Good for the Goose

The mail-room kid had been easy to seduce; but, when she finally gave in to mail-kid's whining for a reprise, she had found out--in a clear example of life imitating art--that he'd obviously been boasting to his courier friend. Still, as it turned out, the courier was very well-hung, especially for a short-shit. She allowed them to double team her, though the time economy aspect rapidly gave way to the splendid eroticism of being fucked doggie-style by a veritable horse-cock, while giving 'mail-kid's' relative pencil-dick a first-class blowjob.

Another day, while fucking another colleague, Ariel realized she'd better be careful not to overuse her partners. Wouldn't do to have anyone get an idea in his head about it becoming a serious relationship. Initially the trysts were all at work. Ariel's first relocation was at home, at lunch; however, the expected lay was joined by second, curious colleague who had heard rumours from the mailroom. "Why fight it?" she asked herself, and, as she couldn't come up with any answer, she took on the two of them in what was actually a very satisfying threesome! Still, she realized she had to balance out the familiarity of repeat partners, against developing a reputation of promiscuity--of being an easy lay.

Inexorably, the game continued, with Ariel and Jan, more or less, taking turns mounting the fantasy-weaving stage--basking in the story-telling spotlight. The tales were mostly just variations on a few well-used themes. For him: lust-at-first-sight--snagged by a confident, horny woman; or catching a woman at a weak or vulnerable moment; or just plain trying to get ahead. For her: flexing her feminine wiles; or simple quid pro quo-- exploiting the male one-track mind, nothing too complicated for a man on the scent; or just because. Notwithstanding, the erotic vignettes were, at worst, entertaining, and, at best, eminently arousing.

As the game progressed, Jan became increasingly cocky--proud of the success, or, at least, the apparent success--of his continued deception. It was, he convinced himself, his latent acting talent, in what he considered, basically, an erotically supercharged game of charades.

Over the phone on another afternoon just before quitting time, as Ariel finished describing her 'whazz'up', Jan responded with a, "Wowzer! That was HOT!!" He paused for just the slightest moment, then said, in a rush, "Hang on for a second. Something has just come up!" Ariel detected his emphasis on the word "Up," as she was put on hold.

After a rather long wait Jan came back on brightly. "Hi, Ari. You still there?"

"I'm here."

"Ah..., Mrs. Draper just arrived, so let me tell you 'Z'up!' on this end."

Gloria Draper was the young wife of one of Jan's oldest--literally, oldest clients, Russ Draper. Mr. Draper was 87! She was 28! Gloria had been Russ's nurse and companion. And not long after becoming Mrs. Draper, she'd been incredibly easy to seduce. Jan had been fucking her for a couple of months by this time.

"I'm leaning against the front edge of my desk, watching, as she lowers herself down between my legs. She's dropped my fly and peeled open my pants almost before her knees hit the floor. Fishing out my swelling serpent, she gives it a couple of long, affectionate strokes before plunging her open mouth fully over the helmet and pushing on until I am completely enveloped. God damn, that feels good. She's obviously done this before.

"While dear Mrs. Draper is fully occupied, my hands, loosely cupping her head, and giving gentle, encouraging caresses, have to drop briefly down to catch my trousers before they fall right off my hips--this is a good argument for suspenders! My libido fully energized, my legs start to quake and shake as I feel my arousal climbing steeply, discharging lightning from my balls up my spine to engulf my brain. Before my consciousness gets totally blotted out--before I actually cum, I hook my hands into her armpits and pull her to standing. Twirling her around I lean her forward so that she is supported by her hands flat on the desktop! I flip up her skirt, and yank at her dampening panties, roughly pushing the gusset aside. Taking quick aim, I drive into her with force, rocking her forward onto the desk!"

Listening attentively to the lewd monologue, it occurred to Ariel that the lines between fiction and nonfiction were becoming increasingly blurry--at the hazy boundaries, reality, exaggeration, histrionic embellishments, and apocryphal fantasy all blended together.

"Holding myself deep in her pulsating snatch," Jan continued blithely, "I pause, temporarily staving off the impending climax. Then, keeping her fully pegged, I lift her off the desk and shuffle-walk her over to the window, where I pull open her blouse and flip her bra-cups down, pressing her now exposed tits up against the glass, for the entertainment of neighbouring office staffs. Grabbing and mauling her bare boobs, rubbing them on the thick, glass pane, I begin pounding her cunt, once again, until I'm rushing towards a massive orgasm--pumping gallons of cum into her while pinning her helplessly, high above the street, against the glass.

