Chapter 1
Erin Kingston's parents had planned her life almost before she was born. She would go to the finest schools, eventually become a topnotch lawyer, and work in her father's-and grandfather's-and great grandfather's firm before marrying someone with impeccable manners and social standing and settle down to raise beautiful children.
She was raised from the moment she could understand speech to always maintain her dignity, to always be aware of her social position, and to never give in to emotions or weaknesses.
All of this made her a very stiff, and very virginal woman right through college and into law school at Harvard. Unfortunately for her parents, in her first week in Harvard, Erin met Tom Miller, whose father was a lowly policeman. Shortly afterwards, she not only lost some of the stiffness to her shoulders and personality, but her virginity as well.
Her clothes and personality began to change subtly at first, but with growing speed, and she decided to specialize in criminal law, which her wealthy and dignified forebears had never wanted anything to do with.
Too undignified, consorting with common types and such.
Much to her parents displeasure, she and Tom were married in her third year at law school. It was so much to their displeasure, in fact, that they refused to attend, and disinherited her from the considerable family fortune.
When she graduated, two years after Tom, she took a job as a junior prosecutor in New York, and spent the next few years on lowly assignments, slowly getting the experience and confidence of her superiors required to take on more important cases.
Meanwhile, Tom was working twelve-hour days at a law firm, doing much the same. Their time together was far less than either of them would have liked, and when they were together, their lovemaking was fast, furious and almost frantic.
This was a far cry from their earlier slow, seductive lovemaking in college, but Erin found she liked the raw, carnal sex even more. And she found herself almost addicted to it. When a certain number of days had passed without anything between she and Tom happening, she started to become edgy and short-tempered.
That was the mood she was in one lazy Friday night in late July when Tom called her to tell her his oldest and dearest friend had come to town unexpectedly, that he, Tom, was at his buddy's apartment with his wife, and that Erin should come over. At the time Erin was wearing a lacy, see-through black teddy and nothing else, prepared to jump the bones of her husband the moment he entered their apartment. To say she was disappointed would be putting it mildly. To say she was highly pissed off would be more accurate.
She'd been almost a week without anything but her fingers between her legs, and had been looking forward to the time the both of them had put aside for that night. Now she had to go and make pleasant with two people she didn't even know.
She tore off her teddy-literally, after slamming down the phone, and paced up and down for several minutes, muttering curses, her large, but firm breasts jiggling slightly as she walked.
Most women with a bust her size, 38-D had saggy breasts-if they were real. Erin, however, was both lucky and had made efforts when young to prevent that. She had taken to exercising to build up the muscles of her chest. She had exercised very carefully in the years since, and, in fact, even had a home gym in their apartment.
The result was her breasts were quite round and surprisingly firm for their size, with almost no sag. They were her second most prominent feature, despite being only five feet tall and with a slender build which served to make her breasts seem even larger than they were.
Her most prominent feature was her face, as it had always been. It was a narrow, oval-shaped face, with high cheekbones and a firm chin, quite full, sensuous lips often curved in an impudent grin, a small, upturned nose, and amazingly green eyes that contained a world of intelligence. Framing this face was a thick mass of shining, glistening chestnut-brown hair that spilled down over her shoulders like spun silk.
Her looks had opened a number of doors for her, but made others more difficult. Many men wanted to please her, but often found it difficult to see her in the roles she saw herself. She looked too feminine, they thought, for rough and tumble jobs. She had learned how to teach such people better, but it often took time, time to show them her intelligence, her cool, even cold-blooded decision-making ability, and the ruthless way she acted against opposing attorneys. Her initial nickname when she started work was the Elf. After observing her for a few years, that had become the Troll to those who disliked her, or the Elf Shark to those who admired her.
After pacing for a while, she went into her bedroom and examined her wardrobe. She was tempted to show up at his friend's place in a tight leather miniskirt and braless tank top, but that would be too obvious a sign of her displeasure.
Instead, she pulled on a long, thin, white, stretch knit dress. It was tight to the hips, then loosened considerably as it fell to her ankles. She wore nothing beneath, not even a G-string, and her breasts were very, very prominent as they stretched the material out from her chest.
She slipped on a pale-blue linen blazer, which would cover her lack of bra to anyone watching, but which she could open to show Tom what he was missing. If she had the opportunity, she would even lift her skirt up and show him that, too.
Pleased with her decision, she took the elevator downstairs to the garage, got into the car, and drove to the address Tom had given her.
It was not exactly a swanky address, and as she parked the car, the sweltering humid heat assaulted her for the first time that day. She, of course, worked in air-conditioned surroundings, had air conditioning at home and in her car, so the heat was neither familiar nor pleasant.
What was worse, when she got up to the apartment Tom had given her and was let in, she discovered, to her shock, that there was no air conditioning there. The windows had been pushed open, but that helped little. She was already starting to sweat in her blazer and she'd only been out of the car for three minutes.
