”
“No, actually. He abandoned me.”
“Was he nuts? Who’d he leave you for?”
“The Pope. He’s becoming a priest.”
Bob started laughing. Louder and louder. Sarah joined in, thinking, even as she lost control, that she was glad that the dining room had emptied out, and that she and Bob were in a small alcove.
When Bob gained control, he noted several things about Sarah. First, her face was cardinal red. Second, she had very large, very erect nipples. Third, she seemed to be uncomfortable in her chair, as though she had an itch. God, I’d like to fuck her, he thought.
Sarah and Bob laughed their way through lunch and a great Cab. Leaving the Downtown Club Bob asked if he could see Sarah again. Through the fuzziness in her brain she remembered her essence: I’m a lawyer! With that she recognized just how much she had compromised herself. Just as quickly she noted the fact that she hadn’t done anything.
“Lunch was great. Thanks. Have your office send over the file and, once I review it, we should meet.” As Sarah finished her little speech she stuck her right hand out and waited for Bob to shake it.
Bob, dumbfounded and wondering what he’d done to elicit such a cold and businesslike reaction, did not grab Sarah’s hand quickly. When he reached for it it had already been withdrawn and Sarah was turning away from him in the direction of her office.
Sarah arrived back at the firm. She was in a daze, realizing how close she’d come to going somewhere and fucking a client’s brains out. A client! She knew the ethical rule about not sleeping with clients backwards and forwards, and also knew how close she’d come to breaking it.
Walking directly to her office Sarah didn’t even notice Helen leave her desk and follow along. As she sat down in her chair and sighed, Sarah saw Helen standing in the doorway.
“What,” said Sarah, sounding to herself like a 12 year old who knew she’d been caught and thought “brazen” was the safest attitude.
“We need to talk.”
“The closet in the war room.”
Sarah turned beet red. “Wh- what about it?”
“I know what you were doing in there.”
“Huh. When?” Sarah brained was fuzzy from the booze. God, how much had she had to drink? And in the middle of the day.
“Oh, right,” Sarah mumbled, her mind bringing her back to her beating off session. “Please get someone to order more pens. I couldn’t find the fine points in blue.”
“Here’s my address, Sarah,” said Helen, moving over to the desk and dropping a slip of paper on it. “I’ll see you at seven tonight. Slip into something comfortable before you come over.”
With that, Helen turned and sashayed out of the room, swinging her perfect butt with each step.
Sarah sat down, stunned. Was Helen making a pass at her? Helen was a woman. She didn’t do the whole “lezzie” thing. And where did Helen get off, being so assertive and bossy?
On the other hand, Helen was a very attractive woman. The “bossy” thing probably related to the closet, and what she’d been doing in there. How stupid! How totally fucking stupid!
Seven o’clock found Sarah pulling up to an apartment building at 7407 E. 35th St. Nice building, she thought.
Sarah had gone home early, just after the conversation with Helen. She’d managed to avoid contact with anyone else in the office, and also managed not to come in contact with any law enforcement personnel on the drive home. An hour–30 minutes more than usual–on the exercycle, plus a very cold shower, had cleared her head.
Sarah was wearing a cotton skirt and a t-shirt. She was also wearing the new thong that Zoe had bought her.
Locking her car and walking toward the building, Sarah could herself getting damp. Jesus Christ, she thought, am I really going to get it on with Helen?
Helen watched Sarah approaching. She was wearing a silk dress and nothing else. No shoes. No bra. No panties. She, too, was creaming, but she had no doubt about what was about to happen.
Checking the lighting, Helen walked toward the door, planning to open it just before Sarah rang the bell. She succeeded and, as the door opened, she took Sarah in with her eyes and her nose. What a sight! Her eyes looked like they would pop out of her head with excitement. Her nipples were pushing through her t-shirt. And her scent confirmed for Helen that Sarah was very, very ready.
