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Performance

By: Oldguy45



I had just separated from my wife of twenty-three years, and while we sorted things out, I had moved into a studio apartment. The complex I lived in was unique in that it was actually situated on a hill, in several levels, with drives at each level giving access to the buildings. In my case, the front of my building faced the hillside. The building below me was just the opposite: the back of that building faced the hillside. Now, since my kitchen and bedroom were in the back of my building, and since the buildings were all the same design, it was possible for me to look down into the kitchen and bedroom of the apartment below me. It was about forty feet away and from my vantage point, I had a fairly good view of the two rooms.

I hadn't been there more than a week when I realized that the apartment below me on the hill was occupied by a young woman. She usually kept her windows open, even though it was warm and I knew she had air conditioning.

It became my habit to observe this young woman. She was very pretty, with long dark hair past her shoulders and a slender, petite figure. Unlike many of the girls I saw around the complex, she didn't look burned to a crisp from constant sunbathing. She was a bit pale, but looked healthy.

We apparently kept the same hours. I got home at around seven in the evening and changed and began bustling around the apartment making myself dinner and so forth. I usually had no visitors. Most our friends had sided with my wife during the separation. 

I would hear my neighbor's music start up as soon as she got home. She listened to a variety, but usually it was country or rock. I'd hear a little classical from time to time. Now, I did not stare at her. But while we both went about our evening routine, I would glance down to see what she was doing. I don't think she realized that she was being watched, at least not at first.

Our schedules were remarkably similar. We usually got home, changed, made dinner, watched TV and went to bed about the same time. Most of the time I saw her in shorts and a tee shirt. Sometimes she wore sweats. I saw her in a nightgown once, just before she went to bed. But then one night about a month after moving in, I looked down into her kitchen window. It was close to ten, and I guessed she was doing some final cleaning before turning in. Anyway, she was topless.

I quickly moved into my bedroom, which was dark, and watched her while she moved around her kitchen. Her breasts were smallish but firm, with pale pink, well-defined nipples. She seemed unaware of my avid gaze as she completed her tasks. The sight of this young beauty with bared breasts shook me to my core. I had been married to my wife for a long time, and while I had looked at other women, I had never cheated on her. I had been to strip clubs—I am a man, after all—but none of the women I saw there affected me the way this private show did. I found myself with an immediate hard-on.

After about ten minutes, my young lady finished in the kitchen, turned off the light, and reappeared in her bedroom. She walked up to the window and looked out. For a terrifying second, it seemed that she was looking right at me. Then she let down the blinds. Fifteen minutes later the light in her window went out and all was quiet.

I didn't know her name. I didn't know where she worked or what she did. In fact, I didn't know anything about her. But that night, she haunted my dreams. I tossed and turned for hours, unable to get her out of my mind. Finally, in desperation, I jerked off, spilling my come on the bed sheets.

For the next two nights, everything was normal. She appeared in the window as usual, but always dressed. On the third night, I heard music coming from her window. It was a tune by the Corrs, easy to dance to. I looked down and saw her in her kitchen. She was sweeping the floor and wiping down the counter. From time to time, she would move her hips a little, swaying to the music. As she passed in front of the window the paused and, I swear, looked up at me. I stepped back, certain that I'd been caught. Once again, I moved into my darkened bedroom to continue watching. I didn't see her in either window for about five minutes. When she reappeared, this time in her bedroom, my heart gave a lurch.

She was once again topless. And she was wearing what appeared to be a pair of white cotton panties. She carried a glass of red wine and as she moved about the room, she continued her little swaying dance. She seemed to be straightening up the room and putting clothes away. I saw her move over to her dresser. She put the wine down and, facing away from me, slowly and deliberately pulled down her panties. She had a very cute butt. She stood in front of the dresser for a minute or two, rubbing and massaging her breasts. She picked up the wine again and took a sip. Then she turned toward me and danced over to her bed. I got a good view of her full, natural bush.

I was immediately hard as a rock. I began rubbing my cock through the thin material of my boxers. For just a moment, as the Corrs continued to play, my girl danced for me. Then she put the wine down on her bedside table, picked up a nightgown, whipped it over her head, and the show was over. She moved over to the window and looked up at me. Was that a smile that played around the corners of her mouth? Then she let down the blinds and I could see no more.

I pulled down my boxers, fell on the bed and masturbated furiously until I spurted hot, thick and copious all over my belly and hand.

***

Once again, I didn't see her for a couple of nights. The blinds on her windows stayed closed even though they were lit from behind. Then, one Friday night when I got home from work, I noticed that the blinds were again open. I saw her briefly moving around in her kitchen, I heard her television, and then at about ten, the kitchen light went out and the light in her bedroom window came on.

When this happened, I moved to my bedroom and turned off the lights. The television in her apartment went off, and a soft country song began playing. The light in her bedroom window changed color to a rosy pink. I pulled up a chair by my window and waited. It seemed that time was suddenly suspended. It was completely dark outside. Her window reminded me of a movie screen. I could see clearly into her bedroom, forty feet away.

The first thing I saw was her leg. It appeared out of the left side of the window and stretched upward. Then it bent at the knee, her toe touched the floor, and my private dancer stepped into view. As she moved into the window, my heart nearly stopped. She was nude, or at least nearly nude. She had on a pair of white stockings, high heels, and a white thong.

The music played on. She danced for me, stretching out her arms and swinging her hips sexily. She placed her hands on her breasts, offering them to me, then shaking them gently and moving away. She sat down on the floor, turned over on her hands and knees, and flexed her body upward. I strained to see the furry lips of her pussy and the dark indentation of her butthole. I could see the white string of the thong stretched across her shallow puckered anal pore.

She turned back on her back, hooked her thumbs into the thong, and in a flash it was off. For a second, she remained on her back and held the thong up for my inspection. Then she got up and, completely nude except for her stockings and shoes, danced for me. She thrust her pelvis out at me; she framed her bushy pussy with her hands, offering it to me the same way she did her breasts. She turned about, spread her feet wide, bent at the waist, and touched the floor with her hands, giving me a full and unhindered view of her pussy and butthole. She held the pose long enough for me to etch the scene in my mind forever, then straightened up, put her hands on her hips, shook her ass at me, and moved away. At that instant, the music stopped and the light went out.

My heart was beating so hard I wasn't sure I could stand it. Sure, I'd been to my share of strip clubs. I'd seen beautiful women dance naked before. But this time was different. This time, my dark-haired beauty was dancing for me. Me alone. It was like we shared a secret just between us. It was like she was mine.

This time I did not masturbate. I was simply too shaken, too in awe of what I had just witnessed. I sat at the window for another fifteen minutes, but the light never came back on. I finally went to bed, haunted by the vision of my lovely pale, dark-haired dancer.

I slept fitfully until about six the next morning. I awoke groggy and unrested, still reeling from what I had seen the night before. Force of habit caused me to look out my window down to hers. Once again, my heart skipped a beat.

There was a piece of cardboard taped, hanging on the sill of her window. In bold letters the words 10 PM TONIGHT were written. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I had seen it correctly. There was no mistake. I sat down again. My heart was beating so fast I actually became alarmed. I went into the bathroom to take a leak. I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I muttered to myself, "I must be seeing things." I went back into my bedroom and looked out the window. The sign was gone.

***

I spent the rest of that Saturday in a daze, unsure of what I had seen and what I'd not seen. I knew that I had seen her dance the night before, but had there really been a sign outside her window that morning?

I spent some time with my wife. We ended up arguing, as usual. It seemed like that was literally all we had been doing lately. I had hoped that some time apart would make us want to make up and be together, but that was not the case. She seemed reasonably happy and content (in our house, mind you) without me. I certainly wasn't' happy or content, but I was managing. And, I had a secret.

I treated myself to a Chinese dinner that night, all alone. I drank a little too much beer but made it home all right. When I got home, I opened a bottle of brandy and made myself a drink. I watched a DVD but couldn't get interested in the movie. My eyes kept wandering to the clock on the wall. At nine forty-five, I could stand it no longer. I took my brandy into my bedroom, turned off the light, and sat down by the window.

By this time I had already changed into what I usually wear to bed: tee shirt and boxers. I got comfortable and decided to see what would happen, if anything.

I actually had not seen her at all that evening. Both the kitchen and bedroom windows had been dark. The clock on my bedside table read 9:59 when the light in her bedroom window came on.

The blinds were still drawn. At first all was silence, but then the sounds of soft music, some kind of jazz, wafted up to me. My eyes were riveted to her window. In the darkness I caught movement, and slowly the blinds were raised until the window was fully open. The room was lit well enough to see clearly, but with the same rosy pink glow from previous. I notice something different: her bed had been moved so that it was in front of the window. There was room enough for her to move between the bed and window, but the surface of the bed was still clearly visible. The music increased slightly in volume and intensity, and there was suddenly a light shining onto the bed.

The first thing I saw was her hand. It crept around the edge of the window, as if she was pulling herself into view. Then I saw the profile of her breast, and then she bent down so that I could see the side of her face. She turned to me and smiled. She smiled softly and seductively. It was a private smile, the one that lovers give each other. Then she stepped away from the window and I saw that she was bewitchingly nude. No stockings, no garters, no thongs, no shoes, just her perfect, slender, nude body.

The music waxed and waned, with a slow, sensual, flowing melody from a saxophonist who might have been making love to a woman. My pale beauty let the music envelop her, swaying to the sound and the rhythm as if it flowed through her. She raised her arms above her head and let her rounded hips move back and forth in time with the beat. She did a slow pirouette for me, allowing me to admire every inch of her form. Her head was thrown back in silent surrender to the music. It seemed to be a part of her. Her mouth came open and I saw her stick her finger between her lips and sucked sweetly and sensually on it. As she did so she opened her eyes and, with finger still between her lips, looked at me. 

Dancing seductively, she moved to the bed. She crawled up onto it and, for just a moment, spread her legs wide enough for me to see clearly her plump pussy and dark butthole. Then she lies on her back and spread her legs wide. The light was now focused squarely on her darkly furred pussy.

She placed her hand on her mound and began massaging it in a circular motion. Her hips began undulating in time with her motions, and with the music. She threw her head back, her mouth open, and I could imagine her moaning as she pleasured herself. She rubbed harder, digging the heel of her hand into her mound and I saw a finger slip between the delicate lips of her engorged pussy. The music played on, building to a crescendo. I saw her, gently at first, then more vigorously, begin to rub her clitoris. Her legs flew fully open and her movements increased until she was finger-fucking her hungry pussy. For the first time, I actually heard my dark-haired beauty moan as she was overtaken with passion and pleasure. I watched, mesmerized, as she alternately rubbed her clit and inserted first one, then two fingers into her wet pussy. Suddenly, she turned over on her stomach, drew up her knees, thrust out her bum and began masturbating furiously. I could see the moisture on her fingers as she feverishly massaged her tortured pussy. Her face was pressed into a pillow; she was biting it in an effort to stifle her screams. Her ass and hips swayed and jerked with the pleasure she was experiencing. 

Suddenly, I saw her tense for a split second. Her hand paused at her pussy, and then in a series of spasmodic convulsions, she climaxed again and again and again. She rubbed and rubbed, prolonging her pleasure, making it last, and allowing me to see her complete the most intimate act a woman can ever perform.

I looked down. At some point, I had also begun masturbating. Now my hand gripped my iron-hard penis. Only a few strokes would send me over the edge. I gently cupped my cock, not wanting to come right that second. Instead, I stood up. I turned on a light so that my girl could see me clearly in my window, and I waited.

The music had stopped and all was quiet. My sexy girl was lying on the bed face-down, breathing slowly and deeply. A moment later, she roused herself and sat down on the edge of the bed. She was smiling at me. I pulled down my boxers and stood before her, holding my erection in my hand. I looked at her. I looked at her beautiful, slightly pale body, her smallish breasts, her thickly furred pussy. I looked at her and stroked myself for her. I let her know how she had affected me. How she had altered me, my life. She stopped smiling and looked into my eyes as if to say, "Come for me, lover. Show me how I make you feel." Looking into her eyes, I began climaxing. I shot ropes of white semen all over the floor, the window sash, the chair. I came like I hadn't come in twenty years. I came in tribute to my dark-haired beauty, my secret lover.

She smiled again, got up off the bed and walked to the window. She drew the blinds, the light went out, and her performance was over.

***

The next day was Sunday, and I was in an agony of indecision. Should I take her performance as an invitation? I didn't know. I struggled with it the entire day. I didn't dare go over to her so soon. I didn't know if I could look her in the eye. I didn't know if she could look me in the eye.

Yet by the end of the day, I'd made up my mind. The next day, after work, I would go over to her and introduce myself. After all, this would probably be the last time I, at my age, would ever have a chance to be with a young, beautiful girl like her.

On Monday after work, I went over to her apartment building. When I got there, the building manager was there. He asked me where I was going, I told him which apartment I was headed to. (Our apartments were the same, just in different buildings.) He said, "Oh, you didn't know? She moved out yesterday."

I was dumbstruck. "Yesterday?" was all I could manage.

"Yeah," he said. "She got some of her friends to help her. They moved her out Sunday. Too bad, too. She was a nice girl, and cute too."

I sighed. I was disappointed, yes. But I was also a little better for the experience. She had liked me. She had danced for me. I guess that, despite what me wife said, I wasn't such a shit after all.

Performance



The theatre, I love it, especially when I'm with you. I feel you gently squeeze my fingers in your hand as we sit waiting for the lights to dim. 

The music starts softly, building up as the lights are lowered and the curtain is raised. I feel the corners of my lips tilt into a smile as I settle back in my seat, crossing one leg over the other. The skirt of my dress parts, revealing the pale skin of my thigh. My fingers automatically move to adjust it, but your hand presses over mine, stilling its action. I glance at you, but your eyes are fixed on the stage. Placing my hand to rest on my stomach you slowly stroke up and down my thigh with the tips of your fingers. I swallow and press my lips together, trying to focus on the stage and the performers. Your fingers confidently slip under my thigh and clasp the inner sensitive flesh. I feel you edging closer to the warmth of my pussy. Glancing at you again, you appear unmoved, your gaze unfalteringly fixed on the performance.

I know if I uncrossed my legs I could pin your hand to the seat beneath my pussy. Instead I stir and wriggle forwards a little to give you easier access. My movements are rewarded by the feel of your finger pushing my knickers between the lips of my pussy and stroking the soft, hot flesh. I bite back the moan that's lodged in my throat, as you continue to caress me. Here in such a public place, you make me so wet with your touch. My neck arches, tits pushed out as you tease me. I need more, I want to feel you deep inside me. Your finger pushes aside the sodden fabric and rubs against my clit. My hands grip the seat arms, nails digging into the fabric as I desperately try to control myself. Right here, right now, I want nothing more than to push you back in your seat and fuck you, let you feel how much I desire you. You seem aware of my needs. You withdraw your fingers, pushing them into your mouth to taste me. Then you stand and without looking at me make your way to the aisle.

I catch up with you on the pavement, where you grasp my hand firmly and stride off. My heels rap on the stone as you steer me towards the side entrance of the theatre and a darkened corner. You press me into the dark and against the wall. Yours hands pull at my dress, exposing my tits encased in black lace, nipples hard against the fabric. Lips pressed together, tongues exploring and I feel like I want to swallow you whole, to taste all of you. My hands slip inside your jacket and tug at the buttons of your shirt, craving the touch of your skin. Your hands cup and fondle my tits, your thumbs squeezing my nipples, I moan and it is swallowed by your lips, still covering mine. Finger nails scratch across the front of your trousers, seeking the outline of your hard cock. I have it and rub my palm over the throbbing bulge. You press me hard against the wall hips thrust against mine, my hands grabbing at you to pull you closer. 

Dropping your head, your lips clamp around my nipple through the lace, tugging and biting. My pussy getting even wetter from your attention. Your hands on my thighs, grabbing my knickers, pulling and pushing them down. And your fingers, ah, encountering my wet pussy and thrusting in, my hips straining forwards to meet them. I'm so desperate to rip your trousers open, so desperate to feel your cock fucking me. 

"Fuck me, fuck me now, I need you inside me."

Ripping at the fastening to your trousers I soon feel the warm, hard flesh of your cock in my hands. The temptation to suck you, taste you, get on my knees in this alley is overwhelming. But I need you to fuck my tight pussy, not my warm and willing mouth. Pressing myself against the wall, I raise one leg and wrap it around you. My hands still holding your cock I press the tip against the folds of my pussy, staring into your eyes as you breach me and in one thrust have filled me. That's so good, my lips part on a long drawn out sigh of pleasure.

Grabbing my hands you force them back against the wall, thrusting yourself further into me. My pussy feels so stretched and I savour that sensation, before you withdraw and hammer home again. Every thrust is greeted with a moan, my lips parted, and eyes half-closed as I enjoy the way your cock fills me. My pussy clenches around you, as if it wants to hold you forever. You thrust into me harder, groaning with the effort and feel the hot, wetness of my pussy surround you. 

"You love this, fucking where someone might see."

I moan and shake my head, "No I love fucking you anywhere, everywhere."

My nails dig into your hands as you begin to fuck me hard and fast and my pussy sucks you into me. I could never have enough of this fullness, my pussy tingling, but I want you to cum. I need you to spunk inside me, explode, lose control. The cold, hardness of the wall at my back and the heat of you filling me. Your cock twitches and throbs inside me as with a hard lunge you thrust up into me, your body stiffening, and your teeth biting into the soft skin of my neck, muffling your groans. My leg tightens around you as you flood me with your spunk, pinning me to the wall with your cock. Two more thrusts and I can still feel you cumming, my pussy sucking the last of you. 

Briefly we rest against each other, both breathing hard. You kiss my lips and step away, that mischievous smile curving your lips. Covering my tits I stand up straight and you take my hand, leading me back to the light of the pavement. With every step I feel your cum oozing down my thigh, my lips twitching at the thought of the night to come.



Performance



Jamie looked around the square as the people began to gather for the performance. She had no choice in the matter, their names had been listed on the electronic billboard and broadcast over the network. Now, as she unbuttoned her blouse, she wondered if she would be able to do it, wondered if she could possibly create the excitement she needed to if she and her husband Matt were to survive.

She remembered first receiving the notation, she was at home with Matt when their network monitor flashed to life with a loud shrill. Jamie and Matt moved to the screen while their friends remained back, out of view of the camcorder. Together they watched the woman, in her syrupy sweet accent invited (invited mind you) them to report to the square for their performance. The woman then faded from the screen and the Great and True, Right Reverend William Graham VI came into view for the marriage pronouncement.

Jamie and Matt, wife and husband, along with their two friends listened to the words every religious broadcast in the world always ended with: "And in the firm and loving arms of God, may the man and woman joined in matrimony, now and forever the only matrimony, bare their gifts before us." Everyone knew a couple, in this instance Jamie and Matt, had been called to display their union before all.

It had all happened back in 2009, when the National Guard in practically every state in the union strangely found thousands of supposedly uncounted ballots, ballots that confirmed that a different candidate had won the election. Backed by the military, the first Presidential Candidate to officially lose to a black man took the office. Shortly thereafter the President appointed the Governor of the great state of California to the newly formed cabinet position of Chief of Family Values.

In the turmoil that followed the change in Presidency martial law was declared and under the strict supervision and observation of the military, California's old Proposition 8 was modified slightly and then voted as the 28th Amendment to the Constitution. After that, to be entitled to any benefits of the Government, include the right to work, all had to be married in a single union between a man and a woman. These unions were subject to public inspection and verification as part of the National Church Services.

With the abolishment of the internet and the criminalization of all forms of pornography these inspections and verifications became wildly popular and while only the elected officials and their close associated could get the close up observation points, everyone relished in these rituals. Some of the more attractive couples soon became celebrities as their marriages were called forward for inspection and verification time and time again by the National Church.

Although the rituals became a great source of entertainment for a large portion of the society, there were many who feared the call to verification. Obviously the excessively shy or unattractive couples feared the call, but it was even worse for those whose marriages were shams, where gay men married lesbians and then simply shared their love with another like minded couple. With the laws in place this masquerade was the only way the gays and lesbians could survive. Of course, with the death penalty often assigned at the penalty for failure to perform the marriage verification the ritual often meant the death toll for the unfortunate gay couple selected.

