tagNonConsent/ReluctanceBeware: The Taxman Cometh

Beware: The Taxman Cometh


Dedicated to Julie, a master of words.

There aren't many things more terrorizing than a tax audit by the IRS. Yet my prim and proper wife Tiffany and I recently found ourselves in that intimidating situation.

We were, indeed, terrorized.

From the moment we arrived at the cold, old stone Federal building we had a feeling of doom. We patiently sat in the waiting room, across from each other, barely talking, with our hands folded and heads staring at the drab carpeting.

Things did not get better when we finally were ushered into the small drab office that was piled high with papers. The frowning IRS representative, Mr. Johnson, did little to help our disposition, either, merely grunting a hello as we sat on hard metal chairs. The fifty something man with the graying hair and paunch around the waist settled into his seat on the other side of the desk, glanced over our tax returns, shook his head, and looked me straight in the eye.

"We've gone over your tax returns for last year, both by computer and by hand, and to be frank with you it isn't pretty," he said with a gruff voice. "What were you thinking?"

I knew immediately that my little plan to shift one column of numbers to another was found. But what could I do? I was desperate. There was no way I could come up with the money we owed because of my stupidity.

I worked for a highflying dotcom company, at least it was high flying when I exercised some incentive stock options and decided to hold the stock. I was greedy, I thought it would appreciate more and more and make us zillionaires. When the rug was pulled out of the stock market, Tiffany and I found our plan to "retire-at-35" was unraveled. We owed Uncle Sam more in taxes than my stock was worth.

To top it off, even if we liquidated everything we had, the house, the cars, you name it, we would still several hundred thousand dollars short. Dollars we didn't have, couldn't get, nor were able to wipe out by bankruptcy. Our goose was cooked, and that led me to get creative on my tax accounting.

I had discussed the problem with Tiffany, not letting her know the full scope of our problem, but told her we would make our way through it...somehow.

"You owe the United States Government, by our calculations, $687,700 in back taxes and penalties," he sternly said, eying our tax return.

"Oh my god," said 26-year-old Tiffany, tears starting to flow from her pretty blue eyes. "I knew it was a lot, but not that much. We'll lose our house, everything. It isn't fair."

"Fair doesn't matter, ma'am, you earned the money, you bought things with it, you did all these nice things and then you didn't pay taxes. It's people like you," he said, pointing at each of us, "who make me sick."

The room quieted, it was an eerie kind of quiet as I stared at Tiffany, she tearily at the floor, and the taxman at us.

After a while I attempted to reason with Mr. Johnson. "Look, we are short of cash right now, but if there is a payment plan of some type we will do our best to make good on this," I innocently said. "My company stock is bound to rebound, and we'll be able to work it out over time. We've learned our lesson."

"That's all well and good, but since this is a willful violation I believe the federal attorney will be involved," lamented Mr. Johnson. "We audit people like you all the time, and your behavior has serious consequences.

"Federal attorney? But why?" I asked in amazement.

"He's the person will decide on prosecution," replied the IRS man, matter-of-factly. "You are looking at a minimum of a year, maybe as much as two, in federal prison for this little bit of tax evasion. I hope it was worth it."

Tiffany started bawling her eyes out, and I felt a bit of a tear coming on myself. We were doomed, set to lose everything we had and had worked so hard for, and then spend time apart in prison as well.

Mr. Johnson stood, shook his head, and left the office as we squirmed and cried and hugged each other. We attempted to talk, but words couldn't be found. When he returned, he said the prosecutor was still uptown and wouldn't return for about two hours. The room was silent as he glared at the two of us.

A few minutes passed before he said: "Well, I guess we could negotiate this little problem. Maybe reduce the debt to society with a little give and take."

The way he suggestively said those words didn't at once ring a bell, but when I looked at him staring at Tiffany I quickly got the idea of what he wanted given and what he wanted to take. I grimaced as he never moved his eyes away from Tiffany's young body.

I have to tell you that Tiffany has never been with another man besides me. Oh, she was a handjob terror in high school, so she tells it, but she never had any other kind of sex with anyone in her 29 years. She was a virgin on our wedding night, and while not a pin-up beauty she was very attractive. Her pouting lips seemed to draw men's attention, and her cute little ass constantly drew stares.

