Karim al-Zib - Her week at mountain mansion

Ron chuckled and turned to lead the way into the house, which happened to belong to Melville himself and was opulently furnished and decorated. It was a house that befit a man of Melville's stature and importance as chief stockholder and head of a corporation like Intercorp. Cherie was shown to her room and given a while to rest and freshen up before the start of her duties at what was to be a daily meeting of minds of the heads of the productive head of the corporation.

Their day began at three that afternoon when the entire party of nine executives and three secretaries sat at the giant conference table to plan the next four months of business operations at Intercorp. The work was concentrated and sweaty for her, but Cherie still found time to glance up often at Ron Wolter, and many times she found him looking at her with soft eyes. And she smiled back. When the meeting broke up at seven-thirty, Cherie was exhausted, still reluctant to leave Ron Wolter's exciting presence to go to her room to retire for the evening.

Dinner was brought to her and after a quick bite, she showered, dressed in her sheer blue nightgown, and went to bed. And that was when she was awakened by the activity down by the pool, below her window. The sound of movement and the voices of a man and woman attracted her from her bed in curiosity. She crept quietly to her window and peered out, seeking the source of the sounds that had roused her from a troubled sleep. It didn't take her long to find Diane Layne and Cleophas Powell, for they were down on the pool deck on a thick blanket entwined in a lustful embrace.

At first, Cherie had recoiled from the sight. She knew people did those things, that married people made love, and that sometimes even people who weren't married did those things, but she had had no idea that it had looked like that. Cleophas' strong, black buttocks were rising and falling, driving his huge, glistening ebony penis into Diane between her wide-spread, uplifted legs. The girl's pretty features were contorted with lust and passion and unrestrained grunts, groans, and sighs were rushing out between her wet lips as Cleophas moved upon, and inside of, her.

Cherie looked around to see if anyone else was watching from the other open windows – perhaps she wanted to see if there anyone could see her watching those down below – and when she concluded that she was alone in her curious voyeurism, she kneeled on the soft, wide couch that backed up to her window, and settled down to watch. She knew it was wrong to be so curious, so interested in this illicit act, but in her innocence and inexperience she was so strongly attracted to what was going on, perhaps because of her unhealthy interest in Ron Wolter, that she couldn't help herself. She began to fantasize that she was doing this very thing with the handsome young man and her fingers strayed across the chiffon covering her belly to her smooth, warm thighs and thence to the tender, damp spot between them where she found the center of her own pleasure, just as she had on several other occasions when the heat in her own healthy body became too much to bear. She really couldn't imagine herself doing the thing that Diane was doing down there, not with any man before marriage, and especially not with a black man, which she found repellent, but she could fantasize as long as it was someone else down there.

So when her body had shaken in one of her rare self-induced orgasms and the juices had flowed from her tingling, pink pussy down her fingers, Cherie had burned with shame before lying back on her bed and finished the night with a deep and well-deserved sleep.

The next day was more of the same in the conference room, with Diane Layne sitting nowhere near Cleophas nor acknowledging any kind of attachment to him as indicated by their activities of the night before. It seemed incredible to Cherie that two people could do what they had done and act so cold and aloof the next day. She supposed it had something to do with protocol and decorum. Of course they had made love and there were no house rules or company rules against that. Cherie had heard the girls in the office talking about it, about the things they did with men, so even though she had been shocked and could not imagine herself doing such a thing willingly – at least, not before marriage – she knew that many girls did it with their boyfriends and men at the office. She had even heard one of the girls, Candy Holmes, talking about having had sex with the boss, Mr. Melville. While Cherie had stood at the coffee machine, pretending not to listen while Candy spilled the story to another typist, the naughty girl had talked excitedly about Mr. Melville's big, heavy body and his huge penis. Cherie had felt a frisson of fearful excitement shoot up her spine at the thought of the massive penis ramming into Candy's vagina, and, vicariously, into her own. Cherie had felt a dampness develop between her legs and she had had a hard time keeping her mind on her work the rest of the day.

Work had gone on that second day at the big house in the mountains with the same businesslike intensity as the previous day, but as they broke for lunch, Cherie's sharp eyes caught a furtive glance that passed between Sue Midori, a lovely Oriental girl and Vic Torres, the forty-ish man of Mexican descent who handled the company's business for Latin America. Curious, Cherie hung back, rearranging her note-pads while everyone filed out for a rest and a meal in their respective rooms.

Vic and Sue didn't see Cherie walking behind them when they ducked into the storage room in the hall outside the conference room. The door didn't close properly and the two conspirators didn't seem to care as they disappeared. Curious, suspicious, Cherie stopped and looked through the crack between the door and the jamb. It was a linen closet, with sheets stacked neatly on shelves and dinner settings on others but it was what Sue and Vic were doing on the bottom shelf that captured Cherie's attention.

Sue's blouse was already open and her small, round breasts were naked and being fondled and sucked by the ravenous Vic.

"I've wanted to get you like this for months," Vic groaned, his hands beneath her skirt pulling her panties down. Sue wriggled her thighs until the under-garment dropped around her ankles and then she stepped free of it. Vic pushed her skirt up above her waist and Cherie could see the wad of soft, black hair at the top of her thighs.

Vic cupped his hands under the girl's buttocks and hoisted her up on a cabinet. Cherie gasped as she saw Sue immediately part and raise her knees, revealing the wet, red slit of her pussy to Cherie's startled eyes. Vic was dragging out his penis – not nearly as large as that of Cleophas, but big nonetheless, swinging beneath the bulge of his round belly – and he lost no time in fitting the swollen, purple tip of the brown shaft into the young Oriental girl's waiting nook.

Cherie chewed her lip in growing excitement as she saw Vic's great member disappear into Sue's pussy with a wet slurp and his heavy balls swing solidly into the warm cup of her twitching anus beneath. So this is what it looks like when two people do it, Cherie thought. His thing in her vagina. And that's what I would look like if I did it with someone.

Cherie resolved again then and there that when she made love with her husband, she would do it in the dark so that she wouldn't look so funny. Then she smiled at herself. No one would be watching anyway, would they?

Cherie slipped away, already feeling the wetness between her legs. There was no need to get herself needlessly aroused. But wasn't it strange here, that there was so much sex going on and no one seemed to know? Everybody was doing it! And no one seemed to care. It was a bit frightening to think that possibly all the women here – except for Cherie herself – were doing it with one of the men. Cherie hurried on to her room for a shower.