Corporate Bodies Pt. 04: Fidelity

When I returned home shortly after eight o'clock, Mandy's assignation had been over for a while and Amanda was back in residence, all excited about the following evening's reception and the crowning success of my Junior Partnership.

As we sat watching TV with the kids for an hour or so, I did notice she wasn't as flushed pink as she so often was after Mandy's fucking. Perhaps this time she hadn't had the extreme orgasms she often experienced at Andy's hands.

For some reason this strangely pleased me.

Chapter Seventeen

The following day; the last before the signing, was hectic from start to finish. I was at my desk before seven o'clock, working flat out on the final paperwork and the last few points of clarification. Our clients were due to arrive after lunch and the afternoon was to be filled with meetings at all levels. I had to mediate several times between the two parties during the day - there was considerable mistrust of the Turks generally and Mr. Pamuk in particular by the EU contingent - but by five o'clock all seemed to be going well.

By six I was able to tell my clerical staff to draw up the final documents for signing the following morning.

The relief was amazing and permeated the building. We were on the verge of major success and a move into the corporate big league. What was more, everyone knew it was me that had spearheaded the project. It was my glory and although the press releases would place the credit on the heads of the EU and Ankara teams, anyone who mattered would know who had really done the work.

I was already on something of a high when Amanda joined me in the large lobby area for the evening's reception. She had surpassed herself, dressed in a brand new and very short black, lacy designer dress that simply clung to her svelte figure. Its high hemline added to her black stockings and high heels made her legs appear endless. Her long blonde hair was styled around her head rather than its usual cascade and with just the right amount of gold jewelry she looked breathtaking, like a Greek goddess.

My wife was clearly pleased by the look on my face as she crossed the room and gave me an air kiss.

"Will I do?" she smiled.

"Wow! Amanda!" I gasped. "You'll cause a riot!"

"Well, I didn't want to let you down tonight of all nights," she said in my ear. "I know how important this is to you - to both of us!"

Andy joined us soon after and once again I was amazed at how my wife could compartmentalize her life. They chatted for quite a while without either their words or body language suggesting any intimacy, let alone that they had been having sex every week for over six months.

My wife really was an extraordinary woman. I was a truly lucky man.

Once the guests arrived, the evening passed in something of a blur. Now that all major issues had been agreed, it was safe for those not directly involved in the negotiations to join the group, so the lobby thronged with cheerful, noisy people. Most of Sanderson's senior management was there too, along with their spouses, including our friends Mike and Yvonne

Still very much on duty and working the room in my role as joint host, my time was very heavily occupied and for long periods I lost track of my lovely wife in the crowd. I did notice her chatting with Elodie several times, their faces strangely serious and concerned, but then I saw her with Mr. Pamuk and his team too. The Turk's hands seemed to stray onto her body with a regularity and familiarity that annoyed me, though Amanda seemed to have the situation well under control.

Dinner was excellent; our Turkish guest was clearly delighted that protocol required my wife to sit alongside him and I have to say Amanda seemed to enjoy his company too, if the laughs and smiles were anything to judge by. I myself was seated next to Mme. Flauvet who proved a very entertaining companion indeed, and a good deal more attractive and flirtatious than her demeanor during negotiations had suggested.

Andy, sitting on her other side, was clearly impressed with her too, and the two of them spent a great deal of time talking animatedly throughout the meal.

By the time we were enjoying after-dinner drinks on the office's rear terrace, the mood was very mellow and as Andy drew the formal proceedings to a close with a short, well-judged speech setting the scene for the following day's signing, the more hardened drinkers set in for a longer evening's session.

Just after eleven o'clock, the numbers began to thin out, tiredness began to hit me. I longed for my bed. I looked around for Amanda, but she was nowhere to be seen and I realized I hadn't seen her for some little time.

I began to go around the lobby and onto the terrace in search of her but without success. I couldn't find Andy or Pamuk either, though Mme. Flauvet, donning her coat at reception, told me she thought she had seen Andy and someone else leave in a taxi some time ago.

