12 comments/ 102521 views/ 13 favorites J Is for Jerk By: mernie99 I glanced at my watch. 4:33 pm. Friday afternoon. God, it's been one hell of a week. My mind couldn't function any more. I was in our file room pulling vouchers for an internal audit first thing Monday morning. As a seasoned cost analyst, I was overqualified for such a task. The truth is that I volunteered for this job. Mindless work was exactly what I needed. 4:34. Thinking about my weekend plans. My thirty-something girlfriends and I always meet up for happy hour on Friday nights. I could almost taste the salt on the rim of that margarita glass. The door opened and a familiar voice called out, "Donna?" "Yeah, I'm over here, Kathy." Our department secretary continued, "Jeff is looking for you." "You've got to be kidding. After yesterday, I really didn't expect to see his smug face around here anytime soon." "Yesterday?" Kathy inquired. "You didn't hear about that? Oh, my God. I thought everyone had heard." I had told this story at least a dozen times today, but didn't mind repeating it. "You know how Jeff never follows procedures? I had a stack of invoices from Brooks Electric, and most of them didn't reference purchase orders. I spent half my day working on this spreadsheet for him, trying to match things up, check unit costs against our agreement and such. So I asked him to stop by for a few minutes to sign off on the paperwork." "I don't know why I try to be nice to that man," I continued. "It was his job to do the matching. So, after he approved everything, I reminded him that we were supposed to have purchase order numbers on all invoices. And then he went off on me." "You're surprised?" asked Kathy. "We are talking Jeff, with a capital J. That stands for Jerk. "I know, I know. I should expect as much. So, anyhow, that's when he called me a paper-pushing bean counter. He said he was too busy doing real work to deal with such things. As if my time isn't valuable? I just spent the entire morning straightening out his mess, doing something that's really not my job. So ..." I continued with an upturned mouth, "I told him to fuck off." Kathy gasped. I loved that incredulous look on her face. I'm not the type of person to use that sort of language, so this was big news. "Yeah. I've worked here eight years and this was the first time I told anyone to fuck off. Felt pretty good, actually." Kathy laughed nervously. "Oh, that's precious. But stupid, Donna. He's the Network Manager." "Yeah, I know," I responded. "I immediately walked into Sue's office and confessed my sins. She gave me a lecture on proper behavior, threatened to put it in my records if I did it again. But she'll cover me. I'm not worried." "Well, anyhow" Kathy said, "Jeff is waiting for you." Waiting for me? I thought. That sounds good. I had about a dozen more vouchers to find and decided to take my time. "Tell him I'll be with him in a few minutes." "Gotcha," Kathy stated as she walked out the door. 4:40. I slowed my pace to a crawl. I figured I'd wait until a few minutes before quitting time before returning to my office. Whatever he wants, I'll tell him it has to wait until next week. Perfect. 4:44. I heard the door open. Without looking up, I smiled and mused, "What's wrong, Kathy. Is the jerk getting impatient?" A deep voice responded, "Jerk?" I knew that voice. It was Jeff. "Oh, Jeff. It's you", I acknowledged unemotionally. Jeff followed my voice and stopped within a foot of me, purposely invading my personal space. His appearance was intimidating. Jeff was in his 50s, built like a linebacker, tall and husky, with his mostly white hair shortly cropped like a new Marine recruit. I took a step back and glanced into Jeff's steely blue-grey eyes. "I hate to keep you waiting but the auditors will be here first thing Monday morning. I absolutely have to get this done." Jeff looked at the stack of folders I had pulled, rested the palm of his hand on them, causing the pile to topple. "Sorry," he said without emotion. I waited a second to see if he would pick them up, but he didn't move. "Thanks, Jeff. You're a real jewel." I bent over and started picking up the folders, returning them in numerical order. "So, you are not the slightest bit curious why I'm here, Donna? I ignored him as best I could, and continued to pick up the folders. He continued, "When the Network Manager pays you a visit, it may not be because of silly invoices. I have many roles and responsibilities, you know. Now, I can see that you are busy, so let's say you meet me in my office today at 5:30 sharp." Without looking up from the folders I said, "No can do, Jeff. I've made plans after work. Why don't you check my scheduler and we can pick this up next week?" Jeff rested his hand on the stack of folders I had been sorting, preventing me from working. I glared at up at him. He was peeking down my blouse, and I disliked the smug look on his face. "You're still not getting this, Donna. If you value your job, you will see me at 5:30." He turned his back and left the room. To say that I hated Jeff would be an understatement. My heart started racing, and I could feel my face growing red with anger. I took comfort in the thought that I had cleared my sins with Sue. He had nothing on me. 5:04. Stack of folders in hand, I returned to my office. The hell with Jeff, I thought to myself. It's time for happy hour. I reached for my purse, pulled out the compact and started fixing my make-up. Not bad, I thought to myself. My wavy blonde shoulder-length hair was still presentable. I touched up the lipstick and applied some fresh powder. Halfway out the door, I realized that I forgot to log off. When I returned to my desk I noticed that I had an unread mail message on my monitor ... from Jeff. Subject: "Tonight's meeting." I laughed and then closed my mail application. But curiosity got the best of me. If nothing else this whole episode with Jeff would make a good story at happy hour. I reopened my email and then double clicked on his message. It read: "Below is a list of web sites that you have accessed within the past 30 days that do not appear to be work related. This is a violation of our Internet Use policy. Considering the extent of the abuse, my recommendation to management in these sorts of cases would be immediate termination." My face grew flushed as I reviewed the list. OK, so I used the internet. Sure, I made some travel reservations, did some banking, played some on line games, read the news, placed a few E-Bay bids. I hit page down and the list continued. There were the My Space entries. I checked the weather. I had read reviews of the new movies. Page down again. More web sites. Page down again. I hadn't thought I abused the internet, but this wasn't looking good. I wondered if Sue would support me. At my last review she'd commented that I was professional, productive, and quality oriented. But would that be enough? Sue's also got her eye on the Comptroller position, which should be opening in a few months. With so much at stake, I doubted that she would go to battle for me when I had clearly violated company policy. To be fired, at this point, would be devastating. The ink on my divorce papers hadn't dried yet, and I was just getting by. Thanks to the ex, the only way I could purge myself of his gambling debts was to declare bankruptcy. I didn't have any credit ... only a debit card. And that wasn't going to hold out much longer. This was revenge, pure and simple, and I knew it. But that didn't matter. Jeff had me. At least until I could find another job. 5:30. I was outside Jeff's office, prompt, just as requested. His door was open but he was on the phone. His tall, bulky frame leaned back in his chair, feet up on the desk. I could hear him laughing. He swiveled around, glanced in my direction, and then turned his back to me again. I took a seat in the outer office. 