All thought of those past injustices burned in Jamie's mind as she unbuttoned her blouse in as provocative way as she could think, trying as she moved to remember how Matt's lover Bob would undress in front of him. What made this harder for Jamie was that she was technically still a virgin even after six years of marriage to Matt. Technically a virgin because all lesbians did make sure their hymens had been broken if fear of the verification rituals. But now, Jamie had to perform in such a manner that she would excite Matt enough to get and erection and basically fuck her until he came.

Matt was already naked and in position leaning against a wall as he watched Jamie slowly undress for him. Matt's cock was still flaccid, but this was not unusual as even some of the most voracious heterosexual men were slow to come alive amid the surrounding pressure. Although much like in tennis, quiet was what was expected from the crowd at this time, recently all politeness had been discarded and there were dozens of catcalls and the ensuing response rolling over the audience like a wave.

Jamie's breasts were now exposed and bouncing as she moved closer to Matt. She unbuttoned her pants and pulled them off exposing a pair of men's boxer shorts. That simple gesture did elicit a slight twitch in Matt's cock as he recognized the shorts as those belonging to Bob. Jamie now walked right up to the naked man and pulled off the boxer shorts and pulled them down over his head.

She smiled as she backed away a bit and saw Matt's cock twitch again, growing slightly as he breathed in the scent of his lover. Quickly removing her shoes and socks (she had to be completely naked by rule of law) she kneeled in front of Matt and slipped her mouth over his slightly hard cock as one of her rough hands slid down to his balls and the other began to stroke the shaft of is cock.

Ever since they had been called for verification, Bob had worked with Jamie trying to show her his oral techniques. She had also been juggling bricks and rocks just to roughen up her hands. Now she faced the test as she mimicked Bob's lovemaking running her tongue all around the head of Matt's cock.

Matt made sure to keep his eyes closed and with the boxer shorts over his head each breath brought him a waft of Bob's scent. Yes, his cock was growing but he had to force himself to get lost in Bob's scent as he remembered the last time Bob had done something to him.

Jamie felt Matt's cock harden, so she dropped her hand from his balls and began working her fingers over her clit. The plan was to get Matt right at the edge of coming using her mouth and then she would quickly turn around and kneel and Matt would take her from behind. They hoped he would be so close to coming that it wouldn't matter that he was suddenly fucking a woman, he would simply come anyway. Jamie continued to work her clit to make sure she was wet and ready for Matt.

Watching from the audience, Bob couldn't have been prouder as Jamie sucked Matt's cock like a gay pro and he knew there wasn't a gay man in the audience who couldn't appreciate the appearance of that glistening cock sliding in and out of the lesbian's mouth. Suddenly there was a loud gasp from the audience as Jamie pulled her head away and turned around.

Jamie braced herself for Matt's cock. She was confident she could take it since she had used dildos on occasion with her lover Connie just in case either of them were called to be verified. Jamie was hopeful her pussy would be tight enough to stimulate Matt to orgasm. She felt his cock brush he thigh so she reached back under herself and took firm hold of his cock, guiding it into her pussy.

After an initial stab of pain as Matt shoved himself to the hilt inside her, she felt a bit of pleasure as the cock plunged and withdrew. She closed her legs in some and tried to squeeze herself hoping, praying she could excite him enough to come. Feeling Matt's hands tighten their grip on her ass, she was hopeful, moaning "Come on Matt give it to me," in as deep a voice as she could muster.

Suddenly she heard a voice from the crowd... Bob, yes it was Bob shouting, "Fuck me Matt, fuck me hard."

Well that was it, hearing that voice from the audience was all that was needed as Jamie felt Matt shove his cock deep into her pussy. He held her firmly as he kept himself shoved to the hilt until his cock softened and slipped out of her. 

As soon as Matt stepped back from Jamie, several medical technicians grabbed her, picked her up and put her on a table. Her feet were inserted into stirrups and she felt a cold instrument shoved up inside her. She waited for a few moments, enduring the probing until she suddenly felt the instrument pulled out of her and the crowd erupted in loud cheers.

There she was, her pussy open to the view of thousands, perhaps millions of people with the television feeds, as Matt rushed over and hugged her. He helped her sit up and then wrapped her in a large sheet as they watched the big screen. The marriage had already been verified now they were watching to see if... yes there it was, the union did produce a pregnancy.

Another cheer shot through the crowd as the conception of another Proposition 8 baby was announced. While Jamie was not entirely sure she was ready for a baby, she knew that she and Matt would be exempt from the marriage verification until the baby reached its eighteenth birthday. Now they had to only worry about Connie and Bob getting called out.

Matt walked with her as she was wheeled out of the arena by the technicians. She would attend a Nation Church Service with Matt to receive the accolades from the pastor and then they would attend an official dinner. Only after that would they be able to return to their lovers Connie and Bob and really celebrate. 



Performance



Lamar Glover just had to have her.

For the last few months, the handsome, muscular wrestler-turned-actor had filmed "Jack and Lola" with the beautiful Australian actress Christina Taylor-Walsh. The film, a dramatization of the real-life romantic relationship between Jack Johnson, the first African-American boxing champion, and young Australian pianist Alma "Lola" Toy, offered Lamar a rare chance to do something different from the usual action-comedies he had been offered in Hollywood, and Glover worked his ass off to deliver the best performance possible.

Throughout filming, Lamar did everything he could not to let on that he was attracted to Christina, a veteran of Australian soap operas who had landed her first major role as Alma Toy. Christina had long, sandy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, light freckles and pale skin; she was rather petite—only 5'3"—quite the contrast with Lamar's massive 6'2" frame. Her pale skin was almost translucent, and Lamar loved how the sun reflected from her skin during takes. She also had a strong Sydney accent, one that made Lamar instantly aroused when he heard it.

After filming wrapped, Lamar spent nights fantasizing about what it would be like to make love to this Aussie beauty. There were no love scenes in "Jack and Lola," though Lamar did have a chance to kiss her a few times, finding himself turned on by the softness of Christina's lips. He wouldn't have a chance to see her again until they had to do a press junket to promote the film.

After a long day of repetitive interviews, Lamar and Christina went back to their respective hotel rooms at the Westerley Hotel in Los Angeles. Lamar wanted to come up with some reason to visit her room, and grew frustrated with his inability to invent a reason. 

Just then, he received a call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Lamar. This is Christina."

"Oh, hi, Christina. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing. Just feeling a little lonely after the day we've had. Would you mind stopping in to my room?"

"Oh, not at all!"

This was his chance.

-

When Lamar stepped into Christina's room, he was stunned by how beautiful she now looked in just a simple T-shirt and jeans. The gorgeous black dress she had worn for most of the day was on a hanger in the closet, and Christina was sitting on a chair next to the desk.

"Thanks for coming over," she said, her accent again hardening Lamar's cock.

"My pleasure."

"So, what you make of all the Oscar talk today?"

Lamar smiled. "Oh, I'm sure you'll win."

Christina laughed. "No, silly, they're talking an Oscar for you!"

Lamar bowed his head. "Well, thanks. But you deserve one far more than I do."

"Why, thank you."

Lamar loved the way the words "thank you" flowed from her lips. She was so goddamn hot. He wanted her so much.

"Christina?"

"Yes?"

Lamar was nervous. 

"I—I don't think I ever told you how much I loved working with you."

"Why, thank you!"

Oh, she did it again, Lamar thought, his cock ready to burst from his pants.

"I have to say I loved working with you as well...I hope we have a chance to do so again very soon."

"Same here," Lamar responded.

Christina smiled and walked over to the window. "Come here."

Lamar followed her, and they both looked at the Los Angeles skyline.

"Kinda romantic, isn't it?" Christina smiled.

"I'll say."

Christina turned to look at him. Lamar was on fire. How could he tell her he wanted to make love to her?

"Lamar?"

"Yeah?"

Christina smirked. "I wish I was a little taller."

"Why do you say that?"

"So I wouldn't have to do this..."

Christina grabbed Lamar's tie, and pulled him down towards her for a kiss. Lamar's cock was now raging; he felt ready to cum even though his clothes weren't even off.

"Lamar," Christina whispered. "I didn't really know how to tell you this before..."

"Yeah?"

"I..."

She pulled on his tie again, and gave him another kiss. 

"I usually don't like to get involved with people I work with...but I figure we're not technically working together right now..."

She flashed a sexy smile, and quickly removed her T-shirt. Her pale skin was luminous against the hotel room's low light, and Lamar moved towards her, almost involuntarily.

Lamar wrapped his large, muscular arms around her tiny frame and kissed her again. He quickly removed his black shirt and black pants, and stood before her wearing nothing but a pair of silk boxers, his large cock almost poking through.

Christina removed her jeans, and Lamar's eyes bulged at the sight of her light pink thong against her pale white skin. Simultaneously, they removed their underwear and faced each other completely nude. 

Lamar embraced her, gripping her ass as he kissed her. He lifted her and took her to the bed, his large cock vibrating with energy. As he kissed her pale skin and heard her moan softly, he felt himself becoming ever more aroused. Christina was so beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful Australian woman ever. He ran his hands all over her pale body, barely able to contain his lust. He traced his tongue down her chest, licking her navel and soon eating her pussy as she screamed in delight. 

Lamar was consumed by the essence of this lovely Aussie woman. He loved her regal nose, her soft fingers, her pale shoulders, her cute fuckable ass. He was fascinated and amazed by the silkiness of her hair, and felt himself wanting to come as he ran his fingers through her hair.

Soon, his large and aroused black cock penetrated her lovely pink Australian pussy, and he thrust himself into her until he felt himself ready to explode, at which point he pulled out and came onto her face and tits. "Oh my God!" she yelled as she was doused with his cream.

Lamar and Christina kissed and held each other for the rest of the night. Lamar looked into Christina's eyes before he fell asleep and thought to himself that of all the roles he wanted to play, the only role he really wanted was that of Christina's man.



Performance Enhancer



Author's Note: this is the first chapter in a story I've worked on in my spare time. I look forward to getting some feedback on it. The X-periment world is one where terrorists seized on a cheap new chemical weapon and started bombing civilians with it before realizing its mutagenic effects. 

******************************

Like any great escape, it started with a series of tests. Checking boundaries, seeing how lax his watchers had become. Simple things that, put together, made freedom more than just an empty promise his captors held out in return for cooperation.

In fairness to those jailers, they were overwhelmed. The sheer numbers of dangerous mutants found each day taxed their resources to the limit, even with government backing. Also, this captive was cooperative and had been for long enough that he was almost forgotten. What tipped the scales was no one realized his powers were growing.

So the tests went unnoticed. A nurse left one day with a few gray hairs. One guard whose fingernails grew longer than possible in 8 hours. Little things that people might see, but that they didn't really notice. Like a rusty spot on the door hinge in his cell.

In his 13th month of captivity, Subject 375 got his chance. They once again required him to boost the psi powers of their hunter team. He asked for a water bottle in return and actually got it. The nalgene type with a sports tip, perfect for squirting water.

.......

Subject 375, aka John Waverly, wakes with a nervous start. Stepping to the sink, he fills his water bottle and takes a few swigs before refilling it carefully to the top. Closing his eyes, he takes a few deep breaths and walks towards the cell door.

Two quick, measured squirts hit the hinges and coat them in water. A few seconds of concentration and rust starts appearing. The hinges are rapidly converted from solid steel to rusted out remnants that can't hold the weight of the door. It begins to sag inward.

A quick grab and strong pull bring the door scraping across the floor, opening it wide enough to step into the hall. Swift steps take him to the nearest door and he repeats his process, this time on the padlock on the outside. Pulling hard on it shatters the rusted inner mechanism and allows him to open the door.

John crosses the floor and grabs the inmate by her face, his hands tangling in her dirty blonde hair as they frame her face. Again he focuses. It takes only seconds, but the alarms are beginning to sound now and it seems like forever as he stares into the woman's dark brown eyes, watching the drugged look fade from them. He hopes that her drugged state really does indicate that she's a powerful mutant, someone who can help him break out.

Not one to put all his eggs in one basket, John steps away as the woman continues to regain her senses. Carrying the water bottle like a weapon, he runs into the hall and on to another door. Seconds pass as he breaks its lock and the sound of boots drumming against the concrete can be heard. A bullet ricochets off the wall near him as John ducks into the room he's just opened.

The man within is physically impressive. His bulk fills the small bed as John approaches and lays hands on his face. Looking into his eyes, John concentrates and forces the drugs out of the man's system, helping his body filter his blood and neutralize the tranquilizer.

John steps back and helps his fellow inmate to stand as screams start coming from the corridor. Gunfire rattles and the screams grow louder, all of them male. The big man shakes his head a few times to finish clearing it and looks at John.

"Thanks. Sounds like it's time to leave!"

John nods and darts to the door, poking his head around the doorjamb to see the woman standing in the hall facing a group of soldiers. Her hands are raised and a shimmering field is blocking bullets from their rifles. The shield is moving down the hall towards the soldiers like a floating wall. Some of them are down, bleeding from ricochets.

Crunching noises from inside the cell draw John's attention. The big man is literally punching the wall, powdering it with the strength of his blows. He is too strong, though, and his arms are leaving holes instead of collapsing larger sections of the wall. Realizing this, the brute grabs the wall through two of the holes and pulls into the cell.

John dives into the hall, slamming hard into the bare concrete floor as cinderblocks and concrete fly through the doorway neaxt to him.

"Sorry," comes a deep voice from inside the room. More concrete flies as John picks himself up. Looking at the woman, he sees her looking back, desperate.

"I can't hold this much longer," her voice rings in his ears, low and sweet but with an edge on it. "What do we do?"

"We're following him out this way," John says, pointing at the cell door obscured in a cloud of dust and debris. "Come on!"

Once outside the holding area John and the others have few choices. The big man goes through wall after wall, doing an end run around attempts to seal the facility. When the woman's strength starts to flag, the big man sends them ahead and collapses a ceiling behind them, digging himself out of the rubble and following after.

Within 10 minutes they exit the building, coming out onto a city street in downtown. John takes over and directs them into the utility tunnels. The ConEd logo on a sewer cover tips John to the fact they're in New York. ConEd proves to be their best friend and they are quickly lost in the mazes under the streets. After an hour of wading through sewage that makes them all naseous, they are certain their pursuers are lost behind them in the tunnels and stop to catch their breath.

After minutes of no sound but their own breath, John finally relaxes.

"Thanks. I wouldn't have made it out without your help."

The woman's eyes fix on John, "Whatever you did to me made it work. What's your name?"

"I'm John."

"Dawn."

"Call me Nikolas." The big man's voice boomed loud in the narrow tunnel. The woman winces at the sound and focuses on the giant. "So, John, what DID you do to us back there?"

"I'm a... performance enhancer. I can boost things, like accelerating your body's ability to deal with the drugs. I can do the same for people's powers."

"That's incredible!" The blonde's eyes are on John, measuring him as he pretends not to notice. He shrugs and looks at them both.

"I think we need to get out of these sewers and off the streets. Do either of you have any ideas?" Both shake their heads. "I've got a few things in mind. I'd like to know what you think."

They listen to John and as he talks their eyes grow more confident.

..................

Capt. John Marshall steps into the briefing room, closely followed by the other two members of his team, Lt. Melissa Rice and Sgt. Mike Epps. Their black boots hit the floor in synchronous rhythm as they walk across the tile to stop in front of the table. The team salutes the general and seat themselves at his nod.

The general hands out briefing folders and quickly outlines the mission to recapture Subjects 375, 417, and especially 131. He then turns to a blond man in a suit in a chair to one side of the room.

"This is Matthew Hebert, a scientist from D.C. who will brief you on a few extra details they've discovered."

"Hello, everyone. What you need to know first is that subject 375's powers of enhancement appear to have expanded greatly. Originally it was believed that he was only able to enhance the powers of others, up to nine hours if it was a single person. Now we believe that not only has he got the ability to enhance the abilities of others, but in doing so he's gaining access to their abilities for his own use, at least in a limited fashion. We're not sure of the full scope of his powers since this was only learned during his escape."

John eyes his team briefly before asking, "Can you give us more detail, Mr. Hebert?"

"Certainly. Before his escape, the last team Subject 375 enhanced had a mutant with abilities that included rusting metal the same way that 375 did during his escape. However, that team had other abilities that would have been more useful to Subject 375 during an escape, such as the ability to walk through walls. This leads us to believe he isn't consciously absorbing powers, at least not yet. The fact that his powers have grown in this unexpected direction means we shouldn't put limits on him too quickly though."

John nods. "So 375 will be our primary target."

The scientist shook his head. "No, Subject 131 should remain your top priority. He's a berserker in combat and should be neutralized first, especially before 375 can enhance his strength."

As John looks thoughtfully at the dossier in front of him, the general thanks the scientist for his input and asks him to leave. As John and the team look at the general, his face takes on a serious look.

"To assist your team in finding and recapturing these three, I am temporarily assigning a specialist with mental abilities to join you."

John could almost feel the temperature in the room drop as he and his team took in the general's words. "Sir, I think my team..."

The general waved a hand for silence as he talked over John. "The decision has been made, Captain. Your new teammate will meet you in an hour. His file will be on your desk."

John salutes, followed by his team, and they leave the meeting room.

....

As Hunter Team 2 heads back to their quarters, John's face reflects his mindset.

'Fuck me! It's not enough that I get scanned by mind benders after I hunt down rogue ones, now I have one on my team. I'm still not convinced that the ones working for us are good guys. Those "Mentats" who attacked DC last year are still on the loose and Hunter Team 1 is still looking for replacements. I feel sorry for Frank- no one should have to see his people turned into drooling idiots.'

John waves goodbye to the others and heads to their small office, a place they barely use but which at least has some privacy. Meeting the new team member MIGHT just be easier with some info about his abilities. John sighs as he walks the short distance to the office.

Settling in to his chair with the file on Lt. Elian Gomez, some forty minutes pass before he looks up from it.

'So, an empath at a distance, but a telepath via touch. Guess I don't have to worry about him dancing through my head after all.'

A knock sounds at the door and John calls out to enter. A slim, dark haired man in a Hunter Team jumpsuit walks in. Standing before John, he salutes and stares at the wall over John's head.

"Lt. Elian Gomez reports as ordered, sir!" His voice is steady and calm as Gomez speaks.

"At ease, Gomez. Welcome to Hunter Team 2. I'm your new CO, John Marshall. You'll meet your teammates later, Lt. Melissa Rice and Sgt. Mike Epps."

Gomez meet's John's eyes as he relaxes his stance and nods, but his face remains stiff. The silence stretches for a few moments before John speaks.

"Do you have any questions, Gomez?"

"No sir, I don't."

"Have you already been briefed on the mission then?"

"No sir. I'm sure you'll tell me what you want me to know, Captain." The irony in Gomez's tone is cutting.

"Lieutenant, I'm not sure what your past experiences have been, but in the field I need to believe I can rely on you as a teammate. Being a jackass isn't the best way to start off." John's face matches his steely tone. 'Great, I wish I'd said that better. Still, that WAS a dickhead thing he said.'

"Understood, Captain. Do you wish to brief me now about the mission?" Gomez's eyes are back on some faraway spot on the wall above John. His voice is neutral.

John sighs to himself as he starts telling Gomez about the mission.

....

Melissa barely was in the door of her room before Mike has her pinned against the wall. With one arm holding her arms above her head, his other roams her body, caressing and squeezing her through the jumpsuit. She moans into his mouth as he kisses her, but she manages to break from the kiss before she loses all focus.

"Mike! We're going to be meeting someone in an hour and I do NOT want to smell like sex!" The teasing smile on her face showed she was only half serious.

"I know. That's 30 minutes of sex, ten minutes to shower and twenty to get to the meeting room." Mike Epps' lips curved as he stared at the light-skinned blond. Melissa intentionally presses more of her body against him, a not-so-subtle encouragement.

She gasps as Mike uses his telekinesis to roughly push her against the wall, freeing his hands as she eyes him helplessly. Her pussy moistens as Mike steps back and invisible 'hands' run over her body. She closes her eyes and relishes the feelings.

A sharp pinch to one nipple brings a gasp. The sound of her zipper lowering echoes in the room. As Melissa's hips bounce futilely against the wall, she feels the jumpsuit being tugged down over her body.