I frowned, anger building inside me. The haze of tiredness and elation around me began to clear. It was obvious what had happened; Andy had failed in his attempt to seduce Elodie Flauvet, so had called on his second option to close the evening properly - my wife!

This was not our agreement!

The thought went through my mind over and over. Okay, we had agreed he could have her once per week, but that appointment had taken place the previous day. We had not agreed that he could call on my wife's sexual services as and whenever he chose. It had been humiliating enough accepting him fucking her at all; the thought that she had to be available at his whim was not acceptable!

Waving away the last few congratulations from colleagues, I strode angrily out to the car park and threw myself in the driver's seat, pushed the start button angrily then with a squeal of tyres, sped out onto the road, my face burning with anger.

How could he do it? We'd done everything he had asked! Wasn't it enough that I had to let him fuck my wife every week and pay a fortune to him every month? The truth that I had stolen the money in the first place didn't enter my mind, neither did the fact that Andy had arranged a huge promotion for me to cover the payments. All I could see was that he was treating my lovely wife as an unpaid whore to be fucked wherever and whenever he wanted!

The lights were on in Andy's flat as I pulled the car into a vacant spot and leapt out, not really knowing what I intended to do but knowing that, as a man, I had to do something. Enough was enough!

Walking briskly around to the front door of the building I realized my first mistake. There was an entry phone system, and the door was locked. Shit! How could I get in? Was there a fire escape? There must be!

I ran around the back to see if I could reach it, but then noticed a drunk young man wobbling his way towards the doorway. Running up behind him as casually as I could, I made a mental note of the code he clumsily entered onto the pad then pushed past him and ran up the stairs. They were softly carpeted, so I made little sound as I climbed up to the second floor and the door to Andy's flat.

There I found my second mistake. This door was closed too. In frustration, I put my ear to it and thought I could hear low music playing. Checking there was no-one around to see me, I dropped to my knees, opened the letter box cover and pressed my head against the slot to hear more.

Then I heard it; the soft, repeated sound of a woman's voice moaning. It was low and muffled but unquestionably the sound of mounting arousal.

'Amanda!'

The name ringing silently round my head was all I could think of. My wife was in there, being fucked as I stood in the doorway.

What should I do? Confront them? Stop them? Attack him?

I recalled vividly that terrible night so many months ago when I had been forced to watch helplessly as Andy fucked Amanda for the first time in his office, on his desk.

Could I really bring myself to watch them doing it again?

But could I just turn my back and leave them fucking?

The answer to that last question was provided by the swelling in my pants and the tightness in my chest. I could not leave without knowing more. Desperately I looked around for a way to find out, running up and down the landing and corridor for any means of seeing into Andy's apartment.

Then I saw it. The apartment block was expensive, even by London standards. Every room had either a balcony or a railing, including the landing and room from where the low glow was coming and presumably, the noises were emanating.

The walls had been made of patterned panels, with horizontal ridges between them about six feet apart. If I climbed over the railing on the landing and very carefully worked my way sideways with my toes in one ridge and my hands gripping the one above, I could perhaps, step by step, make my way to the window of the room in which my wife was even then being fucked.

It would be tricky; perhaps even dangerous, but it might work - if I dared.

I returned to the locked door and put my ear to the letter slot once again to help steel myself. The sounds of female arousal and pleasure were louder now; much more intense. My captive erection responded in kind, providing all the persuasion that I needed.

My heart thumping, I looked around to ensure there were no witnesses, lifted first one, then the other leg over the landing railing and began the twenty-foot journey towards... towards who knew what?

The ridges were small but blessedly not slippery. Several times either one hand or one foot slipped, but thank God, never both at once. After what seemed an age, and without looking down once, I inched my way along until I reached the window then quickly climbed over the rail and into the relative safety of the balcony.

Panting with exertion and with my heart thumping even louder, I gingerly aside my head and looked into the bottom corner of the room's window.

A large venetian blind covered all the glass, preventing anyone in the other apartments from seeing in, but up close, things were different; the horizontal slats had not been completely closed. Eyes as close to the glass as mine, could clearly see through the window and into the room beyond - if they dared.

