Grand Slam Homer

The tall, nearly naked married woman began to strip in front of me, and barked her direct order like a drill sergeant. "Fuck me really hard, I want it hard this morning. Fuck me so deep and hard today, got it?"

Hey, who was I to argue with a demand like that?

She stood in front of my bed at dawn as the rising sunlight cascaded through the window shades, and removed her black pencil skirt, spreading her legs to do so, and her tuft of light brown curly pubic hair was cast in a silhouette from my vantage point, sprawled on the mattress, stroking my thickening cock in anticipation of this now weekly tete-a-tete with my married co-worker, Maureen Stanton.

I worked for a national shopping center development company based in Northern Virginia, just outside the nation's capital, named McAllen-Gray. The employees in our corporate office were about seventy-five to eighty percent women, most of them educated, attractive, unattached, and each one seemingly more horny than the next. A dream scenario for a single, recently divorced, thirty-five-year-old male.

So, why was it that I somehow ended up being attracted to the married ones, or for today at least, this married one in particular?

Maureen eased her impossibly long, stocking-clad legs onto the bed and bent down to fondle my cock with two hands, grasping it firmly from my own grip, and she smiled at me lustfully just before she began to lick and suck on my heavy, swollen balls, taking one sac in each hand and lifting my ass off of the mattress with unambiguous intent. Her musky scent wafted through the air and mixed with her flowery perfume to permeate my small bedroom, the tactile combination causing my cock to grow even mightier in appreciation.

"God, I love this beautiful cock. Please fuck my mouth first, I want to taste you before you split me apart with this monster."

Oh, yes, that was why. I suddenly remembered as I watched her cheeks expand to accept my cock. Selective memory.

I had fucked about a half-dozen female fellow employees since I started working for McAllen-Gray late last year (my envious friends called it a corporate whorehouse, and they weren't far off in their description), but Maureen was the only married one. So far.

Prior to starting our Wednesday morning pre-dawn 'workout sessions', Maureen had confessed to me that she had very little experience in cock sucking men of ample dimensions, and she had heard from the office rumor mill ( a hot little blonde named Laurie who was the assistant to the CFO), that mine might be a good place to practice. Being a gentleman and a teammate, of sorts, I cordially donated about seven-and-three-quarter inches of my services, and over these last few months, Maureen had proven to be the eager and talented pupil.

It didn't hurt, either, that she was about six-feet two, a lean, muscular part-time athletic trainer and possessed a cunt tighter than the wallets of the owners of the woebegone Pittsburgh Pirates, perennially last in payroll and on-field performance in the National League. Unfortunately, Maureen had tits that were smaller than the Pirates' game attendance, too. But those magic and fit kegel muscles of hers now regularly weaved their vaginal magic on my cock for an hour or so a week on Wednesday mornings while her legal Neanderthal hubby assumed she was attending early-bird yoga sessions, and, well, who am I to pick nits over little tits when she had the tightest of slits?

She was in a loveless, sexless marriage with the affluent, obnoxious personal injury attorney. I met the guy once at a company social function, and he bore an uncanny resemblance to one of the Geico cavemen (how come those guys never were given names, anyhow?), a tall, hairy, unkempt, geeky looking guy who apparently hadn't touched his hot wife's taut body in well over a year. I guess because of that, I didn't feel the slightest twinge of remorse for banging the bottom out of this legal beagles' trophy wife.

On this particular morning, though, Maureen, always bursting with libidinous energy (think Jane Fonda on stilts with a chest flatter than a dead man's EKG ), was essentially combining her blowjob warm-up duties with a verbal deposition of her own, taking inventory of my internal office conquests.

"Not that it's any of my business," she mumbled between slurps while drooling saliva on my cockhead, "But are you fucking Laurie Mason any more?"

I shook my head to indicate a 'no' response, and grabbed my own hands tightly along the back of her curly locks, tumbling down over my dick, like a jockey reminding his filly to remember the task at hand. Suck, baby, suck.

The truth was that cute little Laurie had given me an ultimatum once she became aware of my philandering activities. I really liked Laurie, she was fun, smart, and attentive, but that was a big mistake on her part.

Maureen resumed her assault on my cock, about half of the shaft occasionally disappearing down her throat. She came up for air, temporarily suspending her oral probe in return for a verbal one, seemingly determined to place me at the scene of some crime with some female accomplice, somewhere.