A minute later, her clothes are gone entirely and Mike steps up to her as she lays spread eagle against the wall. Kneeling, he puts his head between her thighs. His tongue starts low, circling slowly up and around and back down again. As Melissa moans, Mike pays careful, loving attention to every nerve ending and gives each one its due. The next 30 minutes pass quickly in a haze of lust.

Freshly showered, Mike and Melissa meet their new teammate briefly before liftoff at the helipad. The noise of the chopper prohibits casual conversation, which suits everyone. The helicopter lifts off the pad and heads out into the darkness towards the city carrying the team towards their prey.

....

In upstate New York, John walks into the kitchen of their rented log cabin and puts on some water for tea. As it boils, he thinks about how flawlessly the past six days have gone for the trio. One quick armored car heist (in which no one was seriously hurt, thankfully) netted enough cash for a series of rented cheap hotel rooms and some real clothing, as well as the used Dodge minivan parked alongside the cabin.

As he looks out at the trees and sips his tea, John closes his eyes and truly relaxes for the first time since the escape. The warm smell of chai wafts up around him and the birdsong outside is the only sound besides his breathing.

The sound of a footfall brings John's eyelids open. He sees Dawn entering the kitchen, toweling her hair. Her body is lean and taut under the long shirt she wears; the sight of it makes him hard instantly.

"Morning, Dawn."

"Hey. Any more tea?"

"Sure," John replies as he stands and moves to the stove. "Here." He hands her the cup and watches as she searches for a spoon and sugar. As she bends over, her white lace panties are visible briefly under the shirt. John reaches a decision and closes his eyes briefly to focus.

As she begins spooning sugar into her cup, John notices her nipples becoming hard under the shirt. Casually, Dawn unwinds the towel from her hair; it drapes down and covers them. John fights to keep the grin from his face as he concentrates some more.

Dawn looks up from her tea. "So, we're safely out of the city, what now?"

"I don't know. We should wait and talk with Nikolas. Maybe we should split up?"

Dawn winds some hair around her finger as she sips more tea. "I dunno. We all got caught before. I think we should stay together. After seeing how smart you are, I'd like to stay with you even if Nikolas leaves." She smiles warmly and catches his eye.

As he smiles back, John ups the flow of energy. "You're someone I can get along with, I suppose."

Coyly, Dawn looks up from drinking her tea, through her bangs at him. "You suppose, huh? Need me to show you again what I'm good for?" Her smile is a grin, now and the towel slides away to reveal her nipples are rock hard against the shirt. As she straightens in her chair, Dawn's shoulders go back and she looks at John like a wolf might look at a steak.

John reaches out with a hand and covers Dawn's as it sits on the table. "I'm up for learning more about you, Dawn." He leans forward as he talks, looking her in the eyes.

"Let me show you something I'm really good at." Dawn slips to her knees on the linoleum floor in front of John. As her cute butt leaves the chair, John can see a slight trail of wetness left behind and smells her arousal. He grins openly now and runs his hands through her hair as Dawn opens his jeans and her head begins to bob on his cock.

"That's amazing, Dawn. We're going to be a great team." After just a few minutes of attention, John unleashes a load of sperm down her eager throat.

Quickly, while he still has a hardon, John pulls her up and bends Dawn over the kitchen table. Yanking her panties to the side, he pushes into her slickness and takes her. Dawn comes almost immediately and several more orgasms follow as John rides her, using short strokes that keep him deep inside her pussy. The pressure of her clit on the table's edge drives her wild, bringing gutteral noises from her. John continues to increase her libido throughout the sex session. When he finally finishes a second time John leaves Dawn on the table, a limp and thoroughly used experiment of his abilities, as he heads up to take his own shower.

....

The blue paint job of the rental catches the evening light as John pulls off the freeway and onto the road to the log cabin, a load of groceries in the back seat. Dawn's head is bobbing in his lap as they drive. Ever since yesterday morning, John has been keeping her libido in high gear and trying other things as well.

Pulling in to the driveway, John looks down at her blonde hair. "We're back." With a soft, sucking noise Dawn releases his cock, gently tucking him away.

"I think I'm addicted to this," she says as she finishes zipping him up and the car stops.

"You're not the only one," John laughs.

"No, really," her expression starts to darken as Dawn thinks. "Have you..." Her question is interrupted by shattering glass and a shot from the cabin. Looking up, they both see Nikolas kneeling and aiming a rifle through the window at the tree line.

"Shield us!" John shouts out, as he pushes at Dawn again with his power. She complies, throwing up a dome around the car just in time to stop a hail of bullets that come from the tree line. Not all the bullets are aimed at the car. John sees Nikolas' head erupt with a spray of blood and he goes down in the cabin.

Starting the car, John tears out of the drive. Bullets continue to ring off the shield Dawn has up, joined for a moment by what looks like a spray from a flamethrower. A small tree is ripped from the ground and thrown at the car but again Dawn's shield blocks it, although she visibly strains with the effort. John pulses her again with his powers, boosting her ability, as he gets onto the main road and accelerates away from the cabin.

Behind them, Hunter Team 2 emerges from the trees and begins to converge on the house. Gomez' voice comes over their headsets as they move in. "Subject 131 is dead. I felt him go. No one else is in the house." The team quickly confirms the kill and assembles out front again.

Captain Marshall looks over his team as they wait for the chopper to arrive. "Good work people. One down, two to go and they're on the run. We might even be able to track them from the air. Quick and dirty debrief anyone?"

Mike speaks up,"Tried getting a tree in front of the car to block the road. Next time we should be better prepped to block exits." John nods at the sergeant and looks around. Gomez opens his mouth once, then closes it, and finally relents under John's questioning gaze.

"Sir, Subject 417 should not have been able to keep her shield up against the pyrokinetic attack, based on what we know of her. I think we should assume Subject 375 is boosting her ability to unexpected levels."




Performance Enhancer



"Agreed," John says,"but she's a one trick pony. I'm more worried about 375 and what the escape showed about his powers changing." Gomez nods and looks up at the chopper as it comes into sight.

Although the team quickly piles in and tries to catch up, the five minutes it took for the helicopter to show up and the oncoming nightfall provide just the edge the escapees need to disappear again.

............

Pulling off the highway at the first exit, John drives the rental car onto a back road. He's already made this trip once, familiarizing himself with the general area and this planned escape route. Dawn sits quiet in the car next to him, slumped with exhaustion from using her shielding. Minutes turn into an hour and John starts to relax.

"Right before they found us, I was going to ask you what you've been doing to me." Dawn's voice is soft in the darkness of the car. John reaches out with his power before he answers.

"Dawn, I am attracted to you but my power doesn't work with something that's not there already. I amped up your horniness for me, but that's all. I'm sorry." He turns his head to look at her in the darkness of the car.

"Don't be, John. I think I like it. Are you using your powers on me now?"

"No," John lies as he continues the feed of power, feeding the submissive tendencies in her he's been building up the past 24 hours. He can tell that her arousal is going up on its own and her hands are unconsciously stroking herself.

"Good," Dawn says, before she reaches over to his lap and starts working on his zipper. Shortly, the sounds of her cocksucking fill the car as they wind through the back roads. As he enjoys the attention, John briefly wonders how they were found by the Hunter Team.

Elian sat patiently, waiting for the telepath to finish the loyalty probe. Being mentally gifted, at least the process doesn't cause him pain. Something about being gifted makes probes only feel slightly uncomfortable. Most people compared a probe to being hit with a light electric shock, only continuously for the length of the probe. An unlucky few even passed out screaming, the poor bastards.

As the brunette finishes her probe Elian can feel her attraction for him and knows she isn't hiding it, mentally at least. He smiles politely and shakes his head at the unspoken invitation. She shrugs and clears him out of debriefing.

As he joins the team in the hall, Elian can feel the heat between Mike and Melissa even though they show nothing publicly. The Captain dismisses them and everyone begins walking back to quarters. As he locates his room, Elian realizes he's next door to Mike and sighs. 'Bad enough Melissa is a hot little chica,' he thinks, 'without having to hear them getting it on right next to me.' As if summoned by the thought, a spike of lust comes through the wall at him. Undressing, Elian lies on his bunk and begins jacking off as the sex continues.

Deciding to have some fun, Elian spends time playing with the couple next door emotionally. Their lust simmers for a while as he manipulates their emotions and he can feel them responding with slow, gentle sex. After Elian decides he's ready to come he quickly brings them to a peak of lust, almost dizzying them with the speed and intensity of their emotions. Melissa's voice is faintly audible though the thick concrete walls now, loud and demanding more of what she's getting. Elian closes his eyes and concentrates, until finally all three teammates come at the same time. Mike and Melissa collapse into a sweaty embrace as Elian looks at his spent cock and wishes he'd taken the brunette up on her offer.

...

Elian gets up from his couch to answer the knocking. He can already tell his teammates are on the other side, but he acts surprised and invites Mike and Melissa in. They look nervous for a few moments and Mike speaks.

"Elian, we have a question for you. It's kind of personal, but we have to ask if you..." Mike pauses, at a loss for words.

"Yes, Mike, I felt you both next door earlier. I'm not able to block it out, either." Elian keeps his tone calm and his face straight although he's surprised by what he feels from the pair.

Melissa nods and says, "I thought so! That wasn't normal for us earlier, so I bet you did it didn't you?" Despite the wording, her voice is eager, not upset. Mike's feelings are a bit more mixed, but he also is emoting strongly of excitement.

"Yes, I did. I'm glad you both liked it. I didn't mean to interfere, but I got caught up in the feelings myself and when that happens.. well..." Elian looks at the table, trying not to smirk. 'They're quite the horn dogs,' he thinks.

"Elian," Mike says, "can I ask you something very personal?" Elian nods but the words that follow are like a sledgehammer between his eyes. "Would you be open to a threesome with us some time?"

As Elian sits, mouth dropped open, Melissa stands up. "Maybe you need some convincing?" She looks at Mike, who smiles, before she unzips her jumpsuit and it drops to the floor. Her nude body is beautiful and both men stare openly at her slim athletic form. Even as he admires her, Elian senses the lust growing again from both his teammates and instinctively responds by amping it up. Melissa's nipples harden under his gaze and Mike is subtly stroking himself through his jumpsuit.

Elian smiles and looks at them both. "Shall we move this to my bed?" They nod and he leads the way. Once there, both men get nude quickly and Melissa plants herself on the bed. She lays back and begins fingering her blond bush lightly as she looks at the two cocks hardening before her.

"How do you want me, boys?" Her smile is coy but the answering ones are almost feral in their need.

Mike speaks, "On your hands and knees, you sexy little slut." Rolling over, she wiggles her cute ass at them and reaches back to part her lips again. Her moan is urgent and almost a whine. Mike steps up behind her to fill her aching, empty pussy. Elian smiles as he continues to increase the lust of his teammates while letting his own grow naturally.

As Mike begins pounding into Melissa, her back arches and she pushes herself against him at the bottom of each thrust to take him as deeply as possible. Elian moves up next to them.

"Come on, Mike, fuck her good!" He reaches out now and strokes Melissa's back and ass, using the contact to enter her mind. Mike pounds even more fiercely into the blonde, the slapping of his hips against her turning into a solid thumping as he pistons in and out. "Yes, that's it man! Fuck her like a bitch!"

As he keeps up the dirty talk, Elian works on Melissa emotionally. With each degrading phrase, her lust flares up. He increases Mike's lust at the words, too. Mentally, Elian begins working changes on Melissa as her mind opens fully under the sensations she's being assaulted with. With his telepathy he squashes any thoughts of resistance to the way she's being treated, which is easy enough. The hard part comes when he alters her attachment to Mike to be an emotional need for Mike OR himself, but preferably both together.

As Mike comes inside Melissa, he presses deeply and forces her face first onto the bed under him. Reaching up, Elian touches Mike and induces a deep sleep and trusting feelings. Soon, Mike is snoring next to them on the bed as Melissa rides Elian cowgirl style. Elian continues shaping her into his fucktoy as she orgasms again and again for him.

"You love being my bitch, don't you Melissa?" She nods as she bounces. "You'll do anything for this cock and my voice in your ear telling you how much I love seeing you play the slut for me." She shudders through another orgasm at the thought.

"You'll service anyone I want, any where and any time. The worse I treat you, the wetter your pussy gets. You love to have me humiliate you, control you, use you like a toy." She loses track of where one orgasm stops and another starts. "The best part of it all for me is knowing you asked me in, Melissa. Without that, I could never have done all this to you."

When he finally allows her to collapse she falls asleep, sated like she's never been before and hooked on his cock and his voice for her orgasms. Lying in the afterglow, Elian considers what to do about Mike. He reaches out and shakes Mike awake, but keeps his hand on him as the man shakes the sleep from his head.

Elian continues his work, shaping Mike in much the same ways he has just done with Melissa. Mike finds himself confused at first, but quickly surrenders to his growing desire for Elian's cock and the sound of Elian's voice in his ear as he sucks. "That's it, Mike. Lick her juices off me and clean your master's cock, boy." Mike turns out to be pretty decent at blow jobs, to Elian's delight.

Putting Mike back to sleep is simple. Elian's efforts have tired him out too. His thoughts wander slightly before sleep takes him. 'Now I just need to find a way into the Captain's mind and I'll have my own full set of toys.'

......

John was tired of running. He and Dawn have been on the road for weeks now, using her ability to help them survive. It comes in handy for everything from quick carjackings to tearing open locks. Dawn's inventiveness with the force shield was obviously why she had been incarcerated in the first place. She swore that now her ability seemed permanently stronger though, with John boosting her every time to improve her concentration and finesse. She didn't realize that John was also getting something from the deal- he could now make his own force shield about the size of a pack of cigarettes. Its uses were limited but with his imagination and watching Dawn work John was growing skilled with it. He'd even stolen a few sets of car keys that way.

The two of them pull up to an RV park in California. John's latest idea has the owner of their RV tied up in back bedroom. They'd finally shaken the dragnet about a week ago. Once they were safe John intended to release the man and be on their way. Over the past week John's attempts to condition the owner and achieve some sort of Stockholm Syndrome effect was showing signs of working. It wasn't quick though.

After getting settled in the RV park, John feels the need to stretch his legs while Dawn starts on dinner. Walking around, he waves casually to several "neighbors" in the park. The campground extended quite a ways and John kept walking, enjoying the exercise after hours of being in the RV. As John walked further back, he failed to notice that he was being watched.

Inside one of the larger campers, a discussion was going on about what to do regarding John and Dawn. After a few minutes a decision was reached.

Dawn stood in front of the small kitchen stove, working happily on the meatloaf in front of her. Glancing back at Richard, she sees the RV's owner still lying quietly in the bedroom. He was still tied and gagged, but for a few days now he'd stopped being such a problem for them. That was why John had decided to risk coming to an RV campground.

As she continues working on the meatloaf, Dawn hears the sound of the door opening. Turning, she cocks her hip and smiles, until she catches sight of the stranger in the doorway. He has a large pistol pointed straight at her.

"Keep quiet and no one gets hurt, lady." The man's eyes are hidden behind black shades that match his long dark hair. He has several days of stubble as well, lending him an even more dangerous appearance. He frowns as Dawn suddenly smiles even bigger than before at him. Then he catches the flicker of something as it surrounds him. "Shit! You're a mutant too!!" was all he got out before the force field begins collapsing and crushing him.

As what he'd said registers with Dawn, she stops but can see it's a bit late. 'Poor bastard,' she thought as she looked at the sphere of energy filled with blood and tissue. Thinking a moment, she shrugs and continues using her force field as a sort of trash compactor. Once she has him as compact as she can get, out come the Hefty bags.

She'd just finished putting the remains inside a double bag when John came back from his walk.

"Quick John, close the door. Go start the RV and let's get out of here." As Dawn looks at him, she can see John's confusion.

"What? Why?"

"No time to explain! We have to leave before..." She was interrupted by the sound of someone opening the door again. As it swings open, Dawn throws up a shield to block the doorway.

The woman walking in was surprised to see them both, but quickly pulls a gun and points it at them. As she swings it up, Dawn uses her power to slam into the woman like a brick wall, knocking her out cold. John comes to his senses and jumps out of the RV, grabs the gun, slings the woman over his shoulder and brings her quickly inside before anyone else notices the disturbance.

Several minutes later, the stranger is laying next to Richard on the bed, securely duct taped and beginning to come around. Dawn has told John everything and he's suggested they question the woman before leaving the RV park. Reluctantly, Dawn agreed.

As they wait for the woman to awaken, John thinks about how to handle this. He asks Dawn to finish dinner as he searches the stranger's pockets. She has no ID or money, just a strange green colored key card. As she lies there, John looks closely at his captive. She's a hatchet jawed brunette with long legs and almost no chest to speak of. 'Not really my type,' he thinks but it gives John an idea how to question her. It's over half an hour before she begins to move.

"Shhh. Relax." John whispers in her ear. He strokes her hair back from her eyes as she opens them. Green eyes lock on his as he focuses on her emotions and confusion. This would be mostly guesswork and he hopes it turns out well.

Her eyes continue to show confusion and disorientation as John carefully heightens those feelings, but he also works on tamping down her fear. He keeps on stroking her hair gently and whispering to her.

"Feel how nice it is for me to stroke your hair? It's comforting and safe here. You're going to be OK, trust me." John kept up this talk for a while, before slowly releasing her from the sensation of being disoriented. As he does so, he can tell her focus is strongly on him now, which is what he'd hoped for.

"Do you mind telling me what was going on here and who you are?"

The woman actually blushes. "My name's Emma. Adam and I were trying to rob you two. Please forgive us!"

"That's OK, Emma. Why were you doing that?"

"We're both mutants and are being hunted. We were trying to get your RV to swap out for the one we'd stolen already. Adam thinks the police are looking for it now. Where is Adam anyway?"

John pushed away the nausea he felt. "Don't worry, he's being taken care of. It's funny we should meet you Emma. Dawn and I are mutants too."

"Really?!?" Emma's eyes lite up, then her expression changes. "Adam won't like that. He doesn't want us near other mutants."

"Why not?"

"We were living with a small camp of muties in Colorado and the feds attacked. We barely made it out. It was horrible, hearing people scream and running for our lives."

"I know, Emma. Dawn and I were caught but we managed to escape. Now we're trying to stay free and figure out what to do next."

"Maybe Adam and I can join you two? Even if Adam won't, I'd like to." Emma looks in John's eyes hopefully.

"You don't want to stay with Adam?"

"He and I only met while escaping the camp. Honestly he scares me."

John smiles at Emma as he continues stroking her hair. "Don't worry about Adam. He scared Dawn too and she made him go away. I'm certain he won't be back." Emma smiles and snuggles up to John. He continues stroking her, moving down onto her back and working more on her feelings.

After several minutes Emma looks up at John. "May I... can I tell you something?"

"Certainly."

"Adam and I met some other mutants on the road. They gave us cards to contact them." She motions to the green card sitting nearby. "We're supposed to be able to use those to bring them if we need help."

"Who are these others? What do you mean, use them?"

"We break one of the cards and it will send some sort of signal that we're in trouble. The others are..." Suddenly the RV begins to rock and the sound of a helicopter overrides Emma's voice. John went to stand up and a feeling of exhaustion overtakes him. As he topples to the ground, he sees Emma already passed out.

........

John's head hurts like a sonuvabitch. As he blinks his eyes open and peers around, his pulse seems to hammer in his skull. The light was dim all around but what it does reveal is enough to scare him.

The room contains only John, the military style cot he's on and a solid metal door. It's almost exactly like the facility he'd escaped from with Dawn and Nikolai, only less well lit and poorly maintained. The walls are marked with water stains and dust and the room feels stuffy, probably because there is no visible ventilation.

Sitting up, John swings his legs off the cot and waits for his dizziness to clear. As he sits he hears a number of footsteps outside the door. The lock clinks and the door swings open, admitting a thin man with a pinched and pale face.

"Hello. I'm sorry about your headache. It's a side effect of the power that was used on you. The headache will pass soon. But forgive my manners, my name is Karlos. I'm in charge of the team that brought you in."

"Who are you people and where am I? Where's Dawn? And Emma?"

"They're both fine, John. Dawn is already awake and told us a bit about you two. As for who 'we' are, I'm part of a group that resists the way mutants are being treated by the government. We don't have a name for ourselves but the government calls us domestic mutant terrorists, or DMTs."

"Pretty organized aren't you? Helicopters, locater beacons, all that takes some serious cash."