Sarah took in her hostess with her eyes. She knew, without doubt, why she was here. And ready she was. All of the morning and early afternoon’s frustrations welled up inside her as though they were fighting to escape. She knew she was primed for a massive orgasm, and that it could come quickly.
Helen reached for Sarah, expecting to give her a polite but friendly hug. She certainly didn’t expect Sarah’s fervor and wasn’t ready, not at all, for the right hand that grabbed the zipper, pulled it down and, with help from Sarah’s left hand, pushed the silk dress off her shoulders. Or the right foot that kicked the front door closed.
Helen regrouped quickly, pulling Sarah’s face toward hers and kissing her firmly on the lips. Mouths opened and tongues quickly explored. In the meantime, Sarah pulled her body away enough to slide Helen’s dress off her arms, revealing her breasts. Sarah quickly moved her lips off Helen’s, rapidly moving down her neck to her nipples, taking each one into her mouth and sucking it with her tongue and her front teeth.
Helen was beside herself. She was sure Sarah had never been with a woman. She’d been prepared to seduce Sarah and, if necessary, blackmail her with what she’d seen and surmised during Sarah’s office escapades. Now, this novice had her flabbergasted and ready to be taken!
Sarah was so caught up in how easy it was to fuck a woman that she didn’t give any thought to the fact that Helen was supposed to be seducing her. She was still fully dressed, but felt like she could come on a moment’s notice. And was she ready!
Sarah dropped to her knees, pulling Helen’s dress off her hips and her ass. Wow, no hair: I’ve never seen a naked pussy. Or a distended clit. And I’ve never smelled anything so erotic. Sarah leaned in and it hit her. I’m about to stick my tongue where it’s never been before. After hesitating for just long enough to convince Helen she really was a pussy virgin, Sarah started licking. She tried Helen’s pussy first, not able to resist the odor and taste. Up from the bottom, almost to the clit. Cool! Sarah was so taken with her novel experience that she couldn’t keep a smile from breaking across her face.
Helen saw the smile. This was too much fun! Miss Priss, the perfect lawyer, likes cunt. Can you imagine?
Helen bent down, pulling Sarah up to a standing position and, once again, gave her a kiss. This time, however, the kiss was very gentle and slow. When Helen broke away she moved her lips to Sarah’s left ear and whispered, “fun, isn’t it?” Sarah could only nod, ready to be taken.
Helen gently moved Sarah over to the sofa and laid her down, half on and half off. As Helen started removing Sarah’s skirt, she started whispering in her ear. Sarah had always wondered about sweet nothings, and now she knew what they were. For the first time in her life it seemed like she knew what “bliss”meant.
With Sarah’s skirt off, Helen got to work on her Sarah’s thong. Wet as it was, she saw dry moisture stains, telling her Sarah had been aroused in these panties. How erotic not to have changed her underwear, Helen thought.
Helen began nipping at the thong with her teeth and lips, enjoying the way in which Sarah bounced around. Keeping at it, she used her left arm to lift Sarah’s legs onto the sofa, laying her out flat.
Helen thought Sarah was ready to come, without even having her clit touched. She stopped for a moment, wanting for Sarah to beg. Just as she started to move her lips down to the thong, Helen heard voices outside her door. Male voices.
Sarah was lost to the world for the moment, wondering why Helen had stopped. She opened her eyes, taking in Helen turning toward the door, the noise of a key in the door lock and voices. Male voices. Boisterous male voices.
“Dude, wait right here, I’ll just be a second,” said Jeffrey as he pushed open the door.
“Get out, get out, I told you not to be here tonight, didn’t I,” screamed Helen. “You’re supposed to be out of here.”
“Sorry, but I forgot my ID.” Jeffrey stopped talking as he took in the scene. His lover and co-worker was nakie, with her silk dress in a pile on the floor. A woman who looked just like sugar tits from work was lying on the–whoa, hold the fuckin’ phone!
“Dude, come on in, you won’t believe this.”
