Mutual Interests

Loucia's choices skirted the edge of public acceptance, although that 'public' occupied a wide range of standards. Daytime housewives expected a certain decency from daytime TV newscasts while their nighttime husbands, stroking a handful of cock in a darkened blue-hued living room, expected to see something more handily salacious than their spouse asleep upstairs.

Coming to the last piece of her trial collection, Loucia emerged in a stretchy knit bandeau top bodycon that hugged every nook and cranny of her bodacious body. When she leaned over to adjust a loose heel strap, her left tit popped out.

Ned chuckled at the awkwardness and she laughed along, popping out the other one and shimmying her bare mammaries for his viewing pleasure. Ned chose this outfit as the limit.

"Yep, that's the one. Some manly geysers are going to stain the couches and bring them back the next night for more."

She swayed and played to his visual delight and then skinned down the outfit, standing naked in just her heels. He patted the couch cushion next to him and she hastened to his side. Her progressive strip tease had them both excited and her hands eagerly worked his fly and drew out his semi-solid manhood. She rubbed a few fist strokes and claimed her playtime privilege.

"Well, the broadcast home audience may need to self-flagellate but I'd rather do the honors tonight."

Loucia worked off his pants and Ned stretched his legs to give her better access. She smoothly gained his full hardness, giggling her joy. He took the initiative and rolled her on her back. Her giggles morphed to groans as he pressed his turgid cock in. Her long probe was only half embedded.

"Deeper... can you go deeper?"

Ned pressed hard and she rocked her hips to rub her clitoris on his groin.

"Mmm... yes... like that..."

He pulled back half way and banged in again. She yipped at the thump and melded that sound into another moan of pleasure. Ned repeated the move, feeling her torque-like ass-rolls twist her vaginal membranes against his sensitized embedded knob.

He rode his stormy playmate until the pair achieved carnal thunder and lightning and he drizzled his sperm onto her fertile ground.

Cuddling later, he gave his sound advice about how she could connect with the studio executives and fulfill her wish to extract equitable contract concessions for her unique ratings contributions.

----------

Loucia was dressed in the stretchy bandeau bodycon as she stood at the head of the conference table. A half-dozen male station managers scanned the brief contract addendum Loucia had presented for their concurrence.

"As you can see, the main changes are my retention of total artistic control and elevation to associate producer status. In exchange, I am willing to press or even break the nudity restrictions, even the loose restrictions that apply to late night broadcasts. Any questions?"

"What do you mean by 'press or even break'?"

"Well, a picture's worth a thousand words."

Loucia faced the group of men and peeled down her bandeau top. She shimmied briefly to loosen the generous mammary masses into full display. The men grunted approval and she let them get their eyefuls. Some hands covertly descended beneath the table top and she perceived them adjusting their pants out of view.

She turned sideways, looking intently at the imaginary green screen backdrop, her round tits and stiff nipples looking even better in profile. She pantomimed her weather report, raising the farther arm high, consequently elevating and presenting more of the near boob. She let her outstretched arm slowly descend to waist level. Peeking back at her enthralled audience, she pivoted on a heeled toe, her spin bobbing a single bounce of chest meat. She repeated her arm movements, showing from the opposite angle the magnificence of her well-formed body.

Turning back, she saw nodding heads and lustful eyes. A few arm jitters told of self-handled erections out of sight, flushed faces stoically trying to look calm and collected in the group setting.

The grey haired chairman at the head of the boardroom table picked up a pen, touched it to the signature line of his addendum copy and hesitated. He set the pen down and stared back at the naked aspiring associate producer.

"Gentlemen, meeting adjourned. Young lady, walk with me to my office and we'll see about finalizing these terms and conditions."

The boardroom cleared and Loucia, her one piece of jettisoned clothing bundled in her hand, waited near the door for the elderly chairman. She walked beside him down the aisles between the lines of cubicles, his hand resting on her swaying bare ass cheek. As they passed his secretary, he growled an admonition.

"Hold my calls and no visitors. We have some delicate career negotiations to attend to and I don't want us disturbed."

The boss and Loucia entered his office suite and closed the door. They emerged hours later, after the staff had thinned out and dusk was near. Loucia looked very pleased with her revised professional contract and its expanded duties, responsibilities and compensation. And so did her weary boss.