"We're not above theft to support ourselves, John. Or violence either. In fact, a great man once said that he wouldn't call it violence when it's self defense. He'd call it intelligence."

"Huh. Can't say I disagree."

"We mistakenly thought you and Dawn had attacked Adam and Emma. Since we didn't know what was going on inside your RV we had one of our team hit it with a stun blast, then went in and took everyone prisoner. After our testing confirmed you and Dawn were mutants, we brought you here to recover. The human who was already tied up we left at the RV park. He'll be OK there."

"Where IS here, exactly?"

"I'm afraid I can't say until we talk some more, John. Are you hungry? We can eat while I answer your questions."

"Lead on, MacDuff." John stands and follows Karlos. One other person waits outside, a stocky blond man in a black jumpsuit.

"John, meet Hatchet. He's the one that stunned you earlier." The blond nods at John who returns the greeting.

Several minutes later John is seated at a small, metal table in their cramped "chow hall" with a hot cup of coffee in front of him. After answering a few questions about how he and Dawn had gotten out and ended up in California, the question he was dreading came up.

"So what are your powers, John? Why did they have you locked up?"

John sighs and stares at his so-called coffee, before looking at Karlos again. "I am an enhancer. Basically, I cause things to happen faster, or stronger, or quicker than normal. It works on things like rust, emotions, even mutant powers."

Karlos and Hachet just stare a few seconds at John, shock obvious in their faces. Karlos spoke first, "Can you show us?"

John holds his coffee cup so the two could see into it. The once-dark, hot liquid is now almost gone, showing mold growth and a caked over surface.

"Shit!" Hatchet said in a low voice. "And you can boost powers too?"

John nodded. "I was kept in a nice little cage because they only knew about my ability to increase mutant powers. I'd been near a mutant battle in Atlanta, the one with the pyrokinetics."




Performance Enhancer



Hatchet's face is a quiet mask. "The one where all those people were killed in the explosion that took out the Underground?"

"Yes, I was trying to get away and was hit by a stray bullet. In my pain I lost control and so did the nearest mutants. One of the survivors was a mentalist who was able to tell I was a mutant and that I was somehow responsible. After that it was brick walls and daily use of my power for the government for months on end."

As Hatchet looks at John, his face changes from coldly quiet to sadness. "I lost one of my friends in that same fight. I wondered what had happened. Thank you for sharing, John."

John stares back at the tabletop in shame, his face coloring. "I'm so sorry, " he says in a small voice.

"It wasn't your fault. Besides, my friend knew it was risky going into the situation. We were part of another group then, trying to break into a research lab doing work on mutant genes and it turned out to be a trap. No one can blame you for being shot and losing control."

Shaking his head, John can't meet Hatchet's eyes. Karlos interrupts them both.

"I don't think anyone is to blame except the government, for treating us like threats. Most of us are victims of the bombings. I was in Fort Lauderdale when the gas attacks hit the beach. Now I'm a mentalist myself, John."

"What can you do?"

"Mostly hide us from other mutants, plus a little telepathy, enough to know when someone's lying." Karlos grins.

"You're not feared by others here?"

"We've learned more or less to work as a team. It also helps that I've saved a few lives with my other skills. Before all this, I was an ER doctor."

"I almost can't remember my old life," John says, staring into his coffee cup again. "I don't really want to, either."

Karlos claps John on the shoulder. "You're among friends now, John. One thing you should know- you don't have to help us either. We certainly could use it, but I won't expect it of you."

Meeting Karlos' eyes, John speaks. "Anything I can do to help, I'd be more than happy to do." Both men smile at him.

Dawn and Emma also decide to stay on, mostly because John had, rather than from any strong conviction. In the next few days John learns all about the group. There are currently 6 members- Karlos, mentalist and leader; Hatchet, with his stunning rays; Damien who has invisibility; Amanda who has teleportation; Brett who is a pyrokinetic; and Hien with super strength.

John also learns that Emma's ability is empathy, on a low scale. That was one reason she and Adam hadn't been asked to join the group; Adam's attitude had been another- he'd felt they had been better off alone and not drawing attention to themselves. It's a common feeling according to Karlos. Before his discovery in Atlanta it was how John had been living--low key and with minimal use of his powers, although they hadn't been very strong at the time. 

After a year spent being a trained dog for the government, John feels ready to fight back. Karlos and his team are working on finding and recruiting others. They've spent months getting established, with a couple of small bases like this one and operating cash mostly stolen in armored car heists and bank robberies. Recently they've been tracking down other mutants using information stolen from government operatives they've kidnapped. It's how they'd found Adam and Emma. Those two were actually the only ones they've found so far--others were already captured or better at hiding from everyone.

At the team's next strategy meeting, John puts forth an idea he's thought of.

"Have you considered hitting one of the mutant jails?"

"Yes," Karlos answers. "They're all too well defended by both mutants and military personnel. It would be suicide."

"Maybe not. The one Dawn and I were held in was underground in NYC. It wasn't one of the publicly known ones. I think that's the key, finding either that facility or another like it. It had a lot of cells. I counted at least 20 in my hallway and there were several hallways."

"So you think there are more secret jails like the one you were in?"

"There HAVE to be. I've looked at the info available on the two known mutant jails and they just don't have the capacity to hold all the people being arrested. The teams I was boosting were going out on a weekly or even daily basis sometimes, hunting down mutants and detaining them. Even if they were only bringing in three mutants a week, that one facility couldn't have held all the people detained while I was there."

Dawn's soft voice breaks in, "I know for a fact where we broke out of wasn't the only place I was held. I remember some sort of bad reaction to the first meds they put me on and being transported there by chopper because of it."

Karlos looks thoughtful. "Makes sense. We believe there are several teams working for the government catching mutants, at least one on each coast and one in the D.C. area. So there's probably at least one secret facility supporting each team, holding mutants prisoner and so on."

"And since we already know roughly where one jail is, we could start by tracking it down. Even if we decide not to break in, we'll learn a lot more about their operations." John sits back and watches Karlos decide.

"I like it. Let's get ready to hit the Big Apple."

............

New York hasn't gotten any prettier since the arrival of mutants on the global scene. The WTC Memorial had been trashed last year and would probably be years getting rebuilt. The rest of the town is almost the same, only grimier and more likely to be called Gotham by people who weren't comic book nerds. Crime was nearly on a level with Mexico City now--kidnappings, murders, every category is up across the board.

John and Dawn have no problem finding the location they'd emerged from the sewers at. It's backtracking from there that takes the team several weeks of guesswork and poring over maps. After a week, John realizes he might be able to boost Dawn's memory and recall of the event. That helps a lot but she hadn't always been paying full attention to her surroundings.

Now they stand in the darkness far below ground, watching a small computer screen. It shows the camera output from a remotely controlled car that has been converted to a spying platform. It had been Amanda's idea to disguise it as a (large) rat. All the electrical work and cameras, visible and infrared, has been done by Hien. Super strength is his trademark now but before mutating he'd been an electrical engineer. The car is rolling up to what they think is the perimeter of the underground jail.

As everyone huddles and watches, John is very aware of Emma and Dawn flanking him. The soft press of their bodies against his remind him that it has been days since he'd been with Dawn. Recently, Emma has also been flirting with him, possibly because of how he'd manipulated her when they first met. Dawn made it clear she's jealous of his attention but it hasn't stopped Emma from teasing him whenever they are alone together. Reaching down, John quietly and forcefully removes Emma's hand from the front of his pants and returns his attention to the screen.

The screen shows the now-repaired wall that Nicolai knocked down when escaping. The new bricks and mortar are clearly visible. As Hien pans the camera around, they can see a security camera looking down on the area.

"Shit!" Hien said. "I hope they buy into the disguise, or that their cameras are worse quality than mine are." He brings the car around and back down the tunnels towards the team as everyone looks to Karlos for guidance.

"We wait for now. We'll put out our own security system--laser tripwires and cameras that Hien's cobbled together. If we don't detect anything by the end of the week, we come back and continue mapping out the facility. In the meantime, we'll work on the break-in planning."

................

The week passes without any signs of detection. By Friday John is going stir crazy, along with the rest of the team. They've holed up in a small leased condo and it's cramped with nine people. John swears to himself as he gets out of the shower that once this is done he's taking Dawn, getting a cheap hotel, and relieving his blue balls. Having pancakes and sausage for breakfast today had been the last straw. Dawn and Emma got into a competition for "sexiest sausage swallower," as John privately thought of the display they'd put on.

After dressing, John joins the team in the kitchen for their final briefing. Karlos and Hien have printouts on the walls for everyone to clearly see. Hien has managed to insert several smaller versions of his "rat car" into the A/C for the facility and has done some exploring. Augmented by John's limited knowledge of the place, they have a working layout for the facility. Karlos stands up and addresses the group.

"Alright, we're ready to go. We've managed to identify roughly where the prisoners are," he indicates an area on the map, "and I think we can get in and rescue about ten prisoners before they mobilize. From what Dawn and John encountered, their response consisted entirely of human personnel but we assume there's a team of mutants on site as well."

The rest of the briefing covered escape routes and a few contingency plans, which John has helped Karlos develop. As he tries to look attentive, John can feel Emma's stockinged foot sliding up and down his thigh. He tries to ignore it and is mostly successful until he sees Amanda's grin out of the corner of his eye. The cute, short brunette knows what's happening and it suddenly pisses John off that she finds it amusing. As Karlos droned on, John concentrates on Amanda and makes her skin sensitivity increase tenfold.

Amanda's eyes pop out nearly as far as her nipples do when she finds herself suddenly super-aware of the clothes she's wearing. Embarrassed, she holds up her printout and hunches over slightly trying to hide how her shirt is now tented out over each nipple.

John's eyes get bigger as he sees how Amanda's nipples stand out. They have to be an inch long at least! His mouth waters at the thought of getting his lips around those tits. Pretending to read, he concentrates on her feelings. He can't be sure, but he figures embarrassment and arousal are good hot buttons to choose. As the briefing wraps up, Amanda abruptly leaves the table and heads to the bathroom. Trying to look inconspicuous, John trails along behind her. Fortunately, Dawn and Emma are sniping at each other again and most of the others stop to watch the entertainment. As their voices raise, John can hear Karlos trying to intervene.

Inside the bathroom, Amanda is just starting to cool down. She knows exactly what just happened. They've all seen John's powers in use; one of the things Karlos insisted on is that the team train together and figure out ways to complement each other. She's pissed but can't get John out of her mind. 'What would he be like in bed?' She catches herself kneading one of her breasts and is pulling her hand away when the door handle turns.

John notices that Amanda hasn't locked the door and quickly opens it and walks inside. She's standing with her back to the sink, clutching one tit in what looks like a death grip. John immediately amps up her lust and sensitivity again and her face changes from shock to awe. Her nipples fully tent out her shirt again and she stands there as he closes the two steps between them. He reaches up and latches onto a nipple with his fingertips, pinching lightly and enjoying the resulting moan.

"You're going to enjoy this, Amanda." John leans down and kisses her. As he does, he can feel her body shiver against his and her legs move apart as she steps into his embrace. Her scent carries in the small bathroom and within seconds (helped by his augmentation) she's writhing against him and moaning lightly. Fingers slide from her nipples to cup the entire breast and his other hand pulls at her hair, forcing her head back as they kiss. He moves from kissing to nuzzling her neck, breathing lightly on her super sensitive skin and feeling her convulse and wrap her arms solidly around him to remain standing.

When John finally nips lightly at her neck, Amanda all but collapses in his arms and moans with her orgasm. Giving her a few moments to recover, John spins her around against the counter and undoes her jeans. When they drop into a puddle around her ankles, his questing hand discovers that she has no panties underneath AND is clean shaven.

"You're exactly how I like my sluts, Amanda." John whispers in her ear as he undoes his own pants and drops them to the floor. His erect cock springs out and he quickly bends her over the sink and seats himself against her wet opening. "Are you ready for this, bitch?" He meets her eyes in the mirror as he asks and she has barely started to nod yes when he slides into her. As her taut muscles spread to accept his thickness, John focuses again on sensitizing her body and she begins silently thrashing in orgasm and biting her lip to keep from screaming out loud. When he finally seats the last inch of himself inside her, John is pleased to feel himself bump right up against her cervix. That does it--Amanda shakes one last time and passes out. Only John's arms supporting her keep her from falling to the tile floor.

Looking down at her body pinned beneath him, John gets angry again. He isn't ready to come yet! With a grin, he begins pumping in and out while holding her in place and concentrating his powers again. As he continues fucking her senseless body, her eyes begin to open and she shudders awake. Pulling on her hair he bends her spine backwards and started hammering home.

"Who's (thwap) my (thwap) new (thwap) bitch?" He asks as he continues fucking her, no longer trying to keep quiet for fear the others would hear.

"Me!" Amanada manages to get out, her voice breaking as she speaks. With a grunt, John slams home one final time and feel himself spurting deep into her wet pussy. At almost the same time, Amanda begins coming again herself as she looks at his face in the mirror. Unknown to John, Amanda has always been a submissive in bed and now she feels a wave of affection sweeping over her at this man who has dominated her so thoroughly in just a few minutes.

After he pulls out, Amanda turns and drops to her knees in front of him. She gently takes his cock into her mouth and sucks him clean of most of their juices, savoring the sensation as she does. John enjoys it as well, but pulls her off by her hair when he begins to harden again and angles her head up so she can see his face.

"Thank you slut. You did yourself proud." With that, John zips up, washes his hands and leaves the bathroom. As she cleans up herself, Amanda's thoughts turn to Dawn and Emma. She'll have to figure out how to deal with them both. She grins as she thinks about the challenge. 



Performance Gulch



He stared out the window at the homes beyond the gulch, his view of them obscured by trees and the lightly falling rain. His mind, foggy from the weather or too much wine the night before, was dangerously close to drifting into a similar gloom. The weather definitely wasn't helping. Neither was the day's planned activities, or more precisely, the lack of plans.

He embraced the possibilities of no work for a day, no chores, nothing required of him except to stare out the window, if that's what he wanted to do. His family was equally unprogrammed for once. No chauffeuring to dance, soccer or sleepovers. It was a true holiday, everything on hold.

He stared, scanning the house directly across the gulch from theirs -- the "monstrosity". Sitting in the "breakfast nook," the marketing label for an afterthought of space next to the kitchen, he imagined the lives of the monstrosity's occupants. The house had changed hands frequently in the time he'd been living here: an older widower, a young couple who had exchanged their house with the widower (he still couldn't believe that one), the couple divorced -- she keeping the house and remarrying with a new family, they moving away but keeping the house as a rental, and then a string of renters -- mostly families -- the house was suited for families.

It was a late 50s, mid- 60s at the latest, developer box: shiplap siding, cheap single-pane sliding windows, and the requisite patio sliding doors leading off to a deck from the kitchen, a patio from the downstairs den. Really, it was an eyesore, the only saving grace the lush forest and the intervening gulch blocking it from his view. The various owners had modified the outside, adding the deck, the patio, cutting in new sliding doors here and there, but from the start the house wanted to be in warmer climes than the Pacific Northwest.

He'd never been in the place. In all the years it had changed hands, it hadn't gone on the market, the usual chance to tour his neighbors' homes. Not that he would have taken the effort, should the opportunity have presented itself, except for one keen interest: seeing the sight-lines to his house. It was something he'd done from all of the neighboring homes at the front of his property.

The gulch, and the forest of trees between the rear of his home and the others below and behind his, was a green scrim during the height of summer. It was one of the reasons they'd purchased the place -- the near-complete envelope of greenery with open sky above that created a private haven. An envelope, but not claustrophobic: the different species, plantings, slope of the hill, and wildly different shapes, densities and colors of foliage created a never-ending distraction looking out his back windows. When the sun set, the light was almost indescribable: yellows and greens deep in the crowns of the black oaks, obscured by the dying catalpa and dappled by the mimosa. He could stand at the nook window and simply stare at the shifting light forever, or so it seemed.

But winter was a different story. The deciduous canopy would fall away, revealing the monstrosities of the homes on the other hillside. The one at the bottom of the gulch, hidden so nicely in the summer, was revealed in all its misguided ugliness come November. Others, even further away -- either up the slope of the hill opposite, or off to the side down the street a ways -- would be revealed, reminding him how impoverished most of the architecture was in this part of the neighborhood. Land sales from the primary homes as owners died and heirs split the lots in the 50s resulted in quick bucks from developers putting up cardboard and baling wire pieces of crap.

He sighed, wishing he could afford to finish the remodeling they had begun a few years back. That project had made their kitchen a wonder of 21st century living -- light and airy, but cozy and warm, in spite of its north-facing exposure. He spent most of his time at home in the kitchen and the "nook," now a more integral part of the entire room. Between the kitchen and the gulch was a small strip of yard, no more than 15 feet deep, mostly mud-soaked grass, and of course beyond that, the wonderful riot of green trees and foliage. Except in the winter.

They had discussed re-landscaping the back yard -- pulling out the horrible cedars and hollys, replacing them with evergreens more suitable to their taste. As they looked at catalogs and discussed ideas with designers, a plan began to emerge, a plan that would continue the idea of a multi-layered green envelope, year-round.

But that plan was only a pipe-dream at the moment, he remembered. They couldn't afford what really needed to be done, and they couldn't imagine anything cheaper.

He felt self-conscious sitting in the nook. Private though it was from all of the next-door neighbors, he felt he was on stage at the top of his side of the gulch -- on stage and exposed. Up until a year ago, before he had decided to live naked, he hadn't really given it a second thought, but since then it was top of mind.

He had walked the street below, looking up at the house. He had imagined all of the sight lines, seeing how the kitchen countertops would obstruct views of anything below his waist, and identifying any of the neighboring windows that might see more. From the kitchen, the image of his nude body reflecting back from the windows, he would look out and imagine who might be in their rooms and what they might see.

There was nothing illegal about what he was doing -- it was his house and he could be naked all he wished. In his community, he had recently learned, he could be naked outside without violating any laws, as long as his behavior wasn't sexual. Which, for his part, it wasn't...mostly. He enjoyed the freedom of walking through the house without a stitch of clothing, the feeling of air on his skin and the way his cock and balls could swing freely.

For the most part, during the summer, he knew no one could see much -- perhaps his bare chest, and if he was really stupid or daring, his whole body if he stepped outside to empty the trash during the day, but only by a limited number of view points and for a very limited amount of time. Perhaps they'd see a flash of skin, know he was naked, but be unable to see much more. At least, he had convinced himself that was true.

But during the winter the entire back of his house was open to view, not only by the house at the bottom of the gulch, but by most of the others up the far hill. He wasn't especially concerned by them -- they were far enough away that even if they did see he was naked, they couldn't make out much.

To be fair, although he spent the majority of his time in these rooms, and the majority of that time naked, he didn't spend all that much time at the house at all. He worked 60 hour weeks, leaving when it was dark and returning well into the evening. It was on days like this, when he wasn't at work, that he realized he was risking his reputation with his recent addiction to being nude.

His day usually started early -- 6AM, sometimes earlier -- when he'd come to the kitchen to wash dishes, prepare breakfast and make his lunch. He would usually strip off his pajamas before attacking the dishes -- not only did they tend to get in the way, it made the job a little less dreary doing it in the nude. He would look over the gulch, the houses dark, figuring no one was staring back at the only lighted window along his side of the ridge. He would empty the food scrap bucket from the sink outside into the composter, the crisp morning air raising the hair on his arm. From that vantage point he was hidden from the houses across the gulch, but more exposed to the neighbors immediately to the sides, a fairly low risk, he calculated, given the time of day.

Sometimes he would stand for a few minutes and look over the gulch, enjoying the morning air on his skin. Sometimes he would take a few minutes and piss around the composter, relieving himself without holding his penis. It was a truly liberating experience, and he rationalized, kept the rat population away from the composter.

In the evening, when the family was upstairs doing their work, he rarely had the opportunity to disrobe -- and when he did, it was equally unlikely anyone outside the house could see him. But on days like this, when he was at home during the middle of the day, with nothing to do, he wanted nothing more than to strip off his clothes and hang out in the nook, reading, surfing or just...hang out.

He sat and stared, noting that no one seemed to be home in the monstrosity. Hardly surprising given the holiday. They hadn't been home the day before, but must have come home and left -- the bedroom blinds were open, and he remembered seeing he garage light on the night before. There were many telltales as to their absence: no lights, no steam from the vents, no activity whatsoever. He decided to strip and enjoy the day.

