Chapter 1
The evening rush hour traffic between Kennedy Airport and the city was its usual stop and go, bumper to bumper mess.
But Chipper Harrington III could care less.
Because Rufe, the chauffeur, was doing the driving.
So that Chipper could sit there in the back seat, reading light on, sorting the papers which bore the evidence and, in some case the fruits, of his labors abroad these past three months.
And not experience even so much as a jostle.
So that, from time to time, he can make notes in the margins of this document, circle whole passages in that draft agreement, or write notes to himself, all without the wiggles and squiggles that would have resulted if he were, say, riding in a cab.
Because Rufe is at the wheel of the stretch limo.
Rufe, who has worked for the Harringtons for five years now.
Rufe, who sees all, knows all, Chez Harrington.
Sees all, knows all-and does all.
So that the household, indeed the world itself, holds no surprises for Rufe.
Still, the incongruity of it-the household and the world-its contradictions, its inconsistencies, never cease to amuse, if they are no longer capable of amazing him.
For example, take the man in the back seat, his boss, his male boss, at least, on those rare, brief visits home.
Chipper Harrington III.
International financier, astonishingly successful, only in his thirties, with the blond hair and pink skin of a cherub.
And yet-and yet.
He has a dark side that won't quit.
At least, Rufe thinks of it as a dark side.
What he can see of it, that is.
Which happens to be plenty, and that at very close range.
Very close indeed, on occasion. Like tonight.
Because Cynthia, Chippers gorgeous blonde wife, and Rufe's boss most of the time, has the wifely duty and obligation ot give Chipper his welcoming home parties on his returns from the paper wars abroad.
Sometimes, she uses the services of Bruce's Travel and Tours, the city's leading escort service, to see to it that the... entertainment is sufficiently novel and exotic, even for a jaded man of the world such as Chipper.
But there are other times, such as tonight, when, knowing as she does that Chipper has helped himself to the fleshpots of the various stops on a very extended itinerary, sampling freely of the best the world has to offer considering his peculiar tastes, times such as these when she prefers to keep it simple, domestic.
And enlists Rufe's assistance to that end.
And Chipper, of course, is simply delighted when this occurs.
So that the mundane becomes novel.
So that the contradictions become intriguing.
Yes, when Chipper hits the door, Rufe knows that he will not even be permitted to sort out Chipper's soiled laundry and put the luggage away.
Rather, they will ride the elevator to the penthouse suite of the condo, Chipper, Rufe, and the luggage.
And the luggage will remain in the outer hallway while Chipper and Cynthia embrace passionately, followed by Chipper's immediate disappearance.
Not that there will be any mystery as to where he has gone.
Which is-but come.
Let's follow the action as it unfolds.
"Chipper!"
"Cynthia!"
"I've missed you so!"
"And I you!"
Kissy kissy stuff, there in the outer lobby. Then, they break the clinch. "You go get ready, Chipper," Cynthia, clad only in the flimsiest of negliges says. "Right away!"
And he promptly disappears inside, through one of the large, white entrance doors which lead from the marble foyer into the penthouse itself.
"Give me five minutes," she says to Rufe. "And leave all this-" pointing to the array of luggage on the floor, "until afterward.
"In fact, tomorrow morning will do nicely, I should think."
"Yes ma'am."
And she leads him into the penthouse, he following the rounded mounds of her ass, framed by the helled flare of her hips.
They pass by the vast, sunken living room, the skyline of the city twinkling in the night sky, and Cynthia disappears into the master bedroom as Rufe continues on to his own room, which is next to that of the maid, Carlotta.
Who has been given the night off and is staying with relatives in Brooklyn.
Because, if she is not part of the action, she is not to be around.
And tonight, she isn't.
No, tonight is a solo, starring Rufe.
Who now strips completely naked, tossing the elements of his chauffeur's uniform onto the bed.
Later, he will hang them up.
But for now, he has just changed into the only uniform proper for the performance of his immediate duties.
He looks at himself in the full-length mirror on his closet door, ordinarily used to see to it that his cap is on straight, his brass-buttoned uniform sufficiently spiffy, his boots well shined, the creases in his cavalry-type trousers straight.
And he gives himself the same meticulous once over now, standing there in his birthday suit.
And sees there his superbly muscled body, an ebony statue there in the dim light of his room.