Thursday -- Margo, Redhead Scientist

Margo was attending, yet again, another fund raiser for her fertility clinic. During the day, around the laboratories and offices of the medical research campus, she wore the traditional white lab coat over a blouse and skirt that shrouded her buxom figure and made an effort to keep things strictly professional.

But at these donor benefits, she mellowed and portrayed a less restrained role. Astute to the ways of financiers, she let the moneymen see the Total Woman she really was. Their continued conundrum was a question of propriety, and it perplexed their macho minds.

Which was better and more donation worthy? Was it the three pounds of outstanding grey matter packed in her head that galvanized the scientific world? Or was it the three pound of outstanding boobs packed in her bra that galvanized their cocks?

They could only imagine what her brain, hidden beneath scull, scalp and coiffed auburn hairdo looked like. But her chest mounds and deep cleavage, barely contained in the straining bodycon dress bodice, were on full display. They could barely maintain polite eye contact whenever they conversed with her. Their distracted thoughts dreamed of a time when those beauties might be contacting their chests.

Her green eyes and red lipped smile drew them in. The infatuated financiers whispered their propositions that greater intimacy could yield greater grants and investments. She flirted coyly but declined. Her sex drive was well tuned and these elite alpha males would be prime studs for that purpose. But even she wasn't resilient enough to fuck them all and any show of favoritism would severely impact the donations from the other jealous jilted courtiers.

Margo faithfully practiced her flirtatious self-promotion and fended the suiters off quietly with a smile and a coy hint of 'maybe another time'. Her public relations lawyers had successfully sued and won against several down market publications that fabricated false rumors of promiscuity. Still, the fake news worked its devious magic and the dreaming donors came back again and again, wallets full of undiminished money and hearts full of undying lust.

Thus, her clinic was well funded and her published research studies well received in the geneticists' community. She had patented several fertility therapies and licensed them for market development by big pharma. Her scientific career and fortunes escalated but her sexual spirit struggled to gain satisfaction, surrounded by the many tempting but taboo alpha males. She booked another week at the exclusive TWA Fantasy Venue resort to regain some emotional balance. She found the recreation available during those intermittent vacation visits helped sustain her through the dry-times in between.

Margo had arrived at her vacation that morning and puttered around her bungalow, listened to disco music, laughed at the purported antics of celebrities tattled on by the checkout counter magazines, watched tasteless TV reality shows, and all the fun things an at-leisure woman finds to waste away the easy idle hours. The clock moved toward evening and she roused out of her laxity and laziness to get ready for her booked romantic rendezvous.

She even found fun in that routine: a sudsy bubble bath, close hygienic shave tidy up, alluring dark face and body makeup. She slithered into her characteristic cleavage-swelling bodycon dress, with added high heels, glittery jewelry and a final flourish of perfume. She scanned herself up and down in the wall mirror. She was perfect, the kind of hourglass man-bait she projected for her charity chumps.

Dusk had fallen and she heel-clacked the short distance across the pool deck to another bungalow where the interior lighting was a flickering glow. She politely knocked and heard the occupant's invitation.

"Enter."

She slid aside the glass door and stepped inside. There was a small duo chair table, candle lit, arrayed with a gourmet dinner for two. In the center of the room stood Ned dressed in a tuxedo. Margo cocked a sly smile of intrigue. Ned broke the silence.

"I hear you are seeking funds and investments for your insemination practice."

Margo nodded and volunteered her typical elevator speech.

"It would bring great joy to couples wanting children."

Ned pointed to the table and food.

"Then convince me over dinner to make a substantial personal donation."

Margo cocked a small smirk, the kind she used on infatuated new acquaintances to let them down easy from their lofty, lusty intentions. Ned, the gentleman, held her chair and seated his intended personal deposit recipient. As he did, he gained a great down cleavage view. He looked forward to their sharing in matters of mutual interest.

The dinner discussion revolved around her hectic schedule, absent love life and some of her professional challenges. She reminded him of the published videos that showed how her cheerful buxom assistants personally and proficiently snatched and stored the male patients' penile emissions. Then how she biologically stimulated the ejaculate's 'little swimmers' to more aggressively pursue test tube ova.