Standing at the stove, heating leftovers from last night's meal, he looked at his reflection in the glass door leading to the back yard: A middle-aged man, his butt slightly sagging but still round and tight when he tensed it, his chest still retaining some of its former glory, and most worrisome, a slightly expanding waistline; hell it was a paunch. That his penis was exposed should have been the least of his concerns -- his body was not a sight for sore eyes.

He heard footsteps coming toward the kitchen and his heart beat faster. The thought that his clothes were too far away to put on before one of his kids appeared came just before the realization that it was his wife entering the room. He breathed easier, smiling to himself. She had never really acknowledged his recent desire to live naked, nor had she joined in. As disappointed as he was in his own reflection, it paled in comparison to her own self-loathing: a far too large butt, breasts sagging and a roll of middle-aged fat she couldn't seem to burn off, no matter how much exercise and diet.

He didn't see her that way. In fact, he didn't see her that way at all...literally. She had long stopped taking her clothes off in front of him, preferring to shower alone, dressing in other rooms and sliding into bed, with pajamas, either before him, or after. His penis gave a little jerk at the thought she was in the kitchen with him. He loved the normalcy of their activity -- making coffee, washing dishes -- in this case, she was carrying the empty hamper to the laundry room -- in spite of his nakedness life went on. Not only hadn't she acknowledged his year-long habit, she didn't seem to care, one way or the other. Either she wasn't too put off by his middle-age figure, or, he imagined every once in a while, she might be slightly turned on by it. At least, if not turned on, he hoped, mildly amused.

From his current location, he was hidden by almost all views into the kitchen except the glass block backsplash behind the stove. If the next door neighbor were in her kitchen, or at her back door emptying her garbage, she would have a clear view of him, including the patch of pubic hair above the stove. He bent down to confirm she wasn't home -- at least her lights weren't on -- and continued preparing his snack.

He looked again at the full-length reflection in the back door glass, looking through to the forest beyond. He could just barely make out any of the houses across the way -- their windows dark rectangles in the afternoon gloom. He took the pot off the stove, turning to pour the soup into a bowl. He couldn't avoid but see his full nudity reflected back at him, his cock hanging loosely, his sac tight from the cool air. He set the pot onto the counter, bending to get a bowl and thought he saw movement in one of the windows in the monstrosity.

As he poured the soup, he glanced up and over to see if he was imagining things. There. Again. He looked at one of the windows above the garage, obviously a bedroom. A silhouette, faint in the darkened room, passed across the window. He paused, wondering if he should turn off the light in the kitchen. His wife came up the stairs, her footsteps heavy from the hamper full of clean laundry. Too hard to explain, he thought, imagining her questions as to why the lights were out.

He continued to pour the soup and look across the gulch. Nothing.

Taking a seat at the table in the nook, he stared out at the window. He left the light off over the table, making it less obvious he was there. Still likely they could see him from across the way, but if he was fairly still, they might not notice him. He stared that way, now with renewed interest as he sipped from his spoon.

Moments later he was rewarded. A light came on in the room, confirming it was a bedroom. He watched as a figure moved across the field of view. A second figure appeared and then disappeared; at first he thought it might be a sibling or parent, until he realized it was the mirrored surface of the bedroom closet sliding door.

He didn't know much about the family that lived there. If it was still the same as had been there last summer, he thought there was a teenage daughter, 17? 18? He couldn't remember what year she was in high school. There was definitely a younger girl -- 10, and possibly a much younger kid, 4? He couldn't remember. But he could tell this was someone older -- likely the teenager.

He watched as she moved from one side of the room to the other. She was dressed, that much he could tell, but what she was doing escaped him. Back and forth -- the blinds were down, but open -- her window faced the street that formed the bottom of the gulch. The city had paved over the gulch floor years before when they subdivided the area for homes. He tried to imagine what her viewpoint was: she could see down and out, perhaps she had turned the blinds so no one could see in from below. But from his position, they were wide open, affording him a clear view of her entire room.

She stopped in front of the closet doors and pulled her shirt up over her head. His heart stopped for a moment, as he waited to see where this was heading. She tossed the shirt across the room and shimmied out of her jeans, leaving her in panties and dark bra. He stared, the soup forgotten, his cock beginning to react.

She stood at the mirror assessing herself, her hands on her hips as she turned one way and the other. He couldn't see much, as she was several hundred feet away, but he could see enough. He got up, hoping to get a clearer view, careful not to catch her eye by any movement. He flicked off the lights and waited, watching for any change in her behavior. She continued to look at herself and then reached behind her back.

Positioned now at the kitchen window, he had a much more direct view into her room. She removed the bra, obviously revealing her breasts, but frustratingly he couldn't make much out. He could tell from the bra that they must be small, but from this distance even her nipples and areolas were too faint to see. The tip of his cock brushed against the counter edge on its gradual trip up.

Her hands peeled her panties down and she re-stood, appraising her reflection. He could see the dark patch of hair at the top of her thighs, but again, it was too far to tell much else. He moved his hand down to stroke himself, listening for any movement in the house. She turned and walked across the room, oblivious to his presence. Standing in front of a dresser, she began to choose a variety of items.

Placing them on a chair next to the closet, she opened the door, his view of her limited now to just her back, her ass cheeks clearly tight even from this distance, but not much else. She pulled several items off the clothes rod and slid the door closed. Holding up one skirt after another, she quickly put several different items together, in between revealing her naked reflection to him.

It was at the same time frustrating and amazing, he mused. So innocent of being observed, and yet so far away he couldn't really make anything out. He just stared and lightly played with himself as the scene continued. Eventually, she put on a new bra, white this time, and slipped on her underwear and outfit, cupping her breasts to confirm the effect she desired.

He quickly got dressed, concerned his luck would run out -- she would look up and see him, or somehow his erection would give him away to anyone entering the kitchen. Trying to ignore her as she continued to putter around her bedroom, he flicked on the lights and cleaned the kitchen.

* - * - *

"It looks like it will be sunny today, sweetheart," his wife mentioned over coffee the next day. "Maybe we should rake down below?"

He knew it wasn't a choice. "Sure. Let me get some clothes on." The kids were sleeping in, as usual, so he breakfasted naked, and equally usual, his wife didn't seem to notice or mind. With the morning light brighter outside than in, he was pretty confident no one across the way could see anything, but that hadn't stopped him from double-checking to see if anyone was visible before he sat down at the nook table.

Half an hour later the two of them were on the lower lawn at the street below, rakes in hand clearing the sidewalk. Their property stretched from one street down the ridge to the street at the base of the gulch and they had not yet developed it as others along the valley floor had done. He looked across the street and saw activity. Her bedroom light was on, but as he suspected, the blinds hid the room from view. Her father, he couldn't remember his name, was puttering around in the garage. A few minutes after they had started, he came out and waved.

"Hey!" Whatever-his-name was (Dick, Derek, Jim?) greeted them.

He was convinced he would be humiliated, certain the guy was going to call him on exposing himself to his family.

"Hey!" They shouted back, continuing to rake.

Looking up, he saw the guy and his younger daughter coming across the street. Here it comes, he thought, she's going to say something like, 'Look Daddy, it's the naked man I keep telling you about.' He smiled and offered his hand.

"Elroy."

"Dean. Good morning."

Dean! "So, great day for doing a little yard work, eh?"

"Yeah...just trying to get ahead of winter. Hey, I wanted to mention something to you." Dean looked between the two of them, slightly uncomfortable.

Here it comes, he winced, preparing for the worst.

"I'm glad the two of you are down here...I don't know how to tell you this, but...well, I've been seeing a lot of funny stuff going on across the way and I thought you should know about it."

They looked at each other, concerned. "Funny stuff?" He asked, mentally getting ready to run. Anywhere.

"Yeah. I know you like to keep it kind of natural, and all..."

He lost track of what the guy was saying, convinced he had been busted.

"...so I thought you should know. I picked up as much of it as I could, but maybe it would be better if you cut back some of the undergrowth."

He heard is wife thanking him and apologizing, and Dean telling her it was alright, and the blood pounding in his ears had quieted enough to let him figure out it had nothing to do with him.

"Are you okay, honey?" She looked concerned.

"Hnnnh. Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Must be out of breath from the raking. Not in as good a shape as I used to be. I'm sorry, I don't know if we've all been introduced. This is Katy, my wife. And you are?" He held out his hand to the daughter.

"Kylie," she took his hand awkwardly. Dean greeted Katy and exchanged a few more pleasantries.

"I recall you have a young one, right?" Elroy started a new conversation.

"Yep. Trip's only four, and Anna's just turned 18."

"That's quite a spread," Katy remarked, continuing to rake.

"We're a blended family. Anna's was with my 1st wife -- she passed away, and Kylie came as a package deal with Bets. We decided to have one together..." He smiled, proud.




Performance Gulch



"That's great," Elroy offered. "It's a pleasure to have met you both, and we really appreciate you looking after the street. We'll consider your suggestion."

Dean put his arm around the young girl and headed back to their garage, leaving the two of them to ponder the situation -- teenagers partying on their property late at night...not something they'd want to be responsible for.

While she finished raking, he made some excuse to cross the street, surveying their house from below. As he suspected, the main windows in the kitchen were clearly visible where the lights were on, but from this angle he could only make out the top of the upper cabinets. Staring for a minute or so, he saw his daughter come into the nook, her head and shoulders visible. Turning to look behind him, he realized several of the windows on the homes up this side of the gulch faced the kitchen; anybody behind them could see more clearly and more of everything than from where he was standing. He swallowed, concerned.

* - * - *

In spite of the consequences, and the likelihood he could be seen from more than just Dean's house, he woke up the next morning early, came downstairs, stripped off his pajamas in the kitchen and did his usual routine. Washing the dishes, he looked out at the early morning light. Everything was a greenish gray, a misty fog hung midway up the gulch putting halos on the street lamps and house lights. Waiting for the coffee to finish, he stared at himself in the rear door glass, only this time he looked through the glass, past his reflection to see directly across to Dean's house. It was the first time he had actually seen into the house from this vantage point and he realized his fully naked body was visible to whomever was standing in the kitchen, den or even living room.

He was pretty certain it was too early to be concerned, but he wondered how long the foliage had been so bare. Did the leaves all fall last night or was he just not aware of how exposed he'd been all along? Given Dean's lack of concern yesterday, he figured he was okay -- surely his wife or Kylie would have said something. If not Anna herself.

He stood in front of the sink, washing the dishes and hoping she'd repeat her performance from a couple of days before. It was maddening -- he didn't need to see her, but he was curious and a little turned on at the thought of her stripping in her bedroom blissfully unaware of anyone looking at her.

He sat at the breakfast table, looking over the newspaper, unconcerned anyone might come down and disturb his nude solitude when something glinted outside. Looking up, he didn't see anything at first, and then he noticed Anna had turned on her light. Getting up slowly, he turned off the lights in the kitchen and stood at the sink -- his best viewing position.

He could see her sitting up in bed, brushing her hair. From the angle, he couldn't tell if she was dressed, but he suspected she was. When she did finally stand up, it was obvious she had her nightdress on. She walked out of the room. He waited a few moments for her to return, and getting bored, returned to the table, distracted from the paper and unwilling to turn on the light anyway. Staring across at the house, he nursed his cup of coffee and tried to shake this new obsession.

Just as he was about to flip on the lights and return to the news, she re-appeared, a towel wrapped around her. Practically running to the window, he waited, drawing shallow breaths. He listened for anyone moving in the house, not wanting to be completely humiliated by someone else calling him on this new weird perversion. She unwrapped the towel, moving it to her head where she crafted a turban. He stared at her body, again reflected in the mirror, wishing he had binoculars to get a closer look. Learning she wasn't a minor had flooded him with relief, in spite of how stupid the whole thing was -- minor or not!

She stared at her face in the mirror, leaning in to look at a blemish or something, the front of her body lost in shadow. He stared at her beautiful ass, so round and tight. At least, he imagined it was beautiful, round and tight. From where he was, he couldn't make out any details and considered again how awkward it would be to have the bird watching glasses at the sink. Would anyone else notice or wonder how they got there? He suppressed the idea, chastising himself for falling to such a depth. None of which seemed to matter to his penis, which again brushed against the counter on its way up. He adjusted it slightly, resting the underside of the head against the cool surface as he continued to watch her.

She turned to sit at her desk, facing the window. From this angle, he could only see her breasts, but again, they were not big enough, nor were the nipples dark or prominent enough to really see any details. He sipped his coffee and waited. She appeared to be putting on makeup, and likely would be at it for a little while. The whole scene was frustrating -- just revealing enough to catch his attention, but not enough detail to really make it interesting.

He heard the boards creak upstairs and it didn't sound like his wife. He quickly retrieved his pajamas, slipping them on as he flipped on the kitchen lights and sat at the table with his newspaper and coffee.

* - * - *

It was the following weekend, his wife had taken the kids to their events when he noticed her in her room again. He had spent most of the day puttering around the house, fixing this and that, vacuuming, mopping the floor. As usual, he was nude -- it was really the only way to do house chores these days -- when he looked up to check the time, making sure he wasn't caught in the buff when they came home.

As he was putting the cleaning supplies away, the phone rang.

"Mr. Buros?" It was a young woman's voice he didn't recognize, but figured it was for his daughter.

"Yes."

"This is Anna."

He almost fainted, looking across the kitchen out the windows, half expecting her to be just outside staring at him.

"Anna?" He tried to buy time to get his breath under control, looking around for his clothes. This is crazy!

"Yeah. You know. Dean's daughter. From across the street?"

He breathed away from the phone. "Oh, yeah, Anna. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Buros. I'm really fine. How are you?"

He could tell she was smiling, but he couldn't be sure. "Super. It's a beautiful day and I'm happy to be alive." His standard response.

"It is. It is. Mr. Buros, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm calling." She paused.

He waited, expecting her to continue. "Yes?" His heart was starting to beat faster, and he continued to look around for his clothes.

"I was just wondering," she paused again. "Do you like what you see?"

He almost died. He snuck a peek across the kitchen to see if he could see her, but it was too far and the angle wasn't right. "What?" His voice was tight.

"Out your back door. Look. Tell me if you like what you see."

He shook his head, not believing how busted he was. This was going to be bad, but he wasn't able to help himself and took the phone with him to the back door.

"I can see you, Mr. Buros. I can see that you are buck naked. If I can see you, you can see me, right?"

He stepped back and looked across to see where she could be.

"It doesn't matter if you step back. I can still see you. It's so far away, I can't see much, but I can see your black patch of hair and I'm certain that's your dick hanging down. For sure, I can see your chest. You are naked, aren't you Mr. Buros? Can't you see me?"

He looked again and saw her -- standing just to the side of her window, her profile reflected in the closet mirror. Her room was dark, but the light from outside was enough to show her in silhouette. "Yes." He croaked, his throat dry. "Barely."

"That's funny, Mr. Buros. I'm glad you have a good sense of humor. Have you liked looking at me?" He didn't know what to say or what to do. He should just hang up and be prepared to be totally fucked. The girl had his phone number, had been watching him watching her. There was no way to deny it, and now she could see he was exposing himself to her. He stepped back.

"Ahhh...don't be shy, Mr. Buros. My parents would kill me if they knew I was doing this, so I'm just as busted as you...well maybe I have a little more bust than you do..." He could see her playing with one of her breasts, looking up at him.

He was blushing and couldn't speak.

"I've been watching you for a little while, Mr. Buros...or would you prefer I call you Elroy?"

"That's...that's fine, Anna..." he stammered and walked back to his clothes. "A little while?"

"Yeah. You gave me the idea, actually. I was lying in bed one morning about a month ago and saw you walk into your kitchen. When I looked up next, you were standing there naked and I almost died. I...I don't know...I've been curious, you know, and then, well, you've been just so natural about it, I just thought, what the hell, why don't I return the favor?"

He put the phone down and slipped on his clothes. I'm fucked. I'm totally fucked. Shit! Shit! Shit!

"Where'd you go. Oh, now. You've gone ahead and gotten dressed. Well that's no fair..." She stepped directly in front of the window and he couldn't not look at her, his eyes fixed on her body completely exposed. "You like to watch me, right Elroy? And I like that you watch me. It gives me a funny feeling...down here." He watched as her hand drifted down to her triangle of hair. He couldn't see anything more than that, but he imagined she was playing with herself. He must have sighed.

"You like that too, right? So...I hope this doesn't change anything now that you know I'm looking. Is this a good number to reach you at or would you prefer I text you on your cell phone?"

He was confused. "Text me?"

"Yeah. When I want to let you know anything special that might be coming up I want you to be on the lookout for. Like...maybe a sleepover, or...I don't know. Something."

His breathing had gotten a little out of hand. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What am I doing???

"Elroy? Mr. Buros?"

"Anna. I'm sorry. This isn't right. I shouldn't have. Thank you for calling and letting me know. But this should stop. Right now. Sorry." He hung up, beginning to sweat.

Moments later the phone rang. SHIT!!!

"Elroy. Don't hang up. It's okay. I'm an adult. You're an adult. I know. You're married. You have kids. I get it. But what's the harm? I'm okay showing you a little poontang and you seem okay showing the whole block what's hanging. Just when things were getting interesting you want to chicken out?"

Chicken out? What the fuck was she saying?

"So...if you give me your cell, I can text you. Yeah?"

He couldn't believe this. He stared out the window at her, watching her wave at him, spreading her legs a little so he could see her fingers traveling between them. He closed his eyes, not believing any of it. And then, before he could stop himself he gave her his cell number. "But no pictures," he whispered. "I don't have a data plan on that line."

"Definitely no pictures, Elroy. I'll get in touch. Bye for now!" He thought she blew him a kiss and the line went dead. When he looked back out, she wasn't there.

He sat down, the blood pounding in his chest, and set his head down on his hands. I am so fucked.

* - * - *

Usually he didn't care where he'd put his cell phone down. But from that moment on, he had it on him or he had it turned off.

As it turned out, it didn't matter -- he had a tough week, up at 5AM every day -- he knew she wasn't up -- no one was, across the gulch, so he could do his thing downstairs, in the kitchen, in the private darkness of the early morning. His wife noticed a change, but chalked it up to the stress of work. He made it through the whole week without hearing from her, anxious she'd text him while the family was watching TV or at the dinner table.

It wasn't until Friday afternoon, he was still at work, when she sent him a text. "You ready to see me?" He had finished for the day and was just cleaning up his desk preparing to go home. He licked his lips and sighed. Shit.

"Please stop. I really don't need this and you will regret it. It's just not right."

"ahhh...Mr. Buros..." He could almost hear the disappointment in her voice. "I think you'll really like this. Trust me?"

He definitely did not trust her. How could he trust anyone who put him in this situation, let alone an 18 year old. Not that she put him in the situation, his conscience reminded him. Shit!

"Anna. Please stop. I'm serious. This is serious."

"But you don't stop, Mr. Buros. I get up early to watch you. You like being naked in front of the windows early in the morning. Your wife doesn't seem to mind..."

He sucked in a lungful of breath and almost fainted. Shit. Shit! SHIT!

"Call me."

He set down the phone, his hands shaking. Luckily he was practically alone in the office, but he got up to find an empty conference room. Before he could dial the number, she'd sent another text.

"Elroy. Please call me."

"Anna?"

"Thank you, Elroy. I was getting worried." She was teasing him. He could tell and it made him angry.

"This isn't a game, Anna. This puts me in a terrible situation. You don't seem to understand." He kept his voice level -- not pleading, not too stern. Just stating the facts.

"I understand. I really do. But I wanted to let you know something I think you'll really like. You live next door to Rickie August, yeah?"

Shit. Now what!? "Yeesss." He drew it out quietly.

"Well, you probably didn't know this, but Rickie and I are BFFs. We're going out on a double-date tonight and then I'm sleeping over there. Your bedroom is right across from hers, isn't?"

He could hear the smile in her voice and he just closed his eyes.

"Please. Stop." He was quiet.

"I hope you'll peek in." The line went dead.

Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!

