The Boss Ch. 05

I was fully nude, freshly laid, and nauseous with anxiety as I sat quietly at one end of Barbara's long, dark antique wooden dinner table. Barbara and her husband's Phil's house was in a secluded residential area near a fresh water lake, and birds chirped earnestly in the distance as the late morning sunlight whitened Barbara's modern interior via skylight.

I sat in a wooden chair; my hands nestled in my lap, covering my limp, flaccid penis, staring across the table at my equally mortified girlfriend, also nude, and also in a deep mix of horror and contemplation.

"How did we get to this point?" I wondered as our hosts Barb and Phil scuffled about the kitchen getting us coffee.

The whole series of events flickered before my eyes -- how Anne, my supervisor at work had seduced me, then encouraged me to pursue ___ sexually, even setting up our date at Barb and Phil's stately-home. I wondered if Anne had set us up. I wondered if behind her bookish glasses dwelt a perverse and sadistic mind.

"There there," said Barb, my boss, resting a manicured claw on my naked shoulder.

"Don't look so upset, Peter. Getting caught isn't the end of the world," she said.

Barb seemed honest in her nurturing, but I didn't trust her one bit, neither it seemed did Alli who was obviously less enthused to be held nude and captive in the home of two Italian-American yuppies.

"What do you want from us?!" stormed Alli, casting a menacing look at Barb.

"The same thing everybody wants," answered Barb. "A little respect."

Alli shut her mouth as Phil, Barb's husband came up from behind Alli and set his hands on her shoulders. Phil was a builder by trade, and his hands were thick and rugged, in contrast to his wife's hands which were graced by long fingers and coned fingernails. The hands of a manager.

"You should be lucky we don't call the police," said Phil in a light-hearted, yet deadly serious tone.

"Breaking and entering? Plus the fact we found you bare in your backyard, plus the fact that the police chief is my poker buddy?" continued Phil.

"You could be in a lot of trouble." He began to slowly massage the black shoulders of my West Indian girlfriend.

"So I assume you have something else planned?" I sighed.

Phil's light blue eyes flickered in the light and glanced towards Barb, who appeared to nod and encourage him to say what came next.

"I know you think that I am a very wealthy man," said Phil, as he moved to sit at the table, his posture revealing that he was "leveling" with us.

He pulled he shirtsleeves back revealing his strong forearms, and rest his hands on the table.

"But I wasn't always wealthy. In fact, I used to be quite poor. Barb used to be quite poor too," he said nodding towards Barb.

"But now that we are wealthy and middle aged," he continued, "we like to live the good life. We like to take vacations, we like to eat at fancy restaurants," he said.

"Where is this going?" interrupted Alli.

"Well, honey, we like to indulge ourselves," he said, patting her on the back. "And today we are going to indulge ourselves in you two."

A shudder of anxiety ran down my spine.

"But first, I think we could all use a good cup of coffee," Phil said, pushing glasses at all of us. Thirsty, I quickly grabbed it and took a few dregs. Alli also held her cup to her mouth and drank. Barb and Phil followed.

"You see," Barb entered, pushing her lush curly black hair from her face.

"You are just such a handsome boy," Barb said, sitting down. "And," she said, pausing to look at me, "I've heard everything about you," she said, running one long fingernail down my forearm.

As her finger moved downwards I began to feel a bit dizzy. It sort of set in, like the sound you hear in the back of your head after a long concert -- this fog of disorientation, and I began to talk but I couldn't understand what I was saying.

The light in the kitchen began to dim from extreme light to dark and I recall looking at my hands but not feeling them.

I glanced across the table at Alli, who began lowering her head until it fell flat on the table, I looked back at Phil, who began to stand up, and said something like "Don't worry" or "Don't hurry" and then. I don't remember what happened next.

****

At some point, I felt a hand on my body. It shook me, and I started to slowly crawl out of the black back into the light.

