Consumed Pt. 01

Denise, or Didi, Lamont, epitomized the word bimbo, Brad thought. With big tits, a round ass and her large pouty lips, watery blue eyes, with long blonde hair, she was breathtaking. She was hot. And that's one of the things Brad liked about her. She looked sexy, a little dirty. But most of all, she was an incredible fuck. For three months now, they had been meeting secretly for pure, amazing, hot lust. Didi was also married, but Brad never had time to worry about her husband. He was too busy trying to keep up with Didi and her wild antics.

Now, sitting next to her on the plane, he couldn't take his eyes off her. She radiated sex and fucked like nothing or nobody he had ever known. But with Didi, he violated Rule Number One. Brad's Rule Number One was: Never stick your dick in crazy. And he violated it, because Didi Lamont was definitely crazy. Her unpredictability was off the charts and often dangerous for a man trying to keep an affair discreet. Just weeks ago, she sat in her car out in front of Brad and Claire's house for hours. He prayed Claire didn't notice the blonde in the car, just sitting and looking at the house. Didi would tell him about things that Claire had done and what Claire posted on the web. Yes, she was actually stalking them! But, man, what a fuck, he thought. Of the hundred or so women he had affairs with over the last three years, or even the near thousand he'd fucked in his entire life, she was easily the most amazing.

She was wild, a shocking and unforgettable fuck and she really loved sex. Yep, she was the perfect bimbo, he thought. A walking man trap, with the long blonde hair, huge tits, pouting pink lips, and a great ass, she was visually a sexual goddess. And there wasn't anything she wouldn't do. The biggest problem was keeping her in control. Their very first night together they had stopped for a drink at a little out of the way place. Didi sat at the table in the quiet restaurant and kept whispering about how horny she was.

She dipped her hand under the table and came up with wet, sticky fingers that she pushed into his mouth. "Lick 'em," she whispered. "There's plenty more." And then she licked her own fingers, sucking off her juices with those amazing pink, puffy lips. Brad was going crazy, and his cock was rock hard instantly. Without a word, she took the empty wine bottle from off the table and whisked it under the table and was soon masturbating with it.

"Oh my God, it's halfway in. It's so big!! OH, OH!" she was moaning. Brad couldn't tell if it was for real or she was faking it, but she sure knew how to turn a man on and how to fuck with his mind. He knew from that point on that she was definitely crazy. And things just got wilder from there.

So, when she insisted on going to Ireland with him on this business trip, he truly knew he had no choice. She threatened to go to Claire, to the company, post it on the Internet and expose him to any media outlet that would listen. He couldn't take that chance. So, the first week of his trip to Great Britian would be spent fucking Didi in London. That would keep her happy... and quiet. Then she would head back to the States and he would go on to Ireland and get to work.

Now, sitting in first class cabin of the plane, Didi was already touching and rubbing herself, quietly moaning, whispering that she needed to fuck. Didi kept telling Brad she wanted to suck his cock right there, right now. Eventually, he drifted off and fell asleep in the darkened cabin. When he woke up, Didi was not there. He looked around and two rows back saw her blonde head bobbing up and down on some guy's lap.

"Jesus," he thought, and shook his head in disbelief. Didi had moved over and was sucking off some handsome young guy in the back of first class. She had insisted on them joining the Mile High Club - sex in the sky. If he wouldn't, she would do it with some other guy on the plane, she said.

Minutes later she returned to her seat, smiled, and wiped a stray drop of semen from her lips.

Sitting in first class, Brad had reserved the reclining bed seats, so they could sleep on the flight over. In the darkened cabin, he eased his seat back and was about to try to get some sleep, when Didi crawled over on top of him. She had managed to pull her pants off and was now naked from the waist down. It was one of the craziest things he had ever seen, as the beautiful blonde wriggled on top of him, covered only by the tiny airline blanket.

As he slid his rigid cock into her, Didi let out a loud moan.

"Muuuuhhhh," she groaned, as his cock went deep into her wet opening.

"My God, she's already dripping wet," Brad thought, knowing full well that she was probably hot and wet from the moment she got on the plane.

