Chapter 1
"MY COCK OR THE COPS
"No! Please don't tell my husband! Please-please-I beg you...."
Lisa cowered, tugging the mini-skirt downward over the curve of her thighs, locking her legs tightly together. She dared not look up at the imposing sight of the man towering over her. She kept her eyes closed, running her tongue lightly over her parched lips. Whatever his name was, she held a mental image of the ruggedly handsome six-footer with his gaze fixed solidly on her. She couldn't erase the dark-haired man with the craggy face from the blackboard of her mind. She dared not look up at him-whatever his name was. For at that moment, she equated facing him with facing her entire world-a world that would soon know exactly what kind of a woman she really was.
Lisa Pilsner cringed. He was calling her name. She could hear it, but she could not respond. His voice ... it was firm, yet surprisingly gentle. She held back the tears; certain crying would do her no good. This man-whatever his name was-would tell her husband the entire ugly truth. . just as Mrs. Anderson had reported that shameful episode to her mother.
Lisa loosened, slowly running a hand up across the high rise of her sweatered breasts, fingers absently playing with the fall of flaming red hair. That was so long ago ... she inwardly murmured, wondering why that teenaged escapade came to her mind in her present predicament. Lisa realized that it had been years since she had given that shameful high school episode even a single thought. Now it all raced clearly through her mind, even though she still could not comprehend her desire to scrawl that graffiti on a toilet wall. No, not graffiti, she now realized. Dirty words. . dirty thoughts expressing her inner frustrations.
Lisa parted her legs slightly, sensing a moistness as she recalled how she had excused herself from Miss Anderson's math class to go to the bathroom. That youthful impulse ... the fantasy of that well-muscled boy who sat across from her ... oh, how quickly she had fingered herself to an orgasm.
That ugly afterthought ... the self-hate . Suddenly, marker-pen in hand, she found herself scrawling the necessary letters on the wall:
FUCK
FUCK ME
PLEASE FUCK ME!
Lisa opened her eyes to her present, very adult predicament, recalling how Miss Anderson had been standing there, the toilet stall door wide open, watching her scrawl the last letter of her teenaged frustration on the wall. Lisa recalled that pinched look on her teacher's face, the biting of the lower lip. And yet, Lisa was now certain that they had taken the time to read the declarations together-no matter how silent: FUCK ... FUCK ME ... PLEASE FUCK ME!
"Vile, shameful thoughts! Absolutely disgusting!" Lisa's mother had moaned repeatedly. Lisa's father quietly made the arrangements for her to see an analyst once a week. Dr. Simon Bruska ... every Tuesday at four ... for almost six months.
How would her husband react? Would John send her to an analyst for six months? This is so different, she told herself.
"It's not the same ... " she muttered aloud, deep in her thoughts. "It's just not the same...."
"What did you say?" he asked, bending slightly over her.
"I-I'm sorry...."
"Mrs. Pilsner, this isn't the first time."
"No, it isn't," Lisa confessed, a smile slowly crossing her face. "No, it isn't . . " she absently repeated, her mind focusing on the one word her husband would be certain to use.
Suddenly she saw that certain word scrawled out before her, seemingly under those words she had once proclaimed on a bathroom wall:
KLEPTOMANIA
"I'm a shoplifter," Lisa shrugged, "a thief...." She forced her eyes directly up into his face, now totally aware of the fact that his name was Tony Mondor, and that he was the manager of the department store. "I didn't mean to do it...."
Tony eased off, sitting on the edge of his massive desk. She looks so pathetic, he thought, this fantastically beautiful woman. "Until now," he started, toying with a pencil in his hands, "I've merely put various items you've taken on your husband's charge account. But we couldn't let that go on forever ... could we?"
"No, you couldn't," she replied, honestly attempting to face the situation. "You've been more than kind to me..." she added, eyes fixed on a well-trimmed long sideburn. "I'm not even certain how long I've been doing this-or why
"We've had to crack down-" The store manager shrugged, leaning backward on his desk perch. "We have to do something," he added, somewhat apologetically.
"Will you call the police?" she asked, her eyes going over to the necklace-the necklace that had been found in her handbag the very moment she had exited from Traymore's, the city's most exclusive department store.
"I should," Tony Mondor tightlipped, suddenly bolting forward to a standing position. "The front office has been on my back over our shoplifting losses-"
"But I'll make it good-"
"That's not the point!" he snapped back, pacing to the side of her. "That's not the point at all...." Tony wished that she had not said that, he'd had his fill of people like the Pilsners who could always buy their way out.