"Can those biological inducements be applied directly to the dysfunctional men? Eliminate the 'snatch and store' procedures? Or maybe that wouldn't be as effective in getting large enough collections."

She smirked again, leading her counterpart to imagine his own answer.

"Sometimes... but why? The men look forward to the hands-on specimen collections and, also, it would depend on the level of dysfunction. I would have to run some tests before prescribing any change in treatment."

"What kind of tests?"

Margo quietly rose, intending to demonstrate her medical evaluation assessment methods. She moved around the table, unzipping and dropping the slinky dress as she stepped towards her test subject. Ned pushed his chair back and she sat her nude body in his lap.

They kissed and engaged in furtive lap borne foreplay, cuddly cock stroking, his face buried in her tits, wrangling to get out of his clothes. He was both impeded and aided by her wiggling closeness. They rolled naked to the floor and sped through a quickie floor fuck and hearty ejaculation.

"You appear to be in the pink of health, no drug related treatments should be necessary. And thank you for the generous donation. Will there be more largesse where that came from?"

Ned grunted affirmative and pumped a few last strokes before his rapidly shrinking cock fell out.

"I'll check the balance of my remaining reserves and let you know soon."

They giggled their delight, retired to the bedroom, cuddled in the sheets and fell asleep.

----------

Shadowy movement in the darkened room woke Margo. She looked around and tried to sit up, finding herself bound spread eagle to the bed. A naked Ned hovered bedside, his face obscured by a black stage mask. He leered down at her, slapping a dog whip against one palm.

"So, I heard that you fucked that young Swiss baker, the one that has a different fashion model on his arm at every fund raising gala you host."

Margo was only half awake and a bit disoriented. She tugged at her restraints, confused by the sudden twist in atmosphere. She stopped her struggle and stared at Ned's menacing demeanor. His voice was harsh and accusing.

"So, what's he got? Bigger cock? Bigger wallet? I thought I gave you a very generous personal donation!"

Margo wasn't sure if this was a ruse or reality. Which or whether, she strongly protested her innocence.

"It's not true!"

Ned slapped his palm harder with the wispy rod, unconvinced by her objections. He shouted in anger.

"It's all over the news!"

Margo was coming around to the notion that this was an unsolicited fantasy scenario, so she played along in her purported role as the fabled tabloid victim. She blubbered her retort.

"No, that's fake news! I sued those lying bastards and won. But the other publishers doubled down and I haven't the time or money to fend off all of them."

Ned shook his head and ticked his tongue. His hand rose and came down, whacking a blow on her tit. She screeched in surprise at the pain and struggled anew at her bindings.

"Woah... Ouch, dammit... That really hurt!"

Ned's reply was an equal smack on her other tit. She cried out again. Seeing the next blows coming, she rocked and rolled her body, trying to avoid his strikes as he found other targets: her tummy, her inner thighs, her pussy. Her frantic struggles only aided his target progression. He lightened the intensity as he closed in on covering her entire exposed skin with a faint redness.

Bound and abused, Margo was quite the sight. Her hair was disheveled, her skin moistened with perspiration and her tear stained face flushed with the heated blood rushing through her veins. In her efforts to resist, her shaking body wobbled her lolling breasts, the jostling masses coursing to and fro alluringly across her chest.

Ned had gained a hearty erection, fueled somewhat by his exertions and somewhat from the sexy spectacle writhing on the bed. He placed a few last light blows on her pussy lips and she went rigid in her restrains, pulling hard on the cuffs. Her mouth rounded open as she wailed out an orgasmic convulsion. The ecstatic shudders wound down and she lay weary, breathing deep as the sensations eased.

He deemed Margo more than ready for a real fuck and so was he. He climbed aboard the heated wench and pressed his cock to the portal of her throbbing juicy cunt. He paused before driving powerfully inside her. She reacted with more squirming, her sensitized skin chafed by his body grazing hers. He hugged her tight to maintain control as his strokes burnished her vaginal channel.

She cried out another ecstasy in his arms. He pounded her harder and she orgasmed yet again. Ned was near his limit of sexual control and on her next peak, he called out his own erotic gratification, flooding her core with his essence.