"Crazy, it's like she wants to get caught," he said to himself, as he rocked his pelvis trying to get some rhythm. He pressed his hips up, putting as much pressure as he could on her pubic bone and her clitoris. He knew that would make her come and then he could get some sleep. He kept pounding against her as best he could, given their positions and the fact that he also had to keep her quiet. As she was getting ready to orgasm, Brad reached behind her head and pulled her face in hard against his chest, hoping to muffle some of the sounds of her climax. "The Mile High Club is certainly overrated," he thought to himself. "Most uncomfortable fuck I've ever had. But kinky as hell. That's Didi."

Soon Didi was fast asleep on top of him, her naked ass now sticking out from under the tiny blanket. Brad opened one eye as he noticed a male flight attendant walk by, shake his head, and cover Didi's bare ass with another small blanket.

Chapter 3

The following evening after Brad's departure, Claire Hughes returned home after work and there, standing in the driveway, was Devon Carlson, Brad's boss. He said he left his jacket in their game room and needed to pick it up. Claire left him standing in the drive and went in to retrieve the coat. Jacket in hand, Claire hurried back into the living room and there stood Devon Carlson, his trousers and underwear on the floor. His large cock was hanging out, an obvious invitation.

"Well? C'mon, Claire, suck it. You want it, don't you? You know you do," he said.

"Will you please leave!!" she said, her jaw clenched in anger.

"Claire, it's okay," Carlson said. "I'm absolutely sure Brad won't mind."

"What?!!"

"It will be okay with Brad. Trust me. And it would actually be a great deal for him. Could mean a big promotion and a big bonus," he said and winked.

"WILL YOU LEAVE!!!!!" she shouted. "Out, or I call the police." Angry and confused, Claire could feel her face flush and her fists clench.

"Claire, you're missing your big chance," he said pulling up his trousers and heading out the door. "You're gonna love this," he said.

"OUT!" she shouted, and the door slammed shut, as Devon Carlson slowly walked out of the house and down the drive, smiling. She watched until she saw the car pull out and head down the street.

"Oh my God, the man is crazy!" she said aloud. But then paused. "What did he mean, it's okay with Brad?" she thought to herself.

She went immediately over to the household computer to check her husband's itinerary. She wanted to know where he was at this exact moment, because she needed to talk with him. "I don't care if he is asleep. I need him right now," she muttered. That was it, she thought. The Carlson man had crossed a line. She would call Brad and let him know what had just happened. Brad would take action and Carlson would be fired.

She began by checking Brad's company email for his itinerary. Logging into his system was easy. Brad only ever used two or three passwords or simple variations at work.

She quickly found his itinerary with tickets for two to London. His ticket and a woman's, someone named Denise Lamont, were there. Claire didn't know who it was, probably a colleague from work going on the same site visit with Brad.

Then she found an email from Denise Lamont, and it was clear that she was not a co-worker. Brad called her Didi in his emails to her. And there was a note to himself from his work account to another personal email address about the tickets, referencing his personal files. How odd, she thought. What personal files? This was an account she didn't recognize. She easily got in the second email account. Claire found his note to himself and a link to an archive in the cloud, a dark link she wasn't familiar with. It led to another account. Clumsy, she thought, but effective. It was an amateurish maze to follow, but still strange stuff from Brad.

Again, it was easy for her to get into the files, the same old passwords Brad always used. She opened the file and was instantly shocked. These files were filled with notes and photos from women Brad had been seeing over the past 3 years. She felt the blood drain from her face as she read on. She saw a folder labeled "Didi" and she clicked on it. "Oh my God," she muttered, as hundreds of images of this Denise Lamont filled the screen. Most of them were of Denise "Didi" Lamont naked. She was a very attractive blonde with huge tits, a bimbo, if she ever saw one, Claire thought. And this woman, Didi Lamont, she was from right here in town.

Then she saw a note from a Didi, who was excited about going with him on this trip and what hot sex they're going to have. Reading more, she soon realized that her husband would be fucking this other woman on this company trip. And he had been fucking her for months. Perusing the files and folders, she found more, much more. She found hundreds of notes, emails, letters, photos from other women her husband had been fucking over the last three years.

