Chapter 2
After jerking himself throughout the entire weekend, it was no wonder Bob went to bed Sunday night with a bad case of "jerk-off fatigue."
He went to bed and dreamed: the room was spacious and richly furnished. The floor was covered with plush, thick carpeting.
He looked down and saw that his shoes were completely lost in the pile. The main color scheme was blue. Rich. Not too bright and not dark.
The way this fucking, well really fucking lighting was set up in the corners of the ceiling the room seemed to be filled with such a deep blue that the third wall looked a shade lighter than all the others.
It was the third wall that turned Bob on. Standing there taking on the appearance of a three-dimensional illusion was a seven or eight foot sculpture of highly polished bronze. It was a man and woman fucking.
Suddenly Bob realized the room was somehow dimly lit. It seemed to reek of a night-time atmosphere. An ideal light job for getting some pussy.
He gazed hard at the sculpture noticing the reflection of blue tint streaking across the dome of each figure. And for some reason, he turned. And noticing a knob on the wall, where ordinarily a light switch would be, he approached the wall, and turned the knob. Slowly. He didn't really know what would happen.
The room began to grow darker, and he reversed the action. The room brightened-more and more-until it now had the appearance of afternoon. It was only now that he could clearly see the fine detail of the workmanship.
The sculptor had taken great pains. The figures were real, and yet the piece was modern, each curve and contour smoothly flowing into the next. Bob paid particular attention to the flawless art of the pubic area of both figures.
He walked still closer. The male was standing in a semi-profile position, his arms outstretched. The woman's arms hung limply from her as she appeared-leaning backwards, as far as a woman could go. Her legs were spread apart, her pubis thrust forward and high. And gorged between her legs was the realistic detail of a throbbing prick.
Looking still closer, Bob could see the lips of her cunt, spread, and molded around the gorgeous hardness of the cock.
It was a beautiful piece of workmanship, he thought. And not only because his dick was getting hard looking at it. Somehow, he knew he was alone and free to give in to the sudden desire to masturbate. He unzipped his fly and pulled out his fast erecting cock. He milked it firmly back and forth. Then, not feeling completely free, he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off.
That done, he threw all caution to the wind, and decided to go all the way. He kicked off his shoes and completely stripped himself of all his clothing.
Now he was free. And again he began to skin back his flint igniting the flame of his passions with every stroke of his hand. He was grooving. Grooving to the feel of his meat in his hand. He was ready for a good fuck, but the freedom to pull his pud somehow seemed to help if not compensate for the fact that he was sharing his excitement alone.
There was no sound except for the rich, full-bodied sound of music which seemed to come from everywhere. And yet, he was positive he heard the strings coming from behind him.
Something broke his train of thought. He turned. And there, standing behind him, was a beautiful blonde. Even standing there stark naked with her fingers in her twat, her facial make-up and hair styling announced the sophistication of her upbringing. She looked rich.
Her legs were long and sleek, her skin tone almost milky white. Boarding school, Bob thought. Her tits were high and pointed. Her own European sports car, he registered. Her lips were thin and moist, tempting beyond belief.
This was the kind of chick he had always wanted to fuck. She represented the average fantastically beautiful woman on the street, crawling from the back seat of a driven limousine in front of a Broadway theater-or shopping on Fifth Avenue on a Tuesday morning while most of the other women are either pulling a straight eight, or cleaning house for hubby.
This was the chick you saw and said, "One time. That's all I want-to fuck her one time." But here she was-standing right in front of him. And if the fingers of her snatch didn't say she wanted to be fucked-TOUCH!
She'd get raped.
But no sooner had Bob concluded this thought, he looked to his left, and walking towards him was another gorgeous filly.
She was petite in size, but Bob found himself wanting everything she had. Her legs were young and firm, and she had a firm looking, round ass. Her hair was brown and sleek, and hung down to her shoulders in straight tresses.
Her tits were about the size of large party cups. The nipples stood out on her like the nipples on a baby's bottle. They had to be at least a good half inch. About the size and length of Bob's finger at the first knuckle.
Bob was dazed. He reasoned that his complete fascination was because they were both so outclassed when compared to each other. Both women were beautiful, and yet their beauties were entirely different from each other.
His brow furrowed deeply in thought for a moment. He looked to his right.
"Ooooooo shit-" he gasped. "Another one. A monster. An animal. No! There was another word to describe her. He was all too familiar with her type of woman. Not from experience, but he had seen her type often.