"Pulling my slimy snake from her velvet tunnel, keeping her pressed tight against the window, I drop my right hand from her chest, to between her legs, and proceed to finger-fuck her to another orgasm. Before she can get her bearings, I spin her a hundred eighty degrees, and force her into a crouch. She's not dumb; she grabs my slightly wilted cock and sucks it in, hollowing her cheeks as she begins to bounce. It doesn't take much for me to get fully hard again, and I take charge. Her expert fellatio morphs into full-on face-fucking; my cockhead pounding the back of her throat mercilessly, holding her tight by her hair. Pulling and pushing her on and off my steely staff, I rain verbal abuse onto her, calling her slut, whore, cocksucker, tramp, gutter-snipe. All the while she is redoubling her efforts to completely consume me, until I stop--holding her at depth--and unload spurt after spurt of cum down her throat. Wiping my softening prick on her cheeks as I withdraw, I tell her, 'Fuck off, I have work to do!'

"That was my afternoon. She's just left." Then, switching to a caricature East LA ghetto accent, Jan slyly asked, "Whazzup wit you, Bitch?"

"We-e-e-e-ell," Ariel crooned, "Kinda hard to top that--but, wait...." She paused, and in that moment ran an entire tryst that had occurred earlier that week through her mind's eye.

Jim, the colleague of Ariel's--who had, earlier, shared a quickie with her in the disabled washroom, had begun hinting at a reprise. Ariel acceded to meeting him, but at a different location. She didn't really want to caught at work. "I've got an apartment," he announced, brightly, eyes a-glitter, "relatively nearby." So, they made plans to visit it over the lunch break--Ariel already formulating the story in her head. While they were actively couch-wrestling, tearing each other's clothes off, they were unexpectedly interrupted by a good friend of Jim's to whom he'd given a key. Suddenly, Ariel, became aware of someone coming through the doorway.

From the very beginning, Ariel's fantasies, her contributions to the game, had always been vivacious and voluptuous, bright and bold, lively and engaging. She knew, however, much to her chagrin, that her presentation reflected much, much more confidence than she actually felt.

The newcomer, barging in, loud and brash. "Ah, so it is true," he deduced, rather snidely, "You must be the one doing threesomes with the boys downstairs, eh?" Ariel, hardly in a position to defend herself, realized that the rumours of her mailroom antics had, as rumours will, already grown from simple blowjobs into full-on threesomes. While Ariel was taken aback and put off by newcomer's arrogance, and her colleague's smirking response, she was overwhelmed by the moment and the potential, and eventually capitulated.

They all got naked, and the newcomer--she could not recall his name--took charge. Ariel found that she had totally lost control of the situation. She was ordered about and manhandled. She was placed on all fours on the day-couch, and, with an ease that suggested they had done this before, the two cocks spitted her, Jim forcing his rampant erection between Ariel's lips and deep into her throat, while his buddy thrust his impressive wood into her pussy. An objective back corner of her mind observed that this really was her first actual threesome. As she was carried into their metronomic rhythm, Ariel also realized that she was, in fact, quite enjoying it. Jim's cock, banging against the back of her larynx, was getting gradually stiffer and firmer and thicker, splashing through the gathering saliva. She liked how the surface veins on the invading penis felt against her tongue, and rubbing between her hollowed cheeks, that she'd automatically sucked in.

The oral stimulation was enflamed by a repeated pounding of the rather large cock in her puffy, glowing, and dripping vagina; that clenched and released spasmodically, sending jolts of erotic energy randomly through her body, like transient riots of pleasure. Some part of her brain wondered why she had never done this before. To say she was surprised at how much she liked it--loved it, actually--would be an understatement. After the buddy demanded an oral clean-up before tucking himself in, the two left the apartment abruptly. "Close the door when you leave," Jim called over his shoulder.

At the end of the contemplative moment, Ariel began to recount the wonderful experience to her husband over the phone--as if it were a fiction that could have been real.

