David Martin: Loaned wife

Her cunt contracted on him, powerfully, the muscles at the entrance of her honey hole clamping down on his cock like a virgin pussy. He knew she was coming, knew it even before he saw her jerking without beat over the desk, and that was the last impetus his already straining balls needed.

Tom grunted like a rutting animal. He crashed his loins forward at her. At the same time, he dragged her hips back at him.

The two met in an explosion, and he felt the head of his cock press into the aperture of her cervix.

"Aaahh-iee!" she grimaced, telling what she felt deep inside her. Her cervix had been forced open just enough to admit the top part of Tom's gums and then snapped shut again.

But as each spasm shook Tom, as the tube running along the underside of his cock swelled and jerked with the frothy spunk burning through it, as the torrents of fuck erupted from the tiny pee-slit in the head of his cock and shot into her womb, landing with heavy, telling splashes, she spasmed all along the length of her vagina and her cervix dilated and contracted as well, massaging the head of his cock like knowing lips.

She was coming as well, coming at the same time he was. He could see her ass clenching and unclenching, feel her hips jerking, out of time with his own, follow the way her long, sleek thighs trembled and her knees weakened. In the glassy reflection on the rosebud surface of the desk, he could see her stomach squeezing and tightening as she felt the jets of his heavy cream landing inside of her.

It seemed like he came for a long time, but finally, his spasms slowed, became halting, irregular. And then, when at last they stopped and his cock began to shrink inside of her and she was simply shuddering in the last throes of her own coming, he suddenly and without warning, pulled his prick out of her.

Even the stimulus of that wilted penis being yanked out of her tight pussy elicited powerful sensations within the young woman. She began to take, her entire body quivering, as if she were starting into a seizure, a fit of some kind. She let her upper body go flat onto the desk, top and reached around with her own hand to take her clitoris between thumb and two fingers and twiddle it till she gave a tiny screech, a last, great, slow motion shiver – and then limpened.

Tom pulled his pants back up and did his belt, then tucked his shirt in. He stood there, forcing himself to calmness, fighting the weakness from his draining orgasm.

He looked down at her exposed cunt and pubic hair, matted with her own secretions and the drooling overflow of the cum he'd shot into her just moments before. He looked down at her smooth, pale ass, and the tiny hole peering out from between. He looked down at her wide-spread legs and the way the muscles at the backs of her thighs still contracted.

He looked down at this, noting the heaving of her back as she sucked in great draughts of air. Then he put his hands on his hips and said, quietly, "Well," drawing out the word, "if you're quite finished shall we proceed with the day's business, Allison?"

She groaned and pushed herself up from the desk top. There were two damp, circular spots left on the glossy surface where her breasts had pressed, and a single, wider, less defined area where her stomach's convulsive contractions had dampened the high polish.

She stood up straight, one dainty, manicured hand still flat on the desk as much for support as balance, and slipped her feet back into her high heels. They'd fallen off sometime in the course of the encounter, though Tom wasn't sure just when and strongly doubted that she knew any better than he.

When she turned to face him, her face was as composed as it ever was – except for the two spots of bright color, high up on her cheeks, in lingering testimony to her ecstatic responsiveness to his crude fucking.

"Uh, I must obtain some panties somewhere, Mr. Jamison," she said, still trying to catch her breath. "You have quite destroyed mine and I can't go around without panties."

He stared at her long and hard before answering. When he did, he made his voice a dismissal of such concerns as pure pettiness. "Have one of the girls from the secretarial pool run out and get you some pantyhose," he said. "You've never hesitated to use them for personal business before."

At that, the two spots of color spread. She'd thought none of the executives knew of her tactic of brow-beating the lowly girls in the pool. "Take two or three bucks out of the coffee kitty."

"Do you expect me to go outside, into the outer office, without any panties to get the money?" she asked, some of that haughty tone returning.

"I expect you to have the entire affair taken care of within five minutes," he said coldly. "However you do it."

She stood uncertainly in the middle of the carpet, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as her boss calmly walked around behind his desk and sat down.

When she realized that he wasn't going to take her hint and fetch the money himself, she whirled and stalked to the door, each stride bringing the hem of her dress up almost to her flat ass cheeks. Then she halted, smoothed the dress down, and stepped into the outer office corridor.

A few moments later, she returned, face livid, lips drawn tightly back in anger. "The mail boy brought these," she said tensely, and tossed a few envelopes onto the desk.

"You will pick them up, Allison," he said.

She gave him a look of defiance, a look that melted as he gazed unwaveringly into her eyes. Then she bent both knees and picked it up.

Of course, in so doing, the hem of the dress crept up and he could, quite clearly, see the still gleaming lips of her pert young cunt peeping out from between the soaked, matted mess of her pubic hair.

Then he realized why she'd been so angered by the mail boy. The coffee kitty was kept in the only drawer of her desk which locked – the bottom drawer on the aisle side. The mail boy must have gotten a show to fuel his fires for a year to come, Tom thought and it made him smile to himself.

She saw that smile and it angered her so that she couldn't restrain the words. "I think you had better wipe that smirk off your face, Mr. Jamison. You know how word gets around here. Especially between us girls."

He continued smiling. "Listen, cunt," he said in a quiet voice filled with venom, "if this gets out, I'll do it to you again – just as hard, the way you love it."

Her face went scarlet again. Did she think I didn't know how much she was turned on? he wondered. Then he continued. "The only difference is, this time I'll stick it up that tight, hairless little ass of yours. And then you'll know what it feels like to really be taken by a man."

Her jaw sagged. "You wou…" She cut herself short. The expression on her face told him that she would.

For the rest of the morning, her primary difficulty was concealing the way her cunt was secreting its sloppy juices from him. Because every time she thought of Tom fucking her with that enormous weapon of his, her pussy starts drooling again. But then, it wasn't her pussy that would suffer if he did.

Tom's humor was improved by the time he got home. He prided himself on his self-discipline, on being able to keep problems unrelated to home out of his home.

His daughter's enthusiastic greeting helped, too. Penny was barely thirteen, and her happy hug, pressing firm, budding young breasts against him through her T-shirt and his jacket, only served to remind him that his little girl wasn't so little any more. He heard the years creeping up.

Her enthusiasm wasn't however, strictly due to his return home. She'd gotten her report card. And her average was well over a B.

He didn't need her gentle reminder. He'd promised her a phone of her own is she achieved the grade average.

So despite his gladness at her good marks, despite his mellow happiness at realizing that his little girl was developing into a lovely young woman, he still could not escape his money troubles.