The AMFOP

When the end of the week finally arrived, Amy found herself looking forward to their dinner plans that evening. Engineers were boring, as she was well aware, but she felt genuine gratitude towards Slim and Doug for helping her last week. Besides, she thought, it couldn't hurt her husband's career to socialize with the senior engineers once in a while.

When she arrived at Starbucks in the early morning, Mr. Donelan's car was already there. The trunk was open and the little man was in the passenger side, fiddling with something. Amy couldn't see what he was doing. She offered to help, but he insisted that he would do it himself. Relieved, Amy went inside the booth and began to prepare the online orders. Mr. Donelan turned his head to catch a glimpse at the young wife's plump, juicy ass as she walked away.

Unlike Amy, Mark was apprehensive about dinner at their apartment. He worried how well his feminist wife would get along with two sex-obsessed, politically-incorrect old fossils more than twice her age. As Mark entered Doug's office to review TPS reports, he got an immediate reminder of the old man's crassness. Doug was at his desk, watching a video on his computer. The screen was facing away from Mark, but he could tell it was pornography. Blaring through the speakers, Mark could hear a soft, female voice whimpering while a man gruffly barked orders. "Put that pillow on the floor, bitch, and get on --."

The video cut off there as Doug hastily clicked away and welcomed the young man. "Markie! Come in!" Mark gave a wan smile and stepped inside.

"I'm looking forward to dinner tonight," Doug said as Mark sat down and spread the reports on a table.

"That makes one of us," Mark wanted to say, but didn't.

As the two men sat down to review the reports, Mark tried, in a subtle way, to find out more about that video Doug had been watching. Something about it made him curious. Did he recognize the voices he had heard? Was it something in the way that Doug raced to shut it off? Or maybe he was just hoping to watch a blowjob, knowing he wouldn't be getting one any time soon? Mark didn't know why the brief clip he overheard had made such an impression on him, but it did. Unfortunately, however, Doug wasn't taking the bait. Every-time that Mark tried to raise the subject, Doug deflected. Naturally, Doug's reticence only heightened Mark's curiosity.

Just down the road, so close and yet so far away, Mark's pretty blonde wife had aroused her boss' curiosity. The lecherous little freak was desperate to see, touch, taste and own the treasures that his breasty young employee was hiding under her clothes. He already knew that that the twenty-five-year-old's body was thick, soft, supple, heavenly. He had been taking advantage of the confined workspace to make contact with her every time they crossed paths. Like a cat at a scratching post, Mr. Donelan had rubbed up against Amy's stupendous tits and ass all day long. Whenever he could, he bumped into her chest, ran a hand down her thigh, or pressed his crotch against her bum.

Amy felt trapped and flustered as Mr. Donelan grew bolder and bolder, but she didn't know how to make him stop. Complaining would get her nowhere. It was a small store. Some incidental contact between co-workers was inevitable. Even though this went far beyond incidental contact, Amy felt she had no choice other than to endure it. But if she was being honest, she would have to admit that her boss' constant touches had stimulated something inside her. Although it shocked and shamed her, his persistence was beginning to pay off. Her panties were damp.

For a split second, the air went out of Amy's lungs -and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She was panicking. The lewd, calculating little man had been taking liberties with her all throughout the day and, to her horror, the cumulative effect was wearing down her resistance. With every unwanted touch, every breach of her defenses, she got weaker in the knees and warmer between them. She had to make him stop. Alone with a lascivious little runt who was all but dry humping her, Amy felt like she was in a pressure cooker. In desperation, the buxom blonde bride decided to say the one thing that was guaranteed to refocus her boss' attention. In a small, timid voice, she said, "Um, Mr. Donelan, sir... I've been thinking about what you said last week.... about a date...."

Meanwhile, back at the office, Amy's husband was thinking about wrapping up for the day. He was eager to get home and give the apartment a final walk-through before their company arrived. He had finished his work with Doug, so he decided to drop by Slim's office to let him know he was leaving.

Finding the door closed, Mark rapped twice and waited. Before he knocked, the office had been silent, but now he heard a bustle of activity. "Just a minute," Slim called out. Mark heard what sounded like the tinkling of glass and the thud of a laptop slapping shut. "Ok, come on in," the voice behind the door bellowed.