But this was serious business, and our negotiating posture was clearly bad.

Tiffany looked at me with quizzical eyes. "Honey, what's he saying? What can we do, pay in installments?"

Mr. Johnson laughed at her gullible remark, shaking his head once more.

I couldn't get the words out of my mouth to explain what he meant, though.

Mr. Johnson could. "We all have needs, young lady, and from the looks of it you two don't have much to negotiate with. I think if I were to receive, say, a little more understanding of how remorseful you felt about the matter, I might take things up with my superiors. We could see what we can do about at least getting the willful part of this problem taken care of, which would of course eliminate the need for the prosecutor."

Her quizzical look turned into shock as a light went off in her brain. "You mean, I would have to ...."

Mr. Johnson tugged at his pants, looking down at the beginning of a bulge. "Well..."

I looked at her and said she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do. She sat, her pleated dark skirt riding up her legs, crying, thinking, and a jumble of emotions.

Mr. IRS again stood and walked to the door. "Why don't you two talk it over while I get something to drink. I will be right back. Oh, and it won't be long before the prosecutor will be on his way here."

Tiffany looked daggers at me. "You can't possibly think I would put out for him, can you?"

"Of course not, Tiff, but we are in a whale of trouble. They have us over the barrel. Heck, we might lose everything and rot our asses off in jail too. Honey, treat him right and we can get out of here with something. I know it is a lot to ask, but it wouldn't be like cheating, cause I will be here. And I love you. Now and after. Just think about it."

I have to admit I never thought she'd go along, but the thought of losing our house, our savings, our car, and spending time in jail did not agree with her. When Mr. Johnson returned and asked, "Well..?"

Tiffany slowly made her reply.

She turned, gazing at me, disgust in her eyes, then turned back to look at Mr. Johnson. She quietly said she was willing to negotiate. There was a quiet hush in the office as she stood and walked over the desk. She looked once again at me, told me to lock the door, and then dropped to her knees.

Slowly, she lowered Mr. Johnson's zipper, reached through the opening of his boxers, pulling out a semi-hard cock.

I looked on, spellbound, as she looked at his expanding dick. Tiffany hardly ever blew me, heck our sex was usually on Saturday and maybe once on a weeknight, and normally involved me getting on top of her in the missionary position. Now she looked like a porno star as she started licking his hardening cock from top to bottom.

She sucked the tip, slipped her tongue down near his balls, then moved her mouth up and took his dick in her wet, hot mouth. After holding it inside for several seconds, she began to suck him like a professional hooker.

"Oh yes," he sighed, his cock hardening right before my eyes, making Tiffany's cheek bulge out. "Yes, suck it you whore!"

After a bit of sucking he pulled out his dick and began rubbing it back and forth on her face, looking at me all the while, as a smile grew on his face. "She's a natural cocksucker, man."

Tiffany sucked his cock for what seemed like hours, but lasted only 15 minutes. He delighted at her lack of comfort, he deliberately thrust deep to nearly gag her. It wasn't a pretty sight, but luckily it did come to an end. He grabbed the back of her head, gave a final push, and spurted his creamy cumsauce hard into her mouth. He kept his dick securely in her mouth, and I saw the throat muscles swallowing it down her throat. Along the way he kept fucking her face while his dick softened, and all I could do was hate him more and more.

"Hey slut, not a bad job," he spat at my wife, who quickly slapped his face.

"Well, well, well, a frisky one," he laughed, holding Tiffany's shoulders as she tried to get up off her knees. "Whoa, wait a minute, honey. Just calm down a bit. You still have some work to do?

She gave him an incredulous look. "What do you mean? You said that if I blew you you'd help us."

"That's not exactly correct, my dear," said Mr. Johnson. "I said we could negotiate. Now that was a good faith effort, but we are talking a major problem here. And that little performance was just the beginning of our negotiation. Now, clean my cock off, make it squeaky clean."

Tiffany resigned herself to a long afternoon. She stared at me, then told me she hated me, and began to say something else when there was a knock at the door. Mr. Johnson zipped up, then unlocked the door, letting in a younger man. "Hi Johnny," the newcomer said. "I see from the looks of things the Benedict's have decided to negotiate."