Clair sat at the computer looking at the screen, as tears began to stream down her face. Confusion, disbelief, and rage welled up. Once more her heart had been crushed. She kept digging into the massive three-year-old archive and found photos and emails of countless affairs Brad had. Endless women were there, women he had fucked many times over the last three years and moved on. And endless lies to her. It had all been a lie. Their whole marriage was a sham.

Wiping away the stream of tears, Claire Hughes tried to deal with the hurt. And the anger. Her whole marriage was one lie after another. Brad had stolen years of her life with his lies. And killed her love and her trust. After three hours sifting through the massive files of photos and correspondence to other women, she exited the file and sat at the blank computer screen, sobbing, trying to make up her mind on what to do. Her life was spiraling out of control.

The next two days and sleepless nights wrecked her. She was constantly remembering the huge black cock she had seen, had touched. She felt violated. She was now unable to forget it. And Brad would not be there to help her. With no family to turn to, she was alone. All the friends they had were really Brad's friends, and she wasn't truly close to anyone. And then to find out that for three years, her lying snake of a husband was cheating on her with so many other women. All the while, begging her to "loosen up and enjoy" some wild sexual adventures with him. Her rage grew with every second she thought about it. The anger was consuming her. It wouldn't leave.

After several days of stewing about her husband's betrayal, Claire Hughes had reached a decision. She had decided on the path for her anger, her hurt and her rage. She remembered a club that one of the women at her office, Diane, would chatter on about. Diane called it a place for meeting someone, a place for sex. It was a place for a quick and easy hook-up, Diane told her, with lots of good-looking available men, all very well endowed. That's what the club was known for. Claire vaguely remembered the name, the Gran Royal.

That third evening, Claire Hughes zipped up the back of the little black dress and looked into the mirror. She had put on a simple black cocktail dress, her white pearls and did her long red hair in a stylish twist up on top of her head. Perfect, she thought. Her mind was made up, she would make Brad pay for hurting her before she took him to court and then destroyed him financially and professionally. She was going to have an affair. She would go to the Gran Royal, a club known for any number of available young men there. There would be no internet search, no prolonged screenings. This would be fast and brash. Promiscuous, in her mind. Payback would be speedy.

An hour later, Claire Hughes walked through the front door of the Gran Royal and stopped dead in amazement. The club was filled with middle-aged women, housewives, and mothers. They were all exposing themselves, showing off their bodies in very revealing clothing, bumping, and gyrating around on the dance floor with attractive younger men in their twenties and thirties. She saw hands rubbing asses and breasts being groped, hips grinding together to the music, deep kisses exchanged.

"Oh my God," she thought, as the loud music pulsated through the club and reverberated in her body. She saw couples sitting around at small tables, mostly white women and young men. Other women were seated or standing at the bar, working to catch the eye of the attractive young men who lined the area. The heavy thump of the music, combined with the bright purple neon light from the decorative wall fixtures saturated her senses. She needed to sit... maybe, to rethink her strategy.

She looked around and noticed a small empty round top table in the corner. She slowly walked over to the table and sat, thinking now more than ever that this may not be the right decision for her, not a good choice for her payback. Instantly, a tall muscular black man sat down in the empty chair next to her. He was young, with massive, heavily muscled arms. He wore a black silk shirt mostly open in front, with several thick gold chains dangling from his neck, tattoos spilling onto his chest and partially up his thick neck. His tight black trousers displayed an enormous bulge in the man's pants.

"You want sum black cock, don't you. I'm the man for you. I got all you need. I got the biggest cock you'll ever see..." he said, pulling the chair closer next to Claire.

"Damn you got some nice titties," the man said, as he reached over and started rubbing her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress. She instinctively pulled back from his touch.

"You the most beautiful woman ever come in here, most beautiful I ever seen," he said.

Suddenly, another man, a tall, older man appeared next to the small table.

"Leon, I've got this. Thank you," he said softly.

The large man stood and moved off without a word, his eyes never leaving Claire until he turned and walked back to the bar. The other man sat smoothly down in the chair. He was in his late 40's, Claire guessed. He was nicely dressed in a suit and tie and had a certain polished crispness to his speech. It wasn't British, but something, Claire thought.