* - * - *

Both kids were out, as "luck" would have it (he wasn't sure if they being gone was to his benefit); his wife had made a simple dinner which they ate in front of the TV. He had arrived home earlier than usual, changed out of his clothes, putting on his robe and nothing else, careful to draw the blinds between his bedroom and the Rickie August's. As they settled down in the living room he saw a movement on the driveway outside the windows. Anna had walked up, and without looking at him, had given a little wave in his direction. He groaned mentally, especially concerned that his pecker had decided to wave back a little.

He felt his cell in the pocket of the robe vibrate, indicating a message. He didn't bother looking at it. She was teasing him. He knew.

Thirty minutes later, their dinner and the show done, they moved their dishes into the kitchen and chatted briefly about their day. He was desperate to be distracted from whatever was happening upstairs next door and suggested they could play a game.

"Hmmm," she said, not really listening. "I've got to get on email for a little bit. Something about a school event they need my help with."

He nodded and as she left the kitchen into the den he asked her to let him know when she was going to be done. "I'll just be upstairs reading or something."

He looked at his phone. "Where are you?"

Entering his darkened room, he looked behind him to confirm his wife hadn't suddenly appeared. He quickly moved to the window directly opposite Rickie's room. He knew it had been her room, but she rarely had her blinds open. Peeking through the shade, he could see almost her entire bedroom lit up, her blinds up. His phone vibrated. "Are you there?"

He texted her back, "yes."

"Put up your blinds, silly. She doesn't even suspect. But you won't believe what you'll be seeing."

His cock began to twitch and he couldn't resist the possibilities. He pulled up the blind and sat on the bed, far enough into the room they couldn't possibly see him. He untied his robe to let the air drift across his naked skin.

Anna walked into the room, followed by Rickie. Neither of them looked at the open shades, but appeared to be engrossed in a conversation. Anna held up her finger and looked at her phone. In a moment he jumped as his phone rang.

"What?" He hissed, looking around in a panic.

"I was wondering whether it would be okay with you..." She said it as if this was the middle of a conversation. He was confused and didn't respond. She set the phone down on a dresser in front of the window and turned to Rickie. "They said it was fine...so what do you think we should wear?"

He realized she had left her phone with an open line so he could hear them. He could barely make out Rickie's voice -- she must have gone into the closet just out of his field of view. Putting his phone on mute, and speaker, he set it down on the bed next to him, his cock starting to pulse at the scenes he was imagining. Nothing, it turned out, that actually happened would come close to what he had imagined.

"So, you know Bill has a complete hard-on for you..." Anna, speaking to Rickie still in the closet. She stood, framed in the window, but across the room. From what he could make out, the room had a desk at the window, with two twin beds on either side. Across from the window was a vanity with a makeup mirror. Apparently there was a closet just off to his left. He watched as she started to take off her shirt.

"Don't deny it. He watches you all day long, and science lab? Forget it. It's a wonder he doesn't burn himself on the Bunsen every time you turn to look his way." She had folded her shirt and put it on a chair -- he licked his lips at seeing her this close -- hundreds of feet closer, he could see her figure now. She looked over at him and smiled, unzipping her jeans and making a crude gesture with her fingers as if she knew he was jacking off.

Rickie came back into the room, holding a few skirts and dresses, barely noticing Anna's near-nakedness.

"Oh, I don't believe you. Stop it. Which do you prefer? The yellow or this one?" Anna held it up to her body, turning to look into a mirror he couldn't see. He watched as Rickie slipped her t-shirt off, his heart thumping at seeing her breasts hanging free. She had absolutely gorgeous breasts -- not too large but not as small as Anna's. His cock was stiff now and his fingers traced a pattern on the underside of his shaft. Rickie August. He remembered when she was born. When did she grow up?

"I can't really wear this underwear with either of them, you think?" She looked at him, but as Rickie was standing on the window side of her, Anna could just as easily have been looking at her. She set down the dresses and unsnapped her bra, letting him see her tiny breasts for the first time. He could see her nipples now and her areolas -- darkish pink against her pale skin. She held her breasts up and giggled and then peeled her underwear off, turning to look at him while she picked the dresses back up.

"You know," Rickie said conspiratorially, "you don't need to wear any underwear at all. If you just shaved a little more, you'd be completely invisible. Not like me. I can't even begin to dare going without a bra."

"As if!" Anna looked at her in mock shock. "When do you wear a bra? Really!"

The two girls giggled, Anna completely naked, Rickie half-nude as they tried various combinations of the outfits.

"Wait a minute...what did you say? 'If I shaved a little...?' You think I should shave this even more?" Anna turned to face the window again framing the small triangle of dark hair, looking up at her friend.

They both burst out laughing and he was convinced Rickie must be in on the scene when he saw Anna turn to the desk and take out a pipe. Opening the window, she lit it, inhaled and handed it over, holding the smoke until she released it into the evening air. Now that both girls were leaning over the desk, they were silhouetted, their bodies dark against the backlit room.




Performance Gulch



"It's an interesting idea, Rick. You come up with some interesting ideas. You think Scott will crème in his shorts if he knew I was naked under that slinky number?"

They toked for a few minutes more, knocked the pipe out against the window sill and returned to their task.

"Would you help me?" Anna was standing, holding the dress and looked over at her girlfriend. "Would you help me shave my beaver a little more?"

Rickie looked up and shook her head a little confused. "Whaaattt? Are you asking me to shave your pubic hair?"

He thought he was going to die. There was no way she was going for it. No. Fucking. Way. What was Anna up to?

"I...I didn't think you...are you into that?"

"Aren't you?"

Rickie stood and stared. He thought he detected a shift in her stance, or maybe how long she stared at Anna's body. "You're serious? You want me to help you shave your pussy?"

Anna bit her lip and smiled a little, as much for his benefit as Rickie's. His hand held his stiff cock, hoping his wife would stay busy long enough to see this through.

"If you're serious, girl, I'm into it. Come with me to the bathroom..." Rickie started to head out, when Anna interrupted her.

"Here. Can you shave me here? I think it would be more comfortable. Do you need help with the stuff?"

Rickie just shook her head and said she'd be right back, her breasts almost bouncing as she rushed out of the room.

"Are you still there?"

He pushed the mute button. "Yes." His voice cracked.

"Come to the window. Show me yours. You have 30 seconds."

He got up, his robe trailing behind him and walked, mesmerized to stand at his window. He knew she could see his cock, straining at attention.

"Are you going to jack off?" She had taken the phone up in front of her, her body silhouetted again as she leaned over the desk.

He nodded silently, keeping his hands clear of his erection.

Before he could react, she took a picture of him and he swore. "What the fuck, Anna!" He whispered. "What the fuck!!!"

"It's okay, Elroy. After you see what Rickie is going to do to me, I think it's only fair. You can take pictures of us. She doesn't know by the way." And she set the phone down, returning to her position at the front of the room as Rickie came back with towels, a basin of water and a shaving kit.

He quickly retreated to the bed, his heart pounding at his most recent act of stupidity, but he couldn't tear himself away.

Transfixed, his cock straining, he watched as Rickie laid out a towel on her bed, the basin, soap and razor on the floor.

Anna sat on the towel and looked up.

"It seems unfair you being covered," Anna said, reaching over to peel away her friend's panties. "Oh! I had no idea. You went completely bald!"

He watched as she ran her fingertips across the other girl's mons, apparently shaved clean. He couldn't see from his angle and the lighting.

"Do you want that?" Rickie asked softly. He could barely hear her.

"No...I think I want a little landing strip. Just here," Anna pointed to her mound, "with everything else clean."

The thought that Rickie would be shaving every part of the other young woman's privates practically made him come. He just sat and stared as she slathered foam all over and slowly scraped it away. He tried not stroke himself when Anna laid down, raised her knees and spread herself. It was over before he knew it, yet it must have taken almost 10 minutes.

The whole time he was distracted, listening for Katy's approach, completely freaked out he would be discovered.

"You know what else isn't fair?" he could barely hear Anna asking. "That you've had to do all the work. Can I...do something for you in return?"

He leaned forward to get as good a view as he could of what he hoped was about to happen. Anna pushed herself up on her elbows, her breasts coming into view, and then up to a seated position. Rickie was still kneeling between her legs, wiping away any soap and residue. He could see her looking up, but could only imagine the expression on her face.

"I'm...are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Anna moved her hands to the other woman's shoulders, rubbing her palms down her arms, slipping her fingers underneath and lifting slightly, her intentions obvious. Rickie lifted up onto her toes and let herself be pushed back onto the opposite bed, her legs splaying open.

"I've always wanted to try this, and I really want to try this on you, Rickie."

He watched as she carefully placed her fingers on the young woman's slit -- he couldn't see any details, but Anna's movements were obvious. The sound of her kissing Rickie's muff, the young girls' moans and the intensity of Anna's attention were almost too much to bear. He could see Rickie was losing control, her hands reaching down to stroke Anna's hair, her legs windshield wiping open and closed.

"Gawd, Anna, holy shit! I didn't know you could do this...fuck, fuck, fuck...what are you doing with your fingers. Shit! Yes! OHMYGAWD...NOOOO...don't stop, don't stop. Whaddaryoudooing?"

Anna had pulled away and looked directly at him, her face obviously wet from Rickie's juices. She smiled and turned back to look at her friend who had pushed herself up on her elbows.

"What? Why did you stop?" She looked over at the window and he cringed, even though he knew was hidden.

"Do you like it when I eat you?" He could see where this was leading and again he just wanted to run. Anywhere.

"Yes. Please! I wish you wouldn't stop...I'm so close. I can't believe you were even interested in being with a girl."

She kept looking at Rickie, nodding and gently moving her fingers in the young woman's slit. "I'm loving it. But you know what I'm loving even more?"

His breath stopped and he knew it was coming. Weirdly, his cock was stiffer than ever, even as he saw his future crashing around him.

"I like being watched doing it."

He could see a moment of confusion on Rickie's part, first trying to understand what Anna was saying and then looking at the window.

"No! NO! You fucking bitch! NO! Who's looking at us? Who's over there? Mr. Buros? He's looking at us right now? YOU HAVE NO...goddamnit, no stop, stop, no, god, no don't, don't. shit. God. God, yes, oh shit, oh fuck, you can't be serious oh shit shit shit I'm cumming god damnit you little bitch I'm coming yes, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."

He watched as Anna tore into her, pistoning her fingers into her slit, her mouth sucking on her clit until Rickie bucked her hips up, grabbed the covers in her fists and apparently orgasmed. He saw beads of pre-cum emerging from his penis and desperately wanted to cum, but knew Katy would be upstairs at any moment. Even as he thought it, he heard her footsteps moving from the den to the stairs.

He shut of his phone, closing it and tossing it onto the pile of clothes next to the bed. She was already at the head of the stairs and he couldn't move without raising a lot of questions. Instead, he was just frozen watching the scene across the way: Anna's gentle movements as Rickie came down off her orgasm, the other woman's struggle between enjoying the attention and her fear of being watched.

"What are you doing, honey?" She called from down the hall. "Are you in the dark? Where are you?"

"Come," his voice croaked. He cleared it. "Katy. You've got to come in here. Right now. Please. Don't say a word, just come in and sit next to me."

She entered the darkened room and saw the rectangle of light from across the side-yard. He heard her gasp and then she was next to him, staring at his erection, at his face, and at the two young women framed in the window.

"What the fuck, Elroy?"

"Just look. They know they're being watched. Don't ask me how I know. They just know. They're doing it for m...us. Look at them, Katy. They want us to look at them."

She stared for a moment, shaking her head and looked back at him. "But that's Rickie! And...I don't know who that is...this isn't right, El...it's wrong! You should close the blinds. I don't care that they know...."

He reached over and covered her mouth with his, grabbing the back of her head to hold her in the deepest kiss he could imagine. He just needed her, needed her to understand, to say it was okay, to just go with it for once, whatever it was.

She tried to push him away, but he held fast, pushing his tongue into her mouth, wrestling with hers. He pulled her blouse out of her pants, running his hands on her back.

"Stop!" she broke the kiss pulling away. "What's gotten into you?"

He looked down to see his erection pushing against her. "It's so goddamn sexy, Katy. Those two women, knowing we're here, just going down on each other." He turned to look at them, seeing she had already glanced that way. Anna was lying next to her friend on the bed, gently running her hand up the other girl's body, toying with her breasts.

"It's...not right...no, Elroy...don't...no...stop!"

He had unsnapped her bra and was gently playing with her nipples as she watched them.

"Please, Katy. It's been months since we've had sex. Look at me! I'm almost cumming from watching those two. They want it. They're adults. We're adults. What's the problem?"

She protested but didn't stop him from undressing her, slipping her bra and shirt off, and then her pants and underwear until she was sitting next to him, naked.

"They can't see us?" She asked, terrified.

"No, sweetheart. It's too dark over here."

"But they know we're here?"

He nodded, slipping his mouth over her nipple and tugging on it. He knew she used to love that. He spread her legs a little and ran his thumb down her crack. He could feel it was moist.

"Let me make love to you while they're there. They can't see us, they have no idea what we're doing, but we can see them. It's beautiful, what they're doing. Isn't it?"

He pushed her down onto the bed and straddled her, his penis aligning with her pussy lips. He dragged her arms up over her head, making her feel helpless, like she could be excused for what he was doing, that it wasn't her fault. He kissed her breasts and worked his mouth up her collar bone, her neck, her chin, with each movement up, his cock slowly entered her, pulling back to lubricate her outer lips and pushing in further each time. When he got to her mouth, he kissed her deeply, shoving his tongue into her as hard as he could at the same time as he shoved his cock into her. She groaned into his mouth as he fucked her, hard. In his mind's eye, he could see the two women watching them from their window, holding hands, their naked bodies illuminated impossibly.

Distantly, he could hear a text message coming onto his phone and he smiled. This could be the start of an interesting relationship and pounded furiously into his wife. He could tell she was close -- she always liked to be fucked hard -- and let go of her hands. They flew to his ass cheeks, massaging them, grabbing them, pulling him into her until she screamed into his mouth, her hips thrusting up to take as much of him into her as she could. He held against her, the pulsing of his cock a poor substitute for the motion but he couldn't move and then his orgasm crashed through, his cum pumping out of him into her, his mouth grinding against hers. Moments later they collapsed, breaking the kiss and panting.

As their heartbeats returned to a semblance of normal, their hands tracing lazy patterns on each other's skin, she broke the silence.

"How long?"

He could tell she was worried. "Not long -- tonight was the first time, actually. Sort of."

"How do you know they knew we were watching?" Her eyes were brimming with tears.

"It's a little complicated, Katy, but it's not that serious. I...you know I've been walking around naked in the kitchen, right?" He went on to explain the embarrassment and humiliation of being discovered by Anna and how she had pulled him deeper into her own fantasies.

"But...but what if I hadn't come upstairs...what then?"

He hadn't any response to that. "I...knew you'd be upstairs. I knew based on how long you'd be working...I just couldn't know how long they were going to do whatever they were going to do...did do. Whatever." He had raised up on one elbow to look back over the way -- the room was empty and then he saw the two of them come back in. Rickie looked self-consciously toward the window and back at Anna. She just waved her hand at her, shrugging it off. His wife rose up as well.

"Does this really turn you on? To see young girls undressing and having sex?" She laughed as soon as she heard herself say it and rested back on two arms to look. "Rickie certainly has matured, hasn't she?"

That she could laugh about it, and put a critical eye to it was a good sign, but he didn't want to blow whatever they had going. It had been months since they'd had sex, practically a year, and if this is what it would take to get things going again, he'd take it.

He didn't comment, just looking at the two women as they slipped on clothes -- at least Rickie decided to wear something. Anna apparently was making good on her notion of fucking with Scott opting to go au naturel. She slipped a dress over her head that could have been painted on, her nipples clearly visible through the fabric.

Rickie pointed and opened a drawer, pulling out a packet. Anna screwed up her face, but eventually relented, peeling two button bandages out of the package and placing them over her nipples. The situation became all too normal after that -- makeup, hair, accessories. He grew bored and turned his attention back to his wife.

She stared at the ceiling, her hands behind her head. He played with breasts, not having touched her for so long. She turned to look at him.

He stared into her eyes. "Do you think I'm the biggest pervert in the world?"

She shook her head slightly. "No...I...I guess I just don't understand what attracts you to do this kind of stuff." She brushed her hand along his arm.

"I," he paused, trying to figure out the words, "I can't really say. When I see someone getting undressed, I get aroused. When they are just acting normally, naked but doing normal things, and I can see them, it just really turns me on. Even you. I can't tell you how many times I've wished I could see you just walk around the house without your clothes on. Do you know how long that's been?" He stared into her eyes.

"I'm so ugly. I can't believe you'd want to see a fat old slob like me."

"Stop it! You're not ugly. Are you saying I'd marry an ugly woman? Your body is beautiful to me. Of course it's seen a few years -- look at mine for crying out loud -- it's horrible. I see my reflection in the windows and I cringe every time. But it's me. I'm not trying to win any beauty contests. And hell, it got her attention." He pointed his thumb toward the window and smiled.

She swatted him. "That's enough of that. I don't want you to do that shit any more. It'll get you in trouble. What would Dick and Suzy say! And that poor Anna's parents. What would you say if Gloria started doing that?"

"What makes you think she isn't?" He smiled wickedly.

"She better not, that's all I've got to say. Promise me you'll put a stop to this." She was serious.

"Only on one condition." A plan popped into his mind, unexpectedly.

She raised her eyebrows.

"You. You promise me you'll join me." He smiled, his lips tight.

"What. Around the house? Nude? No way." She just looked away.

"It's easy. I'll give up peeping into Anna's and Rickie's windows -- it'll be very tough, I promise you that, but if I knew I could look over and see these wonderful breasts and that gorgeous tuft of hair between your legs, it would be more than enough in exchange." He bent down and kissed her nipples, sucking them in.

"Stop it. I won't. And you'll stop this immediately. Stop it. Shit. Goddammit, Elroy. Stop...don't...okay, okay, okay! I'll try! I said I'll try!" She pushed his head away, her face a mixture of fear and anger. He smiled at her.

"C'mon. It'll be fun! You'll see." He stood up, his cock slapping against her thigh; he extended his hand. Pulling her up, he looked over his shoulder at the progress the girls had made. They were finishing up. He turned back to see her staring at him, a scowl forming. "C'mon. Get with the program. It'll be great. Nope. No clothes. The kids are away this evening, it'll be a perfect chance to try it out." He swatted her hand away from her shirt, hugging her closer to him.

"Let me check this one thing and then let's go down to watch a little more tube." He picked up his phone and glanced at the text. "I hope you enjoyed it. I look forward to seeing you soon. More to "cum" tonight!"

"Who's that from?" She asked, trying to get a peek.

"Anna. She's invited us to a front row seat at her next performance tonight. There's a 'sleepover,' but I doubt they'll be sleeping much." He grinned, pulling her into a deep kiss, his cock pushing against her pubic bone. "Your choice."

He dropped his robe on the floor, imagining all sorts of possibilities, preparing to enter the next stage of their lives together.



Performance Incentive



'Jason, Amanda would like to see you now.'

Jason's stomach knotted up and he swallowed dryly. He had expected the summons, but the shock still scared him.

'I'm sorry Jason.'

'Its Ok Sue,' Said Jason with feigned optimism, 'I'm sure it will be fine.' Jason knew it was not fine. Whatever Amanda wanted, it definitely would not be fine.

Jason had got the job on the trading floor of the bank on the strength of an excellent MBA. Unfortunately he was finding that the theoretical models that had worked in academia did not seem so effective in the real world. He knew that his results were far from satisfactory and he also knew that Amanda did not condone poor trading results. Amanda was the bank's top player and she led the strongest team, consistently achieving the highest bonuses. Only the best were good enough for Amanda's star team. Jason knew that Amanda was a total bitch. She was utterly ruthless in the pursuit of her goal. Jason was in fear of losing his job. Sue squeezed his hand as he left his desk to make his way to Amanda's office.

'Good luck, Jason.'

Sue, Amanda's PA, was the only person on the team who had shown him any kindness. Everyone else was too busy chasing their own bonuses to take any interest in the new boy.

Jason knocked quietly on Amanda's door and entered. Amanda did not look up from her monitor screen. After a few moments of silence Jason gave a discreet cough to announce his presence. Still no response.

After an age Amanda broke the silence. 'Jason, your trading figures are shit. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't fire you right now.' 

'I know I've not done very well, Amanda, but I know I can improve.'

