Aced

When she had me semi-erect, phase two began. At the same time she was sucking, her tongue, feeling as prickly as a cat's, would lick the underside of my penis, right where the shaft met the head. My most sensitive spot. It was so intense that soon I couldn't help but moan and twitch with each lick, and before much longer I couldn't suppress my squirming and gasping. All the while her other hand worked my testes, squeezing, kneading, cajoling them almost to the verge of pain. From their tingles and prickles I knew my balls were striving, producing, doing their best to obey her ministrations.

In phase three Kristine's relentless, rhythmic suction extended down my urethra as if it were a soda straw. As my tube branched, reaching into the very core of my glands, she simply vacuumed new, nascent sperm out of my defenseless testicles. Her sucking siphoned fresh, embryonic fluid, just as it was produced, from both my helpless seminal vesicles and open, exposed prostate. My overtaxed organs spasmed helplessly as they were drained anew with each suck. The three fluids blended when they met and were dragged up my shaft, searing every nerve as they crept close, ready to erupt. As the first glob burned up to the head of my cock I writhed, twitched, and shook, moaning and shaking uncontrollably. Still Kristine sucked me. When I felt my toes curl, my thighs and buttocks clench, and heard my keening cry, I expected it.

And got it. Her finger driving into my rectum had the same cataclysmic effect. I would have sworn it was impossible to have three orgasms in so little time, each one more massive, powerful, even painful, than the previous one. But as her finger scrunched my prostate, and her sucking and tonguing bled my cock, it could not help but bulge and convulse, ejaculating, over and over. Even after my penis just obediently distended and throbbed, suffering through dry heaves when there was no further cum to discharge, she kept at me.

Kristine ended the post-orgasmic torture only after my winces became wails and my trembling hands desperately pulled her head away. Reeling and convulsing, dazed and semi-conscious, I rolled away from Kristine and curled defensively onto my stomach.

I must have dozed, or perhaps passed out. For how long I had no clue, but I came to when I felt her hand worm its way between my stomach and the mattress. As her fingers wrapped round my tormented, completely flaccid, oozing penis, I desperately thought, "Oh please, dear God. Not again." My muddled mind knew it was over, that I couldn't possibly get hard. Just as she'd promised, Kristine had proven she could go on when I could not. I had to surrender, to admit defeat. I drew in a shuddering breath and was about to capitulate when I felt it.

My head popped up, my eyes snapped open, and I grunted in shock as I tried to squirm away. Too late. Her legs, hooked around my thighs, and her hands on my waist levered me to her as her hips jabbed forward, driving the dildo ruthlessly into my anus. Still too stupefied and comatose to react, to avoid it, I wailed, "Oh Gaawwwddd!" as my wide-spread sphincter felt the length of her copiously lubed cock slide smoothly into me. Once her pelvis wedged against my buttocks she lunged down, her weight pinning me, her mouth in my ear whispering licentiously, "God, that feels wonderful, Mark. The other end is deep inside me, as deep as it is in you. We are finally truly joined. Now..." she flipped the switch which started the probe vibrating, then paused, drawing out the drama, savoring my apprehension, "...let's fuck."

Pinned and impaled I plotted my escape as her pulsating penis eased out. Before I could react it lurched back in, then slid out and rammed in again. Finally fully alert, my plan to evade her next thrust crystallized. As she pulled back, I tensed, readied myself for explosive action, and when her tool was almost out of me I thought, "Now!"

I was mystified when she shoved it back in. I hadn't moved, hadn't done a thing. Other than lay there and take it. My brain froze, incapable of thought, overcome by the sensations as Kristine pulled her cock out and pushed it in. Then again. And again.

Finally my mind asked questions. "How can my penis possibly be getting hard? Why is it swelling and throbbing each time she shoves her cock into me?" Completely overwhelmed by the depraved, debauched reality of being fucked, of being taken, by this gorgeous, unbelievably sexual woman, the inescapable conclusion dawned.

I liked it.

When Kristine said, "Get up on your knees, Mark. Raise your ass so I can fuck it better," I simply did. I struggled up onto all fours but she swatted my buttock hard and corrected me, "No, face down, ass up."