"Hello, my name is Victor. And you have never been here before," he said with a slight smile.

"No," Claire replied coldly, still on edge and defensive.

"You'll have to forgive Leon. He's somewhat the ladies' man around here," the man said.

The man stared at her for a moment. For Claire, it felt like an eternity.

"Oh, I'm Claire," she replied.

"Ah, Claire," he paused, still looking directly at her, then continued. "What do you want?"

"Nothing. Just here for a drink," she said.

"You're here. A married, white woman. For a drink." His sentence hung in the air. Absurd. A lie, but there it was.

"You are more beautiful than any woman the men in this place have ever seen, Claire. Here, in your Chanel dress, your big diamond wedding ring, your pearls and ...that look." he said.

"Look?"

"Women who come here have one of two looks. They are either looking for love or looking for sex. Here, they will only ever find sex. With you, however... there is something else. Do yourself a favor. Go home."

"So, you're a marriage counselor?" Claire quipped.

"No. I'm a lawyer," he replied coldly.

Silence

"Claire, ... may I call you Claire?"

She nodded.

"Have you ever even seen a very large cock?"

"Yes," she said quickly, a defiant tone now in her voice, proud that she was not telling a lie.

A slight chuckle.

"So, I ask again, what do you want?" Victor said, staring motionless at her. He looked deep into her clear green eyes, making her extraordinarily uncomfortable.

"Ahhhhhh," he said, slowly leaning back in the chair. "Just a moment."

Claire watched silently as the man got up and went across to the bar. In a few minutes, he returned with two filled martini glasses. The flat black martini glasses were heavily frosted over on the outside, obviously quite chilled. He set one in front of her on the table and sat again, his own glass now resting on the table in front of him.

She looked down into the silver inside lining of the martini glass and gasped. What looked like an eye sat at the bottom of the martini, staring back at her.

"This drink, it's called a Revenge," Victor said. "Best served very cold. And when you start down the path of revenge, you should be prepared to stare it in the eye." He paused, looking at her as if gathering more information. "It's really just a large, white olive, a Leucocarpa olive, actually, very rare from North Africa. It's stuffed with a slice of black olive and a red pimento as the pupil. Two parts Tito vodka, one part Hendricks gin and, well..., a surprise.

She lifted the frosted glass and slowly sipped, unable to take her eyes off of the olive at the bottom of the glass staring back at her. She slowly took a second sip of the martini.

"Wow. Wow," she said. "That's great." She sipped again, trying to distinguish the odd taste. "A dash of something," she said, trying to identify the unique flavor.

"Ah, yes, Claire. That's the surprise. When one is out for revenge, one will always encounter a surprise. In this case, it's just a touch of a special hot sauce - Primotalii peppers and mango inside the olive."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the table as Claire took another sip of the drink. Without a word, Victor softly reached under the table and gently placed a hand on her bare thigh. Clair gasped. Then, with a defiant look, she placed her hand on his thigh under the table.

In the faded darkness, with only the spill of the light from the bar and the glow of several neon light fixtures around the Gran Royal, she felt the challenge of the hand on her leg needed to be met. In the darkness, she slowly slid her hand up the man's leg.

"Oh, God," she thought, as she gasped in surprise. His penis was enormous! She couldn't tell how large, but she knew for sure that it was even larger than the cock she saw from Brad's boss. She pulled her hand back as if touching hot coals.

"There are several private rooms. May I suggest we take our drinks in the back where we can continue our talk, privately," Victor said.

"I really shouldn't," she stammered.

"I see. Then, what do you want?" he said.

The beautiful redhead paused for only a second and then stood defiantly, her resolve newly hardened. And her sense of being in control seemed to come to her.

"Alright. Where?" she said, an air of challenge now in her voice.

He chuckled again and pointed to a small hallway leading off behind the bar.

"Won't the owner mind if we're back here?" she said, as they entered a door angled off the bar, then as they slowly moved into a narrow hallway lined with several darkened rooms.

"No. You see, I am the owner," Victor replied, as he directed her to one of the darkened rooms in the hall.

Clair cautiously stepped into the dimly lit back room, having only several tables and chairs, and a sofa.