The Deal Ch. 2

Patrick waited nervously. When he got home Friday night he expected to find me, but instead found only my note.

Patrick,

Sorry I couldn't be home when you got there. I've had a very hectic day getting ready for the weekend, and decided I needed a few more things. I want you to take a bath. After you finish, go to my jewelry box and you will find another note.

Do not open it until after your bath. Do not put clothes on after you bath until you read the second note. I will know if you have done what you were told. If you follow orders, I promise you a night you will always remember. If you do not follow my instructions to the letter, the deal is off! Remember, I am in charge!

Your loving wife,

Rachael

No doubt he thought this was a strange message, but he's used to me doing strange things. I knew he was in the habit of taking a shower when he came home from work anyway. He must have decided to go along with the game, for a little while at least. He went upstairs and started his shower.

What he didn't know was that I was in the house, waiting to see if he'd follow my orders! He'd promised me that I could be in charge of the weekend's festivities, and now I was going to see if he'd meant what he said. The proof would be whether or not he was naked when he opened my jewelry box.

Just thinking of him made me hot! I thought about him in the shower, water running down his back, down his legs, some of it running into the crack of his ass, some of it running down the length of his shaft. His shaft! I knew it was probably hard right this minute. I knew he'd soap it up, run his hand up and down its hardness, twisting it back and forth as he jerked it back and forth! For just a moment I thought about getting in the shower with him, falling to my knees and sucking his hard dick into my mouth as the shower spray pelted my face. I could taste his salty cum as it would splatter against the back of my mouth, and slide down my throat, followed by yet another blast and then another! I loved to suck his cock. Well, actually, I love to suck any one's cock, but especially his. My mind wandered back to a party we'd attended last weekend. I remembered Peter Jenson, and most especially I remembered Pete Jenson's hard cock!

I'd been talking to Pete Jenson, enjoying the delicate pleasures of good conversation. Pete's a friend of my husband. They worked together years ago when both were starting out in business. They'd remained friends for all the years following. Pete likes me. I mean, he likes me a lot! He'd fuck me in a heartbeat if he wasn't married to the mother of all bitches, Harriet. Harriet is a woman upon which a pussy had been wasted. As far as Pete's concerned, it could just as well have been sewed shut years ago. Harriet has one thing going for her, one thing that made her a wife worth keeping. She's worth a little better than $10 million dollars, and she holds the mortgage to Pete's business. It was for that reason, more than any other, that Pete stays faithful to his wife. I guess I should say, "stayed" faithful, because after last Friday, I don't think he still falls into that category.

You see, I wanted to fuck Pete. I knew I'd have an uphill fight, and that the efforts probably wouldn't have been worth my trouble except for one thing. Patrick has told me about Pete's cock. They showered together after a round of golf at the club, and Patrick told me the man could use his cock for a golf club! Last Friday, after what I did, I would have gladly been his caddie. It really wasn't planned. Not at first. At first I was just talking to him, about business, about Harriet, and about life in general. Then the conversation turned to sex, (it always seems to when men and I talk) and he confided that he'd not had sex in better than a year! At first I thought he'd been joking, or trying to play on my sympathies, but the more he spoke, the more I believed the man. A year! Harriet had decided the two of them would be celibate, and to that end, she cut out all sexual relations between them. He was becoming a basket case. I asked him why he didn't get some from another source. "After all, Pete, damn near every woman's got a pussy, and most would share some with a sweet guy like you."

I really had embarrassed him with that statement. He wasn't used to a woman using that type of language, and I guess I shouldn't have said it. But a year? Pete explained to me that he'd never been unfaithful, and his intentions were to remain so. He didn't want to risk losing his wife over a quick piece of ass. Besides, he could always masturbate, he said, and did quite often. But he added that lately, there wasn't much pleasure in even that. I knew right away what his problem was. A man has to have something to fantasize about if he's going to pull the pud. I decided then and there that I would give him the inspiration he needed, if ever the opportunity arose.