5:39. More laughing from Jeff's office. This was a power play, pure and simple. Inside I was furious. Outwardly, I was calm. I wasn't going to let the jerk win. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of acting anything but calm. I reminded myself not to play the "helpless girl" card. And whatever was to happen, I would make sure that there would be no emotional outburst. Keep calm, Donna, I coached myself. 5:44. I heard Jeff wrap up the call. I stood up and moved towards the door, but Jeff picked up the receiver and made yet another call. I returned to the seat outside the office. This time he was making an appointment to get his hair cut. I heard him say, "No problem. Take your other call. I can wait." 5:48. Jeff hung up the phone, but I dared not move towards the door again. I heard Jeff approaching me, so I stood up. Except that he walked right past me, saying, "Sorry, honey, I'll be back in a few minutes." I sat down as he headed towards the restrooms. 5:56. Let's see. After the restroom, he took a long drink of water. Then he started reading the bulletin board. Finally he passed me on the trip back to the office. Without stopping or looking at me, he stated unemotionally, "You may come in now, Donna." Jeff reclined in his chair, with his feet on the desk. I followed him in, unable to sit in the side chair which was cluttered with an assortment of papers. Part of his game, I thought. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Without attempting to sit down, I stood directly in front of his desk. "Jeff, let's cut to the chase. What do you want?" Jeff seemed amused with my confidence. He put his feet down and reached for his pencil cup, sending the contents to the floor. "For one," Jeff started, "You can pick up my pens." I leaned over and picked up the pens and pencils, returning them to the cup. I wished that I hadn't worn a skirt to work that day, particularly such a short one. But this was Friday, and that's what I typically wear to Happy Hour. When I'm out I enjoy the attention that I get; men tend to check out my long, thin legs. I knew that the spilt pencil cup was a planned game. Jeff is just so creepy. In conversation, he'll unashamedly stare at an attractive woman's chest in lieu of her eyes. He'll turn his head and follow a skirt. "I don't see the red marker, Donna. Would you be a dear and check again?" I glanced at the area again. Innocently, I replied, "Sorry, Jeff, I don't see it." "It's got to be there, Donna. Oh, look, it rolled over here ..." referring to the leg room under his desk, "Would you mind?" I'm sure he planted that there. With Jeff, nothing is an accident. "Not at all," I lied. In order to retrieve the marker, I had to get on my knees and lean over Jeff's large black lace shoes. I returned the marker to the cup and straightened my skirt. "Now, Jeff, back to what we were ..." "I prefer them point down, Donna." "What?" "The pens and pencils in the cup. They should be point down. I see three that are point up." I rearranged the contents of his pencil cup, and stood before him. I dared not talk. After an awkward silence, Jeff stated, "Donna, you are certainly more cooperative today than you were yesterday. Remind me, honey. What did you tell me yesterday?" "We talked about many things. I suggested that you preauthorize the electrical work, ensuring that all invoices reference a purchase order number." "In your own words, Donna, let's cut to the chase. Now, what did you tell me?" In a meek voice, I replied, "OK, so I told you to eff off." "Ah, that's right. Not a very nice thing to say to someone, particularly a supervisor who might have access to your Internet records. Donna, please lock my door." I moved towards the door, knowing that Jeff would be watching my ass, twisted the button on the silver door knob, and turned around to face him again. Jeff continued, "Well, Missy, you'll be happy to hear that I will comply with everything you want. I can assure you that there will be purchase orders on all the invoices." Wow. I hadn't seen that one coming. Thinking that perhaps I misjudged him, I meekly said, "Thanks, I really appreciate it." "Not so fast, Donna. The reason I made that assurance was because you are going to take over the management of the contract. You'll be happy to do that for me, won't you?" The disdain I felt for Jeff instantly returned. "Yes, of course," I lied again. Already I was working nine hour days more often than not. Jeff continued, "Oh, and that other thing, when you said fuck you, I also agree, totally." "Excuse me?" I asked. "I'm thinking that in your crude, slutty way, you are inviting me for a little action. You certainly act like a pompous prick teaser, but you do have a killer body ... and I have a weakness for blondes. So, yes, I accept your invitation." I felt my face redden and turned around, ready to leave. "Fine," he continued, standing up and moving towards my direction. "Your decision. But I'm going to have to follow you. I need to make sure you don't take anything from your desk. We'll clean that out for you Monday." That did it. I turned around and moved to slap him on the face. He quickly grabbed my wrist, so thin in comparison to his. Jeff held it tightly. I tried to push myself away from him, but he had me captive. "Think hard, Donna. You don't have many options. I know about your ex, the bankruptcy." I tried very hard to jerk my hand away from him, but was unsuccessful. Just a few minutes ago I had promised myself that I would remain composed. But now I was losing it. With tears forming in the corners on my eyes, I begged, "Please, let go, Jeff." Jeff suddenly released my hands and pushed me back, sending me toppling to the floor. I hated the smug smile on his face. He had me, totally. Why did I have to cry? I scolded myself. I stood up and tried to open the door repeatedly, but it wouldn't turn. Jeff laughed out loud, "You stupid, blonde. Don't you remember? You locked the door. You may be good with the numbers, but deep down, like all women, you are helpless and stupid. You are nothing but a cunt. And if you have a few brain cells, you will spread your legs for me. You don't have many options, Donna." I was an emotional wreck, pure and simple. Sure, I could find a minimum wage job, but that wouldn't pay the rent. I'd have to find somewhere else to live. I'd have to forgo the sizable deposit I put down to get the apartment. I couldn't ask my parents for help. I had been trying to prove my independence with Dad and Mom; if I asked for help it would be their excuse to say I told you so. My friends would help me if they could, but I was pretty sure they were all tapped out. This was all so unfair. For the first time, I felt desperation. "Donna, lean over on my desk." Still sobbing, I gave up the fight. Like a robot I walked to his desk and leaned over. Whatever, Jeff, I thought to myself. I felt my skirt being lifted. Jeff cupped the palm of his hand on my ass cheek and commented, "Nice." Smack! My ass started stinging. I recoiled a bit. Smack! The bastard hit me again. "Take