She was slightly distracted from the anger this produced when Tom introduced her to his friend Neil. Tom was a large, well-built man, but Neil was something else again. He had long blond hair, an almost beautiful face, and an enormous chest barely contained in a tight T-shirt. He had narrow hips and long, well-muscled legs, and she felt an instant hum of attraction.
His wife was something else again. like him, Kelly was blonde, with short hair and thick bangs. She was tall, too, at six feet, and had a cool, intelligent-and gorgeous face, with a narrow, finely sculpted nose and deep-blue eyes. She had a lithe, athletic body, and like her husband, wore just shorts and a tank top-hers cut off just below large, firm breasts.
There was a certain coolness to her, Erin thought, a kind of faint contempt for anyone she thought of as inferior-which, Erin guessed, was almost everyone. She admired that kind of thing, since she affected it herself, and the two of them exchanged faint smiles.
Kelly turned out to be a police detective while Neil was a firefighter. Erin's annoyance at the lack of air conditioning mounted, since between them they were making decent money, but she didn't mention it. Neither of them seemed to be especially bothered by the heat, so she decided to try and ignore it herself.
She felt another kind of heat, though, whenever her eyes fell on Neil. He was just an incredible example of the male body, and she couldn't help wondering what he'd be like nude, what he'd be like in bed. She quickly realized he wasn't terribly bright or very educated. He was nice, though, very sweet, so she supposed that was what Kelly saw in him-along with his body.
In her present state of mind, she paid only passing attention to the conversation, her mind running through fantasies of what she'd like to do with Tom, and then, several times, with Neil. Not only was she getting hot on the inside, though, she was getting quite hot outside. She was sweating, and her perfect hair was starting to lose its bounce. Several times, she made a move to take off the jacket, only to remember what she had on beneath. "You should take that off, honey," Tom said. "You must be hot."
She gave him a sour look.
"Really. We're not very formal here, Erin," Neil said. "I'm okay," she lied.
That was idiotic, of course, since she kept wiping the sweat off her forehead. Finally, she had to shrug off the jacket, even though the stretch knit was wrapped around her body, particularly her breasts, like plastic food wrap. She saw Tom's eyes get wide, and Neil did a double take and blushed.
She thought about explaining, but instead just brazened it out, pretending nothing was unusual. Nobody else made a comment either, though the conversation was a bit awkward for a couple of minutes.
The odd thing was that after her initial embarrassment, she found herself feeling kind of turned on by the way Tom and Neil kept sneaking glances at her chest. It wasn't like she usually liked that kind of thing. In fact, normally, she dressed to minimize notice like that. But just then, she was feeling a kind of liquid heat at the pit of her belly as the two men kept sliding their eyes over her body.
Her nipples began to erect, which certainly didn't help matters. When aroused, they become like two soft, juicy raspberries, and the stretch knit was molded to her body, easily showing her nipples even when they were soft.
"I'll, uhm, just go to the powder room," she said, getting up, arm covering her chest.
She scurried away from them, realizing as she did that the soft knit was also now molded to her bare, perspiring behind. She groaned when she saw her image in the mirror. The dress was plastered even tighter to her body than she'd feared, and her nipples were lewdly obvious as they pushed against the thin fabric. She bent and turned on the cold water, splashing it against her face, wondering how she could cool off on both the inside and the outside.
She gasped as another form loomed behind her.
"Oh, Neil," she said with a shaky smile.
"Hi. Feeling okay? Heat getting to you."
"A little," she admitted.
"It's not bad once you get used to it. But Tom says you're used to air conditioning. It is kind of sticky tonight, though." He peeled up the bottom of his tank top and wiped his own face, then shrugged and pulled the shirt up and over his shoulders. She stared at his perfect, washboard stomach and powerful pectoral muscles in the mirror, feeling a purr of delight at the back of her mind.
He bunched up his shirt, rubbing the sweat from his chest. "How about a nice fruit cocktail? Something with a lot of ice in it?"
"I-I'd like that," she said in a shaky voice.
He squeezed her shoulder and left, calling out to the others in the living room, asking if they wanted anything.
She stared at herself in the mirror and bent to scoop more cold water up, telling herself she was acting like a bitch in heat. Tom was a wonderful husband and she loved him dearly. Even if Neil, just then, seemed to be just about the most perfect hunk of male flesh she'd ever seen in her life.
"Get your mind off your pussy, girl," she whispered, brushing her hair back from her forehead.
She did look good though, she thought proudly. She arched her back again, gasping a little at how her breasts thrust out, how the thin knit fabric molded itself to her body.
She felt Neil's approach and started to shift her position, then hesitated, instead combing her fingers through her hair. He came around the corner and looked her image in the mirror up and down with approval. "Here you are," he said, sliding a thick glass of some liquid onto the counter.
"Thanks," she sighed, taking her arms down.
"You look hot." His hand slipped onto her shoulder again, squeezing.
"I am," she said, not sure of which kind of hot he meant. His eyes looked up and down in the mirror and she felt a tightness in her belly, her eyes drawn like magnets to his powerful chest.