Animal! That's what she was. Her hair was dark, her eyes hot and fiery. One could not possibly say her skin was rougher or softer than the other two. But everything about her breathed the combination of femininity and animalistic passion. She conveyed more than a "hint" of sex. She "was" sex in its most basic form.
She was at least, or damn near, six feet. Her tits were huge and well shaped. They did not possess the rigidity of the other two, but still, they didn't sag at all.
Bob was captivated. Enraptured. Her flaring hips. Her heavy, strong looking thighs, like those of a belly dancer or something. Bob noticed the ripple of pleasure muscles beneath her legs and thighs.
He looked at her ass and was positive-she could fuck him beneath the pavement. He gasped sharply and began to jerk himself off more quickly. He couldn't stand the tension.
Then he saw her. A redhead walking toward him from the rear, and like the other three women, she too had her fingers moving busily between her legs as she walked.
Slowly, he turned, feasting his eyes on the beauty which seemed to surround him on all sides. The high class blonde who expressed the typical rich, while the fire in her eyes tinted her beauty with that of a high class slut.
The petite, who gave the appearance of the proverbial sixteen year old girl, built like a brick shit house. Her enchantment being that one has the feeling of fucking a child, while deep in her heart is contained the lust and the passion of a full bred woman.
The redhead, the fun lover, light-hearted, whimsical, and yet displaying with a lusty fire in her eyes, her basic desire to be fucked from head to toe.
Then the animal. The broad every man wanted to be raped by, but too many of them don't want to marry for fear of being sexually over-matched for the rest of their life.
But what the fuck was going on?
There were more, not only coming in more shapes and sizes, but now coming in colors.
An oriental approached him. She was an oriental wasn't she, he blinked in disbelief. Her small breasts, the brown capped tits, her lithe, small frame, packed with dynamite. This was the broad, he thought, who breathed the very essence of passive love, but put her ass on a bed and one could experience the function of a cunt that you'd never guess a woman never had control of.
One minute you'd find yourself screwing a passive, yet passionate vessel of nature, and the next minute you'd find yourself fucking a writhing, twisting snake sucking you deep in its belly.
The top of Bob's head was lifting.
An Indian? Can the fates rescue me, he thought. I didn't rape her mother, nor did I kill her father and brothers. She fucks with the hate of a hundred years of anguish and sadness.
A black? I must be going crazy. No fuck can be so complete, so satisfying. The very essence of her being is hot and mysterious. Africa. Her love is as dark and as beautiful as the continent. Brown mother earth.
What's happening, he wondered. What's happening?
The room was now seemingly able to hold all the different types and classifications of women in the world. One couldn't fuck them all. Not even in a lifetime.
Bob was completely surrounded, standing in the middle of a circle of women ... all of them moving. Each of them rolling her fingers around in her twat and closing in on him.
He woke up.
The dream haunted him as he sat on the edge of the bed. He could still see their eyes. In spite of all the physical differences among the women, they all had one thing in common. Their eyes. Each of them had the same look. The look of lust blended with her own form of beauty.
There were but two choices. Let the dream haunt him or push it from his mind.
He decided to try pushing it from his mind. His prick was hard-harder than two week old pumpernickel.
He forced himself to get dressed, and on his way from the bathroom, dropped two pieces of bread into the toaster. Anxiously he watched the coffee pot, hoping to see the red light indicating the readiness Of its contents.
Today was the day his plan would go into action. He had had a dream. And in that dream he got the idea. Nothing less would satisfy him. He wanted to fuck, but he also wanted to see some fucking. Imagine that, he thought-all that fucking going on in one room. Oh wow!
Eight-thirty. Time to make the trip. He reached for his coat, checked for his wallet and started out. He had thought he would get a little work done when he reached the office, but something happened.
No sooner had he gotten himself situated, he looked out through the plate glass window enclosing one side of his office and saw Lorraine bending over.
Lorraine was a gorgeous redhead. Her body was sleek. Built for speed, Bob thought. He had often noticed her before (during coffee breaks) and would grab his cock and squeeze it tightly, as he looked at her creamy legs crossed, her skirt riding high along the upper portion of her thighs.
Here she was again. Not even giving him a decent chance to start his work. She was bending over her file cabinet, searching diligently for suspense dated material and replacing those pages with more current paraphernalia.
It was indescribably exciting the way her plump little ass jiggled, making it more than obvious that she wore no confining girdle.
Bob was digging her hard, and at the same time feeling for his cock which was as stiff as a gang plank.
Her skirt was no more than a couple of inches below the cheeks of her ass. And now and then Bob could get a good glimpse of her pastel colored panties.