Mark entered to find Slim sitting at his desk. At least most of him was behind the desk; his gut looked like it was perched on top of it. He had a strange, satisfied look on his face, almost as if a plan was falling into place. "Hey Markie," Slim said with enthusiasm. "What's up? We're still coming over for dinner, right?"

"Yeah, absolutely," Mark said. He hated being called "Markie," as if he was a kid, but he knew the old timers thought of him as exactly that. But that small indignity was nothing compared to what came flying out of Slim's mouth next, along with a generous spray of spittle.

"Good. Your wife said she owed us one, so I was afraid she would try to get out of dinner," Slim said, his eyes squinting mysteriously.

"I don't get it," Mark said, confused. "Why would she try to get out of dinner?"

"Oh, I don't know," Slim replied nonchalantly. "She owes you a blowjob and she always manages to get out of that, doesn't she?"

Mark felt like he had been sucker punched, but he managed a tight-lipped smile. "Ah, good one," he said, struggling to keep that smile steady. "No, I was just letting you know that I'm leaving now so that I can help get dinner started."

Slim chortled. "Getting dinner ready is a woman's job." He paused a beat, letting those words linger, before adding, "So yeah, I guess you better go do it." Slim laughed a little too loudly at his own joke. Is this guy already hitting the sauce? Mark wondered to himself. But he just thanked Slim and left.

"Uh okay, cool. See you in a little while," Mark said awkwardly, then turned to leave.

"Yes, see you in a little...," Slim trailed off, realizing Mark was already gone. "See your wife in a little bit," he said, softly, to himself. "Or less," he added, his smirk growing into a yellow-toothed grin.

As soon as he got into his car, Mark sent Amy a text to let her know he was headed to the apartment. He was worried that she might be having another nightmarish day with her boss, but her text back to him gave no indication. She just told him to warm up the oven and that she would be home soon as well.

When she arrived, Mark had not only warmed up the oven, but he had even cleaned yesterday's dishes, prepared a plate of appetizers, set the table, poured the wine and picked out the perfect mood music. He greeted his wife at the door with a kiss, while trying to gauge her mood. He didn't see any signs of distress. Amy was just running a little later than she expected, so he was impatient to start cooking. Relieved, he took her purse and asked what more he could do to help.

"You could put the sauce in a pan and stir it while I change my clothes," she said and instantly her attentive husband took over at the stove. Amy left the bedroom door ajar as she began disrobing, leaving Mark with a small angle at which he could see her reflection in a mirror. He couldn't resist watching her. Amy had the kind of innocent, authentic beauty that made everything she does magical. Watching her pull a t-shirt up over those magnificent knockers, causing them to squish inward and upward before dropping down in a sudden bountiful burst of warm, white, bouncing breast., was enough to get him hard as an iron rod.

Just then, the doorbell rang. With Amy still getting dressed, Mark had to tuck his untimely boner away and try to greet their guests without poking them with it. Opening the door, he saw Slim holding a bouquet of flowers and Doug with two bottles of wine. They were both dressed in smart suits. What gentlemen, Mark thought, knowing they were anything but. As if to prove it, Slim flashed open one side of his suit jacket, like he was hawking stolen goods, but all that was inside was a thumb drive. He gave Mark a conspiratorial wink and said, "Wait until you see what's on here, Markie!" Mark wasn't sure what to make of that. He was too distracted by the smell of booze on Slim's breath. Clearly, he had been pre-gaming tonight. Doug didn't say anything, he just brushed by Mark to set the wine on the table.

Inside the apartment, Doug was the first to set eyes on Amy and he didn't hide his appreciation. She was a vision, wearing a pair of flowy black pants that flaunted her squeezable thighs and voluptuous ass, which she paired with a tight-fitting white sweater that perfectly showcased her mouth-watering melons. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was wearing glasses. She only needed them for reading, but she liked the way they made her blue eyes pop. Doug greedily eye-fucked the blonde bombshell before opening his arms for a lingering hug. Slim was next and he pulled her into his flabby gut, reveling in the feeling of her firm young tits. When they were done with the pleasantries, Amy turned to out the flowers in a vase, and Slim joined Doug and Mark in the living room.

Catching Doug checking out Amy's ass, Slim punched him playfully in the shoulder. The two old men wordlessly exchanged a look, then began making small talk with Mark and enjoying the appetizers. When Amy asked if anyone wanted a cocktail before dinner, they each asked for two. Amy laughed at their cheekiness, which encouraged them to take things further, and soon they had persuaded her to double fist cocktails with them.

