|
For the Good of the Order, Part 1A
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
FOR THE GOOD OF THE ORDER
Copyright 1993 Hunter Jackson
Part One -- Bob's Tale
Shelley and I had been married for four years, when I heard about a
tremendous job opportunity in the Silicon Valley. The company was owned
by a very dynamic entrepreneur named Dave. Positions in Dave's company
were few and far between, primarily because his employees never left. So,
when I learned of an opening, Shelley and I were eager to pursue it,
even though it would mean leaving all of our family and friends and
moving over 500 miles away.
After submitting my resume', I was very excited to receive a call
inviting both Shelley and I to visit and interview. When I asked my
current boss for a few days off, I was surprised to find out that Dave
had called him and asked many questions, not only about my performance,
but also about my personal appearance and as well as Shelley's. Realizing
that the position was in sales, I quickly dismissed the inquiries as
logical. In fact, subconsciously, I thought this might
give me a leg up; Shelley and I are a very presentable couple when it
comes to wining and dining clients.
Admittedly, Shelley is, by far, more striking. Her lithe and taut,
five foot eight inch frame is topped by a truly beautiful face adorned by
long auburn hair. Her figure is devastating, with 35B breasts and a
killer ass and legs toned to perfection by daily aerobics. Since she was
a virgin when we married, I alone fully enjoyed the fruits of her labors.
In contrast, my physique is not so overwhelming. I'm six feet tall and
thin with a hairless chest. My blond hair and fine facial features make
up for my lack of muscles.
The interview dinner went quite well. Having never met Dave before, I
expected a gray-haired, mature middleaged man. To my surprise, Dave was
in his late 30s, in superb physical condition and extremely handsome.
Dave has dark hair, a strong jaw and piercing brown eyes. During the
dinner, it became evident that Dave was a master salesman, controlling
the conversation and punctuating his points with hypnotic eyecontact and
occasional touches.
Both Shelley and I were riveted by his powerful aura. He sized Shelley
up, and seemed quite impressed. She had outdone herself wearing a
lowcut and backless black cocktail dress that accentuated her figure
perfectly. When Shelley got up to go to the ladies' room, Dave's eyes
watched her ass as she walked away. Then he turned to me and said, "Your
wife is incredibly attractive. You are a very
fortunate man."
Proudly, I thanked Dave for the compliment.
"I imagine you can't keep your hands off her," Dave continued. "If you
love sex as much as I do, Shelley must keep you quite satisfied," he
stated as his stare left me transfixed.
"Well, she is an extraordinary woman," I proffered somewhat awkwardly.
Changing subjects, Dave went to explain that he did not marry because it
would cramp his style. "But," he explained, "I only hire married men. I
find that they are more committed to the job and are willing to make all
necessary sacrifices for the good of the order."
After dinner, back in our hotel room, I emphatically told Shelley that
Dave was a boss that I had to work for and this was a job I had to have.
While supportive, Shelley seemed uncomfortable. "He strikes me as brash
and arrogant," she opined.
"That's the essence of success," I replied. "Power."
"Well, Mr. Awestruck, you should know that he also placed his hand on my
knee during dinner while he regaled you with the performance history of
company employees." Shelley went on to confide that as we walked out of
the restaurant with Dave in the middle, his arms around us both, his hand
cupped the side of her breast.
I quickly dismissed her alarm by rationalizing that Dave was a tactile
and demonstrative person.
"Okay, if you say so," Shelley submitted, "but, don't leave me alone
with him. His power games make me uneasy."
"Don't worry Shelley," I comforted, "while I'm playing racquetball with
him tomorrow, you can hangout by the pool"
That night we made love. Shelley initiated, which was unusual. While
Shelley and I are kindred spirits, our bedroom activities do not set off
the smoke detector.
After mounting Shelley missionarystyle and thrusting into her tight
pussy for a couple of minutes, she stopped me and guided my head between
her thighs. This was not particularly abnormal, since I have never been
able to bring Shelley to an orgasm with straight intercourse. Instead,
she will only come if I go down on her or if she masturbates herself.
Of course, I can't complain. Nothing thrills me more than feeling the
soft brush of her silky, auburn pubic hairs on my cheeks as my tongue
dances around her clitoris and labia's lips.
Yet, that night, Shelley's desire seemed urgent and desperate. Her
pussy emanated the heat of passion as she tilted her pelvis and ground
herself into my face. Her eyes were tightly shut and she through her
head back when she reached a violent orgasm very quickly. Instead of
allowing me to reenter and come inside of her convulsing pussy as was
our normal pattern, she stroked my cock to climax with her hand. Coming
was very easy for me as I replayed the vision of her
quivering body as she clenched her teeth in orgasm.