"That they have, Billy, that they have," said Mr. Johnson with a smile.

The man called Billy smiled back, and said he was in a hurry and wanted to get started. Tiffany turned a little on her knees toward him, but he held up his hands. "Whoa, Miss, what are you doing?"

"Just what I did to Mr. Johnson," she replied, licking a bit of leftover sperm from her lips.

"And what was that?" said Billy.

"I gave him a blow job," she said.

"And a good one at that," added Johnson.

"Well, a blow job sounds really great right now, it really does. I love hot lips around my cock," said the blond-haired man named Billy. "And that's just what I think I need right now."

With that he turned toward me, unzipped his pants and began reaching into his underwear. "Down on your knees, buddy," he said to me.

The gasp that came out of my throat had to have been heard several floors below. My head snapped back as my eyes bugged out, yet words couldn't escape my lips. Women give blowjobs, not men, and surely not me.

Tiffany broke the tension when she suddenly smiled and said to me, "We are in a whale of trouble. We might lose everything. Treat him right and we can get out of here with something. I know it is a lot to ask, but it wouldn't be like cheating, cause I will be here." The words spat out of her mouth at me, the same basic words I had said to her less than a half-hour before.

I knelt in front of Billy, his cock already hard, and asked what to do.

"Suck my dick, bitch," he said, waving his meaty wand at my shocked face. "Get going already, I don't have all day. I have work to do."

I know I turned beet red, I know there was a smirk on Tiffany's face, and I knew I had no choice in the matter. I knelt, looked up at Billy, and then down at his dick. It appeared huge pulsating in front of my eyes. I reached out to grasp his dick but he pulled back.

"No hands," he simply said.

I groaned at first, but pushed forward on my knees and opened my mouth, extended my tongue, and began licking the monster dick in front of me. It was a big one, it had to be at least nine inches, and he took pleasure at smacking it against my face. Humiliated, I still attempted to lick it as best as I could, and ultimately ovaled my lips around it.

I began sucking cock, deliberately at first, getting into the slow rhythm. Somehow it seemed like the monster kept growing, and while it might have been just my imagination, it did fill my mouth. I gasp for air until I found that my nose was the best place to oxygen while my mouth was full of cockmeat. It was not a loving effort on my part, and clearly not on his as he made no effort to make my first cocksucking experience at least bearable. It was as though he was trying to hurt me, but I took whatever he gave, thinking that a blow job, as distasteful as it was, couldn't anywhere near as bad being behind bars.

It was humiliating, degrading and downright nasty sucking his cock, so when he pulled the dick out of my mouth and told me to lick the tip again I did just what I was told without any hesitation. I greedily slurped up all the pre-cum that was gradually sliding out of the cockhole in an effort to speed up his impending climax.

Eventually I reached around and grabbed his ass with both hands, hoping to control his nasty thrusts, but he countered by holding my head against his expanding dick. All of a sudden he groaned and his cock nearly broke my jaw as it exploded into my wet but unwilling willing mouth. I nearly choked as his slimy, sticky sauce as he continued to thrust his cock into my reddened mouth of a cockpit.

His movements slowed as he continued to rock into my mouth, spewing forth more disgusting cum which made its way slowly down my throat. When no more was to be had, he pulled his dick out of my mouth.

"Not bad," he said, zipping up and leaving the room, as Tiffany attentively watched his departure, relieved she did not have to perform.

Mr. Johnson quickly grabbed our attention when he said how pleased he was that we were being cooperative. "This really helps your predicament," he commented. We nodded our heads in unison, wondering if our ordeal was over.

There was quiet in the room as we all digested the situation, but the still was broken when a newcomer entered. She was a big woman, as in heavy. Nearly disgusting actually, with huge hanging breasts and a wide ass to boot. "Hello, Greta," Mr. Johnson said, quickly introducing the woman as a clerk with a need.

My initial thought was to stay on my knees and perform some mouth magic on her, and that thought quickly became reality as she hunkered down on the edge of the desk in front of me, lifted her skirt, and told me to take down her massive panties and pantyhose. Before me was a pussy that hadn't been bathed in a week, or so it seemed. The hairiest pussy I had ever seen, yet like a lemming I tilted my head forward and began licking.