A tall, well built guy walked in, quickly looking at Helen trying to cover her tits and pussy and glancing over at the sofa. Was it, he asked himself. Yes it was. Sarah from Starbucks!
Sarah took everything in quickly. Jeffrey, the brain of a gnat, utterly worthless Jeffrey, had a key to Helen’s apartment and had left his ID in the place. “Dude” was her barista, a friend of Jeffrey’s and a guy who looked away from Helen to give her a look see.
“Shit shit shit. What the fuck am I doing here?”
Helen was walking over to her dress, ready to reach down, pick it up and put it on, when Barista Boy said, “Sarah, I don’t know why you’re here, but we did talk about getting together tonight.”
“We didn’t. You did. And I don’t fuck on first dates.”
“You don’t,” said Jeffrey. “So how long have you and Helen been dating, huh?”
“Shut up, Jeffrey. Haven’t you done enough damage already?”
“No, Helen. Sarah and Brad know each other, you’re now dressed and Sarah’s wearing more than she would be wearing at the beach. What’s the problem?”
“I need to come,” Sarah hollered. “That’s the fucking problem.”
Sarah didn’t know the person who’d just spoken. She did know, though, that someone had better get to work on her clit and her pussy!
Brad moved over to the sofa and sat on its edge, next to Sarah. He leaned down and said, “Are you sure you want to do this?” Sarah looked at him and said, slowly and carefully, “I think so. Are you willing?”
Brad’s answer came in the form of his head moving down to her crotch, while he also moved his body onto the floor. Sarah, at the same time, was lifting her hips and sliding her thong down her legs.
Brad lent a hand as his tongue slithered out of his mouth, circling the area just above Sarah’s clit. Light touches had her bouncing up and down, involuntarily. as she let her legs stretch out again. Goose bumps arrived quickly and she could feel her orgasm approaching. God, she wanted this.
Brad could feel her body quickening. He decided to ignore her clit, knowing she’d come very soon, and that he’d get more than another chance or two. He used his lips to dance around, getting ever closer to her clit without quite getting there.
Sarah suddenly snapped. Her body went rigid and numb. Toes and feet first. Then her calves. Then her thighs. She started screaming, “YES, YES, YES!!!. OH GOD YES.
Brad backed off a bit, knowing Sarah would want her space as she came down. He did, however, maintain contact, wanting her to know he was with her.
Helen and Jeffrey had been observing their “boss” in action. For both of them, the night presented lots of possibilities. Helen had had three ways before, but never with two men, and never with Jeffrey. Jeffrey had wondered about Helen’s interest in women, but hadn’t ever had any proof.
Helen and Jeffrey had first hooked up about a month ago. He’d been carrying on about a weekend escapade–which was truly a figment of his imagination–with the other runner one day when Helen walked into the mail room. The other runner took off as Jeffrey blushed deeply, giving Helen an inkling that bullshit was a primary component in his brain.
“Gee, your weekend sounds a lot better than mine was.”
“Uh, uh, well, it was fun and all that.”
Helen leaned in, to make sure no one overheard her, as she asked Jeffrey to bring his 11 inches around sometime and introduce it to a real woman.
Jeffrey stammered and mumbled as Helen got her coffee and returned to the reception station.
About an hour later, Jeffrey wandered by and asked Helen for her address. Helen gave it to him on a yellow sticky, but told him if he wasn’t bringing 11 inches, he shouldn’t bother coming around.
Helen sat up until about 10:30 that evening, hoping the doorbell might ring. It didn’t. The next morning she woke up and, when she stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air, she saw an envelope taped to her door. Opening it, she saw the yellow sticky with her address, together with a written question: “Will 7.5 inches get me in?”
Jeffrey moved in about a week later. ***
Helen and Jeffrey took in what they had just witnessed. Sarah from work, the boss lady who seemed like a beautiful bitch on wheels, had just had a major orgasm–very, very quickly–on Helen’s couch.