Everyone was smiling and enjoying the company when they settled down to dinner. Amy was the center of attention and she kept the conversation and the drinks flowing. Dinner was delicious and the men lavished compliments on Amy for her cooking, her beauty and her hospitality. With each round of drinks, the men toasted to her.

The evening went surprisingly well and Mark dared to wonder if perhaps his fears had been unfounded. Perhaps these horny old dirtbags knew how to clean it up and act properly in the presence of a lady. But it wasn't long before those hopes died. As they pushed away their plates and sipped on after-dinner drinks, Slim asked, "So do you kids like to play cards?"

Mark was a few drinks deep himself at this point and lost in his own thoughts, so he didn't respond to Slim's question right away. That forced Amy to make a snap decision for them. "Yeah, we like cards," she said hastily, hoping to cover for her husband's awkward silence.

"Should we play poker?" Doug suggested.

"Nah, that's for old stiffs like us," Slim countered. "These kids want to play something more fun, like Asshole."

"What's Asshole?" Mark asked, belatedly trying to get into the conversation.

"Sit on your thumb and you'll find it," Slim shot back sardonically. Amy and Doug cackled. Mark frowned. Finally, after the peals of drunken laughter quieted down, Slim got serious and explained the rules of the game and the four roles that players fill: President, Vice President, Vice Asshole, and, finally, at the bottom, the lowly Asshole. Doug asked Mark to pour another round of cocktails while he instructed them on the key to the game: the President's power to create new rules that last as long as he -- or she, Slim added begrudgingly -- remains President.

"This sounds fun!" Amy said, clapping her hands with enthusiasm, the arm motion causing her big bosom to jiggle. Mark knew from past experience that Amy can get hyper-competitive, especially when she's had a few drinks, but he figured that the game wouldn't last long enough for that to become an issue. It was already 8:30 p.m. Old timers like Slim and Doug are usually in bed by now, Mark assumed.

Slim dealt the cards. Mark won the first hand, but Slim said it didn't count because he was still just showing Amy how to play the game. Once that hand was out of the way; Slim reshuffled; dealt another hand, and the game began in earnest. This time, Amy was the winner, much to the gentlemen's delight. The young wife enjoyed playing against the boys and winning and her pretty face seemed to glow just a little bit as she playfully pretended to swear an oath of office and assume the mantle of the presidency. All the drinks and the easy conversation had loosened her up and she was enjoying the men's attention.

When she instituted her first rule as President, however, the men began to gently tease her. She had ordered the Asshole and Vice Asshole -- Doug and Mark -- to take a shot of tequila. That seemed like a good way to kick off her matriarchy, Amy had thought, but the guys let her know differently.

"That's not a proper rule," Slim scoffed, unimpressed.

"I guess that's what we get for having a woman President," Doug said, joining in the teasing.

"She didn't even make you guys do blowjob shots," Slim lamented.

"Blowjob shots?" Amy asked. "What are those?"

Then men snickered. "No surprise she doesn't know what that is," Doug muttered, just loud enough to make Mark squirm uncomfortably.

Amy didn't hear what he said, but she got the sense that it wasn't flattering, so she decided to stamp out this little rebellion. "My Vice President can comment on my rules, but I don't need to hear from the Asshole. Kindly take another shot, sir." Amy said with mock imperiousness.

At least she called me "sir," Doug thought, but he didn't dare say, for fear of incurring another punishment. He downed the tequila while Slim egged Amy on.

"Well played, Madam President! Don't take any shit from that Asshole Doug!" They all got a good laugh at that.

Eventually, though, Doug rose all the way to the Presidency and when he did, the distinguished older gentleman flashed that killer smile at Amy and said, "Time to learn how to do a blowjob shot, baby!" By that point, Amy was drunk enough to laugh along with him, but she began to find it less funny when the older man turned to her husband and said, with an exaggerated wink, "Markie, you can thank me later."

For a moment, Amy was shaken. Had her husband been discussing their private life with these old codgers? But her suspicions were swept aside when she felt Doug's liver-spotted old hand on her shoulder, pushing her down. "You do a blowjob shot on your knees," he said in a scolding tone. "You need to keep your hands behind your back while you take the shot glass in your mouth and swallow the entire shot. If you spill a drop, you do it again until you get it right."