"How about Janet Smith? How about her, have you fucked her?" I shook my head more vehemently and frowned down at her, pointing to my cock as a directional guide. South, baby, south. A little less conversation, a little more sucking, isn't that the way they song goes?

Janet had sucked me in the front seat of my Lexus after a happy hour two weeks ago, but I'd responded truthfully, even though I wasn't under oath. I had not yet fucked Janet Smith, the curvy office manager who was hired for her eye-candy attraction to clients and tenants. Apparently, she'd been on the period that night, but I assumed the offer to fuck Janet was valid for future redemption since she kept moaning, "God, how I want to just sit on this huge thing. I can't wait to have you sometime soon."

Janet Smith, indeed. Hmmmm, now there's an idea for later today, perhaps. But, for now, keep sucking, Maureen, if you'd be so kind.

By this time, however, Maureen had apparently concluded the oral warm-ups for this morning's aerobic activities, and mounted me slowly, easing those lean, loooooooong legs over my torso, straddling me, as her gaping cunt surrounded my cock in a sensational death-grip as her creamy, sopping pussy caressed me inch by inch on her slow descent.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes dreamily as she sensually rocked back and forth on my cock, which was only perhaps half-way inside of her warm tunnel, moaning huskily, savoring the mutually enjoyable sensation of big cock meeting tight pussy. But she wasn't finished with her line of questioning. "Diane Weston tells me you're fucking her new assistant, Liz. How old is she, about nineteen?" Maureen had never opened her eyes while posing this latest inquiry, but now she gazed down at me with a mixture of little-girl-like curiosity and animalistic lust.

I gripped Maureen's tiny, slender pelvis roughly and threw her weight down onto me in one quick thrust, her pussy impaling itself on my manhood, nearly denting her cervix. I bounced her up and down, up and down, up and down, so that she was rendered speechless, her only sounds being indecipherable grunts and groans, laced in a tone of unmistakable ecstasy. I sneered up at her, admiring her long torso, writhing with extreme pleasure. "Maureen, I say this with ultimate and utmost respect, but shut up and fuck me. You wanted to be fucked hard, right?"

Her cunt clenched and unclenched in small tremors on my cock, and her lithe frame rocked wildly on my pole, and she flicked her engorged clit with two fingers of one hand, pulling at her minuscule, yet highly sensitive nipples with two fingers of the other. I took this as a 'yes'.

I flipped her over so that I wouldn't have to look her in the eye as I told her what I would tell her next. Her tight skinny ass hovered in front of me like a target, and I wanted so bad to take it right then, but we hadn't yet been able to convince her to surrender her virgin ass. Not yet, anyway.

I bore my cock into her pussy in one deep thrust, and as she groaned deeply, I confessed my sin. "Liz is twenty-three, but if it makes you feel any better, your cunt is much tighter. No one has a tighter pussy that you, Maureen." She leered over her shoulder in smiling approval as my balls slammed hard against that muscular butt of hers. It's all in the way you phrase things, I thought.

Knowing that I had her captivated mentally as well as fucking her vigorously, I continued my verbal teasing as I pounded into her. "Besides, I'm pretty sure she's bisexual. I'll bet she'd love to eat that tight pussy of yours and know what a real woman tastes like."

Maureen moaned loudly, no doubt thinking about that scenario, as I pulled her curly hair tight in my fist. I changed gears quickly, wanting to keep her distracted and off-guard. "And my friend Paul, who you met in the Shade Tree Tavern last week? He wants to fuck you, too, he thought you were smokin' hot. He wanted to know if you'd be interested in fucking us both at the same time, a threesome?" Her velvety cunt convulsed around my cock, my words having the desired intent. She was about to blow her cream.

"But I get your ass, Mo, we'd fuck you at the same time, DP you, and I'd fill your ass with my big dick while he fucked that hot, wonderful cunt of yours, what do you think, do you want two cocks, you cock slut, hmm?"

The gush of warm, sticky liquid that exploded from her tunnel expressed her excitement over that idea, and at that point, I had reached my own breaking point, also. I literally threw her up in the air and spun her. She landed with a 'plop' on her back, her pussy in a spasm and splashing cum, and I fisted my own cock and shot one, two, three, four hard shots of cum, then a fifth, and then a trickle, and another, and the last, directly onto her belly button, bullseye, each spurt landing perfectly in the crevice of her navel, creating a warm, oval pond of semen.

