Aced

There had been no choice. I simply could not risk harm to my kids.

At least it made what had happened the night before easier to stomach. Nick and Sarah would be safe in six days.

I'd been surprised by her call but agreed immediately when Shannon McKenzie told me that she had to speak to me personally about Nick. No, it wasn't anything really bad, but something new had come up, after our meeting, and it was important that we talk. Today. As school was over, could I come to her apartment? Sure. If there was more trouble involving Nick I had to do something. Anything. Plus, I'd been attracted to her at the meeting in the principal's office and definitely wouldn't mind seeing Shannon again.

I suavely raised my dropped jaw when she answered the door. Shannon looked stunning, simply gorgeous, wearing a low-cut, black silk wrap-around party dress with an intriguing gap in front one-third of the way up her taut, tempting thighs. It mirrored the plunging décolletage, which seemed hardly able to contain her large breasts. Heavy but tasteful makeup, tousled shoulder-length blond hair. Fuck-me black stilettos topped by sheer silk stockings. Shannon had changed after school and was now dressed to kill.

It quickly became clear I was her prey. Sure, I'd like a glass of wine. Pinot Grigio? Perfect. Sit on the couch, she'll be right back. Our hips touched as the sofa's compression pushed us together when she sat so close beside me, and her subtle perfume was enticing. She didn't need it to get my attention.

She was so, so very sorry that she had had to report Nick. What could she do to make it up to me? How was he doing? How was I doing? It had to be, um, hard to have both kids to take care of, now that I was divorced. Well, separated. How long had it been? Oh my, you're probably lonely, Mark. Being alone after being married, no longer having sex readily available, must be difficult. Was I suffering? Poor dear.

It had been four days since Kristine had so thoroughly drained me, and assuming that such activity was the new normal, my testicles had been producing in overdrive. I was ready, willing, and able. And though I've been socially clueless at times, Shannon's hints were blatant enough that even I picked them up.

* * *

It was very sweet holding her, stroking her, listening her to purr contentedly. Shannon was very easy to be with, sunny, interesting, witty, and truly beautiful. The sex had been delectable, refined, so unlike my experience with Kristine Danson. Shannon had been alluringly passive, kissing me back only when I kissed her for the third time, using her tongue after mine led the way, timidly fondling my penis once I put her hand on it. She lightly stroked my hair as I ate her, right up until her hands froze and trembled slightly like the rest of her when she came. Her soft "ooh, ooh, ooh," was a touch louder during her second orgasm, she thrashed a bit more and pushed her pussy into my mouth just a little harder, but the gentleness of her orgasms was endearing.

I was entranced and deeply affected. I know she would have fellated me had I pushed her head down, but plain vanilla was nice, especially after Kristine's exotic and wild Neapolitan. Shannon came once more with me inside her, and coddled my head to her shoulder gently as I moaned and twitched when I could no longer hold back and my balls finally emptied.

After fifteen minutes of comfortable pillow talk, about everything and anything, I discovered my hand, which had been aimlessly stroking her, parked on her ample breast, tweaking her nipple. My interest rose as her point erected, and I began kissing her. Everywhere. She giggled and squirmed delightfully. Then she said, "Wait, Mark, just for a minute. Would you be...? Well, oh gosh, how can I put this...? Oh, darn, never mind." She blushed, massively.

I was intrigued all over again. "Wait, Shannon. It's fine; whatever you were going to say, please say it."

"Well, I'm pretty shy," she had to pause for an extended giggle, "even if my behavior today hasn't seemed so." Like everything about her, Shannon's giggles were winning.

"Come on, out with it. I really want to know what it is."

"Okay; well, it has to do with fantasies. Do you have any?"

"Of course. As a matter of fact, right after our meeting this morning I had one involving you that was very similar to what just happened. It was wonderful."

"Oh, Mark, you are so sweet. And kind. And gentle. That's why I just know I can trust you and that's the only reason this came to my mind."

When she didn't continue I urged, "Please tell me what you mean, Shannon. Please."

"Well, I've never told anyone, but I've always had this fantasy. It's really hot..." Her voice faded as her blush rose again.

"Go ahead..."

"I'd never want it to actually happen, not in a million years, but I've always been fascinated, really turned on by the idea of being forced."

"You mean raped?"