Slim had a lewd grin on his chubby face as he looked over at Mark, who was staring open-mouthed as he watched his gorgeous, big-titted wife shuffle up to the table on her knees, reach forward with her elegant neck and begin tentatively feeling out the shot glass with her plump pink lips. Doug caught Mark staring, too, and couldn't resist emasculating the young husband. "Hey Vice Asshole," he barked. "Get on your knees. You're next."

Amy managed to do it without spilling, earning more applause from her guests. "You're a natural," Slim complimented her. "Your husband could learn from your technique," he said with a laugh as he poured another shot for Mark, who had dribbled the first one all over his shirt.

Amy's good luck continued and she won the next two rounds, re-establishing her Presidency and giving her the opportunity to pay the men back with some new rules. Remembering how they mocked her first rule, the blue-eyed blonde beauty decided to give them something they wouldn't find so amusing. "It's about time you guys leaned to respect a woman in a position of authority. So, my first rule is that you will curtsy and call me 'Ma'am' after every drink."

The guys groaned and rolled their eyes, but when Amy called for a waterfall, they all did as they were instructed. Amy reveled in the men's subservience and impulsively decided to rub their noses in it a little. Standing up from the table, Amy lifted her sweater over her head, revealing a skimpy, scoop-necked white tank top and a mouth-watering display of cleavage. The men were so awestruck at the sight of Amy's massive tits in a tank top that her voice sounded small and distant when she told them her second rule: no looking down. They were to maintain eye contact with her at all times -- a nearly impossible task with the amount of tender juicy breast meat she had on display.

As she intended, that rule proved torturous until Amy caught Mark sneaking a peak and forced to him to drink. While Mark was downing another shot of tequila, Slim and Doug feasted their eyes on Amy's immaculate pair of tits, but even as distracted as they were, they both called Mark out when he forgot to curtsy afterwards. The penalty was another tequila shot, after which Mark knew he was passing the point of no return. He was hammered.

As long as Amy remained President, she spared Mark from any further drinking, but when Slim finally won a round, he made everyone take a shot, which knocked poor Mark out of the game. He was shit-faced drunk and exhausted as he collapsed om the couch. Mark drifted in and out of sleep as he lay there listening to Amy, Slim and Doug negotiate a modified set of rules to keep the game going with three players.

Slim could see that Amy was drunk. She was starting to slur her words and she couldn't stop swaying back and forth. As President, he was determined to teach the hot young wife a woman's proper place.

"Now that the natural order has been restored," he said, to Amy's annoyance, "I have a new rule. You peasants shall end each sentence by calling me 'sir,' and every time you forget, that's five minutes."

"Five minutes of what..., sir?" Amy asked. Slim smiled. He loved hearing this feminist bitch calling him sir.

"You have to watch a video clip of my choosing and you can't take your eyes off the screen for five minutes. The penalty for failure is another five minutes. Now everyone drink."

Doug and Amy each chugged down a belt of tequila before Doug, the Asshole, dealt the next hand. With her husband sawing wood on the couch, Amy began to think about getting Slim and Doug on their way home, but they seemed to be in no hurry. Slim was pouring Red Bull and vodka into three glasses and looking at Amy like she was a meal.

At the end of the hand, everything stayed the same: Slim was President, Amy was Vice President and Doug was -- fittingly enough -- the Asshole. When Doug momentarily forgot to call Slim "sir," punishment immediately ensued. "That's five minutes, Asshole," Slim said caustically. "Go out to my car and grab the laptop and headphones," he commanded, flipping the keys to Doug.

Doug returned and opened up the laptop. Slim spun the screen to face him, inserted the thumb drive from his jacket pocket and clicked on a file. When everything was ready, he turned the screen towards Doug, who slipped on the headphones and started the video. Whatever he was watching, Amy could neither see nor hear it, which made her intensely curious. All she could see was Doug's reaction as he sat, riveted, and watched the video for five minutes without looking away or even blinking, his eyes as wide as saucers.

When Doug was finished watching, he dealt another round of cards. This time, he switched places with Amy. Slim remained President, but now Doug was Vice President and Amy was the new Asshole. She took a sip of Red Bull and vodka and swept the cards into a pile. While she was picking them up and tapping them on the table, Slim gave her a Presidential order.