She lay there, gasping, panting, wide-eyed, and I scooped up a large puddle of cum and latched it onto two of my finger tips, and offered it to her lips. She sucked my fingers greedily, hungrily, the cum seeping from the corner of her mouth before she snaked her tongue out to recapture it, tasting my gift of seed.

I ran my fingers over the impressively large puddle of cum. It was one of my biggest loads in a long, long time, I'd even surprised myself with the intensity of my massive load of ejaculate. Maureen watched, paralyzed, completely submissive, and for the next few minutes, I gave her a small skin bath of cum, coating my fingers and smearing it into the skin of her face, her eyelids, her cheeks, her forehead, behind her ears, and lowered my fingers to her neck and collarbone, each touch of mine on her skin accompanied by her small whimpers. Her hips began to buck again involuntarily, craving insertion, wanting again my big, thick cock to impale her.

Instead, I continued her body-painting, moving down to her tiny breasts, circling her nipples and smearing them with the milky sex juice. I dotted each bony hip with a dab of cum, and for the finale, I lifted her legs up in the air, grabbing her by the ankles, and raised her ass off of the mattress, and rubbed the rim of her light brown puckered anus, lubricating it with the last drops of my cum, before lightly inserting my pinky finger into her asshole, and she groaned and shuddered into a closing climax.

I hopped off the bed and rubbed my still gleaming and semi-erect cockhead onto her face and she sucked the tip of it into her warm mouth, but I quickly pulled away. I walked towards the bathroom and tossed her a towel. "You can use the other bathroom to freshen up, sexy, but leave that cum smeared on your body all day. I want to see you walking around the office knowing you're coated with my cum." I heard my front door close moments later as I was shaving.

I exited the elevator of our office suite on the fourth floor at about eight-fifty-five, and as fate would have it, none other than Janet Smith was sitting at the receptionist desk, filling in until the regular receptionist arrived. Janet would have been fired long ago if she was judged merely on job performance, but a pair of 38D's and the sultriest voice this side of Susan Sarandon kept her gainfully employed. Her voice was a walking 900 number, she gave incredible phone, as they say, and it didn't hurt that the first image that prospective clients had when entering our office were Janet's big, firm, inviting tits spilling out of her inevitable low-cut blouse, sweater, or dress. Plus, she was naturally friendly and helpful, so much so that even the women in the office who wanted to hate her couldn't help but like her, too.

I'll bet there wasn't a male visitor to our office who could tell you a thing about the interior design or color of our waiting area, because their eyes were riveted on Janet's chest the entire time. It was entertaining to watch, and no one took more pleasure in the process than Janet herself. Phil, the human resource guy, confessed that he didn't even glance at Janet's resume when she came into apply for the job, yet she was hired on the spot anyway. Phil jokingly called Janet's unofficial job title, "Office Tits", and Janet assumed an appropriately inappropriate dress code daily, usually augmented by a dress or skirt that would be tailored to her body in such a tight fashion that would make Mae West proud.

This morning was no exception, a sheer cotton button-down blouse displaying copious amounts of large, freckled mammaries, and a tan miniskirt that ended maybe ten inches below the promised land. I was still exceedingly horny from my earlier jaunt with Maureen, and silently thanked Maureen and her interrogation for planting the idea in my head that I was about to pursue.

I smiled at Janet. Janet smiled at me. I looked Janet up and down admiringly, subconsciously licking my lips while I felt the familiar stirring in my loins begin to shake, rattle, and grow. Janet looked back at me, lingering at the noticeable intrusion burgeoning beneath the zipper of my khakis, while her lips pursed open in an "O" shape. Was it my imagination, or were her nipples beginning to protrude ever so slightly beneath her sheer blouse?

She slowly crossed and uncrossed her legs. Light blue panties today. Nice. And, no, it wasn't my imagination, those nipples were in a match race with my dick to see which could grow the fastest.

"Morning," I said, shifting my weight on the balls of my feet to adjust for the rising tide in my pants.

"Morning," Janet replied in that sweet pseudo-porn voice, parting her legs slightly, lowering a hand to her thigh seductively.

I looked around. The coast was clear, at least for a few seconds. If it wasn't for the ever-present security cameras, I would have ducked below her desk and run my tongue over the Carolina Blue lace of her thong. I opened my mouth to speak, but she beat me to it. Great minds were thinking alike, though.

"You know, Gus is still traveling this week," she said.