it like the good whore you are, Donna. Now, remove your panties." I looked back at Jeff's face; he was smiling. "Oh, and from this point onwards, you shall show me respect. You will refer to me as Master." I was losing it – a jumble of emotions. I decided that I would pull myself together; I wouldn't let him get to me. No more crying. No more reactions. I would do whatever he requested and get the hell out of there. In what I can best describe as a trance, I removed my thong. My legs were still clad in thigh-high stockings, but he didn't ask to remove them. And I would do only as I was instructed. "Lean over again, pet." I complied. Smack! Smack! Smack! My ass was stinging, and I was holding back tears. "Let me repeat myself, slave. When I give you instructions, you say, 'Yes, master'. Do you understand?" "Yes, master." I was numb emotionally. I just wanted it to be over. "That's better, slave. Now turn around and face me." Having learned my lesson, I said, "Yes, master." Jeff stood in front of me and instructed, "Unzip my pants and suck my cock, pet." With one hand I reached for his pants and unzipped his trouser fly. With the other hand, I pulled out his cock, which was semi-hard. It looked quite a bit larger than my ex's cock, which was 7" when fully erect. "On your knees, bitch." Once on the floor, my mouth to his salty cock, he continued, "That's right, slave girl. You love your master's cock. So suck it good." "Yes, master." I started teasing the head of his cock with my tongue. As he moaned loudly, I could feel his dick expanding. As I covered more of his cock with my mouth, Jeff commented, "My slave needs to suck my dick harder." Jeff placed his hands on the back of my head and pushed my head deeper over his shaft. "Deep, bitch." I started to gag, wanting to catch my breath. Yet Jeff forced his cock down my throat. I couldn't breathe. I was panicked, thinking that I would surely die choking. He held my head down for what seemed to be forever, but was perhaps no more than 10 or 15 seconds. Finally, he released his hands and I pulled my head back and started coughing. My eyes had teared up. Jeff laughed at me and said, "Good work, pet." I looked at this cock which was now fully erect. I had had several boyfriends, but no one came close to measuring up to Jeff. I was guessing he was 8 – 9 inches. "Now, suck my balls, whore." One at a time I sucked his balls. Jeff moaned and said approving, "Oh, that's good, slave." After a minute or so, Jeff instructed me, "Look up at the ceiling, bitch, and open your mouth wide." I did as instructed. I felt Jeff's massive cock down my throat, deeper than any cock had been. I felt his cock fucking my throat. Once again, I started gagging. It was like Jeff didn't hear me. "Good slave bitch," he said. "I feel like I'm going to cum now, but I won't give you that satisfaction." He removed his cock from my mouth. Once again I caught my breath and started to cough. He took his hard dick in his hands and slapped my face with it a few times. "Take you shirt off, slave girl. I want to see your titties." Without emotion, I stood up and repeated, "Yes, master." Once I had unbuttoned my silk blouse, Jeff pulled it off roughly and threw it on the floor. He reached over and grabbed the pair of scissors on his desk and started cutting my bra. First he snipped each strap near the shoulder. Then he cut the centermost portion of my bra. My round breasts popped out. Finally, he cut the back of my bra. He grabbed the loose pieces and threw them to the side. "A bit small, but a nice rack all the same, slut. Kind of perky, I'd say. Much nicer than I imagined. I want to see you touch them, bitch. Squeeze them." "Yes, master." I had never masturbated in front of anyone before, and found this humiliating. As I did, my nipples started protruding. Jeff reached down to my crotch and felt my pussy, which was warm and dripping. "You're wet, slut. You are enjoying this, slave girl, aren't you?" Oh, I hated him. He was getting to me. I wasn't supposed to react, but I did. First an emotional reaction. And now, a sexual one. Damn him, I thought. "Yes, master," I meekly acceded. "Tell me you want me to fuck you. And say it like you mean it, because I know you do." Ashamed of the passion I was feeling for this man I despised, I begged, "Fuck me, master. I need to you to fuck me, master." "Much better, slave girl. You are a whore, aren't you?" "Yes, I'm a whore, master. I want you to fuck me, master." "Lean forward on the desk again, bitch," my master instructed me. I complied. Smack! My ass stung. "You didn't say Yes, master." J is for Jerk-off Paul bit the cornered portion of his toast after having first dipped it into the runny yoke of the egg. He preferred his eggs 'sunny-side-up' as opposed to anything else. He had smiled at the waitress as she freshened his coffee, grinning politely, managing the words "Thank you" as she did. Penny, his wife of barely a year sat beside him. She preferred pancakes smothered in rich thick syrup, perhaps overdoing it, but she'd explained that it reminded her of the way his cum sometimes slithered down the side of his shaft when he climaxed. Penny was always comparing things like that, finding eroticism in nearly everything. Just as she was doing now as her hand slowly, quietly, secretly continued stroking his hard erect shaft beneath the table. They hadn't wanted the honeymoon to end. And as such, went on a monthly retreat, usually within a few hours drive, just someplace to get away for the weekend, be together, and explore their secret little fetish. Paul as well as Penny were true 'Masturbationists', it was how they met, it was how they lived. They would pleasure themselves as well as one another, frequently, usually in settings such as this, where the risk of discovery added to the thrill, enhancing the excitement of their play. "Would you like some cream?" The waitress had asked them. Paul had nearly choked on his second bite as Penny answered. "I'm hoping for some anytime now," she said smiling, causing their waitress to look at her oddly, as though Penny had spoken an insult for some imaginary delay. "I'll be right back with it!" she'd responded almost haughtily, turning with a flourish heading back behind the counter. "You'd best leave her a nice tip," Penny said almost apologetically. Paul laughed. "Guess I better!" With cream now delivered, though not the kind Penny expectantly hoped for, she slowed her ministrations of his throbbing cock, so in tune with his pleasures were they both, that no words needed speaking for her sudden change in technique. Paul felt the first tingle of orgasms approach though still yet far away. They had done this enough to prolong it, string out the pleasures until nothing short of an earthquake could keep either from coming. Penny turned facing him as though in deep conversation, he in turn doing the same as well as he could. They loved watching one another orgasm. Shared it as often as they could, regardless of where they were, or what they were doing. "Feel nice baby?" she whispered softly still stroking his prick up and down, though slowly now, ever so slowly. Paul preferred it that way. His orgasms seemingly more intense, longer lasting as Penny skillfully sat stroking his prick, her hand now barely moving, yet moving with just the right pressure, just the right grip as she sat looking into his eyes. They were seated well away from anyone else, another irritant to their waitress upon