I probably should have saved my strength that night. The next day on
the racquetball court was not a pretty sight. Dave decimated me. After
he had complete control of the match, I swear that Dave took pleasure in
running me ragged around the court until he had beaten me into absolute
and unconditional surrender.
As I tried to regain my strength by soaking my head under the spray of
the communal shower, Dave walked in and slapped me on the back saying:
"Damn good effort, Bob, but you should realize that I never lose ... in
any endeavor." As we showered, I looked over at Dave. His victory was
not surprising considering his physique. Although a couple of inches
shorter than me, he had powerful muscles in his back, arms and legs. When
he turned around so that I could see his welldefined chest and washboard
abdomen, my eyes were drawn to his groin. Now, I'm not the type of guy
to look at other men's penises, but this was no average penis. Beneath
his dark brown pubic hair, hung a massive dick. Flaccid, it must have
been eight inches long with a girth comparable to a racquetball can.
Between his legs was a proportionately large scrotum. Yet, beyond the
sheer enormity of Dave's organ, was its beauty. I realize that this may
sound unusual for a straight guy to say, but it was truly magnificent.
Its bulbous head capped the slick shaft which merged into what appeared
to be heavyladened balls.
I must have been staring in an obvious manner, because Dave caught me.
I'm sure that I blushed. I'm not sure what was more embarrassing, gawking
at my prospective employer's genitals or realizing that my skinny,
sixinch dick was dwarfed in comparison. Dave just smiled and looked down
at his cock and boasted: "Yep, this is the monster that has launched 10,
000 orgasms."
As we toweled off, Dave made no effort to be modest. As he dried the
behemoth organ, he told me that his sex partners routinely experienced
three or four orgasms per fuck.
"I love the power and control that this gives me over women," Dave
remarked.
Dave and I then joined Shelley by the pool. I was surprised to find
Shelley wearing her tiniest white bikini that left very little to the
imagination and confirmed that her exercise program has been a success.
As we all engaged in small talk, Shelley must have been chilled because
her nipples were rockhard and strained against the thin material of he
swimsuit. After a little while, Shelley excused herself and went to
change. Dave's eyes followed Shelley's ass as she walked away. Perhaps
sensing something, Shelley glanced back and, noticing Dave's attention,
quickly wrapped her towel around her waist.
On the flight back, Shelley and I drank liberally in celebration of what
I felt was a strong interview. Somewhat giddy, I told Shelley about
Dave's endowment and claimed sexual prowess. While attempting to feign
indifference, Shelley interrogated me for specifics. After describing
everything in vivid detail, Shelley scoffed: "Well, it figures that only
the pompous are well hung. And, I sincerely doubt that his womenfriends
really come at all. They're probably just acting to protect his ego."
When we arrived home late that night, we were both still fairly
inebriated and went straight to bed. I was ready to sackout, but
Shelley had other ideas. Facing my feet, she straddled me and lowered
her pussy onto my face. She had never done that before, and, boy was she
hot and wet. As my tongue and lips went to work, Shelley gyrated and
swirled her hips while she also stroked my cock and fondled my balls.
Again, her orgasm was violent and she ground herself into my mouth.
Expertly, she then brought me off with her hands. During the night, I
think my sleep was interrupted by moans. I seem to remember opening my
eyes and seeing Shelley vigorously masturbating. Because of the alcohol,
my memory is blurry. Maybe it was just a dream.
Well, I was right. About the interview, I mean. I got the job.
Shelley and I immediately packed up and moved to northern California.
Initially, work was intense. Dave took a special interest in showing me
the ropes. Often, after work, Dave invited me out for a drink, sort of a
debriefing for the day's events. Dave also asked how Shelley was
adapting to Palo Alto. He seemed to be earnestly concerned,
although he also asked rather intimate questions about her bedroom
performance and responsiveness. Generally, I tried not to be too graphic
and quickly changed the subject to Dave's sexual escapades.
On this topic, Dave spoke freely. If he was to be believed, he was
quite a stud.
During one of our after work debriefings, Dave shocked me by confiding
that he had numerous sexual encounters with married women... and
preferred them to single women. "Married women are more appreciative and
eager to try the unusual. They also are willing to submit completely and
unconditionally to my desires," Dave related.
"Yeah, but aren't their husbands royally pissed?"
"Not really. If you think about it," Dave reasoned, "I am performing a
very beneficial service. I take the pressure off the husbands by
satiating their wives. Nothing helps a marriage like a wife who is
wellfucked with regularity. Matter of fact, the husbands tend to get sex
more frequently after my visits."