Over the next little while, Ariel described for Jan, among other erotic escapades, accidentally waylaying the postman. "I had gone home for lunch--I think I told you I was expecting a parcel delivery. Anyway, I was home, and thought wouldn't it be a hoot to meet the delivery guy in the buff! As we always use the same parcel service, I'm fairly well acquainted with Pete, our regular driver, so I planned to surprise him by coming to the door naked--fodder for our game I figured. At the sound of the doorbell, I don't know who was more surprised when I flung the door open to, not Pate, but Mick, the postman. No matter who was more shocked, I recovered faster; holding out my hand, I yanked him in and quickly closed the door. He had his hands all over me before I could even consider seduction. Energetically French-kissing, he worked on the top of his uniform while I worked the bottom. I had him nearly completely undressed when the doorbell I'd originally expected rang again, interrupting us.

"I feigned surprise. Disentangling myself, I went tentatively to the entry-way. Peering around the open door, I allowed Pete a glance before inviting him in 'for a drink or whatever.' Eagerly accepting, as if his wish had just come true--as, in a way, it had--he pushed the door wide to bring in the expected box on his dolly. At that point, I almost got caught by a nosy neighbour. I had noticed the elderly woman across the courtyard, paying more attention to my delivery than the flower-garden she was ostensibly watering.

"I asked, with a sly glint in her eye, 'What took you?' as I dragged Pete into the living room. Ignoring their obvious surprise, I said, drolly, 'Pete, Mick; Mick, Pete.' Then turning back to the latecomer, I added, just to rub it in, '...couldn't wait!' Leaving Pete to strip off his own uniform, I dove, head-first, into Mick's groin, slurping his wobbly hard-on into my mouth, to dramatically suck it and lick it for a bit, before turning to the now-ready Pete.

"I sometimes amaze myself with how incredibly slutty I can be. I have to stop and ask myself, 'Who is this brazen harlot?'

"The boys simply took turns getting their cocks sucked, to start. Then, by some muttered agreement, they took turns fucking me. I just laid back, lovin' it!

"It didn't take much convincing to initiate double-penetration--mouth and pussy, only. They may have been competitors in business, but they were definitely compatriots in sexual adventure, for I was very quickly spitted--very quickly reliving the ecstasy first fomented by Jim and his boorish buddy. Notwithstanding, I let them believe they were in charge. The three of us rhythmically swayed forward and back, back and forth, for a good while before Pete, filling my drooling mouth, suggested, 'Switch?' to which Mick responded, 'Switch!!' Leaving me, for a brief moment, on my hands and knees, they did a pretty efficient job of swapping ends; but I had caught sight of the time during the maneuver, and called for a halt after only a short stretch. As Mick hadn't actually climaxed (nor had I, for that matter,) I brought the two of them off with a double hand-job to finish, then sent them on their ways, while I straightened up. I'd look after myself later."

Ariel had noticed, in fact, on more than one occasion, that she seemed to, quite naturally and effortlessly, be able to assume a submissive role; however, what seemed to be submissive behaviour was, generally, a deception--a pretense--a passive aggressive disguise, concealing the fact that she was actually--firmly, if subtly--in full control of any given situation.

"Hmmmm," she thought, as she headed, with her parcel, back to the office, "That would make an exciting and lewd, if somewhat unbelievable story--as a response to Jan's next 'Z'up?'"

Granted, Ariel was taking her revenge, but what good was revenge if the target remained oblivious. The plan, the vengeance--the game plan, for what it was worth--began to evolve, or change--in Ariel's head, at least. She was going to find a way to make it more obvious--but subtly. All that was happening now was that she was getting way more active and varied sex, and the game had become much more lurid and lascivious. Furthermore, Ariel was now a cheater, just like her husband.

She sometimes found herself, much to her astonishment, playing the game alone--telling an erotic story to herself. Incidentally, and concurrently, she was learning a lot about herself. Things she had never before realized.

"The other evening, when I was out late after work, supposedly attending another of the same kinds of after-hours meetings that Jan was frequently obliged to attend,"--the stories she told herself contained a lot more truth than the 'confessions' she made while playing the game--"I found myself in the area of the Convention Centre--looking for something, though I wasn't sure what. As I stood outside a bar, wavering in indecision, two well-dressed gentlemen caught up to me. "Buy you a drink if you'll sit for a bit...," one began in an outrageous accent from somewhere in the southern states.

"...with a couple strangers to your fair city," his buddy went on, with a laugh, his hand already at my elbow, steering me into the dimness of the lounge. My docile compliance, shocked me, but I seemed unable to do anything else. In any case, they guided me to a dark, corner table at the back of the high-end bar, and sat in close, flanking me. After ordering drinks--without, I might say, consulting me--they ordered me a Cosmopolitan--the couple of conventioneers introduced themselves as Malcolm and Gerrard, from Mobile, Alabama.