their arrival. Asking specifically for the booth they had chosen. With the high-backed bench seat, no one could see them from where they were sitting. The service counter itself not in direct line of sight, so their only worries their now infrequent returning waitress, and any patrons passing by on their way to the restrooms. As such, they could speak in low tones without being overheard. "Oh baby, the head of your dick is so swollen! So hard!" she added squeezing it, feeling a fat thick pearly drop of his lubrication drool from the tip of his prick. Quickly, she gathered it, smearing the enormous head of his penis with it, slicking his fat bulbous head, listening to the subtle sounds of his slipperiness as she stroked. "The next one is mine," she added wickedly, once again squeezing the head. They were an average looking couple, in an average little town. Neither one attractive enough to turn heads, and should anyone take note of their passing, would find it hard in remembering what they had even looked like. They enjoyed their little game, sometimes traveling hours just to find the right place, the right town, never returning so as not to run the risk of being remembered. Penny wore her hair short, though still fashionable with very little if any makeup. Though her breasts were on the larger side, she always wore clothing befitting a typical mid-westerner, nothing suggestive, nothing ever revealing. Likewise, Paul was as average as they came. Five foot eight and exactly one-half inches tall. Hazel eyes to go with a bit of a crooked nose he'd broken in high school. Though a full head of hair, he kept it short without being too neat, neither stocky nor fat, though certainly not muscular either. Being average had its advantages, allowed them to slip into the world of their mutual pleasures, slipping away again quickly if necessary should the need ever arise. Even the plain ordinary clothes they were wearing had purpose by design. Paul wore no underwear of course. The outer shorts he did wear, rather than zippered, Velcro in front, for ease of speed and access, one of Penny's marvelous little inventions. Penny's outfit chosen similarly for ease, always wearing a skirt, neither too long nor too short, zippered, though with an expensive nylon zipper that, she'd purposely replaced. Silent, fast and easy. "You're so fucking hard!" she continued softly, "You must be particularly horny today," tenderly easing the sensitive skin up and over the head of his prick before releasing it, hearing again the 'squishy' liquid sounds she created. "Was it our waitress?" she asked rhetorically, continuing without answer. She had noticed upon seating that the woman's uniform tended to show a great deal of cleavage, not so much by design, but simply because the woman was obviously well endowed. And not that Paul took notice, or commented, for he had really done neither. It had been Penny's observation, using words now to stroke his mind with wicked delicious thoughts, just as her hand continued stroking his hot throbbing member. "Wouldn't you love to rub your cock between her titties?" she asked. "Fucking those boobs, spilling your hot juicy spunk all over them?" "How about I shoot my warm sticky fuck-juice all over your tits instead!" he countered. "I'd bet you'd like that, watching me squirting all over you right here in the restaurant!" "You bastard!" she giggled. "You know I would! I love nothing more than seeing that big red juicy prick of yours swell up just before it shoots, then how your head expands, the white creamy nectar suddenly exploding from the tip of your prick. Oh fuck yes baby...you can come on my tits any time, any where, any place!" Penny was really enjoying the feel of Paul's prick. Moving it from side to side, tapping it with her hand, patting it with the other, and then giving him three, four quick hard strokes of her hand before several excruciatingly slow ones. "Oh I do so love the feel of you in my hand," she continued. "Make it dance for me Paul, make it throb hot and needfully in my hand!" Opening her fist now, though still touching without holding, Paul made his cock dance for her as she so delightfully enjoyed. Feeling it as it wiggled, moving side to side as it slapped ever so softly against the palm of her outstretched hand. He reached for his coffee, turning slightly as he did, Penny readjusting in the blink of an eye, though her hand remained firmly clasped upon his erection, now taking a sip of water from her glass. "Everything ok?" "It's delicious! Thank you!" Penny told her. "Yes it is!" Paul said in agreement, "Very nice, one of the best we've eaten at, and we should know as we travel quite a bit. We prefer these smaller café's as the people here are always generally warmer, more friendly." Her demeanor changed almost immediately. Whatever irritation she'd shown previously melting as though butter on the grill. Going even so far as to smile, offer coffee and a quick promised return. "I assume that you're interested in seeing if she'll play," Paul ventured, the hand upon his prick stroking firmer, yet slow. "I'm not sure honey," he added. "She was rather irritated with us when we first came in. Perhaps we should pass on this one," he suggested, though interested as well. "We'll play it by ear," she agreed. "When it's time, when you're closer, we'll see if we can find out if she might go along with it or not." "Show me your breast," Paul groaned softly as his wife's hand once again squeezed the rock-hard tip of his cock. Always prepared, always aware, Penny reached down lifting the hem of one side of her shirt, still more than adequately concealed behind the bench seat. Her breast soon came into view, full round and soft as Paul reached out, his arm well below view from any curious eyes. Her nipples were dark, long and hard. He fingered her briefly, enjoying the feel of her flesh. The tightness of her tiny erection, the sudden gasp of expected pleasure as she moaned ever so discretely, his hand now pinching, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. "Are you nice and wet for me as well?" he now asked. "You know that I am," she answered, withdrawing her hand momentarily from his pick, watching then, as she placed it briefly between her legs, withdrawing it to show the glistening moisture on the surface of one extended finger. "Give it to me," he pleaded, momentarily feigning hurt as she slipped that single digit into her own mouth, tasting her juices. "When you feed yours to me," she countered wickedly, once again reaching down between her legs for yet another slick-silky portion. Paul squeezed his own penis, felt the droplet of rolling precum ooze from it's tip, gathering, then extending his finger towards her as though feeding her by spoon, his own mouth open as though feeding a child. "Hmmm', she moaned happily, cleansing his digit, her hand busily between her legs where as promised, so to did she then reply in kind. Another squeeze, another pearl, as Paul placed it lovingly upon the surface of her still exposed tit, smearing the face of her nubbin with torturous pleasure as his thumbnail then pressed, not quite scratching against the prick-coated nipple. "Fuck," she mewled softly, her fingers busily frigging her clit now, her motions not quite as subtle as had been her own upon him. But she had an advantage, for she could cum quickly and often, doing so in sometimes record-breaking speed, taking minor breathers between before climaxing, cumming