Helen reached for Jeffrey, pulling him close, and said, “before you get any of that, don’t forget who feeds you.” Jeffrey, pausing to compute the meaning of Helen’s comment and moved his lips to hers as she pulled her dress down and stepped out of it.
Sarah, coming down from the badly needed orgasm, was delighted to feel Brad’s presence. At the same time, though, she was disappointed to find him still dressed.
“I need you,” she said. “I need you everywhere. Let’s get moving.”
With that directive–Brad may have been going places in life, well beyond Barista-land, but he knew how to follow directions from authority figures–Brad stood up and stripped. T-shirt. Shoes. Blue jeans. Done.
Sarah was delighted. She looked at Brad’s more than adequate cock and tried to decide where she wanted it first. Pleasuring a man orally–no, sucking cock–was something she never thought she’d mastered. Hand jobs are fine, but they’re always what she settled for with he ex. Fucking she knew how to do, but it always tended to be the end game, and she was just getting started. And then, of course, she had said “I need you everywhere.” With that, her anus puckered involuntarily. Would she? Could she? She never had, but then she’d never shown her body in front of more than one person at a time, and she’d certainly never come in front of three others.
Jeffrey’s cock was in Helen’s mouth. She was on her knees, but had her eyes focused on Sarah and Brad. Glancing up at Jeffrey quickly, she saw his eyes focused on the same sight.
Sarah started licking Brad’s cock, feeling like it was summer and she had an everlasting ice cream cone, and a non-fattening one at that. Feeling very successful, she started to nip gently at the end of the cock. Yummy, she thought.
Soon, Sarah focused on the awkwardness of her lying on the couch, with Brad sitting on the edge of the couch, balancing half of his ass next to her tits, which were still covered by her T-shirt.
“Just a minute. We can do this better.”
Sarah sat up, yanked her shirt over her head and pushed herself off the couch.
“Lie down,” she told Brad.
Sarah got back to her task, with pleasure, once Brad was flat on his back. Kneeling next to him, she decided she’d be more comfortable on his chest. She kept her mouth in contact with his cock, swinging herself up and onto his chest.
Brad was enjoying himself immensely. The plan with Jeffrey had involved a few beers and, perhaps, a pickup. It certainly didn’t involve Sarah, and it absolutely didn’t have the potential for a four way.
As Sarah went to work on Brad from her new position, Brad got moving, as well. Gently, he pulled Sarah’s ass back toward him. As she scooted up his chest toward his face, she maintained her suction action his cock.
Brad had Sarah right where he wanted her, and went to work. A long lick, from the bottom of her pussy to just below her clit, had her squirming again. A little flutter action with the tip of his tongue, just below her magic button, had her legs all goose bumpy. Circling around her clit, clockwise, had her so jumpy she was bouncing up and down on his chest. This he liked, so he kept it up.
Sarah was ecstatic. She hadn’t had so much fun in a very long time. Nah, she thought, ever!!!
Sarah redoubled her efforts, wanting to make Brad come so she could swallow. That was another thing she’d never tried, and she’d pretty much decided this would be a night for firsts. Giving a stranger a blow job: first time since college. 69 action with anyone: same. Sex with others in the room: first time ever.
Brad was definitely getting somewhere. Gently blowing on Sarah’s clit was working well, but for a real turn on he’d discovered her pleasure in being finger fucked. One finger first, feeling her all juiced up, had her in a “close to coming” state. Brad knew the coup de grace would involve Sarah’s ass. He knew it because playing with a girl’s ass had never failed him before! His only issue was finger or tongue. He decided to slow things down, so he moved his tongue away from Sarah’s clit, leaving his finger to probe the top of her vagina, looking for her g-spot.
Sarah’s body stopped with a start. What happened to the tongue? Where did it go? And why did it go anywhere?