Her blush got even more crimson and her voice higher and softer, "Yes."

"Are you telling me that you'd like to act out this fantasy? With me? Now?" This was highly interesting.

Still softer and higher, almost pleading, "Yes?"

I hugged her to me and kissed her forehead as images flooded my brain. The concept of actually raping someone, the violence and degradation, had always repulsed me, but the idea of pretending, of playing at domination, subjugation, with a partner who was willing, even eager, who wanted it and would get off on it, was very erotic.

Shannon giggled when my erecting cock prodded her belly. After my wince when her fingers wrapped around it I asked, "So, how would this work?"

* * *

My pounding on the door was thunderous, just as in her script. Shannon opened it wearing the old blouse and skirt, the ones she was going to give to Goodwill. The ones that would be no loss if they were ripped or torn. Her, "Oh, Mr. Wolfe, what are you doing here...? was cut short as I barged in, slammed and locked the door, and grabbed her. All as we'd planned.

"Oh please, no, Mr. Wolfe. Don't..." was almost shouted. Whereas her prompting, "Yes, grab me, rip my clothes off, take me, right her on the floor," was sotto voce, whispered, barely audible even to me over the Beatles CD playing in the background.

The buttons popped like one-inch firecrackers as they snapped off her blouse when I stripped the fabric open and down. When I ripped off the plain white bra her areolae were already dark, swollen, and her nipples were as hard as her breasts were soft. As I kneaded one and latched onto the other, madly suckling, she kept up her mock struggles and litany of "No, no, please NO!" After the button popped off her skirt, my hands tore down the zipper and continued, rending the fabric through the hem. As it hit the floor I forced Shannon onto her back beside it and held her down, gently as she was only feigning resistance, with one hand around her throat while the other tugged off her plain white school-marm panties.

I admired her acting skill as she quickly rolled and made to scurry away, taking advantage of my hands leaving her to unzip and drop my pants and boxers. I lunged, dragged her to me, levered her onto her back, and saw the delight in her eyes as I forced her thighs apart with my knees, lowered myself, and thrust forward. Her vulva's physiology – either divinely designed or masterfully evolved to guide an erect penis into her – did its job. Perfectly. She was so wet, both from her new arousal and our previous excretions that my cock plunged in seamlessly.

Her stagy "No, no, no, please don't!" was again followed by her almost inaudible "Oh God yes, Mark, fuck me." The libidinous, debauched scenario, Shannon's passionate exhilaration at being taken, the juxtaposition of her "No, don't" vs. "Fuck me" commands, all inspired me to pump her madly, almost brutally, and the aggregate of eroticism was so intense that I came quickly. But not before Shannon. Living out her fantasy must have totally aroused her, and I could feel her tensing, twitching, and her vaginal muscles squeezing my cock in rhythm with her orgasm as soon as I began driving it into her.

I was amazed at how quiet and controlled she was as she suppressed her shudders and stifled her moaning ooh ooh oohs, instead just issuing forth high pitched whimpers. As I watched her tremble and jerk beneath me, her ecstatic eyes widen, lose focus, become glassy, and finally roll back in her head, I totally let myself go. The boiling fluid seared every nerve as it surged up my cock and my grunts and growls filled the room as my semen filled her vagina.

As I came to, thinking "Oh my God, what a woman!" and planning where I could take her to dinner, how I could manage to see her tomorrow, maybe stay tonight, I was surprised to hear her whisper flatly, "Thank you, Mark. That should do it. Now let's get dressed. We need to talk."

My curiosity quickly transformed into dread as Shannon explained. Lucy and Mary were moving to France. Next week. They were taking Nick and Sarah. If I made even the slightest protest, the video of what had just transpired would be given to the police. Along with Shannon's testimony, my semen she would take from her vagina and freeze, and the testimony of her friends – she would call them tonight and relate how she was violated but so upset she couldn't report it – the prosecutor would have an open-and-shut case of aggravated rape. I could expect to do fifteen years. Minimum.

Shannon was sorry, but she and Mary were lifelong friends, former lovers, and friends do favors for friends. Stunned by yet another catastrophe rending the core of my life, I made one last ditch attempt. At salvage? At human-to-human connection? At trying to get Shannon to be reasonable, to see my side? I didn't know. I was desperate.

"Shannon, can't we talk about this? Please. Why don't we discuss it over dinner tonight?"