What's more, one of the windows had been partly opened, presumably to bring fresh air into what could only be a sweaty, steamy, sex-infused atmosphere in the room. Through this small gap, the sound of moaning seemed to be coming, louder now and more passionate.

Amanda! What was he doing to her? Whatever it was, she was clearly enjoying it more and more.

Should I hammer on the glass and bring their copulation to a premature end? After all, this was way beyond our agreement. Andy had no right to be fucking my wife that night.

But what would they do if I did? What would Amanda - no, Mandy, think of me bursting in as she climaxed?

I had to see inside first. Slowly, gingerly, I raised myself on my knees until my eyes were just over the windowsill and peered through the lowest gap between the blind's slats, blinking as my vison adjusted to the room's low light.

It was indeed a bedroom. There was a large divan in full view opposite the window. A familiar man clad only in a white towel round his waist was circling the bed, his back towards me blocking my view of the bed and its moaning female occupant.

It was Andy!

I stared at him; whatever his age, his body was in great shape. Lightly tanned, well-muscled and fit, he made me feel ashamed of my own physique and, from the heavy tenting of the towel, was struggling to contain a huge erection.

Every few moments he leaned over and did something on the bed after which another muffled moan filled the room. Each time he reached out, the moans grew stronger and louder, building in intensity until finally as the muscles of his shoulder flexed, they merged into a loud, high muffled squeal of orgasm.

Amanda! Mandy! What in God's name was he doing to make her cum so hard? He hadn't even mounted her, and yet there she was, orgasming helplessly on his bed!

"Good girl!" he whispered. "I thought you'd enjoy that!"

Andy moved from the foot of the bed to the side, clearing my field of view and there, lying full length on the bed, her body still shaking with the aftermath of her first orgasm, was...

Yvonne!

Chapter Eighteen

It wasn't Mandy on the bed at all!

A huge feeling of relief washed over me, partly because Andy hadn't cheated on our deal after all, but mostly because, thank God, I hadn't burst into the apartment with all guns blazing and destroyed our one route out of bankruptcy and prison.

Now at least I had a chance to take stock of the situation and with luck, get away undiscovered. But when I looked again at our close friend as she lay twitching with post-climactic after-shocks, my eyes nearly popped out of my head!

Yvonne was naked, lying on her back in the middle of the large king-sized bed. Her arms were raised above her head, her wrists tied together and secured to the headboard by what appeared to be the necktie Andy had been wearing earlier that evening. Her bare legs were spread wide apart, each ankle tied to a corner of the bed's frame by what could only be either torn tights or stockings.

A large pillow had been placed beneath her buttocks, thrusting her chubby belly, hips and groin upwards, parting her heavy thighs even wider and leaving her dark, wet, hairless slit obscenely and clearly displayed in the reflection.

Christ! Yvonne! What the hell are you doing...?

My friend's head rested on the mattress, her face partly obscured by her large, shapeless breasts which flopped on her chest, their nipples huge, dark and apparently grossly deformed.

I stared at them, puzzled. Wait! Those weren't her nipples.

I looked again through the slats. Yvonne was writhing on the bed, apparently in extreme pleasure. I looked harder still, then blinked in astonishment. A cruel-looking, metal-jawed clamp was attached to each of her large, dark teats, crushing it cruelly and pulling the globe beneath it horribly out of shape.

Oh, sweet Jesus! What had I walked in on?

I tore my eyes away from those tormented breasts, across the generous folds of her chubby tummy and down to her crotch where something large protruded from the top of her dark, gaping slit.

Surely no-one had a clitoris that large or that deformed!

I stared again and again but couldn't quite make out what it was that stood so proud and so ugly from her vulva. Then I lost sight as her body flexed and squirmed in another powerful orgasm.

"I love it when you cum like that," Andy's voice was amused but still soft and seductive. "Shall we try a something a little stronger now?"

A strange, muffled sound of assent emerged from Yvonne's mouth.

"You really are a slut, Yvonne."

With those words, Andy leaned over, raised his hands to her groin and before my watching eyes, attached something black and plastic to whatever the object was that protruded from her slit. Then he squeezed it half a dozen times in his fist.