Looking around Sarah saw Helen and Jeffrey. Helen was bent over a chair, with her big tits mashed against the cushion and her pussy and ass totally exposed. Jeffrey had a really big cock, and he was about to enter Helen from behind. The only question in Sarah’s mind was where that cock would go.
Sarah looked back at Brad, as she told him to get his tongue back on her clit. “I need to cum, and I need to cum now. Get at it!”
Brad got back to business promptly, and soon had Sarah bouncing up and down on the couch as her orgasm approached.
As Brad moved back into position, Jeffrey pushed his cock into Helen’s cunt. “Not so fast,” she screamed. “It hurts.”
Jeffrey pulled out slowly and pushed in again. Within moments he and Helen had developed a rhythm. Moments later, turned on beyond his wildest imagination, Jeffrey stopped, said “shit,” and began cumming inside Helen.
Sarah and Jeffrey were content, having both reached the pinnacle. Helen was frustrated, as she’d wanted a piece of Sarah and, having watched her in action, felt like she’d really missed out. Brad, still waiting for his orgasm, was just happy to be present, having only expected to be out for a few beers and some laughs with Jeffrey.
Helen, as the oldest person in the room took charge.
“This is my house and it’s my party. These two cocks, and I mean that literally and figuratively, crashed my party. Now, it’s my party and I’m going to have it go the way I want it to. That means Sarah gets me off, however she wants, and I do to her what I want. That was my plan, and it’s still my plan, unless Sarah says no. Brad and Jeffrey, you watch, unless you want each other or we need you, and we’ll let you know about that. OK, Sarah?”
“Whatever you say boss,” Sarah said, and started giggling, as she realized she was not the boss here.
Helen came over to the couch, pulled Sarah up and started kissing her neck, gently and quickly. Sarah responded, grabbing Helen’s ass and pulling her close. The women were going at it as if time was short and getting off was the highest priority.
Sarah pushed Helen onto the floor, on her back, and started stroking her right foot with one hand, as her other hand danced up Helen’s left leg toward her pussy. Helen was squirming, telling Sarah with her body movements to hurry up.
Sarah slowed down as Helen urged her on. Instead of moving to the inside of Helen’s left thigh she scooted her body between Helen’s legs, sliding her hand up Helen’s left side until she reached her left tit. Once she was there, she roughly flicked at the hard nipple, watching it bounce around and laughing at Helen’s reaction.
“The boss lady isn’t in control, huh?”
Helen gave her the finger and told her she’d better get down to it. Sarah laughed again. “I’ll show you who’s the boss,” she said.
“Says you,” Helen responded. She scrambled up onto her feet and said she’d be right back.
The boys watched Helen leave, wondering what was going on. Jeffrey decided to take advantage of the situation and moved toward Sarah.
“Nothing doing, Jeffrey,” Sarah responded. “You’ll take your instructions from Helen.”
With that, Helen returned. In her right hand was a strap-on, and her left hand held a bottle of Astro-Glide and some condoms.
“Hey lawyer lady, I’ll bet you’ve never been fucked by a dyke, huh. Or in the ass”
With that, Sarah knew she’d pushed this situation pretty far. She didn’t know exactly what was coming, but she knew Helen had just raised the ante to its highest limit. She also knew, from the warmth and the wetness in her crotch, that she was ready.
“Alright everyone, here’s how this works. I get the boss bitch’s pussy. One or both of you gets her ass. Condoms are on the table. Use them, and, by the way, I go first.”
With that, Helen put the strap-on in place and moved toward Sarah. Sarah kept her mouth shut, but had a hard time holding back the giggles. This 40+ fox, with great tits and frosted hair was moving toward her with a rubber cock in front of her. Who wouldn’t laugh, she thought.
Sarah stood up to meet Helen and the cock. As she did, Helen moved forward, her right hand moving toward Sarah’s cunt, ready to test her readiness. The ladies came together, with the cock moving between Sarah’s legs, as they embraced and started kissing as though an egg timer was about to ring, demanding that they separate.