Heavily muscled, heavily hung, he is, his big cock long and thick and curving downward now, its great plum of a knob with its thick rear flange a dusky pink, lighter than the rest of him, almost matching the palms of his hands.
Yes, the hours Cynthia permits him to spend in their private, fully equipped roof garden gym have paid off handsomely, permitting him to actually progress over and above the excellent shape he was already in when he first came here.
Although, for his first two years in the Harrington service, he could not understand why she should care, one way or the other.
He only knew that he, like Carlotta, was expected to simply bring Chipper home from the airport, leave the luggage in the foyer, and then spend the night at his own apartment, across the river in Jersey, and to show up early next morning for duty.
Until that first time he was called upon to perform special duty.
Which was the same, always the same, as he is doing right now, except for the one time Cynthia arranged for him to have a helper.
Not that he needed, not that he needs any assistance.
Because he is fully capable of performing per specification all by his lonesome. And now, he will.
He goes down the hallway to the master bedroom.
And there, in the huge bed which occupies a platform in the center of the room, every lamp lit, the indirect lighting around the periphery of the ceiling as well, there lies the completely naked, fully illuminated Cynthia.
Propped up on a pillow, she is waiting for him.
It is as though they are completely alone, as though a pair of merry, twinkling bright blue eyes were not watching them through the louvred panel of a section of the wall-length closet opposite the foot of the bed.
And in fact the knowledge of that other, that hidden presence, does not bother Rufe in the least.
And in fact that presence gives the scene an added erotic dimension, so far as he is concerned.
And he does not dwell, does not reflect, at the moment on why this last should be.
Because he has better things to think about right now.
Such as the gorgeous blonde creature on the bed.
Who smiles, raising and spreading her legs, bent at the knees, at his approach.
And who sighs in luxurious contentment as he burrows into the chestnut curls of her snatch, mouth open.
And who moans with pleasure, eyes closed, head lolling back and forth, as he begins at once to fuck her with his long, thick tongue, shafting it in and out of her hot, juicy cunt, while remaining in contact with her clit at all times.
So that, very quickly, he has her face and upper body flushing with the engorged blood of her mounting passion.
Because she will not, has no need to pace herself to Rufe's own arousal.
Sufficient to the purpose, to the cause, that he should get her all hot and bothered and then take his time, giving her a long, if not particularly slow fuck.
Because the watcher in the closet wants to see his wife driven up the wall.
He wants to see her overtaken by the pleasure beyond pleasure.
And he certainly wants to see the piston action of Rufe's monster of an erection as it shafts, long and hard and thick and shiny with her clear and copious pussy juices, in and out, in and out, turning her pussy lips into a sucking, clinging, stretched mouth of an orifice, his big balls locked tightly to the base of his working organ, up and out of the way so that Chipper has the clearest, most inimate of views.
As Chipper's face and body turn pinker than ever, there in his dark concealment.
As he ignores the thin line of drool that escapes from the corner of his mouth and courses down his chin.
As his breathing becomes irregular in his mounting excitement. And Rufe lets himself go. Taking it easy on himself.
Not giving it his best performance, and this by design.
Because he doesn't care to expend his total energy, to give it his all.
He has a second, possibly even a third round to perform.
So that it is best to take it easy this first time, to let nature take its course and not use any of his wiles and sexual sophistication to control, to manipulate his own passion.
A nice, easy fuck.
And let his magnificent equipment speak for itself, do its own thing.
That's really all that's required.
And the bonus for this will be, he is sure, fabulous, as usual.
So that that too adds to the pleasure of the moment for him.
Hey, why not?
Because then, he can do-never mind.
Mind on the project at hand, he cautions himself.
Later for that other.
And he opens his mind to the full enjoyment of If the sensations which invade his body, every nerve ending in the surface of his thick plunger activated, sending message after message of lascivious pleasure radiating through his entire being.
Hotter and hotter he becomes, and Cynthia with him, she also letting herself go, surrendering to the strictly physical within herself, the craving, hungry animal.
So that they are climbing the rainbow, quickly and together.
Together, and yet individually as well.
Because this is not a coupling of anything other than bodies.
So that each takes and neither gives.
And, in the unreasonable logic of sex, this works.
So that, very quickly, they reach their peaks, arriving at the capacity of all the pleasure their bodies can hold.