"You just have to get used to the heat," he said, moving behind her, both hands on her shoulders now, massaging them. "Take your mind off it. Forget about how hot and sticky it is."
She felt him press his loins against her backside and a shock rippled through her.
"You know, me and Tom have known each other for ages. There's nothing we haven't shared. Nothing at all."
She was sure he didn't mean what that sounded like.
"Do you know how attractive my wife is?"
She blinked in surprise, then nodded.
"Tom always had a weakness for blondes."
She frowned in confusion even as he leaned in, his lips brushing the back of her neck.
He was coming on to her! Tom was just in the next, room and...He slipped an arm around her, his hand on her belly, and she felt her legs go rubbery.
"You are gorgeous," he whispered, his breath in her ear. "I...I can't. I mean...Tom..."
"Tom and I have an...understanding," he whispered, his lips sliding along the nape of her neck.
An understanding? What in God's name could he mean by that? His hands slid upwards and she stared at the mirror. They stroked slowly up and down against her ribs, then higher, up under her breasts. She felt a hot shimmer of desire as they stroked the underside of her breasts, then lifted them gently, cupping them, then squeezing them in.
Her nipples ached as his thumbs pressed against them, rolling and stroking them, and she found she could hardly breath.
One hand slid down then, easing along her belly, down over her abdomen and in against her groin.
She stared at the mirror, dazed, watching his big hand as it pressed in against her.
"N-Neil," she gasped.
The fabric was so thin and stretchable that his fingers easily pushed it in against her cleft, rubbing up and down against her as he bit lightly down on her throat. His other hand moved around her then, rising to cup her breast.
Her nipples were on fire, and her breasts swelled and throbbed.
"Neil, we...w-we can't..."
His finger was stroking up and down against her slit, against her seeping opening. She gasped, spreading her legs, gasped again as his fingers pushed into her, pushing the elastic material in through her hot, swollen pubic lips.
"Oh, God! Oh, God!" she whispered, her hips rolling helplessly, pushing against his fingers as they forced the material up into her sex. His thumb searched out her clitoris, stroking lightly against her dress there, and her legs shook and trembled, her head jerking back as a spasm hit her.
His ringers walked down her dress, then dug into it, tugging it up. She felt it sliding along her legs. His fingers pulled slowly but continuously, and the dress continued to rise, reaching her knees, then easing up higher, baring her thighs.
She stared, enthralled by the sight, watching as her softly furred opening was bared, watching as his fingers slipped between her legs. Then, she could watch no more. Her head jerked back, then again, her back arching, her hips bucking helplessly and violently against his fingers.
She could hardly breath as her chest locked. She felt her head throb, then her vision blurring as she grew faint. She was humping against his fingers like a wanton whore as he squeezed one of her breasts tightly and sucked on the side of her throat.
"So fuckin' hot," he whispered.
She collapsed against him, groaning, and he kissed her shoulder, then eased his fingers out of her and pulled the dress higher, baring her belly, bending her forward.
She spread her legs wider, wider still, raising her ass, feeling a burning sensation between her thighs as her breasts were squeezed up against her arms. She heard Tom's soft voice from the living room, then stiffened and shook as she felt Neil's cock slide into her dripping pussy.
She felt a sexual haze rolling over her as his hands slid up under her dress to cup and squeeze her breasts, pushing them up and together. His lips pushed in against the nape of her neck as he fed her inch after inch of hot, throbbing male meat. All her concentration focused on the glorious sensation of his cock shaft as it slid endlessly through the hot, swollen lips of her sex. Just as she thought she could surely not take any more, his hips pressed in firmly against her sweating ass. He was fully inside her, and she felt impaled. His fingers pinched and twisted her hard nipples as he ground his hips against her, and she felt the soft hair around his cock rubbing against the underside of her buttocks.
She pushed her ass back helplessly, gasping as he gave a short, sharp thrust, then another. Her insides were twisting and churning and her mind was gripped by a wanton lust, an uninhibited need for sex-hot, hard, raw sex.
He pulled back, then thrust again-sharply. She gasped in reply, pushing herself back. Again, he drew back, then started pumping, his hips striking her ass repeatedly, his cock slicing back and forth between her burning pussy lips.
"H-harder," she gasped.
He increased the speed of his strokes, one hand tugging back on her hair as he leaned in, growling, chewing and suckling on the side of her throat. His hands moved roughly over her body, under the dress, riding up and down, fingers pressing against her ribs, then sinking into the soft flesh of her breasts.
There was a small mirror sitting on the counter not far from where her face was nearly pressed against the wall. She looked at her face, the dazed expression of pleasure, then her eyes slipped past herself and saw the doorway.
Tom was there, watching, but not with anger. He smiled, excitement in his eyes, and next to him, looking over his shoulder, was the blonde, Neil's wife. She saw her hand inside his pants, moving up and down against it, and her eyes closed as she shuddered to the power of a massive orgasm.