Woozy, I opened my eyes and felt my surroundings. I was on a bed, still nude, presumably upstairs in Barb and Phil's house. I looked around but couldn't really figure out how I had got there. So I stood up to get around the room when BOOM! I fell flat on the floor, my penis lightly chafing against the wooly carpet on the floor. My feet were bound. And that's when I noticed two other feet. Two laced-up work boots that could only belong to a man.

"Tried to escape, eh?" said the boots. I remembered that voice. It was Phil's voice. In a second he reached down, pulled my up, and sat me at the end of the bed. I glanced nervously around, and saw that Barb sat fully-clothed in a wicker seat in the corner, and Phil was standing before me in a blue t-shirt, a pair of tight, blue jeans, and those brown workers boots.

"Where -- Where's Alli?" I asked still hazy from my magic cup of coffee.

"She's fine," said Barb, from the corner chair. "She's asleep in the guestroom."

"Oh, ok," I answered back, still a bit foggy.

Phil shuffled his feet nervously, and looked back at Barb.

"Well, hon, should we start?" he asked in a sensitive tone.

"Go ahead, honey," she said, nodding confidently. "Give it to him. I want to watch."

It was now quite clear to me what was about to happen. I wasn't to be used by Barb, as I had thought briefly downstairs. I was about to be used -- or, how did Phil put it? Indulged by the master of the house.

I saw his strong frame step towards me and one forearm reached in my direction, a clubby hand grasping under my chin, then a salty finger pulling my mouth open and inserting it inside. My mouth reacted coldly, allowing the intruding digit to sit on my tongue, but doing little else.

"Barb, you sure have some good looking employees," he said.

"Oh Peter's one of our best," she answered back. "Go ahead, Peter," she whispered. "Suck Phil's finger, you know you want to."

I had never sucked a finger in my life, or a penis for that matter. So when it came to giving -- gulp -- blowjobs -- I was a tender, young virgin. But sensing my vulnerability, coupled with the natural desire to do something with that finger, I obliged and began to suck on Phil's finger, as Barb looked on, obviously turned on by the sight of a young man pleasing her husband.

I did my best to imitate the way Alli and Anne had done it to me, even casting up obscene looks at Phil, who still looked nervous and ... I admit, a little attractive.

Barb started to grunt soft commands at me, like "That's it, Peter, you're a pro, now take two fingers," while Phil grew more confident -- and aroused, judging by the bulge in his jeans -- inserting two, and then three fingers into my now very wet mouth.

After a good five minutes of sucking his fingers, Phil pulled his hand away and began to unzip his jeans. I sat quietly and nervously, glancing at Barb who nodded with encouragement. "Here it comes," I thought. "Here we go ..."

Phil lowered his jeans to about his knee level, revealing two muscular tan thighs and gray cotton briefs, through which I could see something engorged and a bit scary.

It was such a familiar sight, having one myself, and I knew where each part of his anatomy was and -- even better for him -- what it might feel like if I touched it.

Barb slowly removed herself from the chair and began to move in my direction, eventually sitting beside me on the bed.

"Honey, I know it's scary," she said, "but trust me, you'll like it."

My anxiety began to translate to my groin area as I felt hotter and my penis grew with each pump of hot blood. Barb looked down at my cock and smiled, knowingly.

"Oh, I see you are already starting to get the right vibe," she said. She ran a long finger along my hardening cock.

"Let's come up with a fantasy, shall we?" She whispered into my ear.

"I'll give you three choices. Choice 1) Phil is your older, wiser cellmate in prison and you are his bitch, Choice 2) Phil is a wealthy businessman and you are his rent boy, or 3) Phil is the high school quarterback, and you are his girlfriend on prom night" Barb said, loving every dirty thought crossing her mind.

"Well, what will it be?" asked an impatient and hard Phil.

"Number three," I gulped. I wouldn't be anybody's bitch or rent boy, but I could play girlfriend on prom night if that is what it took to get through this.