Dumbfounded, I sat there tonguetied.
Dave smirked. "In the final analysis, the greatest thrill about married
women is the sense of conquest. There is nothing quite like the feeling
when a woman who has vowed fidelity to her husband, spreads her legs and
bucks her hips to meet and welcome my hard dick."
I decided not share this information with Shelley. After all, I didn't
want to exacerbate the uneasiness she already felt when around
Dave. Deep down, I also felt threatened and anxious, although I was sure
that Shelley would never even consider straying from the straight and
narrow.
The next afternoon, Dave called me from his car phone to cancel our
regular afterwork debriefing at the club. He explained that he had
business to attend to outside the office. As I hung up the phone, I
breathed a sigh of relief. I didn't know if I could take any more
conversation about Dave's exploits with married women.
As I was cleaning up my desk to leave for the day, the phone rang. It
was Dave again, calling from his car.
"Bob, I just dropped off some work at your house with your wife. It's a
new project ... sort of unconventional, but one that I'm very bullish
about. You interested?" "Well, sure, I guess." I replied.
"Good. It's a project that I think you'll enjoy and one that could
spell a very bright future for you with the company. But, you had better
get home on the double. It's time sensitive and requires your immediate
attention. Enjoy!" Dave abruptly hung up the phone.
During the five minute drive home, I worried that Shelley would not
appreciate this unexpected project since we had planned to go out to
dinner. When I arrived, Shelley was not waiting in the living room with
the work papers as I had anticipated. I wandered through the kitchen and
then the family room when I heard sounds coming from the bedroom. In my
mind I prepared an explanation to lessen Shelley's
disappointment about dinner as I opened the bedroom door.
"Shelley, I'm sorry about din..." My words evaporated as I saw Shelley.
She was stark naked, lying on her back on our bed with her legs spread
wide with her right hand rapidly rubbing her clitoris.
All at once, my senses were bombarded. The odor of sex wafted through
the air. My eyes darted from the glistening sweat on Shelley's heaving
breasts to the white, viscous liquid dripping out of her swollen labia to
the three visible wet spots on our sheets. Shelley's heavy breathing was
rhythmically harmonized with the sloshing sound coming from her
manipulated pussy and punctuated by highpitched whimpers.
I grew flush and my heart pounded as the realization of what must have
transpired began to sink in. I stood transfixed, feeling as I might
implode. The shock and fear on my face seemed to fuel Shelley's
masturbation. Her body wrenched and air escaped from both her lungs and
vagina as she climaxed. As she writhed helplessly, I felt my blood
coursing through my erect penis and my testicles ached as my scrotum
tightened near my body.
It seemed an eternity that I stood, frozen at the foot of our bed. When
Shelley regained her breath and composure, she caught my glance and
flashed a wicked smile. Deliberately, she dipped her index finger
between her puffy folds and extracted a glob of semen that dangled
precariously as she used her finger to beckon me nearer. Zombielike, I
complied, kneeling between her legs and leaning in until our eyes were
but inches apart. With her stare locked on mine, Shelley smeared her
sticky finger on my lips, as if applying lipstick. Then, without saying
a word, she gently, but firmly, guided my head to her gaping pussy.
Still in my coat and tie, I lowered my mouth to Shelley's mound. I
remember it as if it happened in slow motion. Her reddish brown pubic
hair was matted with sticky come. Her labia's lips were engorged and her
vagina appeared stretched beyond anything I had ever seen. Dave's come
dripped like a lava flow from her opening. Apparently, Dave's load was
as large as his cock.
My tongue was overwhelmed by the tangy and salty taste. Tentatively, at
first, then hungrily like a man of the verge of starvation, I devoured
the remnants of this forbidden coupling. Visions of Dave's massive tool
thrusting into Shelley's naive pussy drove my desperate ministrations.
As I visualized Dave's balls tightening and launching his semen deep into
Shelley's belly, she again began to jerk in orgasm.
My face was coated with the mixture of juices as I frantically stripped
out of my suit. My cock was rigid and I plunged downward, entering
Shelley's tunnel in one unrestrained movement. I was engulfed in
slippery warmth as her pussy drew inside my entire member and seemed
willing to accommodate my balls as well. Missing was the vise-like
tightness that I had experienced since our wedding night.
Uncontrollably, I began to pump at a fierce pace. Immediately,
Shelley grabbed my waist and stilled my torso. "Go slowly. Don't you
want to know what happened?" Shelley whispered in my ear.
Continued in 2/3
|
|