While still hungering after, ardently desiring- and getting-more.
So that the pleasure beyond pleasure seizes them.
And they are coming and coming, his spurts of thick, hot jism into her fevered, juicy, undulating depths alternating with the spasms of her series of multiple orgasms.
Again and again, he shoots into her convulsing depths.
Again and again, she responds, orgasm after orgasm transporting her to the earthly paradise of the ultimate pleasure.
Over the rainbow and down the other side they come, landing softly back on earth.
And Rufe pulls out of her, ostentatiously showing his cock, marbled with sperm and pussy juice, before striding off, even as the closet door opens.
And Rufe cannot resist pausing in the doorway to look back, incredulous as always at the sight.
As Chipper, pink hard-on hobbling stiffly before him, dives onto the bed- And buries his face in Cynthia's muff.
Where he wallows, his tongue darting in and out of her freshly fucked depths, cleaning her pussy of its latest lubrication.
And only when he has eaten her out thoroughly does he mount her.
As Rufe leaves the room, thinking, he did it again.
As usual.
As he has done on other occasions with whole teams of long-cocked geeks. And muscle men. And college students. And latin lovers. And so on and so on.
Interspersed, like tonight, with Rufe, as a change of pace, as a surprise within that which is no longer surprising.
Rufe goes into the kitchen, washing his cock at the sink, drying it with a paper towel.
And helping himself to a beer from the refrigerator.
And building himself a sandwich on a paper plate from the catered buffet on the large, wooden kitchen table.
And leaning, casual and naked, against the sink, using the counter next to it to hold beer can or sandwich as he eats and drinks slowly, his long cock limber now, draped grandly between muscular thighs as he reclines thus.
And sure enough, he is not even halfway through his first sandwich when the loving couple join him there, clad in terrycloth robes.
"Excellent, Rufe, excellent first round!" Chipper exclaims, clapping him on the shoulder, looking down at his big cock.
And now, Chipper and Cynthia build themselves sandwiches.
And Chipper pulls a couple of cans of beer from the refrigerator, popping the tops and placing one on the table near where Cynthia is seated.
"Delightful change of pace, my dear!" Chipper, effusive now, exclaims. "I couldn't possibly be more pleased!"
And he munches out enthusiastically on his sandwich.
He clears his mouth with a swig from his can of beer.
And says, "This next round, Rufe, I would like you to sodomize her, if you don't mind."
"Ma pleasure," Rufe says.
"And mine as well," Chipper says.
"Then it's unanimous," Cynthia smiles.
And Chipper says, "There, you see? Who said democracy in the home doesn't work?"
They laugh.
And help themselves to a second sandwich, a second beer.
And Chipper leaves the kitchen first, followed a few minutes later by Cynthia.
And Rufe takes his time, chewing his food thoroughly, drinking his beer slowly.
One thing's sure, he says to himself, they're not gonna start without me.
This time, Cynthia is on her stomach.
And Rufe gets on the bed at the foot of it, One knee, then the other, allowing the hidden but closely watching Chipper an excellent rear view of his heavily hanging balls.
As he gently spreads Cynthia's legs apart so that he can lie between them.
He hauls the cheeks of her ass wide apart, exposing the pink star of her ass hole, large and slightly protruding.
He seals his mouth to her ass hole, sucking and gently chewing it.
And now, the tip of his tongue finds the con- vergence of the segments of her nether star.
And he pushes his tongue in, in, into her, feeling the heat of her interior, feeling the tissues of her rectal wall.
Rufe has a long, thick, powerful tongue.
So that he can stretch her ass hole with it alone.
So that no finger wave is necessary, really.
But then, they are not concerned here with stark necessity.
So that, at a certain point, even though she is already loose enough that he could get on with the main event if he so chooses, he knows better.
Because Chipper, of course, has been unable to see the actual contact between Rufe and Cynthia, thus far.
And that, after all, is one of the main objectives of the exercise.
So that now, Rufe is most careful to stand to one side of Cynthia.
As she, crouching on knees and elbows, braces herself.
And Rufe ostentatiously, theatrically wets two fingers of one hand with his tongue.
And, standing to one side of her on his knees, spreads her slackened, saliva-lubricated ass hole between thumb and fingers of his dry hand- And makes the insertion.