And it arose fifteen minutes later. Pete excused himself. He had to find the little boys room, he said. I told him I knew where it was, and I'd take him there. He declined at first, and just asked where it was. "Nonsense," I replied, "Let me show you. You'll never find it by yourself, and besides, I don't want you to piss in the linen closet!"

Taking this shy guy by the hand, I led him upstairs to the master bathroom. He thanked me and turned to go in. I waited outside as he closed the bathroom door. I didn't hear it lock! I waited close by the door, waiting to hear the sound of pissing, waiting to know if he was really in there doing what he said he was going to do. I heard noises, all right, but they weren't bathroom noises. At least not the kind most people make. No, these were noises of pleasure. I slowly turned the door knob. I was right! He hadn't locked the door. As I pushed the door open, I caught sight of Pete's back as I saw his reflection in the mirror. I knew from the position of the back that he couldn't see the door open. Finally, it was open half-way, and I knew what he was doing. Pete Jenson was jerking off! I could tell by the way he was hunched over the counter that he was whacking the bishop for all he was worth. (I'd just learned that phrase a few days earlier, and have liked it ever since!) I must have let out an involuntary gasp, because suddenly Pete whirled around and faced me, his hard cock still in his hand.

Actually, in fairness, I should say his hard cock was partially in his hand. That boy was holding more hard meat in one hand than I'd seen at my last three swing parties combined! I am sure it must have been at least fifteen inches long, and big around as my arm. No wonder Harriet became celibate. That thing could kill a normal woman. (but what a way to die) Pete just stared at me, sorta like a wounded animal. He was trapped, and he knew it. I guess he was worried that I would say something to some of the other guests at the party. I guess he thought I wouldn't be able to keep what I saw private.

He was wrong. I wanted to keep that thing of his very private. I mean, if Harriet didn't want it, I sure as fuck did. When Pete didn't say anything, I stepped into the bath room and closed the door behind me.

"Please," he started, "I'm sorry you saw this. It's just that talking to you got me so hot, and I needed to relieve this...this...thing."

"Pete, Pete! It's okay baby. I'm not mad or shocked. I just want to help you with it, that's all." I started to walk toward his giant prick, but he stopped me.

"You can help, but you can't touch it. I was serious when I said I'd never be unfaithful to Harriet. But you can help."

"How?"

"Just stand there. And watch." His words had a plea in them that I could not ignore. Of course, I'd stay and watch! In fact, a message from the president couldn't have gotten me to leave at that moment. Presently, Pete began to jerk on his cock again. He used long, twisting motions while at the same time pulling his dick back and forth, increasing the speed as time went by. I leaned against the sink and watched, utterly fascinated as this shy fellow continued to jack off in front of me. I wanted that cock worse than any I'd seen in years. I started toward him again. And again his only reply was, "No. Stay there. I need to come so bad, and I'm thinking of you while I'm doing this."

I relaxed again against the sink. The mirrors were floor to ceiling on the side facing me. And watching Pete continue to pull his cock was making me hornier and hotter each moment. I had to do something. Reaching down to the hem of my skirt, I lifted it slowly up to my waist. I know this show must have affected Pete. His tempo was picking up speed, his eyes were glued to the figure standing in front of him. He took in my long legs, my slender thighs, my garter belt holding up the silk stockings Patrick liked so much. his eyes continued to travel upward, upward to my closely haven cunt which was framed by the belts off the garter. I was wearing no underwear, save the garters and stockings. My finger started to flick across my clit, and my wet steamy cunt was already starting to take on a life of its own. I put first one finger, then a second, and then a third into my own pussy. I started to move my hand to the same tempo Pete was moving his.

I opened the top of my dress. My naked breasts became visible to Pete. I took my right hand out of my cunt and smeared pussy juice on my left nipple. It was already hard as a rock, and now it glistened as the juice from my cunt gave it a sheen. Pete was pumping his dick harder now. It seemed to have gotten larger in the process. My dress was open all the way down to my waist, and the skirt was tucked into the waistband. I was losing control, lost to my passions and my obsessions. And I wanted that monster cock in me. In my mouth or in my pussy. Or in my ass if that was the only place I could get it.