"Good choice," Phil answered. I then reached forward to meet his dick head on.

My two large hands made their way to the top of his briefs and slowly lowered them. First was the delicate mass of black pubic hair. Then the thick, oak-like stump of Phil's cock, and then -- pulling the briefs all the way down, the lengthy brown shaft and thick purple head, finally loose in the raw air of the bedroom. It was bigger -- and thicker -- than mine. Ugly and beautiful at the same time.

"Be a good boy," Barb slithered. "Suck my husband's cock. And drink his cum."

With those words, I let down my guard and let his warm, thick cock pass my lips and enter my mouth.

I felt his strong hands take their positions on each of my shoulders and Barb's hand clutch the back of my neck, pushing me forward and pulling me away.

She would whisper sweet comments in my ears like "Relax your throat" as Phil's pulsating manhood pushing into my mouth and back and he began to moan that manly moan of pleasure that I knew too well.

Except this time -- apparently -- Phil was in charge, and I was the whore. And with each stroke I liked it more.

"That's it," groaned Phil as he, along with Barb, pulled my head towards and from his hot dick.

As I was sucking, I heard a knock at the bedroom door, and Barb got up to let the visitor -- perhaps Alli -- in. But when I looked beyond Phil's trim, tanned waist, I saw another woman standing next to Barb. It was my supervisor, Anne.

"Oh Peter," she cackled. "You just look adorable with a cock in your mouth. Look at those pretty, ruby red lips," she said, walking closer, standing next to me and putting her hand on Phil's ass.

"Now the question is as old as the art of giving head" she said, petting my head. "Spit or swallow."

She walked away, and Phil began thrusting deeper and harder into my mouth. I knew that he was going to come soon, and I felt the first gobs of salty pre-cum moisten my throat.

My hand fell downward and began to touch my p-spot below my balls, imagining Phil's hard dick pumping me there in the ass. Meanwhile, Barb and Anne took their seats in the corner of the room, Barb even boldly reaching into her pants with her right hand to tease her clit as she watched her male employee give her hubby a blowjob.

Finally, a hot dollop of Phil's load exploded in my mouth, hitting the roof then trickling down my throat as I began to swallow the hot substance and breath through my nose at the same time. The taste, the feel, everything was hypnotic.

He gripped my head with both hands pulling it tight into his swarthy groin as second and then a third spurt of hot semen entered my throat and then, eventually my stomach. Despite my best intentions to put on a show for Anne, Phil's hot sticky cum was all over my chin and lips.

Anne got up and sarcastically applauded.

"Bravo, Peter," she said. "I can see you learned an awful lot from me, and you make such a cute cocksucker," she said striding towards me.

Anne was actually dressed in a red one piece bathing suit, holding up he voluptuous, middle-aged figure. Perhaps she had been trying out Barb and Phil's pool while they warmed me up.

Her immense maternal chest bounced with each stride, and she brushed back her auburn, graying hair. She then lifted my exhausted face and pulled hers toward mine, softly licking Phil's cum off my chin, lips, planting little wet kisses on my ears and cheeks, and eventually my tongue, as she passionately French kissed me.

For his part, Phil relaxed and stepped away, obviously absorbed in his deep orgasm, and perhaps shocked a bit that it had come from the mouth of another man.

The room was silence for a moment when Anne finished kissing me and looked back at Barb.

"Well," Anne said. "should we go get our Caribbean princess up? She has a long hour or two ahead of her."

"Okay," Barb answered. "Follow me."

The wicked duo exited the room. As Phil sat down me on the bed, his cock still erect. I looked at it -- it's ugly, thick veins and proud, shiny tip, and began to feel a stirring in my loins once more.

"You want more, don't you?" he said nervously.

I nodded with the broken esteem of a shameless whore.

"Ok," he said, lifting my head up close to his warm penis. "Let's have another go."