As she pushed my head to the mattress my getting fucked began in earnest. Each time she filled me my rectum seemed warmer, more pleasingly atingle, and every time she pulled out I felt too empty, forsaken, and wanted it back inside. Each time her cock plowed into me my own would throb, tighten, and distend as if trying to eject semen, and soon large drops of clear pre-cum were oozing out, forming long shimmering ribbons dancing down to the mattress. When the vibrations on her clit made her moans morph into growls, I quit trying to stifle my own grunts and groans, and began pushing up to meet her, fucking her back. With each thrust I reveled in the sensations, of being filled, of her cock scratching a persistent, delectable itch, the burgeoning of my penis, the slap of her hips against my ass, and Kristine's sexy huffs as she drove it into me. When her hand finally found my throbbing cock and jacked it, the fiery need in my penis matched the searing urgency in my ass.

Her thrusts devolved to quivers when her "Oh, oh, ohs" announced her orgasm, but she soon resumed pumping me, now repeating over and over her lewd directive, "Come for me, Mark. Do it now. Come for me." Her salacious litany, the blazing fire in my rectum, her hand goading my erection, and the furrows her vibrating cock plowed in my prostate all came together and compelled my system to empty itself yet again. I gasped in delirious, delicious agony as globs of new, underdeveloped cum were ripped from my glands, driven up my shaft, and disgorged from my penis, over and over, oozing out and dripping down, puddling onto the sheet.

When my orgasm-weakened legs gave out her weight drove me down into the pool of my semen, Kristine whispered in my ear, "Wow! A fourth ejaculation! Bravo, Mark. Amazing what a good fucking can do to man." Her soft laughter was laden with smug glee as she reveled in her triumph.

Then things changed. Kristine turned sweet.

Her sighs, her caresses, and her light kisses and nuzzles on my neck just below my ear were tender and affectionate. My hand, moving up to brush her cheek, to express the emotional bond, the strength of which I was astonished to discover I compellingly felt, froze instantly and quivered in place when she sucked my neck hard and bit it harder. I instinctively knew she was branding me, leaving her mark.

When finished with my neck Kristine took my trembling hand, kissed it, licked my fingers, and continued its path to her face. As I gently stroked her cheek she relaxed, melding her body down onto mine, nuzzling, kissing, and caressing me. After an intimate minute she murmured, "You're very sweet, Mark, and a great lover." I sighed and drew a breath, forming words to express how I felt. That breath became a gasp when she nipped my brand and added, "And now you're mine."

I moaned gratefully when her jiggling rod began to slide out of me. It was finally over. I could limp back to my hotel and recover. When it was almost out she rammed it back in, grunting, then exclaiming joyfully, "God, I love fucking you, Mark. Hang on, big boy, here we go again."

I piteously clung to handfuls of sheet as she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back to meet each thrust of her vibrating cock. Her hard nipples poked into my back as her dangling, dancing hair and huffed pants tickled my neck. The ins and outs, the fucking, seemed endless as she screwed her pole into me over and over. I groaned involuntarily with each penetration, then did my best to suppress them once I realized they'd become whimpers. As she kept pounding into me I felt acutely vulnerable, and completely, if not unpleasantly, possessed. When her sounds got higher and louder I was thankful. Once she came my fucking would finally end.

Only after her "oh, oh, ohs" proclaimed that she had yielded once more to the vibrating part of her cock that jiggled her clit, did she finally pull all the way out of me and flip off the motor. As I lay inert and overwhelmed on the bed Kristine kissed, then nibbled her mark, snickered fondly at my shudder, then turned me to her. She took me in her arms, gently kissed my forehead, my lips, and pulled my head down onto her shoulder. Kristine held me, rocked me, coddled me, soothingly stroking my back, side, and cheek as she hummed a low, serene refrain of satisfaction. After a few moments she whispered, low and sensually, "Mark, this has been fantastic. You're a beautiful, charming, and gentle man, very virile, and a great lover."

After I raised my head and we kissed lightly, warmly, the devil Kristine arose. She rotated her hips to me, jabbing her strapless strap-on cock against my abdomen. She chuckled her amusement when I recoiled, pulled me back to her, took my head in her hands and locked my eyes to hers. Sardonic mirth laced her voice as she said, "You're also a great lay, Mark. I've so enjoyed fucking you every which way today, and would love to do it again. But since you can't get it up, and I'm finally sated, it's time for you to leave. I'll see you at the meeting tomorrow. Maybe after? Perhaps. Good night, Mark." Her kiss was tender and her low, contented humming dimmed when the bathroom door closed behind her. I numbly struggled up, found my clothes, and left.

