Max & Cheri

Time became elastic for Cheri, as she energetically serviced the woodie before her. She couldn't tell how long she'd been at it when the murmured conversation finally went quiet. Then, the object of her ministrations grew noticeably thicker and harder and longer, if that were possible. Hands suddenly clasped her head and held her tight over the throbbing erection as it spat gob after gob of hot semen deep in the back of her throat.

Cheri held it in her mouth, washing it with her tongue, as the fleshy truncheon slowly deflated.

Paul suddenly rolled back in his chair, pulling his schlong free of Cheryl's still grasping lips. Cheri watched as he tucked himself in and did himself up.

"When can I fuck her?"

Max's reply—"Not yet."—gave Cheryl an odd feeling, for she realized that that was not a 'no', and she wondered what she should think about that. For the present, however, she remained at her post, under the desk, unsure of what to do—what was expected.

Max hopped off the desk and leaned down to look at Cheryl. "Thanks, Hon," she smiled. "We're going for lunch now." She stood and turned away. Now only visible to Cheri from the waist down, she took her leave, saying, "You can find your own way home, eh? If you need taxi fare, there's an ATM in the lobby."

Stunned, Cheryl eventually crawled out from under the desk, and left the empty office without acknowledging the receptionist.

She was confused and introspective, as she made her way home. She wondered, had Max actually molded her? Shaped her into what she now was, or had she simply revealed Cheri for what she already was? In other words, had she been corrupted or just revealed?

However, by the time Cheryl got home, she could see things in a different light. The whole incident, she decided, was more adventure than ordeal; and the lunch business was just a bit of teasing. Her apparent abandonment was no big deal. Cheryl was a big girl and could look after herself. And the oral sex was as much a compliment as anything else.

Running herself a bath; getting herself a drink; Cheryl felt much better by mid-afternoon. Despite entertaining some misgivings, from time to time, Cheri loved her life, thrilled to the constant adventure, and embraced her role, regardless of how depraved it may have become. Furthermore, Cheri was still managing to convince herself—delude herself—that she wasn't really cheating. Even if that first time sucking off Paul was technically sex with another man, she hadn't chosen to do it; she'd been required to—as part of her current education. Just as this under-the-desk felatio hadn't been of her own accord; she'd just been following orders. Deep down she realized that that was a lame cop-out; notwithstanding, she let herself go on believing that her relationship with Maxine gave her the freedom to disavow any responsibility. And that assuaged any guilt she might otherwise have felt.

While most of Max and Cheri's interaction still consisted of Max fucking Cheri with one dildo or another; or, Cheri eating out Max, Cheryl was, by now, demonstrating proficiency at—or to be more precise, an almost preternatural talent for—an increasing variety of sexual acts.

Meanwhile, in his emerging awareness, Jeff began to acknowledge his growing suspicions. Cheryl always replied truthfully, if not entirely forthright, to Jeff's questioning, usually saying something like, "Max has given me most of the ideas. You wouldn't believe the topics our girl-talks get into. Max says she gets inspiration from magazine articles, although I wouldn't be surprised if she invented a few herself." Cheryl giggled at her own words.

"But you do it so well!" Jeff pointed out, genuinely puzzled. "I mean, we went from missionary position a couple nights a week to... well, almost daily in any number of positions—zero to sixty in mere seconds!" Staring at her, his look was conflicted. "And orgasms?" He had difficulty accepting the tremendous change. "How'd you get to be such an expert so fast?"

Cheryl just smiled, and gave him a 'What-can-I-say' shrug. "Natural talent? Loving desire?"

"But it seems like you've had a lot of practice." Cheri blushingly 'admitted' to some practicing, at home alone, with zucchini. "Swallowing?" She just shrugged. However, Cheryl's less than adequate explanations fostered Jeff's increased suspicions, which begin to grow like a cancer.