almost as quickly, often harder the next. "Yes baby yes!" he urged her, his fingers again pulling, twisting her sensitive breast, the added stimulation driving her, helping her reach ecstasy as she now opened her eyes, rather than closing them looking deep into his face. "I'm cumming!" Penny said mouthing the words, but he'd known that, it wasn't necessary saying it. But they always did anyway. Saying it, hearing it, besides seeing it, sharing with one another their vulnerability, their passion, and their souls. He felt her hand taking his. Felt his fingers quickly replacing hers as he slid into her. The wetness, the unbelievable wetness that was already filling her quim, soaking her lips, as he slipped one, then two fingers inside, hardly moving. Not really needing to as her pussy contracted, tightening about him like a vise holding him in place. Paul looked deep into her orgasmic eyes. He saw her pupils dilate as though in surprise, straining against the impossible, wanting to close. Even so, her bold, wanton determination in keeping them open for him as she came, took on superhuman effort as she sat staring at him, and he...at her. Paul looked up just in time to see their waitress heading in their direction. He reached for the coffee cup, though any item on the table would have sufficed as a signal. He began to pull his hand away, surprised when Penny placed her own over his, keeping it there. She managed to lower her shirt again, covering her breast, then leaned forward at an angle, effectively ensuring that there was nothing the waitress could possibly see. It would appear odd though, for her back would be turned awkwardly towards her. "How is everything?" she asked. Paul noticed she had cast a quick curious look towards Penny, but then smiled even though Penny sat cock-eyed on the seat, her head turned slightly as though in some effort to take note of her presence, but without turning about in order to really do so. Their waitress returned her smile and questions back to Paul, for the moment no longer curious about Penny. "More coffee? Juice?" "Yes, Juice!" Paul grinned broadly. "I really do love the juice here. It's delicious, very sweet, and lots of it!" "Oh...k," their waitress answered pausing briefly between the two words. "Two juices?" "No, just the one for now thank you," Penny finally commented. "I'll probably have my juice a little later." She turned with that, heading back towards the service area. "Well?" Penny said still holding Paul's fingers between her legs, her orgasm finally diminishing, the sweet tiny after-shocks she always felt after having one finally dying away. She sat up allowing Paul to retrieve his hand, which he quickly licked clean. "I don't know, maybe," he thought considering. "Did she seem worried, or curious as to what I might be doing?" "I doubt it, she might have thought the way you were sitting a little weird perhaps, but I doubt seriously she gave it much thought. Though when she spoke to me again, her smile was different, and unless I'm mistaken, she might have winked!" "Winked? As in flirting winked?" Penny giggled. "Well, not really a wink maybe, more like a blink wink...with two eyes when I smiled at her talking to her about the Juice." "Not surprised," Penny laughed once again reaching over to begin fondling her husband's still very erect aching penis. "She probably thought that you were the odd one, carrying on about 'juice' so." "Well I really do love your juice, and there was a lot of it too!" "Still is!" she replied. I'm nearly ready for my second one now. How'd you like it, want to watch? Or do?" "Why don't you start while we wait for her to return with my juice," he said grinning. "But if you manage to reach another one, that will be fine too." Penny had already inserted her fingers back inside her pussy, one hand caressing her right breast through the material of her blouse. "Let's see that cock of yours!" she asked him. "Make it juice for me a little," she laughed as they waited for their waitress to return. Only too happy to oblige, Paul kept one eye on the restaurant, the other on his lovely wife as she boldly placed one foot flat upon the bench seat. Having un-zippered her skirt, it parted like the curtains at an old-fashioned movie, the main feature just then beginning as Penny's lips, once aroused became all puffy as well as frothy slick with her honeyed nectar. "Oh fuck baby...pat it for me!" he told her. "Slap your cunt a little, make that sweet little clit of yours tingle!" As she did, Paul turned to face her, his hard rigid prick near purple. So long now had he hovered on the brink, that the free-flowing lubrication from his cock seemed as thick as the syrup on her pancakes. "Shit! Here she comes!" Paul warned swinging back beneath the table as Penny slid her foot back down to the floor, her zipper already up long before their waitress arrived. "Here's your juice," she said placing the tall-sized glass down in front of him. "Gave you the large...no extra charge!" she said, and winked! "Thank you," Paul stated "That was very nice of you," he added. She gave Penny a quick look, "Nothing more for you...yet?" "Not yet! But I'm sure I'll be wanting something in a little while," she half-purred. This time the waitress did give her an inquisitive look, opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing. "Thank you again," Paul told her, drawing her attention back to him and away from his wife. "Well...just let me know if you need anything," she added. "I'll check back in a while, I'm going on break at the moment." "We'll be sure and do that," Penny stated, watching their somewhat flustered waitress walk away. "Now then...where were we?" he asked. "Oh yeah, you were slapping your pussy for me!" "And you...were jerking yours off for me!" she giggled almost a little too loudly, which Penny quite often became when she was extremely aroused. Which she was now! "What would you like me to do for you? How would you like for me to touch myself?" Paul loved it when they did this. Another one of their amorous games that never failed to heighten his own pleasures. "I want you to 'twinkle' it he told her." He saw the smile stretch widely across her face, they had once gotten silly in bed together, doing that often enough as it were. But that particular night he had become so aroused, he'd meant to ask her to 'twiddle' her clit for him, but for some reason said 'twinkle' instead. She had laughed knowing full-well what he'd really meant, but in a silly, though highly aroused mood herself, she placed the tips of two fingers over the tiny little shaft, stroking it, jerking her mini-penis off, all the while singing, "Twinkle, twinkle little clit, how I love to play with it. Up above my thigh I sigh, Like a cum drop in my eye, twinkle, twinkle, little clit, won't you come and suck on it!" They had rolled in laughter together afterwards, Paul begging her then to sing it again, all the while stroking her tiny clit with the tips of two fingers. Ever since, that particular pleasuring stroke had become the 'twinkle'. She began to 'twinkle' all the while humming that silly tune, the tips of her fingers pinching, pulling upwards, the flesh of her small clit actually stretching as Paul sat, his hand wrapped firmly around his more than average sized cock. His own strokes remained slow, methodical, as though in slow-motion rather than normal speed. "Oh fuck yeah baby," he told her. "Twinkle it! Twinkle it!" It didn't take