Anonymous - The Oyster Volume VI

'Hallo there, Mister Scott, studying form for the big race at Kempton Park tomorrow?' he enquired, jabbing his finger at the newspaper which I had left open on the sports page. 'Your chum Mr. Carmichael has put a fiver on the favourite, Fletcher's Folly, at seven to two. Do you want something on it too? She's a fine little filly but between ourselves I don't think she'll stay for a mile and a half. Still, it's up to you, of course.'

'Well, let's see,' I said as I cast an eye over the page and then turned sharply away before jabbing my thumb down onto the list of runners. 'No, I won't back Teddy Carmichael's horse, as I've picked What A Cracker to earn a few bob for me. What sort of price will you give me, Sid?'

'Twenty-five to one, as it's you, sir,' he answered. I pulled out a sovereign and gave it to him saying: 'Yes, and the nag would be thirty to one to anyone else! Still, I'm feeling lucky today so I'll have a pound on the nose, please.'

'As you like, Mister Scott,' he shrugged as he slipped the coin into his pocket. 'Sure you wouldn't prefer to have ten bob each way? Because you've chosen a rank outsider, even though Martin Neild's a good jockey and will give the others a run for their money, especially if the going stays soft.'

'No, thank you, Sid,' I said lightly as I looked at my watch. 'Just leave the winnings with the porter at the Jim Jam Club on Saturday night, I could do with the twenty-five smackers.'

'So could I,' said the bookmaker with a friendly grin. 'That's fine with me, I'll be only to happy to pay you out at the Jim Jam if What A Cracker does the trick for you. I might even throw in a bottle of champagne because I've probably taken more than I should on Fletcher's Folly and we'll both be celebrating if What A Cracker wins the blooming race.'

'I'll hold you to that promise,' I said as I picked up my holdall, walked out of the restaurant and jumped on a passing omnibus to Bedford Square. As we rattled our way down Oxford Street I chuckled to myself as I wondered how Geoffrey MacArthur might react to Abigail Wiggins's steamy manuscript. There was still a happy smile on my face as I opened the front door of Hartfield and Moser's offices.

I made my way to my employer's office but neither he nor Miss Thompson, his personal secretary, were to be seen. I was about to sit down and wait for their return when a typist came in and told me that Mr. MacArthur had taken Miss Thompson to the third floor boardroom for a private conference, leaving strict instructions that they were not to be disturbed. 'Well, on my head be it, but I must interrupt them for just a couple of moments because it would be best not to leave this particular manuscript lying around. Don't worry, I know where to go,' I said to her as I picked up my bag.

So I trudged up the stairs, the thick carpeting muffling the sound of my footsteps, although when I reached the third floor the silence was broken by a familiar gasping noise that emanated from behind the frosted glass door of the boardroom. There was no mistaking these sounds and a wide grin spread across my face as I realized just why Mr. MacArthur had not wanted to be disturbed! I would have wagered a thousand pounds with Sid Cohen that, rather than planning the publication schedule for the busy Autumn months, my boss was engaged in a rattling good fuck with Miss Thompson, his attractive assistant who had always caught my eye on my weekly visits to the office.

It was inconceivable that the raunchy couple had forgotten to bolt the door so I shamelessly dropped down to my knees and peered through the key-hole. A scene which instantly confirmed my suspicions about this 'private conference' met my gaze!

The large mahogany table had been cleared of all papers and lying across it, stark naked, was Mr. MacArthur. His somewhat corpulent belly sagged without the restriction of the abdominal belt I saw lying across the back of a chair, but he could still be proud of the state of his thick prick which was standing up smartly enough and looked to be in fine fettle. Keeping his pulsing cock as stiff as a poker was Miss Thompson who was standing at his side and whose outstretched hand was rubbing his rigid rod. She occasionally varied the frigging by bending down and planting a wet kiss on his bared helmet. The pretty slim brunette was only half dressed, because Mr. MacArthur had undone the top buttons of her dress: her pert breasts had freed themselves and jiggled saucily up and down, mouth-wateringly ripe for the touch of lips or fingers.

'Rub harder, Annabel, there's a good girl,' grunted Mr. MacArthur. 'Ah yes, that's lovely. Now put your other hand round my balls and give them a gentle squeeze.'

Annabel Thompson obliged the managing editor of Hart field and Moser by caressing his ballsack in her hand while she continued to toss him off until, with a hoarse growl, Mr. MacArthur shuddered and a fountain of frothy jism shot our from the 'eye' of his knob, drenching her hands and liberally anointing the boardroom table.

'Oh dear, I hope the charwoman will be able to get rid of those spunky stains,' she remarked, sliding her hand up and down his shaft to milk the last drops of spermy cum from Mr. MacArthur's twitching tool.

I would have liked to call out to them that a dab or two of Professor Goulthorpe's Ail-Purpose Cleaner would remove all traces of their audacious tryst, but this would hardly have been wise in the circumstances. So I said nothing and kept my eye glued to the key-hole.

'Fuck the charwoman,' said Mr. MacArthur thickly as he pulled Annabel towards him and manoeuvred his hands round her back to unbutton the remaining buttons of her dress.

'That's a job for you rather than me,' she giggled as she stepped out of her dress and pulled her slip over her head. 'My word, Geoffrey, your prick has only gone down a little bit. How does a man of your age manage to keep himself so virile?'

Naturally, Mr. MacArthur was flattered by this compliment. He winked at her and said: 'It may merely be the luck of the draw, I suppose, but for what it's worth, I've found that eating only a light breakfast and taking regular exercise keeps me fighting fit. Now, my dear Annabel, if you would just give my cock a little suck whilst you take off your knickers, I think you'll find I'll be more than ready to fuck the arse off you.'

The willing girl obeyed and swirled her tongue over his knob whilst she divested herself of her drawers. Then she let out a tiny squeal as Mr. MacArthur pulled her up onto the table next to him and, grabbing her luscious bottom, pressed his mouth against hers. Annabel responded by wrapping her arms around him. However, Mr. MacArthur drew back to feast his eyes on her jutting young breasts and on the curly fleece of chestnut hair which covered her cuntal mount.

He slowly moved himself on top of her and pressed her knees apart to admire the glistening moist folds of her cunt. Holding his throbbing tool in his hand, he placed his straining bell-end between her puffy pussey lips and guided his cock into her juicy crack.

'Ahhh!' groaned Mr. MacArthur, swivelling round on the table so that his back was now directly in front of me as he slid into Annabel's slippery sheath. He began to fuck the delectable girl with short bucking movements, making his buttocks wobble in a sensual animated rhythm. She matched him thrust for thrust and they were soon rocking so fiercely that they seemed in danger of falling to the floor!

Her legs shook and trembled but it became clear that Mr. MacArthur would be first to cross the finishing line when he growled: 'I'm going to shoot into you now, Annabel! That's it, my girl, frig my cock with your magic little cunney muscles!'

'Yes! Yes! Oh, Geoffrey, I'm cumming with you!' she howled as she continued to squirm under the surging strokes of his pulsing prick.

'I'm spunking, Annabel! Feel it! Take it all!' he panted breathlessly. The raunchy pair moaned in a voluptuous orchestration of lustful sighs as they climaxed together. Mr. MacArthur pumped jet after jet of love juice into his secretary's eager quim as she gripped his bum cheeks and pulled his spurting shaft deeper inside her.