10 - Reveal

Maxine just knew it was all going to come to a head soon. Indeed, it had already begun to unravel. Randomly meeting in the garage, late one evening, Jeff, without prior notice, shared his suspicions with Max. "I think my wife is cheating on me."

"Why do you say that?"

"Some days she seems to have difficulty accounting for her time—like she's making up an improv story. And, suddenly, over the past few months, she has become very, very sexual. And this excessive randiness... It's just not like her."

"Maybe it is like her—a new, more... what?... adventurous her."

"Yeah, well maybe, but—just between you and me..." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial stage-whisper, before continuing, "How did she suddenly become an expert in oral sex." Pausing for a moment, he announced, "And I think it's Paul."

"Hmmm," Max intoned with no hint of shock. "Really? And this is because...?"

"Well, I don't know. But I've seen the way he looks at her, and..."

"Not to worry," Max laughed. "Everything Cheri knows she learned from me. I've been tutoring her." Then, without warning, she pulled Jeff over to her car, and, opening the back door, swung him through. "Let me show you." With surprising grace, she followed him in, pulling the car door closed with her foot, then, without pausing long enough for him to object she pulled down his fly and opened his pants. "You think the pupil is good, wait till you've had her teacher!" Again, giving him no time to react, Max plunged her open mouth over his rising weapon, forcing him deep into her maw, before, after a brief pause at depth, she smoothly withdrew to immediately plunge again, setting an urgent rhythm. Clasping her hands at his hips, she assisted his thrusts with every in-stroke. Jeff's awareness shrank down to a white dot; his rigid cock became rock-hard and his whole body began to quiver and shake. With a wail and a shudder, he pumped several voluminous spurts of jism into Max's welcoming gullet.

At that point, any shred of suspicion he's been contemplating had been blotted out by Max's expert felatio.

Max held him in her oral grasp as he began to soften, but the gently caresses of her talented tongue soon had him rising once more. With a tangle and a wrestle, rocking the car on its springs in the, luckily deserted, garage, Max contrived to reposition them—he, sitting knees splayed in the middle of the back seat, and she, astride, hands on his shoulders, lowering herself authoritatively onto his jutting erection. Rocking her hips and bouncing her bottom, she smiled as his hands came up to cup her flopping boobs. Holding him captive beneath her, Max established a vigorous beat, lifting and dropping herself the full length of his slick stick. Clutching and squeezing him with her strong vaginal muscles, Max swiftly brought him to full stature, until his prick, with a will of its own, was pleading for release—jerking and trembling, radiating a feverish heat. Max, reading him like a book, hesitated at the top of her last rise, then rammed herself down hard enough to fuse their pubises together. Jeff threw his head back, the howl of his climax escaping his lips as a wild, carnal whine. Max could feel his emission jetting against the back wall of her womb.

Slowly, as he deflated within her, she rose from his lap, and, chuckling at his wiped-out look, whispered, "See? That's how it's done." She opened the door and rolled out, flipping her skirt back down over her dripping privates.

Jeff was stunned. Shell-shocked, he didn't know how he felt, nor how he should feel. "Was I just raped," he asked himself, "or was that consensual adultery?" The only thing he knew for sure was that he was torn—torn between a glowing, carnal satisfaction, and disappointment with himself. "I wasn't looking for 'tit for tat'," he reminded himself. "Now, I'm as bad as her—as bad as I only suspect she might be!" As they left the garage and separated in the lobby, Jeff was filled with remorse. He realized he was now in no position to start accusing.

Max congratulated herself with a wry laugh. She figured a confrontation had been effectively, if temporarily, put off; that is, she had managed to avert the imminent blow up, although, she was still certain that everything was going to come out very soon. Then, the truth would be revealed, or at least partially revealed. But, come to that, what was the truth, anyway—truthfully? "I mean, while Paul is somewhat aware of my relationship with Cheryl, even he doesn't know the half of it." And, in the final analysis, when whatever truth was revealed: who was actually guilty of what?