He lay full on her after that, her warm body unmoving as she recovered from the near coma inducing sexual episode. When her mind was clearer, she nuzzled her cheek against his, unable to do much more with her limbs still restrained and wide apart. Her soft calm whisper found his ear.

"Thank you again for another generous donation. Will there be more largesse where that came from?"

Ned peeled away from her perspiring slick body and stood, retrieving the dog switch.

"There can be. Are you ready for it?"

Her response was that sexy smirk of hers and a blown pucker kiss, which he took for a 'Yes'. She smiled smugly, closed her eyes and lay still.

Ned hauled back and swung down, cracking a smack on her nipple, eliciting her outcry and recommencing the proven sequence that would gift her with more painful pleasure and another of his inimitable 'generous personal donations'.

Friday -- Nicole, French Fashion Model

Ned thought she always looked sad. She seemed to have that stoic expression that models carry when strutting the runway in revealing fashions, holding in the indignity they felt, looking above and past the judgmental designers and ogling paparazzi.

Ned knew the fashion industry was tough on models and being continually famished in order to remain slim must have taken the joy out of Nicole's day to day life.

So when he saw her laying out naked on a pool lounge, he assumed her eyes behind the bug-shield sunglasses were typically sullen. He left her to rest in her melancholy world. This evening would come soon enough and he would service her emotional needs in his customary way.

After dusk, he roused himself and walked to her bungalow. He saw her inside the main room, lazily slouched on the couch in dim lit darkness. He slid the door open and moved inside. She barely acknowledged his presence, a quick glance at the parted translucent curtains and a return to her forward stare mindset. He quietly sat beside her, a comforting arm encircling her slim shoulders.

She wore thin pajamas: long loose pants and a sleeveless top. She didn't react at all when he picked at the buttons with his free hand and flipped the top halves aside.

Her modest breasts came into his view. They were the same teardrop boobs that he had seen countless times during her fashion shows. He recalled how the small masses bobbled beneath sheer see-thru designs, wobbling enticingly to the beat of the background disco music and her hard stepped gait.

He palmed and cuddled the far tit, fingering the rubbery dark rose nipple. He watched her unchanged stoic expression, moved his paw to her near tit and gave it similar treatment. During the caresses, she hardly noticed, or reacted, or at least, appeared not to.

Nicole had been a spritely lass and dreamed of the fabulous world of modeling since her teens, when she won some junior pageants and modeled in amateur shows. After graduating from Art College, she had entered the professional fray.

The interviews and auditions had come slowly at first, and disillusioned with the low trajectory of her career, she had succumbed in one interview to the crude fondling of a fat loathsome talent agent. She had let him fuck her on his office sofa; it was neither romantic nor pleasant. The wheezing blob had finished inside her and curtly dismissed her as he buckled his pants and returned to his desk.

But the very next day, she walked the catwalk. It wasn't a first class show. A fetish lingerie designer staged a small private exhibition for a few select buyers. Nicole joined a half dozen other young models in cutout lingerie and bondage paraphernalia strutting in a dimly lit broken-down theatre. Her featured attire was black heels, dark hose, and a topless leather corset. The makeup artist gave her 'raccoon eyes', the dark cosmetics deepening her facial allure, enhanced by the bright red lips and umber nipple gloss. Her breasts bobbled and ass waddled as she strutted before the unfamiliar men and displayed the cheesy fetish wear.

After the show, Nicole was held back as the other models changed and departed, clutching their handfuls of cash payouts. The designer invited one buyer to follow him with Nicole to the dressing room.

Motivated by the designer's promise of a bonus payment, Nicole let the selected client fuck her in her fetish getup on the dressing room couch. He wasn't a horrible lover and she actually felt some arousal. But the man, already aroused by her catwalk enticement, huffed and puffed and ejaculated quickly inside her. He climbed off and tossed a few large bills at her that stuck to her sweaty bare boobs. The designer wanted his potential client's feedback.

"How was it?'

"Nice design. Easy access to pussy and tits. The leather and lace are silky smooth, almost as smooth as her cunt. Thanks for the tryout."