Los Cinco Hermanos Ch. 05

I held his rigid cock away from my face as I traced my tongue down his shaft to his ball sack. More slight sucking and licking and I felt him start to growl. Not moan like a man – growl like a frustrated animal. I pushed his thighs farther apart and descended to his perineum, and then to his anus. I thought I was going to make him cum right then. I was drunk on the power.

The bed was soaked by the time I was ready to really go down on him... to take him deep in my throat. When I plunged down over his manhood, I almost came. So did he. Almost.

I set about taking him deep into my throat with long steady strokes, making sure to use my lips to massage every bit of him I could. He tasted wonderful and his scent, particularly coming off his groin, was intoxicating. He felt huge as he swelled up against my ministrations and I got a giddy kind of pleasure knowing I could get my lips to his balls.

I got a wild hair to try and take not only his cock in my mouth, but both his balls as well. It didn't work. Not for lack of trying.

I took a deep breath so I could plunge all the way down onto him, then hold it while I lifted his testicles to my mouth, trying to suck or push them in. They were a bit too big, my mouth was a bit too small and he was a bit too pulled up to make it. That didn't stop me from trying multiple times. The last attempt, though, he hit the inevitable while I was still all the way down on him.

He tried to warn me, give me a chance to pull up, but I guess I was being dense because it caught me by surprise when, with a loud moan and more growling, he started blasting cum down my throat. I swallowed like crazy, to keep from gagging and because I wanted every last drop of his sweet seed.

When he finally stopped spurting and I needed to breathe, I lifted my head up off of him, smacking my lips and smiling.

"Do you know you taste sweet?" I asked him. He just kind of lolled his head in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm and tried to say "no?"

"Well, you do," I informed him. "Guys are different... salty, metallic, bland... you're sweet. I love it. I also love this fine fellow and I'm not done with you, yet."

I straddled him again, aiming his still mostly erect manhood at my dripping wet slit. I wiggled him inside and sat down, all the way, then leaned forward to kiss him while I gently rocked. My pussy was doing an admirable job of adjusting to him and doing its own version of a blowjob, sheathing him and keeping him drawn into me. And bless the man, after a few minutes he began to get hard again.

Which is where we were now.

"Whether or not you get off again," I told him. "Can we fall asleep like this?"

"We can," he smiled, "but it won't last long. I'd put dimes to donuts that you'd roll off me to get more comfortable. On the other hand, give me a few more minutes in your delectable pussy and I'll be hard enough that we could spoon with me in you and fall asleep that way."

"Mmmm, God, that sounds wonderful..." I mused. "Do you want to get off again?"

"I am well satisfied," he kept smiling. "I don't need to."

"But do youwantto?" I persisted.

"I want whatever you want," he told me. "My mission, which I accepted, is to allowyouto pleasuremeuntilyouare sated. Are you sated?"

I kept rocking for a few moments while I thought about it.

"Oh, fuck it!" I decided. "Screw my brains out until you cum, then let's get some sleep, however that works out. I'm going to need it."

"Hearing and obeying with sweetness and light," he said, easily flipping me over into a missionary position... except my legs were up over his back. He hooked his arms behind my knees and brought my legs up even further, exposing my already sensitive pussy to his thrusting.

"Where the hell is that from?" I asked. "It seems familiar."

"Borrowed from the Genies in an Arabian Nights milieu from the Dungeons and Dragons game," he told me. "Kinda poetic, I think. Now... would you like me to be slow and gentle, or fast and hard, or what?"

"Just fuck my brains to mush," I told him. And he did.

* * * * *

Tuesday was a full day and I managed to avoid Sandra. I called Jerry as I was leaving and drove the car back to LAX and returned it. My stuff was already out of it, including my GPS, so I just went to the #1 Gold waiting area and kept an eye out for my ride. Jerry pulled up in the Lamborghini and turned heads. God knows what they were thinking when I was the one to go out and get in it.

We went back to Jerry's where Molly had another delicious dinner prepared and then Jerry disappeared back into post-production on his movie and the others kind of drifted around, mostly playing pool. I spent the evening going over my feedback from the class and the next day's notes, making some adjustments for the kind of people I'd pulled for my class. I decided to hit the sack early, and alone.

Wednesday morning was a kick... terrifying, in a way, but still very exciting. When I was up, showered, dressed and breakfasted, Jerry took me to his parking lot to pick a car to take to work. When I was informed that no, there weren't any inexpensive ones to pick from, I started to panic. I wondered if my insurance would cover me driving one of these.