Amanda thought for a moment. 'What kind of car do you drive?' she asked.

'Toyota coupe,' replied Jason. Amanda's lips curled as though she had just discovered she had stepped into something unpleasant. She drove a Masserati Gran Tourismo, the £95,000 price tag of which had cost her a good part of a month's salary. 'Do you have any ambition, Jason?'

'Oh yes, Amanda. I want to get to the top, like you.'

Amanda pondered for a moment and then tapped a few keys on her PC. 'Ok Jason I have transferred some stock to your account. It will just be enough to get you out of trouble. Not enough to earn a bonus, but enough to keep your job.'

'Gosh thanks Amanda, that's really kind of you.'

'Jason, I don't do kind. I'm a bitch. Anyone here will tell you that. They all know I'm a bitch.'

'I am sure everyone has the greatest respect for you Amanda.'

'Don't bullshit me, Jason. They hate my guts and more to the point they are all scared of me. I like it like that. Keeps them on their toes. So Jason, you owe me and you can start paying me back tonight. Be at this address at 9 pm and don't be late. Come by taxi. I don't want your crapppy car parked outside my apartment and you may not be fit to drive home.'

Jason pocketed the card bearing Amanda's address and considered what her last remark might mean. Perhaps he might be a bit tipsy after enjoying some of Amanda's wine collection or maybe exhausted after a night of hectic sex. Maybe a combination of both. Sadly Jason's conjectures were far wide of the mark.

At the appointed hour Jason approached the concierge at Amanda's exclusive apartment. After a brief telephone call to ensure that he was expected, the concierge directed Jason to the lift to the penthouse suite. Amanda admitted him into her sumptuous apartment and Jason immediately took in the luxurious fittings and furniture and the view over the capital. Amanda herself looked stunning in a figure hugging cat suit that showed off every curve of her gorgeous figure. Amanda looked at Jason coldly and without any preamble ordered him to remove all his clothing. Although surprised at her direct approach, Jason complied and began to remove his clothing as Amanda watched, aloof and apparently quite disinterested in him. When he got down to his Calvin Klein underpants, Jason paused and looked at Amanda, wondering if he should continue or wait for some signal from her. Amanda showed no sign that she was going to undress too.

'Those too Jason, I want you naked.' Jason eyed Amanda's curves appreciatively as he peeled off his pants. As if reading his mind, Amanda said 'you are not here to fuck me Jason. I don't need it and I don't want it. I am a bitch at work and a bitch in my private life. I am going to cause you pain.' So saying, Amanda picked up a wicked looking cane that Jason had not noticed. 'This is what floats my boat, Jason; I'm going to cane you. It is what I enjoy. Now you have a simple choice. If you do not want to play, get dressed again and first thing in the morning clear your desk and go. I will give you a reference that will get you a job as a counter clerk at a high street branch. Or you can oblige me and maybe, just maybe you might just make a career on the trading floor. Bear in mind while you think it over, I am serious about this. I will cane you as hard as I can. I never make any concessions for inexperience. Every stroke will be delivered as hard as I can. You may have heard the expression "six of the best," well I have gone decimal. My minimum tariff is ten strokes. So that is what you will receive - ten very hard strokes of the cane on your bare arse. You could complain to the bank, but frankly it would get you nowhere. You must know that banks have no morals, only profits. I bring them profits. End of story.'

Jason swallowed hard. He looked at Amanda's face and knew she was serious. This was not what he expected. 'Turn round Jason,' ordered Amanda. Jason, your bottom looks very sensitive to me. I can assure you it will be very tender and painful by the time I have delivered ten strokes, so consider you position carefully. This incentive session is a perfect metaphor for working at the bank. It can be very painful, but the rewards are great if you can make it.'

'Jason gulped. He could not bear to give up his chosen career. 'I'll do it Amanda.'

'Very well Jason, bend over and place your hands on the coffee table. Do not look round and do not move from that position.'

Jason assumed the position and waited. He was conscious that Amanda approached him and sensed her raise the cane. He shuddered as it hissed down, cutting though the air in a practise stroke. Then a second whoosh and then Jason's world exploded in pain and coloured lights. He felt tears start to build up in his eyes and his buttocks trembled. The vicious pain was beyond belief. Through the mists of his agony, Jason heard the click of a cigarette lighter. He sensed that Amanda had paused for a cigarette.

'Jason, I know it is very painful. Are you sure you can take another nine? Some people think, wrongly, that it gets easier after the first few strokes. Believe me, it doesn't. I know. I've been where you are now. Once I had to decide whether to quit or break though the pain barrier. That is how I got to where I am now. So think hard. Do you go on or quit? There are no consolation prizes. You must accept all ten stokes to win your job back. Five will get you nowhere. If you reach nine, but cannot go to ten, then you would be better to quit now. Think carefully. You have until I finish this cigarette to decide.' After a short interval Amanda queried, 'Well, Jason.'

'I'll go on Amanda.' Amanda had already taken up post behind him and without warning the second stroke descended and the shock seemed to electrify his nerve endings and exploded in a new agony. There was a pause of several seconds then a third and a fourth stroke. Jason was openly sobbing now. All concerns about embarrassment and shame had evaporated. He was blinded by pain. Then there was a longer pause, punctuated by a rustling sound. Jason could not place the source of the sound at first. Then he was almost certain it was caused by Amanda discarding her cat suit. He began to turn his head.

'Don't dare turn round, Jason. If you move one inch, I shall start again from "one."' Jason shuddered and then remained motionless, obediently looking straight ahead through a mist of tears. Amanda drew close again to deliver the next five strokes. Jason sensed she was naked, but dare not turn his head to test his theory. As he considered the notion, the cane cut the air and struck his buttocks once more. The pain seemed even more intense and instinctively his hands moved to feel the damage that was being done.

'Get your hands out of the way. If this cane hits them it could break your knuckles.'

Jason obeyed, blinking in his pain.

The caning continued without mercy. Amanda kept her word, executing every stroke as hard as she was able.

Finally with a hiss the tenth stroke fell. Jason fell to his knees, openly sobbing.

'Well done, Jason, I wasn't sure you would make it. You can get dressed now. Before you go - a word of warning. This episode is not to be discussed. Everyone in the team will know, but no one will mention it. Be on the floor in good time tomorrow. Think of this as a performance incentive. Now you may go.'

Jason struggled into his clothes and turned to face Amanda. She was dressed in a long, black silk gown, looking as ravishing as he had ever seen her. Even now, in his agony he desired her, but knew she was out of his reach.

The following morning Jason walked slowly to the office water cooler, glad to be standing for a short while, easing the severe pain in his arse.

'How are you, Jason?' Sue, Amanda's PA had approached him.

'Oh fine, Sue. Never better,' said Jason, trying to put on a brave face.

'It's Ok, Jason. I know. I've been there too. I understand.'

'What, you too, Sue, but you're her PA.'

'PA's have targets too Jason.' She squeezed his hand gently as she hurried back to Amanda's office. 



Performance Related Pay



"My turn now Joe; you two can help me get cleaned off." She took my hand in hers and I let her lead me back under the water. Lucy raised no complaints and straightened herself up completely, stepping free of her underwear before joining us. Imogen's head barely came level with my chin, the water quickly plastering her hair to her skull like a cap; Lucy moved to stand behind her, quickly working a glob of gel into Imogen's hair and as she tilted her head back I felt her nipples brushing against my chest; her hips pressing against my rigid cock, it felt as though I was being sweetly tortured. I tried desperately to think of anything but what was happening but it was too difficult and I felt my hands reaching for Imogen's hips, lifting her up. Her mouth opened as I raised her high, but she smiled and parted her legs, wrapping them around my waist.

"Guess you can't wait then?" I could only shake my head, lowering her gently onto the head of my cock.

I saw Lucy draw closer; my balls caught in her hand as Imogen sank lower, enclosing me within the clenching confines of her cunt. Her eyelashes fluttered down and I threw my head back; all I needed was my release, I wanted to fuck her hard. I brought my head forward sharply as I heard her scream out, wondering if I had hurt her, but when I felt a steady stroking pressure against the shaft of my cock I knew that Lucy was fingering her ass, making the tight space in Imogen's pussy even more confined. Imogen's eyes were still shut but her lips were drawn back; I angled my head, capturing her, spearing my tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth, swallowing her screams; moaning myself as Lucy's hand encircled the base of my shaft, holding it tightly. I started to move her with a faster pace, my fingers biting, punishing her flesh but she was willing, digging her heels into the small of my back, pushing herself harder down onto my cock; she was teetering on the edge of her own orgasm as Lucy finger-fucked her ass. The water cascaded over the three of us, the paint all gone, leaving us with nothing to hide behind, our bodies were shiny, silvery drops of water coursing and caressing every angle and curve, the steam giving the little scene an almost surreal quality.

"Lift her off Joe!"

"Fuck off! I'm going to cum." I said, breaking the kiss.

"I want you to fuck me too." Lucy pleaded and I wondered how the hell I was going to hold out for long enough to please her too, but I felt Imogen push herself high, dropping back down hard; the breath whooshed out of my lungs as she bent right back, panting hard. I had survived her orgasm, one more to go.

My knees felt weak as I lowered her to the floor but I wasn't allowed to rest as Lucy pulled her fingers from Imogen's ass and led me over to the bench, letting go of my hand quickly and bending over, holding onto the edges. I could see Imogen's juices glistening on my shaft, and knew that Lucy didn't need any help getting wet, her pussy was already dripping and ready for me, even the little crinkle of her ass was shiny wet. I smiled as Imogen sat down on the bench close to Lucy, my jaw dropping as she straddled it, pushing her hips towards Lucy's face. 

"Fuck her in the ass Joe. You like that don't you Lucy?" Imogen whispered.

"Yes... oh yes Joe, fuck my tight little ass. Give me a reason to scream like Imogen." I didn't need to be told twice, I couldn't have waited any longer. 

I drew the head of my cock over her ass hole, back and forth a few times before drawing back slightly. Her gasps were loud as I pushed forward, easing myself slowly inside, groaning loudly as the crown of my cock was engulfed inside the tight heat of her ass; it felt as though I was being held in a vice but I kept pushing inch after inch into her. I was being careful up until the point when I watched Lucy dip her head forward, burying her face in Imogen's pussy, much to Imogen's delight... and mine. My hands held onto Lucy's hips tightly as I thrust forward, I was sheathed completely and even although she was screaming into Imogen's pussy, she still clenched and unclenched her muscles around my cock. I managed a quick look into Imogen's face.

"What are you waiting for Joe, fuck her ass; the harder the better." Before Lucy could offer any protest, Imogen held her head tightly, making it impossible for her to raise it up and I wasn't about to argue.

My cock sawed in and out of Lucy's ass, slow and hard to start, hurting her as well as myself, but it was bearable, twisted with a dark excitement coupled with Lucy's shouts that urged me on. I had never felt pleasure like it before, every nerve-ending felt sensitized, ignited; Imogen's face was a mask of pain as I drew Lucy back and forth and I caught a glimpse of Lucy's fingers thrusting in and out of her ass, stretching it wide as she bathed her face in Imogen's wet cunt. I slid my hand along the length of Lucy's spine, tangling my fingers in her hair, grabbing hold as I started to slam my hips harder against her ass, making her body shake with each thrust. Imogen let go of Lucy's head at that point, cupping her breasts briefly before pinching the nipples tightly, raising her feet to Lucy's shoulders, pushing her back onto my cock. The three of us were like mating animals; there was no gentleness whatsoever. I felt my balls tighten up, flooding her ass with my jism, not letting up with my strokes, looking down, watching my cum being pushed out of her tight little ass with each deep thrust. Lucy's howls filled the air as Imogen's back arched off the bench, as lost as she was in her own orgasm. I wanted to collapse on top of the both of them, I felt energy-sapped, there was nothing left of me to give and even although my cock had grown soft, I was still sheathed.

"Phil's going to wonder where we are Imogen, think we'd better get moving." Lucy raised her head and I withdrew slowly, groaning as the head of my cock popped free.

"He knows where we are sweets, wouldn't worry about it, he'll be upstairs developing those shots from earlier, or developing a new friendship with one of the blokes that I splattered earlier, I saw his cock twitching when we were working, he had his eye on someone." Imogen pulled back and swung her leg to the side, sitting up quickly, raking her fingers through the damp strands of her hair.

"Well I guess lunch hour is over, you've been fun Joe." Lucy said, standing up quickly, scanning the floor for her clothes.

I felt like I had been used and discarded, it was a new feeling for me and to be honest, it was one I could get quite used to.

"I hate to bring this up, especially after what's just happened but I'm meant to get paid before I leave." I had the good grace to blush; feeling more and more like a male prostitute.

"Yeah, shit, forgot about that, lets get dressed and I'll sort things out in reception." Lucy had discarded her sopping g-string and was shimmying into her little black skirt, tits bouncing with her efforts.

"Bugger, Lucy, we've got a casting session for the women in ten minutes!" Imogen smiled at me apologetically and I was left wondering if one of those women would be singled out for special treatment after the shoot was done.

"I fancy a redhead today Imo, you got to choose the last one." Lord, it was a personal body buffet.

A few minutes later, fully dressed I found myself in the foyer once more, shuffling my feet while Lucy searched for the envelope containing the cash I had been promised.

"Damn and bloody blast, I'm sure I put it under the keyboard, let me check again." Lucy's head disappeared from view and I went to sit down on the edge of one of the sofas again.

"Joe, glad to see you're still here, I saw your envelope sitting on the reception desk so I took it to my office for safe-keeping, if you'd like to come with me just now I'll give it to you straight away." Lucy's head sprang up from behind the desk as Phil spoke, her eyebrow raised for a second before comprehension dawned; it took a few more seconds to realize that the person that Phil had had his eye on was me. 

"Well... do you want it or not?" Phil said before disappearing through a door behind reception.

"I need the money." I whispered to Lucy as I made my way round the desk.

"Good luck hun; scream if you need me, the guy's hung like a horse." I swallowed deeply and stepped into the office, closing the door on Lucy's muffled giggles. One thing was certain, I would be screaming, especially if it meant another chance to fuck the lovely Lucy.



Performance Review



When I was a kid, I was the one that nobody fucked with, and I mean nobody. It wasn't that I was the biggest or the strongest, but the whole school knew that I'd never give up. The crowd around the playground fights would walk away saying "Man, Jack has balls," and they were right, I didn't put up with shit from anyone.

In forth grade, they kicked me out of school for two weeks for a little altercation. This big bully started to tease me about something that I don't remember now, so I jumped over his desk and gave him a black eye. It was all so serious, every one in the school got involved. I had to see a councilor for months to try and control my anger, it probably was looked on so seriously because the bully was my teacher. Well, he should have kept his fucking comments to himself.

After that, the only ones that would pick on me were the new kids that didn't know any better. I would change that in a hurry, they knew when I was finished with them. I think the last fight I was in was in seventh grade, by then everyone knew not to fuck with Jack. I could walk the halls without fear, not even the football players dared to mess with me. That's all I ever wanted, respect. I didn't ever treat anyone badly, I'd never started a fight, but I finished quite a few. 

My old man taught me that sometimes you had to fight for what's right, nobody else would do it for you, at least to your satisfaction. To be truly satisfied with the results, you had to see them to the end. If that means you are getting your ass kicked for most of the fight, well, so be it. As long as you are vindicated in the end, the bruises would heal, but if you walked away before the fight was over, you deserved what you got.

I guess that lesson finally worked its way into my thick head, he wasn't only talking about fist fights. He was trying to teach me about life, it's clear now what he meant for me to learn. I saw it as a lesson about physical toughness most of my life, but it wasn't, it had to do with success and failure. He was a pretty smart man now that I look back on it, not bad at all for an old farm boy.

***

Goddamn, I hate these little get togethers in the HR office, they leave me feeling one inch tall. It doesn't matter if he chews on my ass or gives me a hug, I still hate them. Why can't he just walk right up and tell you you're doing a fine job? But no, you have to sit in that fucking chair like a little school boy, while he reads directly off of that stupid ass form. Fuck, I can read, why do we have to go through this silly ritual every six months?

Well, if any of you have had to sit through a performance evaluation, then you know why. If you want that raise you deserve, or that promotion you've been waiting for, you endure the humiliation. You sit there and listen to a guy with less education, tell you where "HE'D" like to see you six months from now. 

"That fucking tears it," I thought to myself as I closed the door. I'd gotten exemplary reviews every six months for the last nine years, and I'd gotten the same today. But I was pissed off beyond comprehension, he didn't really say that to me did he? That little baldheaded fuck, how dare he assume that I didn't spend enough time interfacing with the people that worked under me.

They were in my office asking questions of me more than they worked, the other times I was out on the floor solving all of their problems with them.

It's a wonder that I got anything done at all, and I did only because I put in sixty to eighty hours a week. I felt like jamming my review up the little fucker's ass, I didn't mind the extra work, hell, I like my job. But the ungrateful prick, had to write something in the little box to justify his own existence. I'd busted my hump for SMS. As one of the first employees, nobody in the company knows more about this place than me.

Starting as a system engineer, I'd then gone into sales, and now I'm the production manager. We handle a variety of electronics for the medical industry. It's all very specialized, almost all are custom designs. 

To get to the point of what I've already told you. I'm in a position to start my own company, with the knowledge, the experience, and the skills, I only lack the dollars. That's a pretty important component, but from my point of view, not the most important. Listening to that slug from human resources today sealed the deal for me. It would take every cent I had, and I'd be in hock up to my eyeballs, but it was something worth fighting for. 

Ok, I'm done ranting now. I let things build up inside, I vent a little and after a few deep breaths I'm fine. I might have given you the impression that I'm some crazy walking time bomb. No, not really, just a little exercise I use to clear the stress. I've actually been working towards my own business for about five years.

SMS has been a great place to work, and I'm really going to miss it here. My time here gave me some great opportunities, I had the time while I was in the sales division to earn my Masters degree. The business contacts I've made will prove to be invaluable.

My plan is to resign in about six months, right after I complete my tenth year with SMS. I've talked it over with the headcheese, and I have his blessing. The boss and I go back to the beginning of the company, Steve Styles, is the S in SMS, Styles Micro Systems. He is totally behind me in my decision to go out on my own, especially since I don't plan to compete directly with him. My new company will actually bring a lot of new business to Steve.

Now my wife on the other hand, is not real pleased with my leaving SMS. She has grown quite attached to my six-figure salary. Carrie is quite happy to help the bank keep our balance low enough for more money to fit into our account. It has started to concern me where our marriage is headed, sometimes she makes me feel like a paycheck with a penis attached.

If you're thinking I'm venting again, you've missed it. I'm saddened by the state of our relationship, I hate to see eight good years go to waste. I love Carrie, or at least I did, I don't know any more. She's changed, and I'm not sure when or why. I spend so much time at work these days, it's hard to pinpoint where things went wrong.

We were so in love when we were younger, and then the money came, and with it came the hours and responsibilities. She complains about the hours I keep, and how I don't have time for her. When I offered to cut back, she wouldn't hear of it. She couldn't bear to part with the salary that goes with the added hours.

Some things in my life are crystal clear, and others have become murky like dishwater. While I have the utmost confidence in my ability to succeed with my new business venture, I see my personal life swirling around in circles, you know, like right before it disappears at the bottom of the toilet. Is this what I want? Or am I prepared to fight for Carrie?

That's what my old man would tell me to do, "Fight for it if you want it boy." I suppose, I've grown complacent though, it's been a long time since I've thrown a punch, so to speak. I seem to be at a crossroads. One road will be a long uphill battle to try to save something I'm not sure either of us wants anymore, the other leads to somewhere I've never been before. To walk out, just slip away, end the fight before it ever starts. If I knew that I was battling for the girl that I'd married, I proudly stand chained and naked before satin himself, and spit in his eye with insolence. My heart says, Carrie is not that girl, not anymore.

As I dragged my sorry ass through the door, Carrie informed me, not asked me, that we would be going to dinner at Dirk and Paula's on Saturday. It had been a bitch of a week, and I was looking forward to staying home to lick my wounds, maybe even lick Carrie if the opportunity presented. Not wanting to fight over such a minor thing, I relented.