Round and round he goes with the two fingers, turning her ass hole into a smoothly rounded mouth, sucking and clinging to the delving digits.
Satisfied that Chipper has dug this action, Rufe pulls the fingers out, pausing to give Chipper a fresh look at the target, now that this phase of preparation has been completed.
And only now does he make the insertion of his freshly tumescent monster.
He buttons the bulging knob inside her ass hole and pauses, careful to adjust his position so that Chipper will miss none of the action, as seen from the rear.
And now, both hands on Cynthia's hips, Rufe rotates his hips, spiraling deeper and deeper into the depths of her ass.
And the battering ram of his cock head parts the channel of her rectum.
And the long thick shaft stretches and fills it as it advances.
In and in and into her, until he is fully seated, Rufe spirals.
Until he is fully seated.
And only now does he begin his regular fucking motion, rocking back and forth, feeling the sleeve of her bowels jerking him off in its hot, wet, slippery, all-encompassing embrace.
A longer ride this time, it will be.
And he is careful to spread his legs wide and to ride higher up, so that Chipper will get a perfect view of the action.
He does.
As Rufe, getting hotter and hotter, lets himself go all out, once again.
Because what would be the point of his using his finest ass fucking technique on her, when the purpose of the exercise is simply to fill Chipper's cupcake with hot, fresh cream?
Which is part of what's wrong with this deal.
But later for that.
He said it was wrong; he didn't say he couldn't live with it.
Which he most assuredly can.
As witness his steadily mounting arousal, his excitement which causes him to piston very avidly indeed in and out of her stretched, filled ass.
Stimulating her clit from the inside, he is.
But not fast enough, not efficiently enough to excite her to the same degree as himself.
But that too doesn't matter.
All that matters at the moment is- This! And this! And this!
Said to himself as he injects spurt after spurt of his sexual essence in and in and into the depths of her bowels.
Letting the pleasure beyond pleasure overtake him without any resistance whatever.
Allowing himself to be swept away on the ultimate high.
And, as soon as he comes back down, pulling out, as Chipper, smiling and in an obvious state of sexual excitement, bursts forth from the closet once more.
Will he do it again this time? Rufe, looking back, wonders.
Just as he wonders how he can.
But, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, there goes Chipper, sealing his mouth to Cynthia's ass hole.
And Rufe can see the vacuum of his cheeks as he sucks and sucks.
Yech! he thinks. .
And goes back to the kitchen to wash off his heavy equipment and prepare yet another heavy snack.
That was good and he did his duty, he reflects.
Still, he envies Chipper, picturing him in his mind's eye as, having rimmed Cynthia and, in the process, more than merely rimmed her, he now mounts her.
And, after getting his piston action inside her ass going, releases one hip, freeing a hand so that it can reach down and around and weigh her heavy breasts one at a time in his hands, thumbing the doorbells of her nipples to peak excitement- Enough of that, Rufe cautions. Why should I torture myself?
Another time, another place, another woman, and- "Perfecto once again, old buddy!" Chipper says, jovial and exuberant.
Old buddy, Rufe thinks. There's a real laugh for you now.
"We'll uh, we'll not be doing a third round tonight," Chipper continues. "My trip was rather exhausting and I haven't gotten much sleep.
"Oh, no, no! Take your time, Rufe. .
"Help yourself to all you want.
"Cynthia and I will just make ourselves a couple more sandwiches, grab a six pack, and retire for the evening.
"Just uh, when you're done here, put all this stuff back in the fridge, there's a good fellow.
"And uh, there will be a little something extra in your pay check this week.
"But then that goes without saying.
"See how it is when I'm tired? I start rattling on about the obvious.
"There was something, though, I wanted to-oh, yeah.
"Tomorrow morning, I want to show up early at the office.
"Eight o'clock, say. Can do?"
"I'll have the car ready at seven, Mista Chipper," Rufe replies.
"Very good. And then, can you wait-"
"Uh, Chipper?" Cynthia interjects.
"Tomorrow, Rufe has to take Carlotta to do the groceries."
"Oh. Okay then, drop me off at the office, do the thing with Carlotta, and then come back for me.
"I've a terrible amount of running around to do, dear," Chipper explains. "Three months out of the country and all, y'know.
"They probably think I've died, over at the club, for one thing."