long. Once she had reached and had the first orgasm, the second, third and sometimes a forth came in rather rapid succession, each becoming even more intense, more mind-blowing. And there would not be three, certainly not four in here, though perhaps later out in the car. Penny screamed, always screamed crying out in rapturous pleasure when she came the third time, yelling obscenities, vulgar lewd lusty fuck-words when she came the forth. No...now would not be a good time for that to happen. "Hmm, it's going to be a squirter baby," she told him happily. She didn't always, sometimes either she, or he would hit the right spot, or have been aroused for such the right time that she did. She could always tell when she was going to, it was "different" feeling, as she'd told him. Though she couldn't quite explain it, nor even how or why that she knew...or did. Quickly she went from 'twinkling' to fingering her slit. She probed, touching the 'sweet-spot' triggering the explosion as well as the jettison of fluid that suddenly erupted in a tiny arch of female cum-cream. Perfectly positioned, Paul glanced up once cautiously ensuring that no one was either looking, nor heading their way. He leaned, just a little and caught the first streamer of her essence as it spewed in a tiny burst, quickly followed by another, and another. So intense was her ecstasy that briefly she cried out, a soft mewling whimper of unbridled joy, causing one other couple two booths away from them to finally look over as to what had caused such an interesting sound. Luckily for them both, Paul sat as though startled by the same sound his self, looking their way as though it had come from over there. He nearly laughed as they readjusted their own search, scanning the room in a differing direction. "Sorry!" she said shyly, feeling a little embarrassed. "I think I had two and three together," she told him. "Fuck that was good!" J is for Jerk-off Paul grinned, "And it tasted good too!" his face still slick with her cream which he'd not yet felt like wiping away. "Well? Should we?" Penny asked, now more properly positioned once again, her skirt re-zippered, her hand once again stroking his prick. "Let's give it a shot. But slowly, let's not tip our hand too quickly as to what's going on, lets see her reaction first. I'll know it by the look in her eyes." Truth was, Paul was very good at doing that. And...they had always been careful, being obvious as to what was going on, yet somehow creating the illusion that they weren't. Dependent upon their waitress's initial reaction, Penny would either continue, or suddenly sit as demurely as a woman just come from church. Inevitably, their somewhat flustered and unsure waitress would merely bring them the bill now asked for, and leave without so much as saying a single word. "Ready?" Paul asked a few minutes later as he spotted their waitress as she began heading their way. Penny sat beside him, her hand beneath the table. Though at first notice, it would indeed be hard to tell if she was simply resting it on his knee, or her own. The trick being the subtle, ever so subtle movement of her hand as though caressing his thigh perhaps, boldly, uninhibitedly, and let their waitress see her doing that, and gage her response. "So? How are you two doing?" she asked even more friendly than she'd been before. The movement immediately catching her eye, drawn to it momentarily before forcing herself to look away before she had time to think, wonder at the possibilities. "At the moment, we're doing fine, having a wonderful time, feeling pretty good actually!" Paul cryptically informed her, now seriously gauging her look, her response, her over all reaction. She continued to stand there, which by experience was a good sign. At least she wasn't one to so easily frighten off. But now came the dangerous, sometimes risky part. Paul slid a hundred dollar bill across the table, letting their waitress see it. "For doing nothing more than to stand there," he spoke quietly, softly, assuredly. If he moved, moved at all, Penny was to immediately remove her hand and feign immediate shock, revulsion at so ugly an accusation should she say or do anything in alarm. It had happened twice, and twice they had stormed out as though insulted, once even being told their dinner was taken care of with their waitress's being immediately chastised for causing an embarrassing scene. Paul had always sent flowers anonymously later. "Nothing more?" she answered in an equally low whisper, her hand already reaching down to accept the bill. Paul smiled, letting go as she quickly retrieved it, pocketing the hundred in a flash. As she'd done, Paul now swiveled slightly towards them both, his bare prick suddenly coming into view as Penny's small-sized hand wrapped around it, fisting it in the same gentle up and down motions she'd been performing on him earlier. "Do you like the way it looks?" she asked. "Doesn't he have a beautiful cock? Isn't it naughty, so very fucking naughty for you to stand here watching me as I Jerk his rock-hard cock off for you?" They heard her swallow, a catch in her breath, then answer. "Oh my god...yes!" "Would you like to see him cum for you?" Penny asked. "He's really close now, I can tell. His prick gets all purple like this about the head, just before his pleasure comes." This time she said nothing, but Penny saw her head shaking yes, though as subtly as her hand had been rubbing him in the beginning. "Are you ready to cum for her baby? Ready to shoot that hot white cream in the air for us?" "Fuck yes," Paul moaned, but now his eyes were focused on hers. The waitress, nothing more than a stimulant, albeit a very erotic one, but his orgasm was hers and no others. Penny almost chuckled, just catching herself as she saw their waitress suddenly place her hand down on the edge of the table to steady herself. She continued to pump his prick in agonizingly slow motion, certainly milking him, but the pressure now building was sure to cause an eruption of glorious proportion. Penny watched her husbands face, knew by the look in his half-glazed eyes that he now stood on the edge of the precipice. She felt the throb, the all-knowing throb, the sudden tightening of his length, the expansion to even bigger proportions of his glands as the milky-white fluid leapt from his prick with surprising force and with even greater copious amount. She allowed it to cascade, falling upon the dark coloring of the blouse she was wearing, the decadence of his semen revealed. Jettison after hard-felt jettison of his spunk filled the air as her hand, still slowly...ever so slowly, continued to move up and down, up and down, milking him, squeezing him, and urging out every last drop of his spunk. "Fuck," their waitress said moments later as they all sat in eerily serene silence. "Ah...should I, would you, I mean...can I get you a cloth or anything? Anything at all?" "Yes...the check please," Paul said grinning as he finally tucked himself away. Paul watched carefully as their waitress went back towards her station. This was the other risky part, for although she had now willingly participated, if she had pangs of guilt, remorse, especially after having taken the money, then now was usually the moment she would say or do something. They watched as she scribbled on their check, walking swiftly back towards them. She handed it over to Paul. "It's on the house," she said beaming. "No charge!" Paul still glanced at the