Chapter 4
She could go no further. Not by herself. And so she stood, not moving, as his hands snaked around her waist. They felt of her bare belly under the loose sweater, which didn't reach down to her low-slung hip-hugging jeans.
"Very smooth ... as always," he breathed into the back of her neck and she closed her eyes. She resisted letting her head go back to rest against him. She was not yet ready to be obviously cooperative.
But the rest of her body was taking matters into its own hands. Her nerves were still jumping crazily and her knees were beginning to lose their strength. She knew she wouldn't be able to continue the pretense much longer.
"Oh...." she sighed, but it was a sigh of anguish more than of contentment.
He chuckled and his hands slid under the sweater, higher on her belly. Up they went until they reached her breasts. There, very carefully, he closed them over each hot hill of flesh and her gasps were louder.
Joyce licked her lips and felt the hot prick continue to slide back and forth across her bottom. Its tip was heavy. Chuck was well hung, heavy in the cock and balls, and she knew when she saw it she would lose her mind. It had happened before.
His hands gripped her breasts lightly, massaging, twisting them and turning them like they were knobs on a door. With each movement they grew and when he scissored the nipples between thumbs and forefingers she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
"Admit you love it," Chuck rasped, his mouth only an inch from her ear. His breath stirred her golden hair.
"No," she gulped. "Please go away. You said you would when I asked."
"You waited too long, baby. No man could stop himself now-not with that body you got. And I got my hands on you. If old man Babcock himself walked in now he'd need to wait his turn. I'm gonna finish what's started."
Joyce couldn't deny him. Even if through some miracle he were to release her she knew she'd call him back. Just as she'd done moments before. It was time to stop playing games and let him have his way. No more talk. No more phony resistance.
His hands roamed her breasts for several minutes, until they were fully distended, their nipples aching to burst through their taut pink skins. He lifted them and let them fall.
"You got good ones, baby, if anybody ever asks. Heavy but no sag, you dig?" He seemed genuinely impressed and Joyce felt herself basking m his flattery.
But she kept her lips pressed together. She'd only make more of a fool of herself if she were to respond.
His hands slid down to her belly, where they pressed into the curve of firm softness. He seemed to be trying to press all the way to her backbone when he dug into her navel. It was her firing button and again she felt the moisture at her crotch. It was a smaller orgasm this time, but one that made her trem ble. He felt her shaking and he blew lightly into her ear in response. More shaking.
The fingers were at her fly, feeling the opened snap, finding the zipper and sliding it. Her damp pubic hairs felt the coolness as they were exposed. Her pussy almost literally leaped out of the crowded jeans.
He went to her hips and tried to pull the pants down, but they were too tight. So he went back to the fly and ran his fingers into the blonde hairs. She shook as he plucked at them and then she winced at the wonderful pain.
He shoved his hand deeper into the fly, where it was very tight. He got fingers down below the seam of her crotch and raked them across her puffy, damp lips, lips that were dripping with pleasure.
"Oh ... God!"
Chuck chuckled some more and she hated that laugh. She hated him, but she had to have him. It was all too primitive, too wonderful a feeling. No human being could take what he was doing to her and turn him away. Not now.
She arched her back to look over her shoulder at him and in that instant he caught her chin with his free hand. He held her that way, taut and twisted, half spilling out of her clothes, as he kissed her on the mouth.
She closed her eyes as his tongue went into her mouth and the hand raked again and again across her crotch. At last the jeans surrendered. They slipped from her hips and he shoved them halfway to her knees.
In the middle of her thighs her braced, stiff legs stopped them. But it was enough for him to be able to reach all the way under her crotch, to her ass, and then drag his hand all the way back around the circle where her body came together. "Oh ... I"
Her knees gave way, but the hand under her chin forced her up again. She leaned hard against the sink and thus she was prevented from falling to the kitchen floor. He never broke the kiss as the maneuvering hand forced itself between him and her, against her bottom. The cheeks of her buttocks shook as he patted and then kneaded the firm stiff muscles. He roamed her bottom, up and down the crack, and each time he tapped at the little rosebud of flesh at her hole she drew it tightly closed.