"I didn't mean...." Lisa let it trail off, not certain what she had meant.
"You walked out of this store with a piece of merchandise. You did not bother to pay for that merchandise. Mrs. Pilsner, regardless of your husband's financial condition, sliced thin or thick-that's stealing!"
"I know, I know...."
Lisa's chin remained by her shoulder, her eyes suddenly fixed on a direct route to the crotch of his well-tailored dark trousers. She again tugged downward on her skirt, feeling powerless to remove her eyes from that very specific part of his totally masculine frame. She locked her legs tightly together again, fearful of the fantasy game she had commenced: Under those pants is underwear-and under the underwear is a cock-a big cock-a real big cock and a beautiful set of balls!
Lisa tore her gaze away from the imagined temple of the phallic symbol, certain this ruggedly handsome man had caught her in the act of crotch-staring. That little game of hers-she was playing it more and more lately. But why now, at a time like this?
"Mrs. Pilsner-" Tony Mondor shifted his weight from leg to leg. I'd like to give you a break, I really would...."
"Please," she whispered, certain his eyes were fixed on the high rise of her breasts. "It won't ever happen again, I promise you that!"
"Charley," the store manager called out, walking deliberately over to the uniformed guard standing by the door. "I won't need you anymore."
"Whatever you say, Mr. Mondor," the burley guard replied, head tilted slightly as he nodded incessantly. "You're the boss."
Lisa tightened, realizing that she had forgotten about the uniformed guard standing at the entrance of Mr. Mondor's private office. She squirmed in her chair, recalling how the middle-aged man had placed his sweaty hand on her shoulder immediately after she had stepped outside the store's main entrance. That smirk on the guard's face, it all seemed so vague now. It could not have been more than twenty minutes ago, but it now seemed more like twenty years ago. She strained her memory, wondering if anyone she knew had actually seen the guard escorting her to the manager's office.
Lisa watched Tony Mondor close the door behind the uniformed guard. She stiffened, certain she had heard the click of a door locking. Her eyes remained fixed on the man who appeared to be in his early thirties. She hated to admit it to herself, but he was most likely a few years younger than she was. And six lifetimes younger than her husband, she bitterly reminded herself.
She was totally aware of his deliberate movements back to where she sat. She lowered her line of sight on a direct path to the V of his trousers. She'd play the game again, the big fantasy: cock ... big cock . . real big cock . She bit her lower lip, aware of that certain moistness within the sheer tip of her panties. She rarely ever wore a panty girdle; she was proud of the fact that her lithe figure didn't require those cumbersome garments.
Lisa looked up into that handsome, craggy face. But it seemed so much like Miss Anderson looking down at her. She pouted, certain he would scold her-just as that spindly-legged high school teacher had scolded her. She had been a very bad girl, and she would have to scrub those dirty words off the wall. Every last letter: FUCK.. FUCK ME ... PLEASE FUCK ME!
...No, she told herself. This is different. This man wasn't going to scold her for writing dirty thoughts on a bathroom wall. He would scold her because she was a sneaking thief. But she didn't have to steal-she knew that. Her husband was John Pilsner of THE Pilsners. One of the best corporation lawyers in that state-that's what everybody said. "Not the same..."
"Mrs. Pilsner?" The store manager leaned over closer to her. "Are you all right? Can I get you a glass of water?"
"I'm all right, thank you," she replied, looking up at him, just in time to observe him exploring the sharp points of her sweatered breasts. "What are you going to do about me?" she asked, going right to the heart of the matter. And to herself she added: I'm totally at your mercy. Please give me a break.
Tony Mondor studied her up close. He had observed her many times before this, but never this close, not so that he was aware of the subtle fragrance of her perfume.
"Class . . real class," he had whispered to himself the first time he had observed Lisa Pilsner shopping in the store. That certain "real class" his wife lacked-even if her father was the major stockholder in the Traymore Department stores throughout the state. He had always enjoyed this woman's graceful movements, certain that fantastic figure was real. And those lush mounds ... he had convinced himself that this female could be a real credit to the Women's Lib braless movement. There was absolutely no need to imprison those firm delights, he was certain of that.