check anyway, and grinned. For she had hand-written across the face of it, "You are always welcome here. Please, "cum" back any time," she'd spelled. # As they left the café getting into their car, Penny was already reaching into what they affectionately called the glove-box as their 'toy-box' producing a rather wicked looking vibrator. Paul laughed aloud as he put the car into gear backing out. "Well shit! I am still fucking horny! And more importantly, I need number four! If not five!" she exclaimed. They kissed then, and laughed once again. Speaking perhaps of how either their waitress's husband or lover would no doubt be reaping the benefits of her own now aroused needs and desires. "Where too?" he asked. "Someplace secluded...so I can fuck you," she told him as he put the car into gear heading out onto the highway, whistling a very familiar tune as they did. J Is for Jerk "I'm sorry, master." Smack! "You will do as I tell you. Now, move down a bit more." "Yes, master." I could feel the tip of his cock pressed against my bald pussy. "Do you want master's cock?" "Yes, I want master's cock. Please fuck me, master." With a jerk, Jeff's engorged cock entered me from behind. I moaned loudly. I had not expected him to be so rough. He immediately started to pound me, enjoying the added tightness from the element of surprise. I felt his massive member pound my cervix. At first the sensation was painful, almost cramp like. But after a half minute or so I was getting used to his rhythm. He was stimulating my g-spot, and I found the walls of my vagina contracting. My moaning grew loud. "That's right, slave girl. You are nothing but a whore. You love my cock, don't you slave girl." A massive orgasm started within me. I could barely breathe, and I couldn't answer his question. Jeff repeated, "You love my cock, don't you slave girl?" I managed to shout out, "Yes! Yes!" As my orgasm slowly subsided, I heard Jeff moan loudly. He grabbed my ass tightly. I felt his cock stiffen; I sensed warmth in my pussy as he slowly unloaded his seed within me. Jeff laughed and he pulled away from me. "God damn, girl, you are quite the slut." I heard him pull his pants up and zip his trousers. "Turn around, pet," he instructed. "Yes, master." When I turned around he was tucking in his shirt. Yes, he was fully clothed. I on the other hand, was only wearing thigh high stockings and heels. I looked into his cold, dark eyes, which were still checking me out. It was the look you might see on a cat's face as he finishes a tasty dinner. His smug face made felt sick. He had managed not only to outwit me, but to dominate me ... my mind and my body. Instinctively my arms crossed my chest. Even though I am tall, standing under him, I felt particularly small and vulnerable. He laughed and commented, "Now I know the truth, Donna." It occurred to me that he had used my real name again. He continued, "You are nothing but a whore. My whore, Donna." He reached over my crossed arms and squeezed my right breast. "Get dressed, slut." At this point, the bra was a goner. I slipped my pink silk shirt over my breasts, knowing that my nipples would be evident as I walked away. As I climbed into my thong, I felt his semen ooze out of my pussy. I slipped the skirt back on, finally feeling a return to normality. I slipped the remnant of my bra into my purse. "Donna, Donna, Donna. You know what I think?" I shook my head as if to say no. "We will be reviewing invoices every Friday night. Plan on it, Donna." As I headed out the door, I heard Jeff laugh one final time. "Maybe twice a week." 6:26. I passed the guard on the way out of the office building. By the smile on his face, I knew that he noticed my jutting nipples though the sheer silk top. Once outside the office building, I leaned up against the concrete wall and sobbed uncontrollably. Happy Hour with the girls was no longer in my plans for the evening. I would go home and take a long, soaking bath. I had to rid myself of his sticky semen, of the lingering smell of his cologne mixed with body sweat. I would make myself a cup of herbal tea. And then I would scour every web site out there for a new job. J is for Jess I didn't realise how selfish I had been. After working hard all week in the office I deserved to enjoy myself I thought. Twenty years old and still living at home I could come and go as I pleased and keep my outgoings to a minimum. I had it made. I said I'd be home at about 11.30 p.m. I rolled in at 2 a.m. My parents were not happy the following morning and only then did I slowly begin to appreciate how they had worried, visualising all kinds of untimely ends for their daughter: strangled and thrown in some ditch alongside abandoned supermarket trollies and other pieces of life's detritus or the like. Late morning mum told me to go upstairs to my parents' bedroom. Although I had never been spanked or beaten as a child my first thought was that that was what awaited me. I was wrong. Mum followed me upstairs. 'Get undressed,' she said. 'Completely?' 'Yes', she replied as she began also to undress. 'Bend forwards from the end of the bed, supporting yourself with your arms straight.' I did as I was instructed, still imagining some kind of spanking. A spanking to which I decided I would not object. Soon over, lesson learnt and, well, I suppose I deserved something like that. 'Move your legs further apart,' mum ordered. Then she placed a hand on my bottom, gently stroking the left then the right cheek. A finger drew circles around the area close to but not on my anus. I shivered and drew my anus in tight, protectively. 'Relax, I'm not going to hurt you, Jess,' she said. Her fingers moved to my cunt lips, still gently stroking. I was getting very turned on. And wet. 'Mum, please...' 'You caused us a lot of anxiety we were really worried, Jess. Now to redress the imbalance in our home you are going to give us pleasure to cancel the bad feelings.' She paused but continued to feel me, putting a finger up inside me. I moaned quietly. 'Mum, please...' I repeated. 'Your dad's here now,' she said. 'He is going to fuck you while I watch. That will pleasure both of us - maybe even yourself.' Mum climbed on the bed and knelt facing me as I leaned towards her. Dad pressed his naked body up against me. I felt him stroke his cock along my slit down to my anus and back, pushing slightly. His glans moved just an inch inside me. There was no point now in objecting. It was going to happen. I was being fucked by my father - evidently with my mother's approval. God, I thought I loved my parents, now this. The thought flashed through my brain that I could leave home if necessary. Mum cupped my breasts as she faced me on the bed. 'Pull her nipples Anne,' dad said. I couldn't stop myself, I was so excited physically. I realised I wanted it; I wanted him to fuck me. 'Push, please push,' I said. Dad pushed himself up into me, drew back slightly and pushed hard again. I pushed back. He began to fuck me harder and faster. Mum was pulling on my breasts and alternately twisting my nipples. I screamed quietly. 'I'm going to come,' dad said. He began to pull out. 'No, come inside me. Fill my cunt,' I said. I had never spoken to my parents like this before; I hadn't ever really discussed sex, desire anything like that with them. 