Aristippus - Marcia's Story

"Okay, Mark," I said as dinner was about ready. "Close your laptop and move your papers. I've got to set the table for dinner." He followed my instructions, and I could see the surprised look on his face when I placed the lasagna and salad on the table. I know he could smell it while I was cooking, but I think he was genuinely surprised to see it in front of him. I refilled our wine glasses, and for the next hour, Mark talked about nothing other than, "This is the best meal I've had in years ...," and how much he has appreciated my help since joining his office.

We did the dishes together, and as it was still twilight when we stepped outside, we walked along the shore of Lake Tahoe, admiring the astonishing scenery. He never took my hand. But if he had, I would have been very receptive.

Back in the cabin, Mark built a fire in the fireplace, and I opened another bottle of wine. After refilling our glasses again, we both took seats at opposite ends of the couch. Mark pulled out several newspaper editorials and magazine articles on the topic of his proposed bill. As he started reading them aloud to me, I put a pillow on my lap and grabbing his arm, gently pulled him over to where his head was lying on the pillow. To my relief, he didn't resist, and as he kept reading aloud, I began to stroke his hair and softly rub his temples.

With very little verbal interaction from me, this continued for almost an hour. Finally, Mark said, "Marcia, I'm exhausted. I need to get to bed."

I moved my arm so he could get up, and as he stumbled toward his bedroom, I followed close behind. Standing at the foot of his bed, he kicked off his shoes and turned to face me. I think he was genuinely surprised that I had followed him into his room, but again, he didn't offer any resistance when I turned him to face me and started unbuttoning his shirt. "What are you doing?" he finally asked.

"I'm getting you ready for bed," I said with an innocent smile.

As I removed his shirt and tossed it on a nearby chair, it was now clear where this evening was heading. "It's been a long time, Marcia," he said meekly.

"That's okay," I replied sweetly. "It's been a while for me too. We'll just have to rediscover it together." Now that was a little white lie. But I thought it sounded a lot better than, '... don't worry, I've got lots of experience.'

As I knelt to start on his belt buckle, he said, "I have to pee - and brush my teeth."

I stood back up and said, "Okay. You first, and then it will be my turn."

While Mark was in the bathroom, I pulled the bedcovers back. Then after getting a long tee-shirt from my suitcase, I undressed and pulled it over my head. The bottom of the tee-shirt just barely came to the top of my legs and only covered enough to spark any male's interest. As Mark emerged from the bathroom, the look on his face was priceless and one I will always fondly remember. He had removed his pants and socks, but he still had on his boxer shorts. "Okay, my turn," I said as I swished past him and closed the bathroom door behind me.

Reemerging several minutes later, I flicked off the remaining lights. And with only the light from the flickering fireplace in the main room, I made my way to our bed. Mark was already in bed, with the covers up to his neck. In near darkness, I slipped the tee-shirt off over my head and allowed him a quick look at my complete form, before sliding into bed with him. I ran my hands over his chest and soon brought my sultry lips to his, initiating our first tender kiss. I had never kissed anyone old enough to be my father, and to my surprise - I liked it.

Sliding my hand down his chest and across his belly, I reached the waistband of his boxers. "Oh, no-no-no," I said as I quickly sat up and threw the covers back. "This isn't going to do." And with that, I looped my fingers under the elastic waistband of his shorts and yanked them off his trembling body. He was still rather flaccid, but I didn't let that bother me. He wasn't a college guy, and I didn't expect him to be rock hard. But it did indicate where I had to direct my efforts.

I threw the covers back over both of us, but with my head now under the covers, I began a southerly trip to restore Mark's manhood. After a series of traveling kisses down his chest and across his belly, I found his little man raising to the occasion. And I happily licked and kissed it before slurping him into my mouth. Still under the covers, I softly cupped and cradled his balls, while slowly and gently sucking him in and out of my juicy warm mouth. My goal was not to get him off, but to bring him gently to his full glory. I was going to fuck this man tonight, and I didn't want any limp excuses.

