Ryder Fox Rocks

I got off the crowded Friday evening commuter train at my stop. It was over a month after I'd been relentlessly fucked by a stranger on this same train (see my story -- Ryder Fox rides the train). I'd been standing right beside my husband, Trevor, who was listening to a podcast on his clamshell headphones, unaware of my plight. The stranger had been hung like a horse, his cock probed deeper into me than anyone had ever gone before. He stretched my tight pussy till I thought he would tear me apart. He merely stood there, allowing the rocking train to pound me onto his huge organ with a harsh tempo. And he made me cum -- more than once, and so hard! I had to put my scarf into my mouth to gag myself and choke off my cries. Even so, my guttural grunts and facial expressions caused passengers around to look at me curiously. It was only my husband who remained oblivious.

I thought about the encounter several times a day, often retreating to a stall in the ladies' room where I used the memory to fuel heady masturbation. Every time Trevor fucked me with his modest cock and limited staying power, I had to recall the stranger to make myself cum. I had to fantasize about the stranger's cock stretching my pussy, his fingers tweaking my rock-hard nipples, and finally pumping a copious ejaculation of jism deep inside me. The fantasies made me writhe, twist, and cry out. Trevor was delighted with my reactions and gave himself all the credit.

About four weeks after the encounter, I discovered the stranger's name -- I picked up my suit stained with my sexual juices from the dry cleaners and found he'd stuck his business card in my suit pocket. He was John C. Grierson Jr. and went by Jack. And what I thought was a memorable fuck turned out to be much more, something that would last a lifetime. Despite being on the pill, I discovered I was pregnant. I'd kept the stockings I'd worn that day stained with his dried semen and I used his DNA to get a paternity test. It confirmed my worst fears -- Jack was the father.

Standing on the platform, I watched the train pull away with mixed feelings. When I called to confront him about my pregnancy, Jack had said he would be on this train. He'd said he would fuck me again, whether I wanted it or not. I had thought about it with fear and revulsion all week. I kept telling myself that I didn't want it, that I never wanted to see him again. But now as I watched the train pull out of the station, I felt an emptiness inside me. I was loathe to admit it, but I now realized I wanted him to do what he'd promised. I wanted him to drive his huge member into my mouth, even as I struggled and fought. I wanted him to choke me with his thickness, as I squirmed and thrashed. I wanted to taste his pre-cum. I wanted to feel his bloated balls, so full of semen, on my chin. But I wanted him to restrain his ejaculation, because I wanted him to force his treacly, warm eruption into my womb. I recalled that warmth deep inside me from our previous encounter and I wanted it again.

I walked to my car, rucked up my skirt, and felt my panties -- they were damp. Once again, I thought of Jack fucking me on the train as I stripped down my panties and slid them down to my ankles. I pushed two fingers into my damp pussy and used my thumb to manipulate my clit. A month after the encounter, the memory of Jack's steel-hard cock in me was not as sharp. But it was still enough to help me cum, my sighs rising to groans. I had the windows up to keep the sounds of my wantonness from passersby. I had the engine running with the AC on high to dry my sweat.

"I want you to fuck me, Jack," I thought. "I'll tell you I don't want it, but you must ignore what I say and fuck me rough."

* * *

That evening, I sat across from Trevor at dinner. He monologued to me about his day at work as he always did. I didn't hear a word he said, just let the words in one ear and out the other. Halfway through the meal, my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I saw Jack's name and swiped it open eagerly, hoping for a tryst. I was disappointed, for it was just a V-card with the name Amy McAdams on it. My phone buzzed again almost immediately. Trevor continued to talk, and I said "uh-huh" absently as I swiped the second text open.

'Amy is chief of operations at Amtex Reinsurance' Jack texted. 'She's looking for a client services manager. I've given her your name and contacts. She promised to hire you. She'll call.'

'How do you know I'm any good?' I texted back.

'I was playing golf with the CEO of your agency last week. He said you're his best account executive, and the clients all love you. You'll be perfect for the job.'

'Why would I leave? I make good money,' I texted.

'Amy will pay you a lot more than you're making.'

'How do you know what I made?'

'I asked your CEO.'

'You're an asshole, Jack!' My brow knit with irritation.

'That's a nice way to say thank you.'

'I don't want you in my life!'