Standing over her, caught up in his game of judge and jury, he imagined those brownish-hued tips standing at attention for him and him alone, just waiting for the suction of his lips. He could imagine his tongue running wild from crest to crest, slithering about in the valley within. Why stop there, he asked himself, imagining his tongue running down the flat of her stomach, slithering over her panties and sneaking underneath to play hide and seek in a bush of flaming red hair.
Tony Mondor shifted his weight uneasily from foot to foot, counterbalanced by the rising bulge between his mind creating that certain thrill, the first impact of the tip of his tongue greeting her clit. Tip to tip, then round-and-about movements, savoring all of that luscious slit.
Tony moved sideway, suddenly adjusting his tie. What really needed adjusting was the rising bulge at the crotch of his trousers.
"Mrs. Pilsner," he started again, attempting to be extremely formal and business-like. After all, he was judge and jury over this sinner. "You realize I should take some form of action-"
"Please give me a break," she pleaded, eyes downward. "I'd be ever so grateful, I'd do anything-"
Tony shifted the weight of his entire body back toward her, the bulge at his crotch refusing to subside. He let that last word of hers splatter about in his brain: anything, anything, anything. "Why did you do it?" Tony asked, not realizing why he had asked the question.
"Why?"
"I just don't seem to know," she whispered in a barely audible tone, bringing her line of sight up toward him. "I just don't know," she gasped, her eyes now fixed on that bulging sight that did wonders to his trim torso. "I just don't seem to know," she shuddered, suddenly equating her kleptomania with that earlier desire to scrawl those dirty thoughts on a bathroom wall.
Tony stopped wondering, suddenly realizing why such a female would brazenly attempt to steal a medium priced necklace that she could easily afford a hundred times over.
A thrill.
The subconscious need to break through the everyday humdrum existence. How many times had he felt the need to do something wild to break through the mold of convention? And being the manager of a Traymore department store was quite a conventional mold. And when you work for your father-in-law, that conventional mold can actually be a prison.
Tony Mondor wanted to break through his conventional shackles-just as Lisa Pilsner had attempted to accomplish that feat via shoplifting a necklace.
"Mrs. Pilsner," he started deliberately, hovering over her seated position, widening his stance before her. "You were in search of a thrill when you tried to steal that necklace."
"Yes ... I guess so...."
"You said you'd do anything-"
"Anything!" she quickly cut in. "Anything...."
"Anything?" he asked, deliberately placing his hand on the mountainous bulge at the crotch of his trousers. "Did you really mean that?" he asked, stepping closer to her as he continually rubbed and soothed the mass of his totally-ready cock.
"Yes..." she whispered, wetting her lips. "Yes, I would...., " She shuddered, those words on the toilet wall beaming across her mind as though in bright neons.
FUCK ... FUCK ME ... please fuck me!
"I'll show you something wilder than shoplifting," he tightlipped, taking her hand and placing it firmly on the aching mountain at the V of his legs. "I'll show you how to really go for broke," he persisted, unzipping his fly. "Now get your hand in there and wrap it around my meat, baby!"
"Yes...." She obeyed him, her eyes traveling over to the plush red couch, her hand attempting to cope with that tremendously long, hard and pulsating shaft still imprisoned beneath his shorts. "Yes," she repeated, her thoughts jumping ahead to her fantastically great penance, actually feeling her bare back against the couch's plush leather as he would drive that enormous cock in and out of her pussy. "Yes," she repeated, mouthing those words of her teenaged proclamation.
"You can ... I'll let you ... fuck ... fuck me ... please fuck me!"
"Let's go for bigger and better thrills," he announced, an all too long buried sadistic streak emerging from within him. "Something much wilder than shoplifting," he smirked down at her.
"Whatever you say," she whispered, her hand afire with the touch of his long reel of cock within his underwear.
"That's the general idea," he shot back, starting to fully enjoy his tripple role of judge, jury and executioner. "I'll call the shots, and see if you can live up to your promise of anything."
"Anything," she nodded, her hand squeezing the majestic hardness of a cock that seemed so fantastically bigger and better than that of her husband. "Anything at all!" she shrilled, anxious to go beyond scrawling frustrating sexual desires on toilet walls and shoplifting in search of the "forbidden fruit" thrill.
"For starters," he nodded, working his hand into flaming red hair and tilting her head backward, "take my cock out into the light of day."