Once I was satisfied that he was up to the task, I threw the covers back and swung my leg over him; before slowly and teasingly settling on to the results of my oral endeavors. He was still wet from my mouth, and I was more than wet thinking about riding him. And ride him I did - very slowly and very gingerly, as to make our union last as long as possible.

It was probably a good ten minutes before the fruits of our labors came to pass. And when Mark's release finally filled me, it triggered my own expression of gratitude. I was breathing heavily as I collapsed onto his chest. But my affectionate wheezing was nothing compared to his gasping and labored panting. "Do you need a doctor?" I finally inquired.

"I just need a minute," he gasped. "I'll be okay, I promise."

"You let me know if you need something," I whispered in his ear. "I've wanted to fuck you since we got here, but I don't want to kill you."

To that, he actually laughed, and I knew he was going to be okay. After several minutes of heavy panting, he finally put his arm around me, and we both quietly drifted off to sleep.

I was up early the next morning, and I made us a breakfast of poached eggs over avocado toast. I also made a Sriracha sauce to go over the eggs, which Mark absolutely loved. After breakfast, we took another long walk along the shore of Lake Tahoe, but this time we did walk hand in hand, and I was very pleased about that.

Over the next five days, we made significant progress on the new bill. One he hoped would gather at least a few Republican votes, and yet would not lose so many Democratic votes that the bill couldn't pass both houses. And when we weren't working on the bill, we drove around the lake, stopping in Reno for a bit of gambling, and visiting historic Virginia City, Nevada. We also ended up eating out several lunches and dinners, as I had suspected we would, but he really loved my cooking, and I even talked him into grilling on the back deck a couple of times. And, as you can imagine, I never spent a single night in the guest room. The twin beds remained cold and unused the entire week.

Back at the Capitol on Monday, it was business as usual. I immediately went back to calling him Senator, and our relationship instantly returned to that of respect and professionalism. As for his bill, it did eventually pass, but not without significant amendments. This hurt both of us, as we considered the product of our six days together to be perfect and without compromise.

As for our non-professional relationship - yes, that continued also. We would retreat to Mark's Lake Tahoe cabin every few months for a little R&R. I found out that his wife had died about six years ago, and as far as anyone knew, he had not dated or been with another woman since. As for me - I dated some, and I would occasionally bring a guy home to my apartment. But generally, I just waited for my next trip to the lake with Mark, which always left me satisfied.

4 ^th Job - Lobbyist with Tenth Street Group

I worked for Mark throughout the remaining three years of his term. However, due to term limits, he was not eligible for reelection. And after the completion of his final session, he returned to Los Angeles. He did ask me if I wanted to come with him, and I did consider it. But he didn't really have a job for me, and I was far too young to be his wife. So, I respectfully declined. He needed to find someone closer to his own age, to which he reluctantly agreed.

I had now spent eight years working for the state as a Capitol employee. And I decided it was probably time to switch to the private side. I had several friends who worked for the Tenth Street Group, one of Sacramento's largest and oldest lobbying firms. The Tenth Street Group isn't actually located on 10^th Street, but the California State Capitol Building is - hence the name. And though they will lobby for almost any cause, they are best known for dealing with taxation issues. For those unfamiliar with the tax laws of California, let's just say, they are a mess. And that's putting it very nicely. The more common explanation is that the tax laws of the Golden State are a Cluster Fuck. And even that might be putting it mildly. So, there are always special interests trying to make improvements to the system. Or at least improvements that will benefit them.

A friend I'd known since my college days at UC Davis, managed to get me an interview. The Managing Partner was a woman named Michelle Fleming. She was in her mid-fifties, but still strikingly beautiful. The firm always proclaimed to be non-partisan, and they actively protected that status by working for both sides of the street. As Michelle told me during my interview, 'a bi-sexual has twice the odds of getting a date for Friday night.' Now for many lobbying firms, this is much harder than it sounds. But under Michelle's leadership, she skillfully maintained that persona. Our mission statement proudly states, 'Fair and equitable representation for all Californians.' Of course, it's a lot fairer if you are a paying client.