Patrick always tells me that a hard dick has no scruples. I counted on that being true. I slowly crossed the three feet of empty space that separated me from the biggest dick I'd ever seen. This time Pete didn't tell me no. This time, he just looked at my exposed body and continued to pump his rock hard cock with the dedication of a jack hammer breaking through concrete. I slowly lowered myself to a knelling position in front of his hand held cock. It seemed even bigger just inches from my face, just inches from my mouth! I leaned forward. It was now or never. My breath was warming the end of his cock. Slowly, almost without motion, he brought his dick to meet my moist, open lips. I don't know if I leaned into it, or if it slid into me, but within micro seconds, his cock was in my mouth, filling my cheeks to capacity. I couldn't suck it in, I could only allow it to force its way between my jaws.

It was so big, I couldn't get the whole head in! I sucked at what I could, flicking my tongue around whatever space it left me in my mouth. Pulling my lips off the cock head, I opted to lick the long under shaft. He had not stopped his incessant hand movements, the jacking, the twisting, the distorting constantly of shape and color! My lips and tongue reached the base of his cock. I licked under the base, licked his ball sack, kissed the hairy wrinkled bag of balls. I wanted more! I wanted to shove my tongue between his legs, to lick the rim of his ass, to plunge my hot, pink tongue inside his ass hole. He must have felt my urgency. He squatted down a little and spread his legs. I was on the floor, my head disappearing behind him, my tongue licking his ass cheeks, and now, as he opened his legs wider, I scooted under and up. I found his ass hole. As I pushed my tongue inside, tasting the bitter taste of his ass, my hand snaked around to the front of his thighs, my nails brushing his hairy legs, reaching higher and higher until my hand found the treasure I wanted so badly to fuck!

I had my hand on his cock, helping him jerk. The back of his legs were rubbing against my breasts, my nipples already committed to a degree of hardness I'd never remembered before. I have done some tawdry things, fucked some rough guys in rough places, but nothing like this had ever gotten to me before. I was sitting on a bathroom floor, my body open and exposed, my head buried in this man's ass, while my hand was entwined through his legs and around his cock, and I couldn't have cared who saw me. And almost like an answered passion, the bathroom door opened, and there stood my husband! I stopped for a moment, when I heard the door open. I looked down, between Pete's legs, and saw Patrick standing there. I smiled at him and continued my licking, jacking, biting actions. I opened my legs wider still, giving my husband a clear view of my wet pussy. I wanted a dick there, and I guess my exposing it to Patrick was my way of asking him to help me. But then, it happened. Pete let out a grunt more primitive than any I'd heard before, and suddenly his massive dick was pouring out cum, not by the squirt, or the teaspoon, but by the quart! I was not prepared for the quantity of come that flowed from his giant dick! It was the equivalent of having an entire cocktail poured on your face.

As quickly as his passions had built, his cock went soft in my hand. Suddenly I was able to judge the full heft of this giant cock, as the strength it possessed waned, and it became dead body weight. And it was sooooo heavy! I wiggled out from under him. He was as close to a catatonic state as I'd ever seen a man. There was no doubt he'd enjoyed what had transpired. He was exhausted from his efforts. And mine.

Patrick watched as I stood up. I wanted to lick the come off my hands and arms, but there was just too much of it. I did the next best thing. I licked my fingers clean, and then turned on the faucet to wash the rest away. After my hands and arms were clear of semen, I started to button my dress, only to find the front of it was coated with his come. Unbeknownst to me, Pete had shot a few good squirts on my dress! I was mess. Patrick seemed to enjoy this whole scene immensely. He stood there at the entrance of the bath room, and watched as his wife tried to clean the come of another man off her dress.

"Close the door, please," I asked him.

"Why?" he asked back.

"For privacy!"

"You don't need privacy, bitch. You need an audience!"

And then he smiled. I was thinking about this story while I stood downstairs and listened to Patrick's shower run. I would have liked to have gone upstairs and gotten into the shower with my husband. I would have liked to have gotten on my knees in front of his cock, and would have liked to have recreated the scene in the bathroom with Pete. But that would have spoiled the evening, and I have such great plans for Patrick. For Patrick and Patrick's cock!