"Yes ... " she whispered, tugging and straining, finally managing to work the full length of enormously thick meat out of his shorts and trousers. "Oh, yes," she shrilled, watching the ramrod cock standing at attention before her.
"Balls and all!" Tony cried out, widening his stance. "Now be gentle with my balls."
Lisa completed the command, one hand working back and forth on the length of throbbing cock, while the other hand tenderly cupped the low-slung scrotum containing what she considered to be extremely large balls. "Fuck me as hard as you want," she sighed, her eyes anxiously straying over to the leather couch. "I've never seen a cock as great as this one, and I can't wait to have you fuck me!"
Tony tightened his grip on her hair, jolting her face forward, lips dangerously close to the large head of his cock. "All in good time, baby!" he informed her. "But you've got a long way to go first-if you really meant anything," he reminded her, bringing her lips less than an inch away from the head of his meat.
"It-it's so big ... I've never done that before
"There's always a first time," he informed her, roughly placing his hands at the back of her head.
"I'll try...."
"Believe me," he smirked, "It's a helluva lot more fun than shoplifting. "Now give the head of it a big wet kiss for starters."
"Like this?" Lisa asked, working her lips quickly in a circular motion over the throbbing knob.
"I'll show you how, baby. But first, down on your knees!"
"Oh, please."
"Oh, please-shit!" he roared, angrily pulling her off her seated perch and down on her knees before the temple of his waiting cock and balls. "I'm calling the shots now, Miss Society-broad! Either that-or I call in the police and your husband, Miss Kleptomaniac!"
"No, don't do that, I beg you...."
"Then start sucking that cock!"
"Yes-yes. ...."
"Open your mouth wide ... that's it ... get it right over the head of it ... oh, you're doing great ... now careful with the teeth ... go down a little more ... you won't choke ... now work that tongue all around it ... oh, go, go, go ... yes, that's it ... you'll make a fantastically great cocksucker! Oh, yes you will. Eat it, cocksucker!"
Lisa pistoned her mouth further down the length of the hard shaft. Listening to her teacher, she worked her tongue back and forth, slithering helter-skelter, each time working her mouth over more and more of that hard meat.
"Oh, take it all, cocksucker! Every last bit of it," he groaned, yanking at the back of her head. "Go for broke, cocksucker!"
Lisa found her mouth traveling the whole route, amazed that the enormous length of thick meat could actually fit in her mouth.
"Oh, that's it, cocksucker!"
She could not comprehend it, but his crude words of encouragement were doing strange things to her. Instinct made her grab at the rear of his muscular thighs, improving her position as she worked her mouth steadily back and forth. That tremendous head on his cock-she could actually feel it banging down the start of her throat each time she slammed her mouth forward to meet the thrust of his body.
"Oh, go, cocksucker!" he roared. "Eat that cock, girl!"
Lisa found her hands moving up to grasp his buttocks. She enjoyed that muscular feel, and without realizing why, she was suddenly working her mouth more furiously up and down the trail of hard, throbbing cock.
"Oh, you fantastic cocksucker! I thought you said you never did this before-you're a real pro!"
Lisa's mouth was too jam-packed with hard cock for her to protest that she had never gone down on a cock before. How could she possibly explain that at the age of thirty-six, she had never experienced anything but "normal" sex with her husband. She was only eighteen when she had married John Pilsner, a man who was a decade older than she was.
"Oh, do it, cocksucker!"
Lisa went wild, unable to understand the supreme thrill of being called a cocksucker. Working her mouth furiously up and down, she somehow related this bizarre turn in her life with scrawling dirty words on toilet walls and shoplifting. Something-anything-to break out of the humdrum pattern of everyday life.
"Oh, I'm coming, cocksucker, I'm coming! Oh, swallow my love-juices, little Miss Cocksucker
Lisa swallowed, feeling her own live-juice flowing freely at the V of her thighs. This is wild, she thought. That morning, if anyone had told her that this day would be so different from all the others-that she would actually be swallowing a man's love juice-she would never have believed it. That morning, having breakfast with John and Timmy.
Her son Timmy ... that enormous, strange tasting cock still in her mouth, her thoughts suddenly went totally to her seventeen year old son. She clamped her mouth firmly on the now semi-hard cock, recalling the image of her handsome boy stepping out of the shower.
Timmy ... she didn't want to take Tony Mondor's cock out of the warmth of her mouth-she didn't want to erase the beautiful image of her nude son from the blackboard of her mind.