Michelle hired me the day of my interview, and many of my new co-workers told me that that was very rare. So, I was optimistic that I had made the right choice. My original assignment was that of Research Assistant. However, within less than a year, I was promoted to Research Fellow. A lofty title that meant very little other than a pay raise, but I now also had direct contact with our clients. And due to my eight-plus years of working directly for members of the legislature, I knew just about everyone at the Capitol. Additionally, now that I was able to deal directly with both clients and regulators one on one, my inherent people skills were soon apparent. Michelle quickly realized that I had talents other than just research, and I soon became a valuable member of the firm.

I had worked for Michelle for less than a year when she began taking me under her wing and giving me assignments of a more personal nature. After the passage of Proposition 28 in 2011, all members of the California State Legislature were limited to a lifetime maximum of twelve years of service. So over time, the legislature has lost power and influence, while the state bureaucrats and regulators have gained it. And in many ways, they are actually easier to influence because they are less visible and not subject to the whims of voters.

Paying bribes directly is always risky, due to investigators' ability to trace the funds. Making lucrative campaign contributions, also has its limits due to the amounts being public information. Hiring wives and other relatives have always been a time-tested form of getting and keeping an influencer's attention. But again, subject to whistleblowers and investigators inquiries. So, there must be a more time-sensitive form of gratuity that offers immediate gratification, and yet no lasting paper trail. And Michelle's solution to this dilemma was direct personal contact whenever possible. Or, as she refers to it, as 'pressing the flesh.'

On my first anniversary with the Tenth Street Group, Michelle promoted me to Associate, and moved me to a private office just two doors down from hers. And from there, she began grooming me to ultimately become a full Partner of the firm. She started me off slowly by inviting me to accompany her to private parties and industry trade shows. She knew almost everyone who was anyone in Sacramento, and she would eagerly introduce me as Tenth Street's newest Associate.

These meetings frequently led to dinner dates, and Michelle prepared me for the events that could easily follow these otherwise innocent engagements. Now, keep in mind that Michelle was thirty years my senior. But as I stated earlier, she was still very attractive, and she had the ability to be very sexually alluring.

The California Almond Growers semi-annual conference was the first large meeting Michelle invited me to accompany her. The Almond Growers had been a client of ours for many years and a very lucrative one at that. So, Michelle always gave them her utmost attention. This particular meeting was in Stockton, and though it is only fifty miles from Sacramento. It still meant an overnight trip and a stay at a very nice hotel. A rare treat for me and one I was eagerly looking forward to.

Other than several short business meetings in private hotel conference rooms, the majority of the meeting was social. There were maybe one-hundred-fifty members of the Almond Growers, then several dozen vendors of various agricultural products, two or three dozen regulators from various state and regional agencies, and four or five state legislators. Michelle knew almost everyone there, and that evening, as she took on one of the Regional Water Board Commissioners, she directed me to see what I could do for one of the freshman Assemblyman. The Water Board Commissioner was much closer to Michelle's age, and the young Assemblyman was much closer to mine.

The Assemblyman's name was Steven Granger, and he was from the Imperial Valley area. Now the Imperial Valley is rapidly urbanizing. But it's a long way from Los Angeles, so most of the valley is still very agricultural. And that's precisely the kind of guy we need. He is much more likely to empathize with the Almond Growers of the San Joaquin Valley, than the urban legislators from Los Angeles or Orange Counties. And my instructions from Michelle were clear. Make sure that Granger knows who you are and that you will never have an issue getting his ear and holding it, when important votes for our client come up.

She emphasized, 'Make sure he'll never forget who you are.' The inference was clear. Take this boy to bed and fuck his brains out. What could be clearer? And with my marching orders in hand, I headed for the bar. Steve, as I now call him, was standing there, one foot on the bar rail and his hand wrapped around a cold Scotch on the Rocks. "Assemblyman Granger," I said as I approached him with my hand out to introduce myself. "I'm Marcia Bryan."

Setting his drink down, he reached to accept my hand. "Yes, Marcia. I know who you are, and I was hoping you'd introduce yourself."