First she would stand with her legs almost together with just her little sweet buns wiggling every once in a while. Then she would spread her legs apart, as if to give herself enough comfortable angle to remain in an uncomfortable position (for her, but an exciting position for Bob).
The backs of her legs were like looking at mom's apple pie. Succulent and delicious. The backs of her thighs were creamy, hinting strongly that beneath their soft smooth texture lay her pleasure muscles. Muscles strong enough to squeeze around Bob's waist while throwing him a good fuck.
Now suddenly, she shifted her position.
Bob whined softly to himself. She had closed that particular file drawer and was opening the bottom one, the drawer closest to the floor. It was no longer just her legs and thighs. Her ass was out. And Bob could swear he saw the shadow of some stray pussy hairs hanging out the legs of her panties.
He was grooving. Grooving to the more than tempting sight. Grooving to the feel of his joystick swelled tightly in his fist. His eyes were glued hotly to her inner thighs. He was boring holes in the back of her panties, wishing he could slip his eyeballs up the leg band of her panties and look up her twat; while at the same time he felt frustrated at the fact that he must content himself with looking and masturbating.
But he had to admit his cock felt good in his hand.
Never have a faggot goin' down on this, he thought.
He was concentrating on the spectacle before him. But in his concentration he failed to notice Anne Mitchell passing the door of his office while going to the stock room, which was located on the other side of Bob's left wall.
She couldn't believe her eyes. She hesitated a little, straining to see all she could in the passing second. Then she proceeded to walk through the door of the stock room. As she entered, she looked back unconsciously and saw Lorraine with her ass stuck up in the air.
So that's it, she thought. Well, I would guess that looking up an ass like that would be enough to give a guy a hard-on. But hell, this guy was jerking off ... right in the office.
She shook her head in amazement. Here was a guy literally surrounded by people. And he was-she just couldn't believe it. Oh wow. She just had to have another look.
It was a known fact that Anne wore contact lenses, and twice before she had dropped one of them. So it did not look too unusual to see her bending down in the doorway of the stock room looking around on the floor. In fact, one of the girls did notice Anne. And she hunched one of the other girls.
They both looked over at Anne and laughed.
Poor Anne and her contacts.
But Anne was using her head. Easily, she peeked around the door and looked into Bob's office. Yep! she told herself. That's what he was doing-jerking off, pulling his pud, beating his meat, grabbing his goober, beating his bishop.
She looked again at Lorraine and smiled. Then focused her attention once again on Bob. His prick was standing out from his pants like a giant root welded between his thighs.
His hand was moving faster, but there was no mistaking the fact that he was grooving as much as he could with each stroke.
She looked hard at the stiff rod swelled tightly in Bob's fist. Hmmmm. She was beginning to feel a little stirring in her loins. Yep! No doubt about it. She was wetting on herself, creaming in her candy, coming in the country bush.
Whether or not it was an accident, Anne didn't know. Maybe a tune was running through Lorraine's little peanut brain. But in any case, she was now wiggling her ass from side to side. A
Anne looked quickly at Bob to see his reaction, and she was just in time.
He shot. A big gob of come spurted up hard arching gracefully, then splattering over the top of his desk.
"Oh wow-" she gasped before she could stop herself. Bob jerked around. Unconsciously, Anne was squeezing the muscles of her thighs together, and had it been possible she would have climaxed right there on the spot. But instead, all she was receiving was a great big sopping wetness which was seeping through the wispy material of her panties.
Bob's eyes were still hot with lust as he turned to her. But already, she could see the shade of fear drawing down about his face.
He looked directly into Anne's eyes. Neither of them could break their gaze. Anne's line of vision was focused hotly on the semen which continued to spurt from his cock in ebbing passion. And Bob was fascinated with the look of open wanton lust which pulled slightly at the corners of her mouth.
He looked at her still as the final remains ran down the back of his hand, and down along the length of his cock. Slowly, blindly, he reached into his top desk drawer and pulled out a tissue. Neither of them had broken their fixed attention to the other.
He was still staring at the expression on her face, and now she had given up all pretense of searching for her contact lenses.
He realized she was not going to panic, but instead, she was thrilled with the sight. The movement of his hand gradually slowed down. His pumps were dry. He began to make the motion of mopping of his come when she stopped him with her eyes.
Her eyes pleaded with him not to waste all that juice on a tissue. And with his eyes he asked for assurance-did she want to suck off the remains. Still using nothing else but their eyes, Anne said yes, and walked towards him.