"Immediately, as they asked personal questions about myself and shared trivial tidbits about themselves, they began caressing and groping, boldly fondling my limbs and torso. My attempts to fend them off were futile, and I soon resigned myself to put up with their temerity. Reaching the limits of my experience, my tough-cookie facade crumbled, as an almost palpable tension ramped up.

"Finishing our libations, I found myself following them passively up to, I believe it was Malcolm's room. After a brief minibar exploration, and a hazy bit of inane small-talk chatter, the two Adonises began to undress...me! Somehow, subjected to a sort of sleight-of-hand, I suddenly found myself the only one naked in the room. And the groping began in earnest. Hands and lips, flitted about--in a Brownian motion--one hand stroked my moistening pussy, another probed my anus; one hand mauled my tits, flicking my nipples, another grasped my jaw, turning my face to receive a hard, aggressive French kiss. The digital attention would then slip back to poking my butt and swirling my clitoris.

"Given my clearly growing arousal, continued protests seemed pointless; yet, I persisted. 'No! Don't! Not there! I don't like that. I don't do that!' I whimpered and whined at every touch of my bum.

"'Don't be silly!' Gerrard scolded, keeping up the pressure on my rosebud. I tried to squirm away, but he just followed, lazily. Another magic-trick produced a tube of lube.

"I continued to whine, 'Owww!' It hurt! It really did!"

But..., she had had to admit to herself, something else had begun to happen, too. Something she couldn't explain--something she couldn't understand. A glow of arousal had subtly spread from her very core, reaching, like tendrils of excitement throughout her body.

"'Owww!'

"'Quiet!' one of them barked."

No longer telling the story--no longer in the game--Ariel relived the excitement as she ran the vivid recollections through her mind's eye.

Flipping her over onto her hands and knees, Gerrard--she thought--had continued his commands. 'Arch your back! Stick your butt out!' And as she complied the glow had flared! There was something about just doing what she was told--obediently--whether she wanted to or not, that was what? Stimulating? Fulfilling? It was almost a relief to let go, and let someone else take the responsibility--especially when that someone else was a virtual stranger.

Inexorably the finger-tip circling and persistently bothering her anus pushed--or not even so much pushed as applied a steady pressure against the ring of her asshole. Until, with an almost audible pop, her rosebud succumbed, and she felt the very odd sensation of someone's bony finger sliding into her rectum; pausing, wriggling a bit, it gently withdrew to the point where just the very tip held her sphincter ajar. Then another finger joined, and the two of them made their way in, before drawing back out to be joined by a third and then a fourth finger--stopping each time at depth, to flex and squirm while fully insinuated. "Ooowwweee!" she griped.

"Don't be a baby. Complaining after the fact don't do no good." Still, whomever abruptly withdrew his digits. Then, working as a team, the two men manhandled Ariel into position; so that one of them--Ariel had long since lost track of who was who--knelt between her legs, and placed his impressive cockhead against her still-resisting bottom-hole. She continued to moan pathetically, until, tired of her continued protests, the both of them got quite stern. "Shut the fuck up!"

Once in position, Ariel felt the man behind her--Gerrard, as it turned out--carefully seating the spongy plum-end of his stiffening man-meat firmly against her elastic ring. Paradoxically, despite her declared abhorrence and revulsion, and though she would never admit it, Ariel actually enjoyed the sparkly feeling of Gerrard centering his cock head in her brown eye. And, much to her chagrin, as he leaned into her with a steady pressure, Ariel found herself thrilling to the anticipated sensations of her bottom giving way, bit by bit. Regardless of her responses, when Gerrard's rigid hard-on, relentlessly, inevitably, pushed through her sphincter, he announced proudly, "We're already there! It's already done!"

And, of course, they were right. She had, she realized, just lost her anal virginity, and no amount of grousing was going to get it back. She resumed whimpering at the very thought, so, to quell the complaining for good, the other one--the one not sodomizing her--jabbed his impressive woodie into her mouth, with a hissed warning, "Don't you dare bite!" Once he was fully situated between her lips, Malcolm--for it was, indeed, Malcolm--announced, gleefully, "Gotta do anal, dearie, if we're gonna make you into an Oreo." Interestingly enough, the forced fellatio initiated the subtle transmogrification of feelings from fear and affront to pleasure and desire.