I licked her pussy, and when she lifted up a bit and told me to lick lower, I licked all the way down to her stinky fat ass.

I have done nasty things in life, but this was the nastiest...even more displeasing than the blowjob I had just performed. Her heavy thighs tightened like vice grips around my head, and I did my best to quickly have her cum.

Needless to say I was shocked when she said, "This just isn't doing it, Johnson, he's not any good a it."

Now, I'm not bragging, but I never had any complaints in the sucking pussy department. But this amazon was complaining. Then I was shocked even more my her next demand. "Get down here, lady, and help this poor boy out."

I looked at my wife, and she was mortified at the thought of going down on another woman. She started backing off until Mr. Johnson emphatically told her that it wouldn't be a good idea. Seconds later a terrified Tiffany was kneeling right next to me. I watched as she slowly, almost as if thinking it would bite, extended her tongue out and carefully began to cautiously lick a pussy for the first time in her life.

Thinking back, I believe that put us both over the edge. At this point, we had degraded ourselves into the lowest of low, and we would do anything to get out of our taxing predicament. Luckily, the moans we heard from above came quickly as the woman grasp both of our heads in her hands. First she would pull Tiffany against her pussy, then me. We both took turns licking the wet hole as she got closer and closer to orgasm. That moment came, and she came all over Tiffany's virgin like mouth.

"Yes, yes, yes, suck it," she groaned. "Yeeessss." The woman's eyes were under her eyelids as she rocked against my wife's chaste mouth. It wasn't long before she shook and came on my wife's face.

The deed was done. Tiffany and I hugged, holding on for dear life and wondered again if our ordeal was over. The woman left the room, calling us "assholes", and we remained on the floor like animals.

After regaining our composure, we looked up. There was Mr. Johnson with a huge smile upon his face. In front of him were several Polaroid shots of Tiffany and I in various stages of debauchery.

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Benedict, I believe you drive a hard bargain! I think you can kiss that indictment away," he said with a smile, picking up the telephone.

We both let out a sigh of relief.

"Do me a favor," Mr. Johnson said. "Before I call the prosecutor to tell him it was a false alarm, I'd like a little memento for myself. Tiffany, come here and suck my dick, and Rob, take a picture of her with my dick in her mouth."

There was no resistance left. Tiffany dropped to her knees and munched on his semi-erect cock. "Smile for the camera, Tiffany," said the bastard taxman.

I took several photos, no questions asked. Then he patted her on the head and told her to get up.

"That's enough for now, Tiffany, my dear. Uh, Rob, it's your turn. Tiffany, take the camera and get a couple shots of your husband showing off his new skill."

I needed no further prodding as I knelt before the older man and began sucking cock.

It wasn't easy to get him to cum for the second time that day. Heck, it was downright torture, but I did it. This time there wasn't much sauce, but I did what I had to do, swallowing all he had to give.

"I think you two made the right decision," said Mr. Johnson, zipping up his pants. "It's been a great negotiation, I think you two have earned some goodwill. I guess you can go now."

We smoothed down, buttoned up, and generally got out clothes presentable. Once done, we got up to leave.

"Oh, one thing," he said, as we prepared to open the door. "I will expect you back here in two weeks with a plan on how to pay off the $600 grand you owe Uncle Sam."

"But you said..." cried Tiffany.

"Madam, I said we could negotiate, and we negotiated away the jail time. I will see you in two weeks when you can tell me how you are going to pay off the money you owe," growled Mr. Johnson without an iota of regard for our feelings. "Now get out of here, and remember, I have these photos, so don't get any ideas about blabbing anything to anyone. Do you hear me?"

Reality is a bitch. We respectfully nodded our heads in unison, two used and abused souls without much self-respect nor dignity. Beaten, so to speak, and humiliated to no end.

On the way home we saw a prostitute showing her wares on a street corner. We wondered out loud how much sex services were going for these days. Even if it were a princely sum, our knees would be wearing a hole into the carpet to pay off this whopper of a tax bill to Uncle Sam.

Some have said the government constantly tries to screw the taxpayers. Tiffany and I know first hand that the government can do it in more ways than one.

To Be Continued...

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