Jerry told me not to worry about it, that his insurance would be fine... I was a Designated Driver. I agonized over the decision, a lot more than I thought I would. I finally picked the 1988 Ferrari Testarossa. I was definitely going to get noticed.

"So, to save me the embarrassment of peeing all over your seats, I'll ask while I'm standing out here," I told him. "How expensive is this car?"

Jerry looked at it for a moment before telling me, "I could probably get about 80 Grand for it."

My knees went weak.

"Eighty thousand dollars???" I managed to whisper.

"Yeah, about that," he confirmed. "So, get your pretty little ass in it and head for work. You don't want to be late. Oh, and don't worry about speeding tickets... highly unlikely in this morning's traffic. After you get out of the Hills, of course. Do you have your thermos of coffee? Would you like me to have some catered in to you at lunch?"

He was teasing me, and I knew it, but I was still blown away. I gingerly got into the car – make that, work of art – and smiled up at him, weakly. "Wish me luck," I told him.

"Allgoodluck," he smiled, then leaned in and kissed me. "See you tonight."

The butterflies in my stomach had gone right past the conga line to some heavy slam-dancing. I pulled out of Jerry's drive, headed for work.

The car handled like a dream. My experience with a stick shift had been my brother letting me bomb around in his '94 Camaro. I'd gotten pretty good at it, even beating some of the kids in the Saturday Night Light-to-Lights. But this car made my brother's Camaro seem like a dilapidated old delivery van.

I found myself going faster than I probably should, winding my way down out of the Hills. Thank goodness Jerry was right. As soon as I hit the 101, everything slowed down. Except maybe the heart rates of the guys trying to get a look at the chick in the Ferrari. I don'tthinkI caused any accidents.

When I wheeled into the parking garage, I was definitely turning heads. When I went to exit the car, I realized another reason the truckers on the freeway had been staring – my skirt had ridden way up my thighs in the leather bucket seats, exposing my stocking tops and garters. And yes, I'm a little old-fashioned in some ways.

I was trying to straighten my skirt when I heard Sandra's voice from behind me.

"I hope that's not from Hertz," she commented. The implication that I was abusing the expense account was implicit. I let myself blush as I turned to face her.

"No," I told her slowly, "I don't think Hertz rents the '88 Testarosa anymore." I waited a moment, trying to gauge her reaction – there wasn't any – before I continued, "Actually, this is my new boyfriend's. I turned in the rental last night. Figured I'd save the client some money."

"That's some kind of car," she observed, and when I mumbled a self-conscious "yeah...", she added "must be some kind of boyfriend."

"He is!" I smiled. "Are you heading in now?"

"I have to meet with Osborne... the VP for Operations," she told me. "Maybe I'll catch up with you for lunch... if you're not already booked..."

"No, I'm free," I confirmed. "I usually 'eat at my desk', as it were, boning up for the afternoon session."

"Okay," she shark-smirked me. "Guess I'll catch you later." And she turned and headed for the building.

I took a few moments to calm down, make sure I looked presentable, got my materials out of the car and slowly headed for my classroom.

* * * * *

"So Jerry Sterling is your new boyfriend," Sandra commented as we sat over a sushi lunch. I'd given her a ride in the Ferrari. She was picking up lunch.

I hadn't known Jerry's last name was Sterling until I'd looked at the registration in the glove box. Apparently, Sandra had looked elsewhere.

"Yes," I admitted. "He's turning out to be a really nice guy."

"And ten years younger than you," she went on as if idly discussing the weather. "Very wealthy, multi-millionaire, actually. Entrepreneur, with his fingers in a lot of pies. Travels in some rather aristocratic circles. That young, must have a lot of stamina. Looks like you hooked yourself a trophy..."

"Oh, I don't think of him as a trophy!" I protested. She'd gotten to me, dammit. "He and his friends are really nice. They've treated me with nothing but respect, and they've had multiple chances to bail on this old broad! I really, truly, enjoy their company."

"Los Cinco Hermanos?" she asked. I felt like I'd been hit in the gut.

"What?" I asked weakly.

"Jerry and his friends," she said softly, watching me like a hawk. "The Five Brothers. They were pals back in high school and since then they've stayed close. I just thought, perhaps, these friends of his you were talking about might be Los Cinco Hermanos."

"Wow. You know more about him than I do!" I told her. "I suppose they could be that group. I really wasn't paying close attention."