* * *

To Vince Lombardi ten minutes early was five minutes late. His approach resonated with me so after my morning run and dumbbell session I'd showered and was almost dressed, aiming to arrive before 9:45 for the Friday 10 AM meeting, when Kristine's text arrived. "Where are you?" was all it said. With a sinking feeling I rushed and made it by 9:27. Just in time to see John shaking hands with Sam Phillips, the CEO of AmmaCorp, as they walked out of the meeting room.

I began to realize just how fucked I was, how badly I'd been aced out, when my entreaties to John were answered by a shrug and his informing me that he'd just sold the company. Along with my patents for the water purification process. Oh no, the company had owned them, not me. Hadn't I read the fine print on my contract? Feeling magnanimous, John gave me two weeks' severance pay, before assigning me the task of informing the rest of the employees that their services were no longer needed. First thing Monday right before I cleaned out my desk.

Kristine's eyes conveyed dismay as she hung back when the others all quickly skulked away. Despite my intense ire, my knees went weak and my breath left me when I saw her. She looked, she was, fabulous, sensual, and the persistent, fiery tingle in my anus was a constant reminder of last night.

There was warm sympathy in her voice. "I'm very sorry Mark. I had no idea."

There was none in mine. "Yeah, right. Your job was to distract me, get me off balance, and you did it brilliantly. Congratulations."

"I negotiated in good faith yesterday..."

"And somehow forgot to tell me that the meeting had been moved up..."

"I didn't know until this morning. Your boss was supposed to tell you."

"You were so right last night just before I left – you fucked me, but good." I quickly turned away to hide the hurt and anguish I knew was obvious on my face. I couldn't keep the bitterness, perhaps the angst, from my voice, however, as another defeat overwhelmed me.

After a moment I felt Kristine's hand on my shoulder. It felt nice. She said, "Mark, Sam lied to me, just like John Franklin lied to you. Yes, I was supposed to negotiate with you, to wine and dine you, to..."

My rage exploded, "Fuck me? You know what that makes you?"

"No! What happened after dinner was real. I'd never..."

"Oh, come on! You're a good company woman. You'd do whatever..."

Her hard slap snapped my jaw shut. As she turned away I saw the tear run down her cheek, and it magically, instantly extinguished my seething anger. I ran to catch up to her, grabbed her shoulder, deftly ducked the second slap, and pulled her to me. Hard, so she could get no purchase to hit me again. It had dawned on me.

"Why did you send the text? You really didn't know?"

"No, of course I didn't. As soon as I saw that you weren't at the meeting, and Sam showed me the purchase proffer, I knew we'd both been deceived, but you especially. I immediately sent the text, but it was too late. When you weren't present Franklin's own shares and his proxies for others were sufficient and he voted to sell. I tried to stall them, to fix things, but it was a done deal. I'm very sorry."

"So after dinner, that was not part of your negotiation, your assignment to distract me?" I so wanted this to be true.

"Of course not, Mark, not at all. You were formidable, impressive at the meeting, meticulous, dogged, and determined. The same with tennis. You fought fiercely. I admired that. Then I really enjoyed your company at dinner. I was intrigued and attracted, so I seduced you. It wasn't difficult, as you recall. You were great, Mark, very virile, a considerate and skilled lover. No man I've ever been with could come four times in such a short time. No one has made me come as hard as you did. Sure, I like to be in charge, but you held your own wonderfully. Well, up until the very end, I guess." She giggled, which coming from her – Kristine was not the giggling type – was amazing. And it was winning. As was the sweet kiss she gave me.

I could think of nothing further to say but I held onto her for a few minutes longer, feeling my shoulders droop sympathetically with my psyche, as my new reality – no job, my best invention stolen, and assigned to fire my colleagues – weighed down on me. It was nice to be held, especially as she melded the alluring curves of her shapely body to mine. Kristine's warmth, her piquant scent I so remembered from last night, and the strength of her arms enfolding me were comforting. And very arousing.

As we finally broke apart she slid behind me, wrapped her arms around me and hugged me to her again. It was tender, supportive, and warm, until her teeth found the blue-black mark on my neck, just below my ear, and gently nipped it. It was electric, sending frissons of sexual energy throughout my body. Her whisper, "Call me tonight," was as provocative as her hand that raked across my crotch and squeezed my tantalized, eager erection.