"Mark, you seem a very nice man and I know you've been a good father. If I weren't in a relationship, and if I liked men better than women, you'd be very appealing. However, I am committed to Alice, and a lesbian, so I think it's best if you just leave. Now." Reeling at the enormity of what had just happened, at being aced out of my children, and seeing no other option, I did.

* * *

Kristine's hug was firm, warm, and soothing. When it became obvious she purred and rubbed her belly against my bulge. My cock, very fondly remembering every single thing she'd done to it, had given her a standing ovation as soon as she touched me. Her kiss was as sweet as it was brief, after which she said, "This is nice, Mark. But come. I need to introduce you to Paul Erickson. We'll talk later."

When I first entered her office at 8:15 that morning I'd been furious, accusatory, when Kristine had asked me why I had suddenly decided to take the job.

"Seriously! You don't know? Give me a break."

"Mark, I really don't have any idea of what you're talking about. What changed your mind?"

I'd angrily hurled the envelope on her desk and then watched intently.

"Oh my God! Mark, you must believe me. I had no idea. None whatsoever. I'm so very sorry." Kristine was convincing. I'd studied her face very closely as she'd looked at the pictures of my kids with the crosshairs on them, and her shock and alarm were real. She said that she'd ask Sam Phillips what was going on. Check back with her when I left at 5. But we had to go meet Paul.

The production manager, Paul Erickson, gave me the news, the very bad news, when he showed me to my cubicle and desk. AmmaCorp's intention, and my assignment, was to alter my purification process to also desalinate water. To my sputtering, outraged observation that the way I'd designed my filters there was no possible way they could get salt out of water, Paul just raised his eyebrows and said, "I'll bet you've spent some time thinking about how to do it. We're wagering that you'll come up with something." He promised to provide manpower, whatever equipment I needed, and anything else reasonable. I should get started. Immediately.

I logged on to the computer on the desk, pulled up a research paper on reverse osmosis I'd read a few years before, and thought hard as I feigned reading. I was staggered by all the disasters that had befallen me and needed to sort everything out. My kids' danger was probably alleviated by my taking this job. However, if I was unsuccessful at the impossible task I'd been assigned they could be used as leverage again. They would be off to Paris, then parts unknown in the south of France in just five more days. Safe. And while I had plans to get them back in the future, having Nick and Sarah across the Atlantic now made sense. Shannon's tone before she lowered the boom after our mock rape scene had made me wary and, even from inside my pocket my phone had recorded her blackmail clearly. However, until they left I had to find some way to protect them. The only answer seemed to be to create some plausible ruse, to fake progress until then.

While my process for water purification relied on a series of self-cleaning filters, I had in fact mulled over some other ways that the purification process might also work to remove salt. Given the impending world crisis over predicted droughts due to climate change, a cheap, energy efficient method of making sea water potable would be a great boon to humanity. And incredibly valuable. I began with my previous research and once I got involved in new developments the time flew and when I looked up it was 5:15. I was late for my meeting with Kristine.

She did not have good news. Sam Phillips had been vague and guarded, but she intuited the answer from his evasions. She confided to me that she'd been suspecting him of embezzling from the company for some time now, and surmised that Phillips had severe cash flow problems. Acquiring WaterPure was a desperate attempt to recover. He needed to sell the new desalinization process to make a bundle, to get whole, and he needed to do it in a hurry. The threats to my children were to motivate me. I was to meet with him and present my results in two days.

I was flabbergasted. Two days was impossible, not nearly enough time. Certainly not to invent what many teams of scientists had been working on for decades and not long enough for my kids to reach safety in France. Seeing my obvious distress Kristine questioned me about my concerns, offering to help. I came clean. I needed to confide in someone and the emotional connection to her I felt, borne during our passionate sex, had only grown stronger since. Kristine, without prompting, suggested that I had to find a way to fake it, at least temporarily. My plan exactly. But even that would require intense work and time.

Knowing I had to begin immediately, that very night, I called Claire, who was taking care of Nick. She'd be delighted to pick Sarah up from daycare, make dinner, take them to the house, put them to bed and stay till I arrived. As Kristine hugged me again – she was being very solicitous and supportive – she kissed, then nibbled, her mark on my neck. Her chuckle when my knees went soft and I staggered slightly onto her was warm, amused, and the sultry was back when she whispered, "I remember, too. Everything." She disentangled from me, locked her door, pulled the Venetian blinds shut and beckoned seductively as she leaned back against the wall.