I nodded. Gus' office was among the most secluded in the office, he was the company's in-house architect, and he had the big corner office on the nearly vacant third floor.

Her eyes bore like a laser into my groin. "Would you be interested in helping me with a brief DICK-tation lesson down there?" She emphasized the first syllable so that her intent was unambiguous. Before I could reply, a tumble of late-arriving employees, including Anne, the regular receptionist, spilled out of the elevator cab.

We all merrily said our morning salutations to the arriving group as Janet brushed past me, her breast touching my arm in the small crowd of people in the lobby now. "Sure, then, happy to help, I'll bring those files now to you at ten, John, would that be OK for your schedule?"

"That'd be splendid, Janet, thanks very much for your help," I said as innocently as I could muster, watching her ass wiggle as she headed down the hall.

"My pleasure, glad to be of assistance." She looked over her shoulder at me. "Anytime."

At ten-oh-two, behind closed doors in Gus Perrone's vacant office, my stiff cock rested between the almost indescribably perfect breasts of our helpful Office Manager as she peeled off her pale blue lacy bra. "No time to fuck, not today, although God I want to, but Cheryl called a conference call for ten-thirty and I have to set up the phones." She grabbed both of my balls gently in her hands and eyed them up admiringly before soaking my testicles with her lathered tongue.

"A tit fuck and quick BJ will have to suffice," Janet said, beginning to engulf my cock in her palms. "But I insist on a rain check," she continued, reaching beneath her skirt with one hand and extracting her thong, handing it to me. "Here's your deposit and reservation. Return them, say, tomorrow night, my place?"

Janet's efficiency with a cock certainly superceded her full time day job performance, and after about seven or eight minutes of an eager and enthusiastic tongue lashing, I exploded my second large load onto my second fellow employee of the morning, right on Janet's huge target missiles, and then helpfully joined her in rubbing the protein onto her tits before she fastened her bra back on. Before she departed, she took two of my fingers and guided them into her steamy snatch.

We mutually explored her tunnel for a few tantalizing seconds before she pulled out as quickly as she had inserted them, and placed the sticky goo-cover digits to my lips. "Payback is most certainly NOT a bitch, John. Eat me first, then fuck me with that beautiful dick. Tomorrow night, seven o'clock. I'll e-mail directions to my condo."

By the time I returned to my office moments later, Janet had already electronically forwarded the directions, and included a graphic of a big set of ruby lips on her tag line signature. I perused through the remainder of the earlier e-mails that I'd missed while being the beneficiary of Janet's oral homage, and found one from Maureen Stanton. There was no heading, and I opened it before all the other e-mails that were pining for my attention.

"I love the feel of your cum up my ass hole. I'm sticking to my seat. And I liked your ideas this morning. Both of them. RSVP."

I drummed my fingers on my desk top in contemplation, while absentmindedly recalling that I had placed Janet's sopping thong in Gus' top desk drawer, and I made a mental note to go back sometime today to retrieve them, lest Gus would have quite a surprise upon his return. Impulsively, I picked up the phone and dialed the extension for Liz Woodson, the aforementioned young marketing assistant, nine months out of college and a proud alumni of Marymount University and their cross-country team.

Liz was relatively petite, but her legs looked like they could be on the cover of Runners' World, tanned, tone, and lean. Best yet, at least for my purposes, they had been wrapped around my waist and ass for a good portion of last weekend after I ran into her on the biking trail near Dulles airport. Twenty minutes later, her Spandex shorts were down around her ankles as I had her bent over a large tree stump in a small forest off the trail near Herndon, and we continued our impromptu workouts through that evening and into the following morning.

During that time, I learned that mine was the first cock Liz had enjoyed in many months, she had just broken of a bi-sexual relationship with her college track coach after the lesbian coach had chosen to bed down one of her current students. Liz was old news to the coach, apparently, and I was Liz' revenge fuck. Timing and opportunity is indeed everything.

"Liz Woodson," the voice on the phone cheerily answered, before she saw my called ID on her display. "Oh, hi, John, what a pleasant surprise." Her voice lowered and took on an icy tone. "Stranger." I hadn't seen nor spoken to Liz since our little marathon weekend encounter, and it was not by accident. Liz worked for the most powerful woman executive in the company, Diane Weston, the Senior VP of Marketing, and I had been still sorting out if it was in my professional best interests to continue to fuck Liz.