They both looked quickly around the office to see if anyone was noticing them. No one was. So she leaned over his desk and licked quickly, taking into her mouth the sour taste of cold semen. Then remembering he also had come on his fingers and hand, she removed her mouth from his cock and licked the back of Bob's hand, and in between his fingers. Then she placed her lips over his cock once again.
In its state of semi-hardness, she was able to get all the meaty drok into her mouth. She washed it.
She sucked harder and harder.
Bob hissed lustfully. "Ohh baby, you've got to stop." Anne stopped, pouting a little.
"I dig it baby, I really dig it. But we haven't got enough time."
Slowly, the fog began to lift from her head, and she understood. They were taking one hell of a chance. Already one of the other girls in the office had noticed her now, standing there in Bob's place, seemingly "talking" to him.
She didn't feel too bad now. For she realized that Bob had probably saved them both from getting discovered and fired, not to mention the embarrassment that would probably have issued forth.
"I'll be back during coffee," she said. Then she walked from the office.
Anyone looking at Bob would have seen him collecting his work together and beginning to earn his salary. But mentally, Bob was wringing his hands with ecstatic delight.
Oh shit, he thought. Pussy! Box, cunt, twat, quim, vagina, snatch, hole, honey-pot, hairy dug-out, snappy gap. I've got a bead on some of it. Finally and at last. Forsooth and whereby. Ohhhh wow. Hell. There's a chance I might be getting myself a fuck break while everyone else is drinking "coffee."
She's a pretty cool wench. She didn't blow. She was digging it. She was actually digging me getting my rocks off.
He smiled broadly to himself. Bob's gonna get a pussy break. Bob's gonna get a pussy break. Oh gee. Oh pollywogs. Oh for death and delight. And fuck the Jolly Green Giant in his green bean ass. Yes. And may his mother be corn-holed with a pickle barrel. I'm finally gonna get laid.
Bob went to work, refusing to watch the clock. He knew the time would drag, but he also knew that time would inevitably pass. As surely as his ass had a hole, time would pass and coffee break time would come to the office as it always did. And something good was going to happen to him. No doubt about it. Something groovy was going to go down.
Ten-fifteen came. Bigger than shit the hands on the clock had made their move, and so had Anne.
"I'm here," she said softly. He was sitting with his back to her. Pretending that he was unaware of her immediate presence. Pretending that he was completely subdued to unconsciousness, engrossed-totally engrossed with the paper work before him. But I tell you, dear reader, the fucker was quivering down to his smelly toes. His prick was as stiff as the brass pipes in the men's urinals. His mind was as filthy as an out-house. And his rocks felt like hot coals burning in an Arabian campfire.
"Oh, hi there pretty girl." He spoke the words as softly as he possibly could, urging a deep tone of male sexiness into his voice. His face depicted a mask of subtle sensuality. He 'was quiet. Almost casual. Yet, his eyes were filled with a quiet gentility. He was all man, but his touch would be soft and sincere.
His eyes said that he cared for her, that he wanted to care for her. He wanted to share more than just a bed with her. This was what Anne saw in his face as he turned around. And now she felt totally disarmed and vulnerable. Yet, in a way she could not quite grasp or even begin to put into words, this new feeling she felt. This feeling of completeness.
Somehow, being in the same room with him made her feel like she might be twice the woman she credited herself for being.
One thing was for damn sure. She was twice as hot as she would be normally.
"I was hoping you'd come," Bob said, his face projecting the image of one who was falling deeply and seriously in love, while at the same time maintaining a reasonable hold on his emotions.
"I was hoping I'd come more than just once," Anne said, smiling at her weak pun. "We've got fifteen minutes," she said. "I don't know how long you can hold off, or how quick you can get an erection once you've shot your load, but I do know that fifteen minutes is more than enough time for me." Then she quickly added: "I can come a lot."
"It seems like you've given all this a lot of thought."
"I have."
"Then maybe you've figured out how we're going to get our lumps without getting caught."
"It's easy. I'll just go get my coffee and roll, and come back here to sit with you. Then, I'm sure we both can eat with one hand."
"You intend to be eating while I'm fingering you?"
"I'm not going to waste my money."
"Then go baby. Go!"
Anne left, returning shortly with her chow. No sooner had she put them on the desk than her left hand shot down to Bob's rod. She smiled sweetly at him in case someone was watching them. Bob got the message and smiled back at her. And in the same instant he was sliding his hand up her dress. He pulled back the waistband of her panties and dipped in.
"You're right," he said. "You do come a