"You know, rumor has it," she went on, circling for the kill, "that they shared...everything."

"Oh?" Where was shegettingthis information? I wasn't going to let her rattle me.

"Yeah..." she zeroed in on me. "I was just wondering if they still did..."

When I shrugged, she added, "Rumor also has it that Jerry is CEO of Himeros Productions... did he happen to mention it?"

"Um... maybe?" I told her. "Again, a lot more mesmerized by his smile than by his titles."

"I can see that," she smiled – like a Piranha. "I'm fascinated... but we need to get back. Maybe we can compare notes later." She signaled for the check and I sat on anything I was evencontemplatingsaying. I wasn't going to let her screw this up.

She didn't say much on the drive back. I told her thanks for lunch when we'd parked and then we'd gone our separate ways. I really had to drag my focus back to the class that afternoon, but I managed. As soon as the class was over, I was on my cell to Jerry, telling him about my lunch conversation.

"Cool!" he told me. "She took the bait. She had Capt. Dougherty of the LAPD run my plate. He called me, then told her what she wanted to know when I okayed it. Favors work like that. I also okayed the Vice Squad telling her about Himeros Productions. Los Cinco Hermanos would have been from a call to Don Whittier, the Dean at the high school, who also let me know she'd called. We're doing well!"

"Doing well???" I was incredulous. "Jerry, I can't figure out if she's trying to set me up to ruin my career, hook herself a wealthy husband or just get her ashes hauled! I have no idea what's going through her manipulative little mind. I just don't want it to end in a pink slip for me!"

"I wouldn't worry about it," he told me, trying to reassure me. "I know Jim Pedersen personally."

"OurExecutive Vice President?!?!?" I was stunned. Floored. Completely discombobulated.

"Yeah," Jerry told me casually. "He was a friend of my father's. Look, if you're okay to drive, why don't you just come on back up here and chill for awhile? She isn't going to be a problem... I promise."

"She probably has the car staked out," I told him. "I think she wants to go to dinner and pump me for more information. I'm not cut out for this cloak-and-dagger shit..."

"Then bring her along," Jerry told me. "We'll entertain her..."

"WHAT???" I couldnotbelieve I was hearing this!

"I said, bring..."

"Iheardwhat you said!" I interrupted him. "Are youcrazy? Bringing her to yours is like letting the fox guard the henhouse...from the inside!!!"

Jerry laughed and I fumed. "I'm glad you've still got a sense of humor," he told me. "And I'm serious."

"You are certifiable," I told him.

"What can it hurt?" he asked, and I started running the list in my mind. "She can't fire you... you're protected. If she wants a rich husband, I can give her a list of 'very eligible' bachelors. And if she wants to get laid... well, there's eight of us here. Seven, if you take yourself out. By the way, I've got the edit done on the film. I thought I'd preview it for you and the guys – and gals – tonight."

"Not if Shark Girl comes along," I told him.

"Oh, why not?" he faux pouted. "It'd besomuch fun..."

"Jerry, shut up," I told him. "Quit while you're ahead."

"Mum's the word, Mum," he told me. "And if you do decide to bring her out, just punch up the voice dial in the car and tell it 'ET Phone Home'. It'll get through to me."

"Not much else seems to, at the moment," I sighed. "Okay, I'll see you when I can get out there."

"Cheers!" he told me and we hung up.

This is going to get interesting,I thought on my way to the car.As in the Chinese curse, 'may you live in interesting times'...

* * * * *

"ET Phone Home." Sandra was in the passenger seat.

"Dialing Home," the Chatty Cathy in the dashboard responded mechanically.

"Sterling residence." It was Molly.

"Hi, Molly, it's Beth," I told the hands-free phone. "Is Jerry around?"

"Certainly, ma'am," she told me. "I will get him for you momentarily. Will we be having guests for dinner?"

"Just one," I told her, "and we're on our way."

"Very good, ma'am. Please hold." There was silence until Jerry picked up moments later.

"Hi, Beth," he came on cheerfully. "Molly says we have company for dinner?"

"Yep, my boss, Sandra," I confirmed. "Somebody piled up a big rig on the 101, but we're past it now. We should be about half an hour."

"Excellent," I could hear Jerry smile. "Any special dietary requirements, Ms. Milton?"

I hadn't used her last name.

"None," she spoke up from next to me. "Thank you, sir."

"You are most welcome,ma'am." His emphasis, not mine. "Beth, introduce her to Molly when you get here. She's in the kitchen. The rest of us are out at the pool. See you when you get here!" He hung up.