'You don't want me to fuck you?'

'No.' I typed. But I looked at the text for a moment and thought about how much I fantasized about his taking me again, forcing himself on me, making me cum. I erased it and typed, 'You make me do disgusting things.'

'You want me in your mouth and your pussy but not in your life? That's harsh.'

'You're not a nice guy, Jack Grierson.'

'No, I'm not.' There was a pause and then a final buzz. "Bye. Later.'

I reread our text exchange as we were having dessert but then felt nauseous. I went to the bathroom and retched. Trevor looked annoyed when I returned to the table.

"That was rude, Ryder," my husband said in his official banker's voice. "Just getting up and leaving as I was talking to you."

"I was nauseous. I had to throw up."

"Sorry to hear it," he said but he didn't sound it. "Something you ate?"

I deliberated for an instant. I realized I could well regret what I was about to say. But I reasoned that I was going to show in a month and my husband would know anyway.

"No. I did a test, I'm pregnant."

He sat up straighter as though he had not heard me properly.

"Pregnant? That's impossible! I'm very careful with the condoms. And I thought you were on the pill."

"You are careful, and I am on the pill. But even the best birth control fails sometimes."

"This is crazy, Ryder! I need some time to get my head around this!" He clicked his tongue in irritation. "You must be as a fertile as a peasant woman!"

"I'm twenty-three," I snapped. "It's normal to be fertile at my age."

He got up, left the dining room, and headed for his study. I followed him, but he shut the door in my face.

I went back to the dining room, began clearing the dinner dishes, and loaded the dishwasher. I was just finishing when my phone rang. The face showed an attractive profile picture with the name 'Amy McAdams' under it. I put it to my ear, walked to our bedroom, and shut the door.

"May I speak with Ryder Fox, please?"

"This is she."

"This is Amy McAdams, I'm Vice President of Operations at Amtex Reinsurance. Jack Grierson asked me to call you. He said you're fantastic at working with clients. I'm looking for a client services manager, someone to work with our most important customers, mainly insurance companies and banks, but also some big corporates. I'd like to offer you the job."

She went on to describe a salary and benefits package that made my jaw drop. The salary was more than twice what I was making, and the benefits were much better.

"You'd hire me just like that?" I asked, my incredulity showing. "On Jack's word?"

"Over the years, he's pointed me to several hires. Every single one has been superb. I trust Jack's instincts. If he says someone is great at their job, I know they are." She paused a moment and then went on. "If things don't work out over the next few months, I can always fire you. But I don't expect that to happen."

"What are the next steps?"

"You'll hear from our Human Resources people with formalities over the next few days. I hope you can start next Monday?"

"I have to give a month's notice to my agency."

"Don't worry about that, we'll buy out your contract." Amy made it all sound so easy. "I'm having a small party at my beach house this weekend. Come, and bring your husband. I can introduce you to several of my managers and a couple of our important clients. It will help you hit the ground running."

"How do you know I'm married?"

"Jack told me."

I wondered whether Jack had told her that he'd fucked me. And how he'd fucked me. And that I was carrying his child.

* * *

I got a secure email with the job contract the next day and completed all the formalities online. I talked to the Human Resources person at Amy's company on the phone and she sent me more documents on a secure link that I signed electronically. The following day, I got my job contract, specifying everything in my salary and benefits package.

When I told Trevor about my new job, he was dismissive and didn't believe me at first.

"A reinsurance company? Why would they hire you? You know nothing about insurance or finance."

"It's client services, Trevor," I said. "I'm an account executive. I work with clients all day, every day. I sell services and keep my clients happy. Reinsurance is a service."

"Finance is very specialized, Ryder," said Trevor in the condescending tone he often used with me. "Banking and insurance are complex activities, very different from advertising. You're only twenty-three, two years out of college. You wouldn't understand."

Trevor was ten years older than me, an investment banker, and made much more than I did. He often told me he was much smarter than me and I sort of accepted this was true. Even so, I hated it when he talked down to me like that. But Amy's job offer meant that I would be making more than him, and it gave me newfound confidence.

"Well, I've got the contract," I told him. "I signed it today. I'm going to be making more than you."

"They've got to be crazy to pay you that much!" he exclaimed.