Her kiss was first sweet, but quickly became as intense as five nights before. As she sucked my tongue into her mouth and ours entwined, her hands undid my belt and eased down my zipper. She whispered, "Nice, Mark," as her fingers wrapped around my cock and her thumb strummed the spot where the shaft met the head. I slid the skirt of her suit up her thighs and my right hand snaked inside the waist of her panty hose. She wore no panties. She was already very wet and my fingers frolicked, tracing the bottom of her groove, lightly pinching her labia minora, entering her vagina just an inch. When she pushed my head down I pulled the hose to her ankles as I knelt, eager for a taste of what I was smelling.

Just as I wedged her knees apart the door rattled. Someone was trying to get in. The sound of a key fumbling at the lock released even more adrenaline into my system and I hoisted Kristine on my shoulder, lurched to her desk and sat her in her chair as I ducked under the desktop and pulled her in after me. I knew the modesty panel would hide me, at least from the front. It was cramped in the small space and the only place for my head was between Kristine's thighs.

"Sam, what a nice surprise."

"Hi Kristine. Why was the door locked?"

"I needed to concentrate and didn't want Judy or anyone else barging in."

"And the shades..."

"So no one would know I was here. It's been one of those 'have you got a minute' type of days when there are so many interruptions that I can't get a damned thing done."

"What are you working on?"

"The Ketchum acquisition. I see a potential snag and wanted to work it out before I quit tonight. What can I do for you, Sam? Would you like to sit?"

"No, I'll just be a minute. I wanted to continue our conversation from earlier. How was his first day? Wolfe, I mean."

"He dropped in at 5:00 to give me an update. He's taking the assignment very seriously, and is either still here or will be coming back later. He said he thought he'd found a new angle."

"Good. Good. And he's going to brief me in two days?"

"Yes, of course." Kristine's voice was surprisingly steady, I thought.

"This is a top priority for the board, and for me, as I said earlier. I really need a quick turnaround on WaterPure. I'm sorry I was so vague when you asked earlier. I certainly wasn't aware that my, um, colleagues were going to send him those pictures, but I'm glad that it seems to have worked. I need him totally motivated. You'll keep me in the loop on this, let me know every single thing he's doing?"

"Of course, Sam." Kristine was lying. My thumb caressing the slick folds of her labia must have somehow slipped her mind. "I'll check in on him when I leave tonight."

"Good. Well, thanks, Kristine. Hope the Ketchum issue works out. Good night."

When the door closed she pushed her chair back, bowed her knees, and pulled my mouth onto her vulva. "You bastard, that was evil," she murmured sensually, "but thanks for the quick thinking. That could have been a disaster." I was devilishly eager, and the pent up tension from the danger of discovery and my demon thumb's caresses had her right on the edge. No sooner did my tongue find her clitoris than the flood of her ambrosia that accompanied her "oh, oh, OH!" covered my cheeks and chin. And spurred me on.

When I tried to rise, to slide up so I could fuck her – I'd dropped my pants while licking her – both her hands embedded in my hair and pushed me back down. Kristine wanted another orgasm. She got it. Eventually. I lightened my licks, avoiding her clitoris, taking time, letting her savor the building passion. When my tongue began flicking and licking her pearl and her sounds indicated that she was again approaching her climax, my middle two fingers pushed into her. Timing it as best I could I substituted my first finger for my third, slipping it out and easing it into her anus. Judging by her ohs Kristine's second orgasm was better than her first.

She exclaimed, "Oh yes," arched back, and rotated her hips to me when I rammed my dripping cock into her. I was seething and started madly pumping immediately. It was so hot to be fucking Kristine, her torso still primly clothed in her business suit, taking this woman who'd possessed me so completely before. Her chair retreated from me with each thrust, the wheels rolling with every impetus of my hips, and I hunched after her like a cat lurching at a retreating mouse until the chair back bumped against the wall. Then it just thumped with each stroke, but was soon drowned out by my gasps and moans. Despite her orgasm Kristine had the presence of mind to cover my mouth with her hand, stifling my groaning cries when they became too loud.