Sandra kept looking over at me strangely as I wound our way out of the valley and up into the Hills, finally turning onto Vulcan Road.

"This is some very fancy real estate," she commented as I drove straight for the wrought iron gate at the end of the cul-de-sac. Jerry had explained that a transponder in the car would open the gate – a Bat Cave thing of his, I guess. I could feel Sandra cringe in the seat as I wasn't slowing down, but then the gate rumbled open and I breezed in, heading down the lane to the parking lot in front of the garage.

Sandra looked bewildered at the lack of an obvious mansion.

"C'mon", I told her after I'd parked and we were getting out. "Let's go introduce you to Jerry's very competent housekeeper and chef." I led the way and Sandra followed, wondering. She stared as we made our way through the garage, but she momentarily lost it when we got to the elevator vestibule.

"Wow!" Her eyes kind of bugged out as she looked out the plate glass window to the terraces below and the City of Los Angeles beyond.

"Yeah, I think so," I agreed and stepped in as the elevator doors opened.

Sandra joined me and I pushed "1", headed for the kitchen. The look on Sandra's face as we passed through the ballroom and dining room, then went left at the breakfast nook, were worth it.

I had decided if she couldn't fire me, I was going to be a brazen hussy. Or working somewhere else shortly. I called out "Hi!" to Molly, walked up to her and gave her a hug – and then a kiss, which she returned for a few moments longer than it took Sandra to start getting antsy. And damn! Molly sure knew how to kiss!

"Molly, this is Sandra, my boss," I introduced her. "Sandra, this is Molly, Jerry's right hand woman. She's housekeeper, laundress, gourmet chef, you name it. And a grad student at UCLA."

"Pleased to meet you," Sandra stepped forward, holding out her hand – to forestall the kiss, maybe? In any case, Molly took it.

"Likewise, ma'am," Molly smiled. "Dinner will be ready in half an hour. Jerry and the others are down by the pool. Can I get you something to drink in the meantime?"

"I'll get her something from the bar downstairs," I intervened. Now I knewexactlywhat I was going to do, and it probably involved job hunting.

I escorted Sandra back to the elevator by way of the hall – "offices down there, pool room, bathroom, theatre" I gestured on the way – and hit "2". When we exited, I pointed straight ahead. "Living room. Bedrooms are down that hall. We're going right." I steered us in the direction of the sunlight flooding in from the door to the pool terrace.

We emerged onto the terrace and I steered us towards the bar as Sandra was trying to do a quick look around. Dave and Jackson were taking on Paul, Jerry and Ron in some kind of cross between water polo and keep-away, and as I expected, no suits. Ginger was in the jacuzzi, similarly not attired. Sandra was trying to keep her inscrutable face on, but I could see she was ogling. Hell, I was, too...

"What can I get you?" I asked, stepping behind the bar.

"One of them?" she whispered very quietly. Oh, good... she wanted to get laid.

"To drink, first, perhaps?" I asked. "I've got just about anything you want back here."

"Um... Piña Colada?" she asked and I started making it. Two, actually. Big ones.

I handed hers to her and suggested, "Let's go over to the jacuzzi." I didn't wait, but walked over to where Ginger waved to me.

"Hi, Ginger!" I called over to her as I set my drink down on a table and began taking off my clothes. That stopped Sandra in her tracks. She watched, either fascinated or horrified, I'm not sure which, while my shoes, blazer, skirt, blouse, bra, panties, stockings and garter came off. I neatly folded them on one of the chaise lounges, picked up my drink and eased into the spa. Ginger came over and gave me a quick kiss, not spilling my drink, thank goodness.

"Ginger, I'd like you to meet my boss, Sandra. She's a guest this evening. Sandra, I would like you to meet Ginger Hawke, both one of Jerry's employees and bassist for the band Fuzion."

"Nice to meet you," Ginger smiled, then spreading her arms wide, displaying her nakedness, she added, "feel free." Then she retreated to her original spot on the other side of the jacuzzi.

I thought Sandra was going to have a heart attack. Indecision reigned and I was enjoying the hell out of it. She was a pro, and she was good at handling people, but this one was taking her some time to figure out. Eventually, she did, though.

"Thank you," she told Ginger graciously. "I will." She set down her drink on the same table I'd used and began the same strip I'd done. Except she wore pantyhose instead of stockings and garters. I was mentally sizing her up as she did.