"Well, they are. And I'm sure I can do the job. Amy's invited us to a party at her beach house this weekend. She wants me to meet the other managers and some clients."

"Well, you can go," he said. I could see that he was angry. "I'm busy."

"She specifically asked for you to come," I said. "I've always supported your career, Trevor. I've gone to all the social functions at your bank with you. This is the least you can do."

"Oh, all right," he said with bad grace. "But I can't stay long. I'm very busy."

* * *

I dressed very carefully for Amy's party. I spent almost an hour, choosing my attire. I started by trying on a simple black bra with black athletic panties and designer shoes with very high heels. I stretched and twirled in front of the mirror but was not happy with the way I looked. I stripped off the bra and panties and threw them on the bed. Next, I tried on a white silk bandeau bra with tiny peach polka dots and a silver metal bridge between the cups together with a peach thong. The bra offered no support, but my breasts were firm enough that I didn't need any.

I examined myself in the mirror again. I liked the look of the silver bra bridge and decided to increase the metallic look. I pulled out a jewelry case from my bureau and snapped it open to reveal a matching set of silver rings and studs. I put on a belly button stud and a nose stud. "Why not more?" I thought. I pulled down my bra cups and slid my thong down to my knees. My nipples and pussy were pierced, and I slid on a pair of nipple rings and a serrated pussy ring. Pulling up my bra cups and thong, I thought, "Even more?" and tied on a silk choker ribbon with a silver heart.

Finally, I pulled on a pair of white stockings with lace tops and a white lace garter belt. I slid the garter ties under the hip straps of my thong and snapped the garter clips onto the stocking tops. There, I thought, looking at myself in the mirror. I'm pregnant, but nothing shows yet. I'm still sexy.

Trevor came in while I was primping in front of the mirror. He was already dressed in a dark suit and a tie.

"Why are you dressed like that?" he asked. "You look like a hooker."

"Do I turn you on?" I asked, my tone sharp.

"I'd give you fifty dollars for a blowjob," he said. "Maybe less because you're pregnant. You couldn't swallow my cum last night because of your morning sickness made you nauseous."

"That's just nasty, Trevor," I snapped.

"I call 'em as I see 'em," he said, turning to leave. "I'll wait for you downstairs." He stopped by the bedroom door and looked back over his shoulder. "I know they want you to service their clients, but I don't think they want you to go down on your knees and suck their cocks."

"You bastard!" I called after him.

I knew he heard me, but he kept walking and didn't respond.

I paced around the bedroom and looked at myself again. Maybe the belly button stud is too much, I thought. And the bra does look like something a hooker would wear. Screw Trevor, I thought. I plumped my breasts to settle my bra more comfortably and ran my fingernails over the smooth silk to feel the indentations the nipple rings made in the fabric. The silk was translucent, and my nipples were faintly visible. I snugged my thong into place and patted my pussy. My pussy ring made a small protrusion, but it wasn't obvious.

I went through a series of outfits, looking for one to impress Amy. I eventually chose a white silk translucent Chanel crop top paired with a black soft leather Gucci skirt. The top clung to my breasts and left my midriff bare to show my belly button stud. It had a high bosom, so it didn't show any cleavage. The skirt was rather short, so the hem was a bit higher than my stocking tops. However, I didn't want to change again, so I tugged at the hem and found I could temporarily cover my stockings before it rode up again. I liked the outfit well enough that I thought this was a price worth paying.

"Whoa," said Trevor when I came down the steps. "When I said you looked like a hooker, I didn't expect you to fully dress the part!"

"It's a designer outfit, Trevor," I said angrily, as I tugged the hem to cover my stocking tops. "I've worn it to functions at your bank. You've never said anything before."

"Well, those stockings definitely make you look like a cheap whore."

I didn't respond and we walked out to his BMW in the driveway. I was over six feet tall in my high heels and took satisfaction in towering over him. I knew he hated that.

* * *

Amy's beach house was large, almost a mansion, in the most expensive neighborhood on the shore, and right on the beach. I was very impressed, but it just made Trevor sour.

"Must be a company house," he said.