* * *

I didn't call. There'd been no time. I got home to find multiple urgent phone messages, accumulated while my phone was silenced in preparation for the meeting. Those from Lucy explained that Nick, our elder child, had messed up somehow and I needed to be at a conference with the principal and his first grade teacher. Monday morning, first thing. Lucy couldn't make it. The irate messages from Neil Runge, the shop foreman at WaterPure, who had somehow got wind of John's betrayal and needed to talk to me immediately, sharpened my focus. After our conversation I went directly to the office to pore through the books, to try to find a way to salvage something from the devastation.

* * *

At 8:00 AM sharp Monday morning Principal Martha Schroeder welcomed Nick and me to her office and gave us the bad news: without bothering to mention the idea to either parent, Nick had brought a knife to school Friday and was going to be suspended for a week. It was mandatory compliance with the district's rules and would be enforced despite the fact that the antique, ornamental pocket knife had been my grandfather's, Nick was just bringing it for show-and-tell, and its only blade was just an inch long. And dull. Lucy, of course, couldn't make the meeting, and "had to work, really she did," so I was left to scramble to find day care, as I needed to get to the 9:00 AM meeting with my coworkers. To fire them.

The only bright spots were that Lucy's great aunt Claire, retired, sharp as a tack, and very fond of Nick, was available to pick him up at the school and take care of him. Also, my brief encounter with Shannon McKenzie, Nick's teacher, was very pleasant. And intriguing. Evidently other than bringing deadly weapons to school Nick was a model student and when she expressed real regret at having had to turn him in, I believed her, even before she brushed my arm with her breast while looking deeply into my eyes. Did I mention that Shannon is drop-dead gorgeous? I wanted to stay longer, maybe forever, but had to leave immediately to get to my next meeting.

I hadn't blackmailed my boss, John Franklin. Really, I hadn't. But it was close. By the end of our call Sunday night John had decided that he didn't want his alcoholism, the suspicious discrepancies I'd found in his accounting, his history of mistreatment of employees – especially the young, attractive women – or that he had deceived me and stolen my patents, to be the lead story in the business section of next Sunday's paper. Since he'd just made a bundle – enough to pay off his gambling debts and live comfortably for a long time – by selling the company out from under me and the rest of his employees, my third proposal for severance pay for the group was accepted.

I couldn't blame my former coworkers for being irate about their abrupt termination, or for taking it out on the messenger. As they vehemently expressed their displeasure I recalled how my father had once said that being yelled at was character building. Mine must have grown substantially as the gathering grew more unruly. Neil Runge eventually stepped in and saved me, explaining to the angry group that I had actually done them a solid, that John's original plan was to give them nothing. Other than the shaft. He also made it clear that no one in the room had any other option. The WaterPure phase of all our lives was over. Most of them shook my hand when we left to clean out our desks and lockers.

Kristine phoned that afternoon. I expected her to be annoyed – I had disobeyed her direct order to call, after all – but she launched straight into telling me that I had to come work for AmmaCorp, starting tomorrow morning. There were some bugs in the purification system and I was best qualified to fix them.

I scoffed. I was still winding down WaterPure, filling the final orders, had Nick and Sarah to care for, and Sam Phillips, CEO of Kristine's company, who had conspired with John to cheat me, was the very last person for whom I'd want to work. Kristine did her best to convince me, saying she knew I needed a job, I'd be working with her not Sam, and that the salary they were offering was substantial, much more than I had been making. I declined. Kristine told me not to give her a definite answer until I'd thought it over. She'd call again tomorrow.

* * *

I shivered as the cold sweat that oozed from every pore beaded up, ran rivulets down my forehead and meandered down my spine. I looked again and shuddered, once more tasting the bile my roiling guts had regurgitated into my mouth. I'd opened the plain manila envelope thinking it was just another circular and I'd recycle it like all the other ads. It wasn't the pictures of my son and daughter that struck terror into me, it was the crosshairs on their heads. And the note, written with pasted letters cut out of a newspaper that simply said, "Take the job. Or else."

After ten minutes my breathing was under enough control to make the call. Kristine sounded surprised to hear me accept her offer, but despite any questions she might have had told me to be at her office at 8:30 tomorrow.