"You got a good ass, Joyce honey," he muttered into her mouth, the words muffled. "A fucking good ass."
The hand came away and she felt the hot cock rake across the buttocks crack. It lowered itself until it was up against her hole. A wave of revulsion ripped through Joyce and she wrested herself out of his grip.
"No!" she snapped. "I won't do that. Not with you. Go find yourself a Greek."
He stared as she pulled away from him and took several steps along the edge of the counter. She half stumbled from the loosened jeans, which slipped all the way to her knees. Together they looked down at her crotch. The blonde pussy was dark and getting darker as her excretions continued. She was flowing like a faucet in small, alternating spurts.
She blew out her cheeks. "God, if only you'd go away."
. "You'd kiss a candle and then ram it up your snatch if I did," he snorted.
She blushed furiously, ashamed he was right, ashamed of herself. God, if only she'd learn control. If only she could get this hot with Jim!
"Come up, let me go up your ass," he said quietly. He came back to stand over her.
She shook her head. "No. Not that"
"Someday," his voice was wistful.
"Never."
He wrapped his arms around her neck and pulled her against him. She came and her breasts flattened hard against his heavy chest. Below she felt his cock creeping across her lower belly until it was pressing into her hairs. He was high because, although Joyce was tall, he was much taller.
He bent his knees and the prick raked her upper thigh, where the flesh was incredibly tender. She flinched as the knob came to rest directly over her vaginal channel. He pressed and the first part of the giant knob tried to force its way inside.
She cried out as he pushed again. It hurt, but she wasn't afraid for it was a delicious pain. She loved it and she was ecstatic the instant the entire knob popped inside. The walls of her passage hugged it as though a thousand tiny muscles were responding like hands. They were urging him in, deeper, pulling with a rippling motion like a crawling snake.
He made a half strangled sound and then he rammed his body against her with all his strength. It knocked the wind out of her and for a moment Joyce saw spots whirling before her eyes. It went away at once.
She opened her eyes and looked down. Between her thrusting breasts she could see their pubic hairs mingled, their lower bellies joined. Below that she knew-felt-his prick far up into her like a lance. She marveled at where it had all gone.
Then he began sliding his hips in and out and the cock slid like a great piston, an inch back arid forth, then a half dozen inches, until he was pulling it almost all the way out before ramming it back in to the hilt. It hurt but Joyce loved every stroke. At once she pumped her hips back and forth in a motion in opposition to his own. It was effective and he turned pink very quickly.
"I'm gonna come," he said.
"I should hope so."
"I mean right now," he whispered.
"So do I. I'm coming." She felt the convulsions tear into her vitals again. Now how many times was that already? Three? Four? Who could keep count?
He kept pumping but his rhythm became erratic. He couldn't control his timing any more. Soon he stopped altogether on an outstroke, so only his head was hooked into her pussy. She could see his purple and slick shaft poked into her body like a great purple spear.
'In a second," he rasped.
"I'm waiting. Come on, you great big strong man." Her voice was mocking and he swore a dozen times.
"I'd like to split you in two, baby."
"You're not big enough," she taunted.
Then she felt his final swelling and as the first wave rolled down the length of his shaft he rammed himself all the way back into her, against the very base of her womb, so that Joyce indeed felt as though she were being split like a melon.
His jism came boiling out, slamming up into her vitals and then boiling back around his prick, squeezing along the sides and dribbling out on the floor from the hilt. He came again and again, which was a tribute to Joyce, because Chuck made out frequently along his route. Many days he didn't have the strength left to get it up. They sagged against one another for several minutes and then Joyce reached to turn on the hot water so they could clean themselves.
As they worked in silence and as her revulsion with this man grew, she thought about Jim and his boss, Scott English. Yes, Mr. English had been nice to her at the retirement party and now, it seemed, he had some sort of social contact in mind. Such contact could be a key to Jim's success. Lord knew he was due for a promotion, more money.
