Vince Marcos: The office girls

Nick was pulling up his pants and zipping his fly. "You were a pretty good piece, baby. Maybe we'll see you again sometime."

"Yeah," Bruce nodded, stuffing his cock back into his trousers. "It was some ride."

She was smiling. "Hey, reach my purse over there, will ya?" she asked him, slipping back into her hot pants.

"Sure…" Nick scooped it up, but her wallet fell out. As he reached to pick it up, her noticed that her driver's license was sticking out. He read the name printed on it. Hmm… JACQUELINE SPAULDING. Holy Christ! They just cluster fucked Mark Spaulding's wife! The wife of Playpen's editor-in-chief!

"I'll take that, Mr. Renault," Jackie said slyly.

"Y-You know my name?" Nick stammered.

"Of course." She grabbed the wallet from his shaking hand. "I've met you before. Both you and Mr. Kane."

"Jesus Christ!" Bruce gulped, recognizing her, too. We didn't know…

"What's there to be sorry about?" she laughed. "I loved every minute of it."

Nick swallowed hard. "This… this ain't never gonna happen again…"

"What?" she snapped. "You've got to be kidding. I intend to have a repeat performance tomorrow night. At my home. Mark won't be around, so you won't have to worry about him."

"We couldn't fuck you again," Bruce said, steadily. "Knowing that you're Mark Spaulding's…"

"Oh, but you will. Again and again," she told them. "You don't think I'm giving both of you up, do you? Not after having the best time of my life just now."

"We never hit a chick more than once," Nick explained. "It's a one-shot deal. We hit and split."

"Well, if that's the case," Jackie said, swinging the purse over her shoulder, "maybe Mark might be interested in this little escapade tonight. It might make great bedtime conversation."

"You wouldn't tell Mark…" Bruce said worriedly.

"I might," she smiled.

"That's blackmail!" Nick growled.

"Damn right," Jackie giggled. "Just think, we'd make a great trio. It is agreed, isn't it, gentlemen?"

Bruce looked at Nick. "I…"

"Cunt's got your tongue?" she mused. Nick just kept looking at Bruce. Oh, Christ, how could they have possibly balled the boss' wife? How…

Carole Harris sat nervously, shifting the Scotch on the rocks in her hands and feeling her knees trembling. Steven Hayes was behind the bar of his apartment, mixing another drink for himself why had she come here with Steve in the first place? she asked herself, over and over again, looking around at his sharply decorated apartment. A typical bachelor pad. There was even music playing in the background. Soft music.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like me to freshen up your drink?" he asked her, grinning from behind the portable bar.

Her eyes darted at him suspiciously. "N-No, this one is fine."

Steven Hayes was not a bad-looking man for thirty-eight. He had a receding hairline and the top of his head was smooth, giving way to a crop of dark-brown hair, thick and well-kept. He was tall, six-one, and had a skinny body. His palms were hairy. His voice was low and sexy.

He strode from behind the bar and sat next to heron the black vinyl couch. "I hope you like this kind of music," he said, sipping his drink and keeping his brown eyes on her.

Carole didn't like him sitting this close to her. Goddamn that bitch, Marsha. She knew why she agreed to come to Steve's apartment – to get even with that jealous dyke! All those accusations about her sleeping with Steve. Oh, he was trying plenty, all right. The way he kept pouring it on, about how great she looked and what a good body she had. He even hinted about that rumored "big dick" he had that all the girls in the office talked about. Well, maybe she might see for herself, she thought angrily, seeing how Marsha had it all figured out. Why not fuck him? That would fix that scheming butch! She wondered what Marsha would say if she ever found out. Good, Carole thought, brightly.

That would piss her off royal.

Steven slipped his arm around her, setting his drink down. "You seem awfully upset about something," he was telling her, moving his hands around to her zipper on the back of her dress.

"A little…" she said, trying not to shrink from his touch. She had to do it, she kept telling herself. To get even with Marsha. "Just… a little."

Steve was moving a little closer to her, talking in his sexiest tone. "I hope you feel all right with me?"

She smiled, keeping her eyes glued to his. Rotten cunt Marsha – this would take care of her!

Steve lowered his head onto Carole's shoulder and he sucked on her neck gently. His mouth was like a suction cup, roaming her soft, sweet flesh. She could feel his tongue moving around, licking. His hand clutched at her leg.

"Oh… baby…" she moaned, losing herself in his arms. She reached out blindly, finding herself cupping his balls. There was something hard poking at her hand.

JESUS CHRIST! she thought wildly to herself. It was a BIG dick. She couldn't tell how long or how thick, but it was bulging out of his pants like a swollen banana. She petted his stiff cock, pulling in his ear as he sucked on her neck. Even what he was doing began to feel good.

"You like it?" he grinned, taking his mouth off her.

She nodded, not removing her soft, slender fingers from his thick boner. She looked down at it for the first time, seeing his tremendous hard-on pressing out between his skinny legs. As she watched it grow under her gaze, she could feel a few dribbles of fuck-juice oozing out of her snatch. Damn it, but it was the first time a guy had gotten her hot. Usually, it was just Marsha. Marsha, and her smooth, gentle hands, and her knowing tongue and her big set of jugs.

"Take it out of my pants," he said in his low, sexy voice.

She fumbled with his zipper nervously. She badly wanted to pull his prick out and look at it. The fly went down after a few short tugs. Carole could see the bulge peering out of his light-green underwear. Her long, lean fingers slipped into the opening and as she found his erect dong, she could feel it throbbing, pulsating. Steve kept his brown eyes focused on her face, and not on what she was doing. She could hear his breathing quickening as she found his slab of meat.

"It's so… hard," she gasped, holding it in her hands. "So stiff!"

"Take it all out of my pants," he said calmly, sitting there while she fondled the monstrous joint. "Pull the whole thing out."

She groaned as she touched his prick. It was standing up in the air, rigid as a baseball bat. How long was that damn thing? Eleven, twelve… she couldn't count the inches. And so THICK!

Caressing it in her clammy palms made her think: What would his prick feel like in my cunt? She tinged as the idea went through her mind. Jesus… yes, she wanted his cock there. She wanted him to ram his pecker up her cunt. It might be just like those dildos Marsha used on her, sticking those rubbery things way up into her tight twat.

She unbuckled his pants slowly, carefully. She was aware that she was getting him horny from taking her time. Nice and easy… She opened up his pants wide, then tugged at the light-green underwear, slipping his huge hard-on through the opening and taking it out through the other side. The furry nest of cock hair rubbed against the sides of her hands. Just like Marsha's patch of pussy hair. Just as soft… and bristly. She pushed her smooth hands down into his pants, cupping his balls, moving her fingers inside his legs so that the hairiness of them stroked her knuckles. Ohhh, his balls were so slippery and soft. His dick was just suspended, seemingly like feet, from his hairy stomach.

Steve's hand came up behind her, head, stroking it. "You're gettin' me hard, baby," he said softly, petting her head. "See what you do to me…"