Dirk and Paula are friends of ours, well, friends of Carrie's to be more accurate. Dirk works for SMS in sales, mostly though, he is a loud mouthed prick. He doesn't know how to make a sale, he knows how to bullshit, and he's good at it. We all call him, Dirk the used car salesman. His wife Paula, is a different story though. She's sweet and kind, the type of woman any man would love to have as a wife. The only thing negative I could tell you about Paula, is that she's married to Dick, oops, I mean Dirk.

Dinner was good, and I was relaxing with my forth or fifth glass of wine. The girls were finishing up in the kitchen, and I didn't give a shit where Dirk was, but I was extremely happy that wherever he was, it was away from me. They all came to join me, and ruined my space. We drank more wine, and generally chilled and talked.

When Dirk pulled out his stash of weed, I gave Carrie a look telling her it was time to leave. She totally ignored me, and concentrated on the way Dirk deftly rolled a joint. I glanced at Paula with a what the fuck look, she was already turned away in embarrassment. I knew from experience that I'd be wasting my time complaining to Dirk, so I didn't bother. Dirk lit the doobie, and inhaled the acrid smoke.

He offered it to me, but I held up my hand stopping him. I wanted no part of this lunacy. As I'd expected, Paula also refused, but I was shocked at Carrie. Not by the fact that she took the goddamned thing, but at the way she did it. Carrie sucked the smoke down like oxygen to a drowning man. It was blatantly obvious that she's done this before, and I don't mean back in college. You don't hold smoke that easy on your first time in ten years, no way. I'd puffed a lot of dope in my early years. This wasn't new to Carrie.

What happened next was far beyond my comprehension, it's the only reason I can give myself for not stopping things. Carrie stood before me, and then straddled my legs, she bent at the knees and sat on my thighs facing me. As I looked up at her face, she smothered my mouth with hers. This was the most passion I'd seen from Carrie in a long time.

The sheer power of her kiss made me forget we weren't alone. My hands were on her ass pulling her crotch to my hardening cock. Carrie sat back, and in one motion removed her top. Just as quickly, her bra was on the floor. As I reached for her hard nipples, she'd opened my pants. Carrie stepped back, and pulled my pants and underwear to my ankles. She then removed her jeans, and stood before me naked for all to see.

Dirk and Paula had been busy themselves, they only had one sock on between the two of them. As exposed as I was, I was over dressed compared to the other three. Carrie motioned for Paula to join us, and in seconds they were both on their knees sucking my aching dick. It was happening all to fast to react, Carrie and I had never even discussed this as a fantasy, and now it was real, and it was up close and personal.

When I next opened my eyes, Paula was still intently gobbling my knob, but Carrie had moved across the room. It was so surreal, this was starting to look like a bad porn film. Dirk had Carrie bent over a chair and was just entering her. Paula was on the floor now on all fours, asking me to fuck her from behind. For a millisecond, I considered it. Paula was certainly asking for it, but my half-drunk brain had finally made an appearance. 

I stood up, and pulled my pants to the proper placement for mixed company. This was crazy, I wasn't like this. As I zipped up, there was that feeling again. Carrie was used to this, too familiar with the way Dirk pounded into her. Before I killed them all, I turned and walked out the door.

Before I could start the car, Paula, now in a dressing gown, slid in next to me.

"What's wrong Jack? Is it me?"

"What? Is what you?"

"Don't you find me attractive enough?"

"Just wait a minute, that has nothing to do with it. This is wrong, it's all wrong. Married people shouldn't act like this. I'd expect this kind of thing from that asshole Dirk, but not from you Paula, and especially not from Carrie. I knew Carrie used to be a little wild, but for God sakes, she's my wife now. I thought I knew her better than this."

"Jack, Dirk told me you were ok with this"

"I'm far from ok with this, and what the fuck would make that son-of-a-bitch think I would be? Just go away Paula, I'm in no mood to talk right now"

"Carrie said you needed something to spice things up, she said you were in a rut."

"What! You fix a relationship by fucking other people? That's the stupidest shit I ever heard. Why'd you go along with this? I'm real interested in hearing your lame ass excuse," and I was all of a sudden interested, maybe she could shed some light on this fucked up situation.

"I'm sorry Jack, I did it because I don't care anymore. I'm going to leave Dirk, it's just a matter of time. I agreed because it was you, I would have never ever done this for anyone else. Dirk has wanted me to swap before, but I always told him no. When he brought it up again a couple of weeks ago I was going to leave him then. But when he told me it was you, I agreed. I had already decided to divorce Dirk, so it wasn't like I'd be cheating on my wedding vows. I'm ashamed to admit it Jack, but I want you, I dream about making love to you."

Hmm, that was interesting, "Paula, I've got a serious suspicion that we've both been used. They seemed awfully comfortable with each other, did you notice? I also think they used you to get me to keep me busy, and it almost worked. Are you sure you're not the one that put this into Carrie's head?"

"God no, how could you even think that Jack?"

"I don't know what to think. Before tonight I knew my marriage wasn't what it once was, but now it's over and I don't have a clue why. She's still in there fucking your husband, and we're sitting out in the car talking about it. Doesn't it seem a little strange to you? I should be in there beating the shit out of those two, but they're not worth the effort."

"It's kind of funny Jack, I don't even care what he's doing. I've lost every bit of feeling that I ever had for him."

"Well I can understand that, I find myself caring less and less every minute. Look Paula, I can't tell you what to do, but it would be better for both of us not to tell them that they're both looking down the barrel of a divorce for the time being. Can you do that for me Paula?"

"Ok Jack, and I'm sorry about tonight," she touched my face with her finger tips.

"Paula, did you mean what you said, about not doing it with anyone else?"

"Yes, only with you," she said with a blush.

From a purely logical standpoint, the whole incident made no sense. Why the fuck would Carrie assume that I'd go along with wife swapping. That wasn't something that interested me in the least, I'm willing to share anything but my wife. I'm pretty one-way in that respect. If Carrie needed to spice up her sex life, she'd have to do it as the single woman she was about to become. 

I went to bed as soon as got to the house, I had no desire to deal with Carrie's bullshit when or if she got home. Pretending to be asleep when she slipped into bed, I fought the urge to get away from her. Carrie snuggled up behind me in the spoon position, draping her arm over me. I kept my temper in check until I felt the rhythmic sounds of sleep overtake her. I slipped out of bed, and retired to the living room couch for the night.

Hours had passed, and sleep finally came. I wished it hadn't. The dreams of Carrie and Dirk woke me in a cold sweat. I'd been humiliated more this week than I'd been since grade school. The more I thought about it, the more I remembered the satisfaction of giving my teacher a black-eye. 

Early Sunday morning, I called Paula and asked her to meet me for breakfast. I wanted to discuss an idea with her, a plan that may provide us both with a modicum of justice. My fists were again prepared for the bruises and swelling, it would feel good, to again, teach the folly of fucking with Jack. It was not the lesson my father intended, but a lesson I learned all too well.

Paula proved to be like a ray of sunshine to my overcast mood, and she was eager to help with what I'd asked. We enjoyed our cold pancakes and over cooked eggs, there is a lot to be said for pleasant company with bad food. I now had the distasteful task of facing Carrie. As I finished the last of my now cold coffee, my hand instinctively reached down to see if I still had the same pair of 'balls' I'd had when I was younger.

Carrie was on the attack when I walked through the door, but I'd verified, and my 'balls' were where they'd always been. I knew how to handle her, what was she going to do threaten me with divorce? Ha!

"What the hell happened to you last night? Why'd you run off and leave me there?" she asked with a peeved tone.

"Well darling, if you hadn't been so involved with that cock that was shoved in you, you might have paid attention long enough to realize I was sick to my stomach," I replied in the same manner.

"Why didn't you say something? We could have both left if you weren't felling well. I'm sorry baby, that was selfish of me."

"Whatever," I answered disinterestedly.

"When did you start feeling bad? You seemed to be enjoying Paula's attention the last I knew."

"It must have been the smoke, or something I ate. Or yet again, maybe it was watching my wife get fucked in front of me. What the hell was that all about?" now I was asking the questions.

"Baby I just thought... you know. We've been in kind of a slump, and I was trying to..."

"The next time you start making decisions regarding OUR marriage, you'd better fill me in before the fact. I don't appreciate being blind sided like that, and if it ever happens again without discussing it first, I'm out the door. I mean it Carrie, that was complete bullshit. I'm not saying it might not have been fun, but that isn't the kind of thing you decide without the others permission."

Perfect, I walked away with the upper hand, and the seed had also been planted that I might agree to a rematch. I sulked the rest of the day for good measure, Carrie was doing everything in her power to make it up to me. She was acting like she really cared about me again, and I played it for all it was worth.

Right before dinner, I rummaged through my nightstand drawer. My doctor had given me a prescription for the little blue helper pills a year ago when I was dealing with a lot of stress at work. I really didn't need them anymore under normal circumstances, but tonight was going to be anything but normal. I planned on fucking Carrie until she was raw, let's just say, something to remember me by.

As I'd hoped, Carrie started to seduce me as we ate. Her foot was busy from my ankle to my crotch throughout the meal. The pills I'd taken had my cock throbbing, ready or not Carrie, here I cum. I didn't even bother with the preliminaries, I fucked her hard on a half eaten plate of mashed potatoes and gravy. I finished the rest of my roast beef while I banged away at Carries swollen pussy. I'd given up using the silverware, I was feeding both of us with my hands.

I shoveled a handful of green beans into Carrie's mouth, she tried to chew and moan at the same time as I plowed into her, "Njack monk mmee harner, mmm no yens," I wasn't sure, but I think she wanted me to fuck her harder. I poured the remain gravy over her now exposed tits, and rubbed a dinner roll over her greasy nipples and I shoved the whole thing into my mouth. While I was happily chewing away, I rolled Carrie to her knees. I had a handful of half melted butter that I slathered on the crack of her ass, her head jerked to face me as I stood on the chair. She knew what was coming, we'd never done this before, but she knew.

As I entered her ass, she dropped her face into the bowl of salad. Carrie screamed through the lettuce, "Ooh, fuck yes, mmm Jack, I'm cumming oooh," as I globed a scoop of warm potatoes on her sensitive clit. I have to tell you, Carrie is not much of a cook, but this was a dinner fit for a king. It was without a doubt the most enjoyable meal we'd ever had, and she was about to get dessert.




Performance Review



We left the dinning room in shambles as we went to shower. To Carries complete surprise, I again fucked her from behind. And the sex continued into the bedroom, I'd never seen someone totally fucked out before, but Carrie was before I was finished with her 

that night.

Paula was happy to hear from me the next day, she told me that Dirk was pissed at her for not allowing him to touch her. That had been our plan, no sex for Dirk. I told her about dinner the night before, her only comment was, "Mm, you're making me hungry, Jack."

As I'd half expected, Carrie had barely made it out of bed when I got home from work. She was wandering around the house in a t-shirt with no panties, her swollen pussy smeared with some kind of salve, "She won't be wanting sex in the near future," I chuckled to myself. Dirk won't be getting any from either of them, I would make sure of that. For the next three weeks, I wore Carrie raw. She even went to the doctor to see if he could speed the healing process. Paula and I set up another dinner party, this time we would put on a show for Carrie and Dirk. 

The dinner Paula prepared was sumptuous, It was the best I'd eaten in three weeks, but I knew this meal would be far more satisfying, before it was over, than any I'd ever had. I had made sure to put Carrie's pussy out of commission with a relentless pounding the night before, I only prayed that I hadn't damaged my own equipment in the process.

As we talked after dinner, the wine was passed liberally. I had chosen water for myself tonight, I wanted to be sober as a judge when the fun began. Dirk tried to bring out his pot, but Carrie put a stop to it quickly, explaining about my reaction the last time we were over. I whispered to Carrie that I was interested in a repeat of our last meeting, she didn't say it but I saw the frown on her face, she was none to happy with my eagerness to swap partners tonight.

To Dirk's utter bewilderment, Paula took the bull by the horns. Pulling off her shirt to expose her wonderful tits, she said, "I missed out the last time, I've got some catching up to do," as she nuzzled her head between my legs. It was mere seconds before she had my swelling dick exposed, she gave the performance of a lifetime, any porn queen would have been proud of her.

Not to be left hanging, Dirk tried to sidle up to Carrie. Carrie wanted absolutely no part of him tonight. As Paula expertly swallowed my rod, Dirk was arguing with Carrie over her unwillingness to participate in the action. His pants were around his ankles, and I thought I actually saw a blue tint to his balls. It was probably the large dose of Viagra I had taken, but after no sex for three weeks he had to be ready.

Dirk had given up on persuading Carrie, and was now sitting on the opposite end of the couch from her. He was now concentrating on the tongue-lashing I was giving his wife. Carrie was sitting with her arms and legs crossed, envy written all over her face. Dirk had commenced to spank his monkey as he watched his shy wife scream my name, "JACK, JACK, OH FUCK YES JACK!" 

Paula's legs were flailing in the air, and she continued to chant my name while she was wracked with orgasm after orgasm. Dirk had completely given up masturbating, he sat in humiliation as I crawled up and began to lay the pipe to Paula. Carrie had already left the room, but could no doubt still hear Paula singing praises of my abilities, " JACK, FUCK ME DADDY, FUCK ME. WEAR THAT PUSSY OUT, OOH JACK, FILL ME UP, THAT'S IT, JUST LIKE THAT."

I pulled out of Paula, just like the porn movies, and shot my load on her tits and stomach. Paula, fired the next shot right between Dirk's eyes, as she gathered my sperm with her fingers, looked right into his eyes and savored my juice as if it were white chocolate. I thought he was going to cry, then Dirk and his shriveled dick, like Elvis, left the building. 

Not being one to waste an opportunity, and with Paula's eager permission, I went down on her again. Carrie kept peeking in to see if we had finished, and we hadn't. Paula and I were built for each other. The whole night was meant to be a show, but that had become a byproduct of something much bigger. The acting had gone out the window from almost the very beginning.

On the ride home, Carrie cried, they were the tears of a beaten woman. Every time our eyes would meet, she would look away sobbing. I took no particular pleasure in her tears, but at the same time, I held no hope or desire for the continuation of our marriage. The score was even, it would end a zero-zero tie, no winners here.

We could have ended it that way, but Carrie couldn't leave it alone. The next morning over my morning coffee, Carrie let loose,

"I suppose you're real proud of the way you acted last night? You made a complete fool out of me," she spat.

"No Carrie, have no doubt who started this. You were the one that caused whatever foul mood you're in right now. I was only playing by the rules YOU established, and I gave you the courtesy of letting you know before hand. You could have said no, you could have stopped it at any time," I replied calmly.

"You... You didn't have to enjoy it so fucking much."

"That's kind of small of you, Carrie. I didn't exactly see you complaining the night Dirk fucked you in front of me. And while were on that subject, how good was he when you two fucked while Paula and I weren't around?"

"You knew?" her hand went to her mouth.

"Not until just now, you just told me. What low down terrible deceitful thing did I ever do to you to deserve such unmitigated betrayal?"

"You're never there when I need you. You spend all of your time at work, and I'm stuck here alone. Jack, I'm a young woman, I need some excitement once in awhile."

Well Carrie, since you brought up the 'you' subject. Let's talk about you, let's evaluate your performance as a wife. I've been giving this a lot of thought lately, your attitude toward your job as my wife has really gone down the tubes lately. I find you to be lacking the culinary expertise a woman with your years of service should have acquired, below average. Your economic performance is abominable, your spending is wasteful and totally out of control..."

"Now wait a minute! What the hell is this? You can't talk to me like this."

"I can, and what's more, I will. You'll have a chance to explain yourself when I'm through, so shut the fuck up until I'm done. Now, where were we? Ah yes, spending, totally unsatisfactory.

Appearance, above average, you comport yourself with style and grace, very acceptable, in fact, bordering on exemplary," that one actually got a smile from her. 

"What's next? Let's see, uh, household maintenance. Average, you keep the house livable, let's call this one satisfactory," a frown was now evident.

"Jack, I get your point."

"No Baby, not yet you don't. I'll skip the next one about sex, and get right down to it, the final and most important one to me. Fidelity, do you want to field this one for me, or do I have to say it?"

"No Jack, don't... It's over for us isn't it?"

"Yep sweetheart, it's over."

"What can I do Jack? I don't want to lose you," the tears were falling again.

"Sweetie, all the King's horses..."

"Jack, no matter how much you don't believe it, I love you. I was wrong, and I'm sorry. Please don't hate me."

"Nah, I don't have time for that, but I hope now you see where cheating leads you. It's dirty business.

Well, Carrie and I both walked away, maybe a little bruised and scratched, but no black eyes. There was no need to take this further. Sure I could have been vengeful with Carrie, and I could have kicked the dogshit out of Dirk, but didn't I get the result I wanted? Hell yeah, I got Paula.



Performances



After several long hours of yardwork, I was finally done. I picked up the glass of water, the ice having melted, and practically inhaled the scant contents. Using the garden hose, I filled the glass again, and almost literally did inhale the contents. Then I did it again, finally feeling satisfied. 

I thought ahead to the following day, when my twin nieces would arrive to spend a week with me and my wife. With two seven-year-old girls in the house, there would be little time for Rebecca and I to have to ourselves, so I determined that for the rest of the day, I would devote all my time to her, even if that did mean washing the dishes and mopping the floors. 

I entered the house at last, finding that she had definitely cleaned the kitchen and the living room while I was working outside. The cool air inside was a very welcome respite from having been in the sun for several long hours, and actually made me shiver slightly. But, to my surprise, I did not see nor hear my young wife. 

Perhaps I should have called for her. But instead, I slowly roamed the house, trying to remain as quiet as possible to sneak up on her and surprise her, much like I used to do when we were seven-year-old kids in the old neighborhood. She was not downstairs, nor was she in the basement, and I began to wonder if she had decided to take a bath. 

If that was the case, I planned to join her, for I certainly needed a bath... or at least a shower. 

When I came to the top of the stairs, however, I knew that she was definitely not taking a bath. 

From where I stood, I could see through the wide-open bedroom door. Rebecca was on her stomach upon the bed. As naked as the day she was born, a hand stuck out from underneath her to repeatedly plunge a bright-red dildo into her body as she humped her own wrist. Facing away from me, she had no idea that I was watching her, and from the soft sounds she was making, she likely would not even care that she was being watched. 

Then I noticed it: the DV camera atop one of the dressers, pointed directly at her, positioned so that I would be in the background of the shot. Although we sometimes filmed ourselves as we made love, this was the first time – to my knowledge – that Rebecca had filmed herself without my knowledge, without my presence. While I certainly enjoyed looking up my wife's spread legs and watching continually impale herself with the dildo, I had a sense that this was supposed to be a surprise, that perhaps sometime while I was at work, she would upload this video to the computer and edit down into something meaningful and surprise me with it. I had to wonder just how many times she might have filmed herself in these compromising situations, and hoped that perhaps there would be a montage of her "best moments" soon to be coming my way. 

I hesitated. I wanted to go to her, to lay beside her and touch her and kiss her as she pleasured herself, or perhaps take over control of the dildo or – even better – replace the dildo with a real phallus. Yet with each halting step I made toward the open bedroom door, I had a growing sense that I did not belong there, that I needed to leave her in peace and give her the privacy she apparently wanted. 

Eschewing the shower, I turned around and slowly went back downstairs, my manhood quite hard from having seen her secret performance. When I heard her cry out, I regretted my decision, yet I knew that it was for the better. 

*****

I had just stepped out of the car when Rebecca stepped out of the back door. "You saw!" she exclaimed, shock clearly written across her face. 

"What are you talking about, hon?" I asked, grabbing my briefcase and closing and locking the car door. "I've been at work all day. What could I have possibly seen?" 

"The day before the girls arrived," she said, waiting for me on the back porch, "when you were supposed to be doing yardwork. You saw me playing with my favorite dildo."

That finally jogged my memory. 

"That was supposed to be a surprise for you for your upcoming birthday!" 

That made me very thankful for my decision to leave her alone in the bedroom on that day. Fortunately, from Rebecca's body language, she was not upset that I had witnessed her self-love, just disappointed that my unexpected presence had ruined the surprise she had planned for me. 

...for my birthday. 

When I finally reached her, I set my briefcase down and took her into my arms, hugging her. "As much as I would have enjoyed to see your surprise," I told her, "I would much prefer to watch you in person." 

That evening, I did watch her in person, and it was her most spirited performance I had ever witnessed.