At last they were finished and Joyce went to the door with Chuck. "This is the end, you know," she said.
"Sure," he replied with a grin. "It's the end-for now. See you next week."
"I won't let you in."
His only answer was another of those funny high laughs. She stood with her back against the door, knowing that her affair with Chuck could be doing her some good if only she could use what she was learning-use it with Jim. But no, not when it was a deep dark secret.
If only they could be honest with each other....
Jim slumped in the chair, his eyes heavy. He'd wiped himself off and put his clothing back together so that he looked as tidy as a bank cashier ought. But he felt lousy. He was a God-damned cheater, a prick of a little man who couldn't keep his hands off the goodies, and who played toady to a boss with far more power than he had.
He raised his eyes to look at Sally. She was straightening her skirt where he'd mauled it. Her pants were in ruins and she'd flushed them down the private toilet just off Scott English's office. She sat across from him, straightening her stockings. Then she stood, her back to him, before the mirror so she could poke at her dark hair.
She had a good figure and he watched the flare of her hips. The knowledge that she wore nothing underneath her skirt aroused him again. All he'd need to do was reach up and he could put his hand directly on her snatch, that dark-rimmed treasure box that was still hot. He knew it was still hot because Sally was never satisfied with only one go.
The secretary peered over her shoulder at him, her red mouth turned up at the corners. "Stop worrying, for heaven's sake." Her voice grated at him.
"I'm still wondering what's going on with English. I think you know more than you're telling."
"You'll find out soon enough." The enigmatic smile broadened. "I only hope you remember who your old sack buddy is."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Sally sighed and came over, surprisingly, to kneel before him. She rested her forearms on his knees as she toyed idly with the point of his necktie. "You're a good man, sweetie. A better man than you think. You're hung up, that's all. You're ambitious and afraid to stand up to your boss. He can help you. I can help you. If you and your wife only had a healthy sex life everybody would be better off."
Jim frowned. "How?"
"By a bit of healthy swapping, if you must know. You and I have had our good times. We've learned things. You and what's her name-Joyce-could be doing this sort of thing together. By the way, me and my boyfriend, Jake, would be glad to come around to your house anytime for a session." She giggled. "Believe me, it works for us."
Jim felt an unreasonable twinge of jealousy rise in his chest. She and Jake? At his house to swap? Not likely. And he didn't understand what role Mr. English had in all this.
Sally leaned closer to him and her hand rested very lightly on his crotch. He knew she could feel the stirring of his prick, but she didn't grab at him in haste. "I'm sorry we're about out of time, lover. But there'll be other times."
Jim brushed her hand away. "No, this is the end. It's risky, it's kid stuff, it's dirty."
"Sex is dirty? Come on. Then the whole world is a cesspool."
"Perhaps."
She took his hand and placed it on her thigh, just above the top of her stocking where the short skirt had hiked up as she knelt. She waited and when he didn't move she poked the hand all the way up to her box.
Her hairs were still damp but they felt good and he couldn't resist closing his fingers over her purse. The lips were still swollen and warm, yet very soft, like slices of fine leather that had been worked until they were soft as butter.
"You see?" she murmured, her eyes fixed on his. "There's always something for you. But you're always going to feel guilty unless you let Joyce in on the act. You two should cheat together. Then you wouldn't be cheating at all."
They were looking at each other when the buzzer on the bank president's desk sounded. Sally was on her feet and rushing to the door to unlock it and fling it open.
"That's the jigger alarm," she blurted. "I asked Jane to push the button when Scott came into the outer office. He's here now."
After a final five-second inspection of each other, they bent over the papers at English's desk and that's how they were as the president came in.
English boomed his hellos and at once announced that he'd closed the loan deal with the bank in Los Angeles. Things looked good for Southwest Merchants Bank.
Then the president shooed Sally out and closed the door. And then he told Jim what had been on his mind. He told him exactly what he wanted and what it could get Jim-in the long run.