There was a series of soft sucking sounds, then body on the bed convulsed wildly, muffled choking sounds coming from my friend's mouth as either a bolt of pain or another wave of orgasm struck her.

"That's better!" Andy whispered, removing the plastic device. "Cum as hard as you can, Yvonne! There's no-one above or below us tonight. We're all alone; you can make as much noise as you want!"

As he stepped back, the low light from the lamp shone onto Yvonne's plump, wide open thighs and hairless vulva. There was a dark patch high up on the inside of her right thigh that might have been a birthmark. For a moment I couldn't make out what it was, my attention focused so heavily on her crotch - from where I could now clearly see a small glass cylinder sticking out at an obscene angle from between her legs.

Something large and dark filled the lower half of the tube.

Jesus, it was a suction cup! And that was Yvonne's clitoris. Andy had pumped it to a monstrous size, and my friend was loving every second of it!

Oh, my fucking God!

I had heard of this of course and on business trips had seen had one or two porn DVDs where they were being used, but had never dreamed I would see it happening in real life. Nor had I any idea just how effective clitoris pumping could be - which was certainly impressive if Yvonne's convulsions were anything to go by.

Andy flicked the cylinder with his fingers. I watched in silent awe as another wave of orgasm struck the helpless woman, pulses of pleasure rippling through the plentiful flesh of her thighs, belly and breasts. Yvonne raised her head in confused ecstasy, and for a moment I saw the red silk neckerchief which was tied around her mouth to muffle the volume of her moaning.

"Beautiful!" Andy's low voice filled the room.

Then with a mischievous smile he reached over and twisted the glass tube between his fingers, now two thirds full of Yvonne's grotesquely distended clitoris. Her body immediately bucked wildly, and she squealed into the gag. He did it again, though this time slightly more firmly and with an even stronger reaction from the tied woman.

"Even better than last time, Yvonne!"

He moved to her breasts where he tugged on her nipple clamps. I could see the teats being cruelly stretched before he let go of the jaws.

"Is this what you wanted? Is this what you deserve?" he asked with a slightly malicious tone.

Yvonne's head rolled from side to side in what could have been either pleasure, pain or even both mixed inextricably together. Another low moan filled the room.

"My pleasure, my dear," Andy smiled. "And speaking of my pleasure, I think it's my turn now, don't you?"

He stood upright and his towel fell to the floor freeing his erection which sprang forward and upwards.

I gasped despite my predicament then slapped my hands over my mouth.

Months ago, when he had first fucked Amanda, his cock had been mostly obscured by his shirt tails but even then, I could tell it was an impressive appendage. It's immediate effect on my wife as it entered her body had testified brutally to this.

Now, with him totally naked, it stood hard, firm and despite his age, boldly erect, as if bursting from the small patch of tightly curled hair at its base. Long, thick and dark, it looked intimidating even to me, and for a moment all I could think was how Amanda must have felt when it was first thrust into her tight, inexperienced vagina.

"Let's get this thing out of the way," he smiled.

He reached over and pressed something on the top of the glass tube. There was a tiny hiss of air as the vacuum was lost then he gently slid the glass off Yvonne's cruelly misshapen clitoris. She gasped loudly into the gag. Whether this was in relief or disappointment, I couldn't tell, but its removal suddenly allowed me to see the short, dark, grossly swollen female phallus that stuck grotesquely upwards from the apex of her slit.

But as if this wasn't shocking enough, it also revealed that the dark mark on her inner thigh was not a birthmark at all, but a small black tattoo in a very familiar shape; a shape the I saw literally every working day of my life.

A small but distinct salamander had been inked high up on Yvonne's inner thigh, close to where her pubic hair would have been, had it not been thoroughly removed.

For a moment, I was taken aback. Did Yvonne really have the Sandersons logo tattooed on her crotch?

Or was it Andy's tattoo? Andy's stamp? And if it was, what did it signify? Ownership? Control?

There was no time for speculation because a strong male voice sounded loud and clear through the open door.

"You want me to fuck you now?"

I didn't need words to know that the mumbled reply meant not only consent, but desperate desire.