The front door was open, but the glass storm door was closed. I rapped on it and an attractive woman with dark blonde hair and light blue eyes answered it. She looked over thirty, but it was hard to tell anything beyond that because her body was hard, and her face was unlined. She had a thin, aquiline nose and high cheekbones. She was tall enough on her espadrilles to look me in the eye. She had big sunglasses in her hair and wore a very short, thin, wraparound halter-top sundress. The dress was tight enough on her narrow waist to show the swell of her belly. The fabric stretched to outline her belly button as well as the lines of her thong high on her round hips. The dress clung to her small breasts clearly outlining her nipples, making clear she wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts were firm and jounced pleasingly as she walked toward the door.

She was hot and I wondered if Jack had fucked her.

"Slept her way to her job," Trevor muttered under his breath. He was unwittingly echoing my thoughts, but it still annoyed me.

I put out my hand to shake but she enveloped me in a hug. I was surprised by how intimate it was. She melded her body to me, rubbed her breasts on mine, causing my nipples to perk up.

"Ryder Fox, welcome," she said. "I'm Amy McAdams." Then she whispered in my ear, "You're a fox, just like Jack described. I like your belly button stud -- and your nipple rings, very sexy!"

She let her fingers trace the back strap of my bra through my top almost to the cups. It made me draw in my breath sharply.

"Oh," I said, but it sounded like "Oooh!"

"You're tall, you look like an athlete. Are you?"

"I was a jumper in college," I said. "Varsity in high jump and pole vault."

"Division 1?"

"Yes, UT-Austin."

"A Longhorn with long legs. Recent graduate?"

"Two years ago. I'm twenty-three." I put my hand on Trevor's arm. "This is my husband, Trevor."

She shook Trevor's hand formally.

"I'm an investment banker," he said. "I work at Morgan Hamilton. We do a lot of work with reinsurance. I'm sure you'll have more to talk about with me than with Ryder. She works in advertising and knows nothing about finance. She just has a bachelor's degree with a so-so GPA, I have an MBA with top grades."

I was shocked at how blatantly my husband was disparaging me in front of my new boss. I had not realized how upset Trevor was about my new salary. Especially as I was so much younger and less qualified.

"Oh, I doubt it," said Amy, as she turned to lead us into the house. "Ryder and I are going to be working very closely together. I think we'll find we have a lot in common." She put an arm around my waist as we entered the great room and stood at the top of the two steps above the sunken floor. She gave me a squeeze and continued to Trevor in a low voice that only the three of us could hear. "And I think most investment bankers are assholes with small dicks."

"Hello, everyone!" she called out to the room. "I'd like to introduce our new client services manager, Ryder Fox. And her husband, Trevor."

The buzz of conversation in the great room stopped and everyone looked up at us. I waved with one hand and tugged the hem of my skirt with the other. Several people called out "hi" but when I glanced over at Trevor, I saw he looked irate. Amy's remark had cut him to the bone.

Amy led me across the floor to a fifty-something man with silver hair and a florid face. He looked me up and down with interest as we approached.

"Ryder Fox, this is Craig Weatherhead," she said. "Craig is CEO of Aegis Insurance. We're their main backstop. We need Craig a lot more than he needs us!"

"Oh, don't believe Amy," said Craig, his tone genial. "She takes all the risk out of my business. I sleep better at night because of her. Though I'd rather sleep with her if you get my meaning."

Both Amy and Craig laughed, but his tone was so suggestive that I didn't join in.

"Maybe so," said Amy. "But I want to make sure our service interfaces are seamless. Ryder is going to help with that."

"We have very few complaints, Amy," said Craig, smiling broadly. "Apart from the fact that you keep refusing to sleep with me."

"Can you explain your concerns to Ryder? I'd like to get her engaged as soon as possible. Your business is very important to us."

"Happy to discuss it," said Craig. "But isn't this a party?"

"A work party is always about work," said Amy, laughing. "The two of you can sit out on the deck under the awning. The sea view should inspire you."

"The fun part of work always inspires me," said Craig. "But I've struck out with you again. Can I try my luck with Ryder?"

"You can always try," said Amy, laughing again as she walked away.

* * *

I worked with Craig for over an hour. It did not take long for me to see what he needed. It was not different from what I provided my clients at the ad agency. He needed reliable real-time information about past transactions and future opportunities. I understood most of what he needed, and he was patient about coaching me on the instrumentalities of insurance and reinsurance. I summarized our discussion and the consequent adjustments to our contractual agreements on my iPad and showed him.