Helen’s hand never reached its destination. Instead, she pulled her lower body away, redirected the dildo and entered Sarah.
Brad, watching the fucking, decided it was time to come. Playing against expectations, however, he decided to fuck Helen’s ass. He was pretty sure he’d connected with Sarah, and would get another chance with her. Fucking a woman who was fucking a woman was something new, and he wanted to try.
Brad slid on a condom, lubed his dick and moved behind Helen. She tensed up and stopped fucking Sarah, expecting Brad to enter her. Instead, Brad knelt down, grabbed her butt cheeks and separated, moving in for a lick. This turn of events totally surprised Helen, as no one had ever licked her butthole.
Brad held on, got himself comfortable, and went to town on Helen’s ass. She, in return, started gyrating and, with her movement, started moving inside Sarah. Sarah, watching and getting excited, knew a dildo in her pussy wouldn’t cause her to come–she’d never had an orgasm while being fucked–and, so, reached down and started playing the circle game with her clitoris. Clockwise 3x. Counterclockwise 3x. Repeat.
Within moments the two ladies were coming, and Brad was definitely ready to fuck something. Waiting for a few moments until Helen came down from her orgasm, he took her hand and led her to the couch. Leaning her over the back of it, he slipped his dick in her pussy, pumped in and out a few times, pulled out and gently entered her ass.
Screaming, Helen started to play with herself. Sarah hurried over, knowing she wanted to suck this bitch to an orgasm. Crouching between Helen and the couch, she unsnapped the stupid strap-on–god it was a dumb looking thing–and pressed the tip of her tongue against Helen’s clit. As she did, Brad pulled away. He was smart enough to know what Helen wanted, and he didn’t want to be a distraction.
Helen was ecstatic. The dirty, smelly boys had certainly livened up the party, but what she wanted from the evening she was finally getting. She had certainly enjoyed having Brad lick her butt, and nothing was quite as memorable as a big cock entering her asshole. Nevertheless, she was getting what she wanted, and this Sarah bitch was a natural pussylicker!
Feeling like a veteran–after all, she had licked and sucked for a good ten seconds when she had arrived at Helen’s–Sarah poked, sucked, nibbled, bit and just about anything else she could think of with her lips, tongue and teeth. Knowing what she enjoyed, she also got a bit rough with Helen’s nipples, pulling them away from her breasts and pushing them in different directions, watching them bounce back.
At one point Sarah’s tongue entered Helen’s cunt. Moist as it was, she noticed a different taste and quickly realized she was tasting Helen and Jeffrey. Not bad, she thought, not bad at all. Sort of salty and tangy, all at once.
Helen tried hard to hold off on her orgasm, as she was enjoying Sarah’s production too much. The orgasm, however, was on its way. “SHIT. OH MY GOD. STOP. DON’T STOP, YOU CUNT, KEEP LICKING!!! KEEP LICKING, KEEP LICKING, KEEP LICKING. SHOVE SOMETHING IN MY ASS. NOW! OH, OH, OH. YES!!!
Sarah was in shock. This was not her vocabulary. It most certainly wasn’t. Then again, she thought, a foursome, sucking a co-worker’s cunt and the likelihood that Brad, poor Brad, was going to finally come inside her was hardly what she had known before this evening.
Brad took in the situation. Helen was spent. Jeffrey was recovered and hard again, looking for a place to come. Sarah looked pensive but excited. Sarah it would be. But where?
Sarah was ready for Brad.
“In my ass, dear boy, in my ass!”
Brad moved toward Sarah, realizing as his cock led the way that he needed a clean condom. Surely Sarah did not want him mixing Helen’s bacterium with hers.
Brad turned, causing Sarah to ask, “what’s the problem?”
Brad explained. Sarah smiled and wondered if almost a decade and a half of age difference really mattered? Or, as her mind processed the notion, could she have a long term relationship with a 22 year old?