That was precisely what I was hoping he'd say. And that certainly makes my job easier. "Well, Assemblyman, I'm glad my reputation proceeds me - I hope." I said with a teasing grin. "I was going to offer to buy you a drink, but I see you already have one."

"Why, yes I do," he flirted. "So, may I buy you one?" To which I smiled my acceptance. "And call me Steve, please," he said as he slowly let go of my hand.

I ordered a Cosmopolitan, and the tease was on. I flirted my ass off for the next twenty minutes, and Steve was utterly under my spell. After another round of drinks, we headed to dinner in the hotel restaurant. And as he had paid for both rounds of drinks, I insisted on paying for dinner, which he accepted with minimal argument. Of course, it wasn't really my money. It was the firm's money, and he knew that. It was my first official fishing trip, and I had hooked myself a big one. Further, I couldn't wait to seal the deal so I could mount his head on my office wall. Or, maybe I just wanted to mount him after giving him head.

Once in his suite, I wrapped my arms around his neck and eagerly brought my lips to his. He wrapped his arms around my waist and hugged me tightly as our tongues explored each other's mouths. Steve was a great kisser, and it was only minutes before the tingle in my groin reached critical mass. Breaking our kiss, I slowly sank to my knees and began on his belt. I soon had his pants down far enough to wrap my cool hands around his raging erection, and even slower, I engulfed him in my warm sultry lips.

He placed his hands on my shoulders but did nothing to stop me from bobbing my head back and forth as his glistening rod slid in and out of my watering mouth. But other than Steve's pants being down around his knees, we were both fully dressed. And neither one of us wanted our evening to end right here and now. So, after several minutes, he reluctantly pushed me back.

"Marcia, Marcia, Marcia," he wheezed. "You can't keep doing that."

Wiping the drool from my lips, I said, "Well, yes I can. But I assume you'd rather be doing something else."

Bringing me back to a standing position, he said, "You have to let me see those boobs."

"See them," I teased. "Is that all you're going to do?"

He didn't say another word. He immediately stepped back and started ripping his clothes off. Taking his lead, I also quickly undressed. And as soon as we were both bare ass naked, he yanked the bed cover back and held the corner of the top sheet up, inviting me to slip in. I placed my hand on the back of his neck and pulled his face to mine to give him one more kiss, before I accepted his invitation to join him between the sheets.

Once safely snuggled together, I realized that Steve really was a breast man. His dick was hard, and it was difficult for him not to rub it up and down my leg. But he couldn't keep his hands and his lips off my tits. I think he was frustrated that he couldn't get both of them in his mouth simultaneously. Leaving him to suck one nipple and then move quickly to the other, back and forth many times. Finally ready to move on, I pushed Steve to his back and laid my body over his. Then slowly sliding down, I had every intention of sucking him to the edge of climax, before fucking him cowgirl style.

But as my D-cups slid over his throbbing boner, he stopped me, and began humping the cleavage between my boobs. He wanted to titty fuck me, even though I was on top. I just assumed it would be a momentary delay, before I continued my southerly journey. But no, he was serious. He really wanted to fuck my tits, regardless of who was on top. I shifted my weight to my elbows and pushed my boobs together to give him more of a sensation of copulation.

And that was apparently what he wanted. Even without additional lubrication, his vigorous humping, nestled snuggly between my supple mammaries, brought the desired results. Most of his expression of gratitude landed on his own chest. But there were still plenty of Peter Tracks up my chest and my neck, as Steve lay flat on his back, gasping for breath.

I'd had guys fuck my tits before, but I had always been on my back. And we generally had used some form of additional lubrication. "You must really be a titty man," I teased as I raised up on my outstretched arms, holding my body over his.

He was still gasping for breath, as he replied, "I'm sorry, Marcia, I couldn't help it. I've wanted to do that since the moment you introduced yourself at the bar this evening." As I continued to hold myself over his still shaking body, he added, "I guess I owe you something, don't I?"

Smirking, I said, "Yes - yes, you do. You were a bad boy." And with that, I slid up his chest until I was sitting on his face. "So, you need to eat my pussy, you dirty boy."