'Fuck me, fuck me,' I moaned as he continued to bang himself against me until he came and I felt his body relax, all tension draining away. I had come too. His cock slipped out of me. Mum and dad left the room. I heard them in the bathroom together. I just stood there as sperm ran down my leg. Disbelief was my primary emotion. Mum's voice came quietly across the room from the doorway. 'The bathroom's free now, Jess,' she said. ooo000ooo Later downstairs, in the kitchen, mum looked up at me and smiled. No reference to what had happened an hour ago, she just said: 'We'll understand if you feel the need to move out, find a place of your own where you don't have to tell us your plans, but we hope you'll stay.' I also made no reference to the morning's events. 'No, I'll be staying here, mum. It's ok,' Just what was ok was never defined. Next Saturday morning after a late breakfast mum told me to follow her upstairs. I couldn't help myself: I was immediately turned on by the prospect of being fucked again. It wasn't love but desire that had been freed up the previous week. Yet because it was my father who screwed me it was more than just desire but something more complex. Both my parents had been players and I had, by my failure to protest or object, fully consented. As those intense minutes passed by consent had turned to something else: lust, the need to climax. Pure fuck. More complicated thought processes set in much later. And now here I was again. We both undressed. Then, to my surprise, mum assumed the position at the end of the bed. 'I think you know what to do now, Jess.' I stroked her ass cheeks and drew a finger line around her anus, even pressing my little finger up against her tight little hole. Then I began to finger her cunt. I had never touched a woman in this way before. It thrilled me and I was getting hot. I felt my nipples harden, I was on fire. Mum was moaning quietly as I pushed several fingers into her cunt. Dad appeared from the direction of the bathroom. He was naked and fully erect. 'You need to get on the bed in front of your mother, Jess,' he said quite gently. I touched her breasts and rolled her nipple between my fingers. 'Do you submit to whatever I have decided for you, Anne?' 'I do, sir. I am your submissive servant sir and you may do as you will with me,' mum answered. 'Well said. Then I will fuck you.' He fucked her hard from the moment he thrust himself into her. It was crude rough sex and, god, I wished he was doing it to me. He must have been close to orgasm and he suddenly pulled out and shot his come all over mum's back. Dribbles of thick white sperm. 'Clean her up, slut,' he said looking at me. I looked around for tissues or something. 'With your tongue. Now.' I scuttled round to get behind her where dad had been. I leant over mum and licked up the sperm off her back. Dad watched. ooo000ooo Carol, my brother's wife came to stay the next weekend. My brother was working away in London. Saturday morning after breakfast mum told me I would be taken. That was the word she used: taken. A little later she said we will go upstairs now. Carol came too. 'You can watch, Carol.' Mum and I undressed. I assumed the position that mum expected. I had come to realise that all this had a great deal to do with sexual ritual. And thinking about the ritual and what I needed to say to my father turned me on. Being naked in front of my sister didn't interest me: I was focused on the expectation of copulating with my dad again. Mum began to touch me but was a little more aggressive this time pushing a finger into my anus. I drew my breath sharply but endeavoured to remain silent as mum had done throughout the week before. Dad came in. 'If Carol wishes to help you Anne then she must strip like the rest of us,' dad said. Carol complied and quickly undressed. I remember thinking: life isn't like this. This sort of sexual deviation doesn't happen to people like us living in Bolsover. But it was. Carol must have been so turned on by what she saw she stripped straightaway without any further consideration. Later I wondered what kind of sex life she and my brother had. Clearly not just a pretty, naïve, young wife. 'Yes, touch her there.' I heard mum's voice. Carol was fingering me. Fingers pushing up into my cunt. I wanted to tell her not to stop. I wanted things I couldn't articulate but I managed to remain silent. 'Do you submit to whatever I have decided for you, Jess?' dad asked. 'I do, sir. I am your submissive servant, sir and you may do as you will with me,' I answered. 'Very well. Then I promise you I will enjoy fucking you.' 'Thank you, sir,' I replied. He entered me and fucked me vigorously, pulling out of me several times and ramming himself back into me. I came and moaned quietly but said nothing. Dad came inside me. He told mum to lick us both clean. I would have loved to watch Carol as all this took place. Over dinner that evening dad asked Carol matter-of-factly as if they were arranging a meeting if she would like to attend another of our sessions. 'I'd love to,' she said. 'What do I have to do?' 'Bring Gary along but don't go into detail about our little trysts,' dad said. 'I take it you'd be willing to be a more active participant next time?' The reply was unspoken but I assumed she meant yes. I wondered how she would handle Gary and what she would tell him. ooo000ooo A week later Gary and Carol came round on Saturday lunchtime and would stay the night. In the afternoon we walked to Bolsover Castle and explored the grounds and then in the evening we all went out for a meal together. I have to say it was a happy time for us all. Mum had told me rather cryptically that we would explore 'other things' on Sunday morning. About an hour after breakfast mum suggested we all go upstairs. The five of us began to strip; Gary seemed to be expecting this and made no comment. Soon we were all naked together. Mum hugged me to her and we kissed on the mouth our tongues entwining together. Gary and Carol were kissing; I noticed his erect cock. Then dad kissed me and we experienced a new level of intimacy and as we kissed I wrapped my fingers around his erection. Dad said to me quietly: 'Take up your position, Jess.' I knew what he meant. I sensed the silence pervade the room. 'Do you submit to whatever I have decided for you, Jess?' dad asked. 'I do, sir. I am your submissive servant sir and you may do as you will with me,' I answered, sticking carefully to the ritual reply. 'Good. Then I will ask Gary to fuck you.' He added: 'Carol, I want you on the bed facing Carol. I think you know what to do.' 'Yes, sir, she said. 'May I kiss her while Gary fucks her, sir?' I can only guess that he must have nodded for while Gary fucked me [rather tentatively that first time I must admit] Carol played with my tits and kissed me passionately. Gary soon came which disappointed me as I love a good long shagging. Dad told Carol to take my place. 'Do you submit to whatever I have decided for you, Carol?' 'Oh yes please, John. Just do as you will with me,' Carol answered, not quite getting into the ritual nature of things. 'That is good news', he said with a smile. 'Then I will fuck you.' After lunch Carol and Gary went home. I hoped their sex life had been enhanced and not spoilt by what we had done. 'Today has been amazing, dad' I said in the lounge that evening. 'Do these things always have to be a weekends upstairs in your bedroom?' 'What do you suggest then, Jess?' I looked across at mum. 'Well we could all go to bed together or dad and I could shower together. Or you two must have some good ideas don't you think?' The end - for now.