When Patrick came out of the shower, I listened downstairs to his footsteps. He still didn't know I was home, but I had left explicit directions for him. He was to go into our bedroom, still naked, and open my jewelry box. There he would find his next set of instructions. I listened to the bathroom door open, I heard his footsteps as he walked down the hall. I listened as he opened our bedroom door.

The intercom was on in our bedroom. We had the light disconnected so we could take turns listening to each other whenever we had company over to spend the night. It was Patrick's idea. He said it turned him on to sit in his shop downstairs and listen to me getting fucked by another man two flights up. But the light as a dead giveaway, so he disconnected it. Now it was my turn to listen. I heard the top open on my jewelry box. The familiar tune to the love song from Dr. Zhivago played every time it was open. I heard him sit on the edge of the bed, and then silence. That would have been while he read the next note.

My dearest Patrick,

Hope you had a good shower. If you are doing everything I told you to, you should be in the bed-room, buck ass naked. Ummmmm, wish I were there. I have a great weekend planned for you, but you must help me. I have some things you need to do, and some things I need you to wear. If you open the door to my closet, you will find a small paper sack. In the sack you will find three items. Please put these on before you get dressed. I don't care what you wear for outer clothes. I would suggest casual, but you must have the three things on under them. If you don't the whole night is off. And I should tell you, you'll miss the best weekend of your life. There is also a small key in the bottom of the sack. I would suggest you remember to put it in your pocket.

love,

Your Mistress.

I heard the closet door open, and the bag crinkle as he opened it. Silence. Then I heard the bed squeak again. I knew he was sitting on the edge again. I imagined what the expression on Patrick's face must have been as he took each item out of the bag. He must have looked them over and over, turning them this way and that, and finally he would make his decision. I knew how he would decide. The items? A jock strap, a cock ring, and an anal plug. The jock strap was a common garden variety, nothing special, except the size.

Patrick wore a size 42, I had purchased a size 36. The cock ring, and the butt plug were special, however. I had paid big bucks for them. But I knew they were worth every penny they'd cost me. They were remote controlled vibrating units. Of course, Patrick couldn't have known that. The other thing he didn't know was that the cock ring was fixed with a locking latch. Once it was on his dick and around his balls, and he snapped it closed, it would only open with a key. The key in the bottom of the sack.

I took the last envelope for him out of my purse and placed it on the sofa table at the bottom of the stair case. It had Patrick written on it in red lipstick. I knew he'd find it when he came down stairs. I listened to the intercom, but there was no noise. I know I must have listened for at least five minutes. And then I heard it.

CLICK.

It was the cock ring. He'd put it on and snapped it closed. Seconds later I heard his closet door open and the sound of hangers moving. I knew he was getting dressed. If all went well, our fantasy weekend would start in about ten minutes. I went through the kitchen and into the garage. All I could do now was wait.

As I sat in the darkness of the garage, waiting in the back seat of our luxury sedan, I ran the scenario of what was probably happening inside the house. I looked at my watch. By now, Patrick was coming down the stairs. He would find my last letter. He'd open it. It was short and to the point.

Patrick:

If you are ready to begin, you will now go into the kitchen, pick up the car keys on the kitchen table, and go into the garage. Do not turn on the garage lights. Go directly to the Lincoln and get in the front seat, behind the driver's wheel. Do not look behind you. Start the car, and head for the interstate.

Do as you are told, speak only when spoken to, and obey every command. The fantasy will last until you fail to follow these instructions. Follow my orders and I will take you to heights you've never even dreamed existed.

Fuck up, and you fuck alone.

Mistress Rachael

As the contents of the final note were thought through over and over, my concentration was broken by the sound of the garage door being open. As ordered, Patrick walked down the steps without turning on the light. He walked up to my car, opened the front door, and slid behind the steering wheel. Without looking into the back seat, he started the car and drove out of the garage, turned right, and headed toward the interstate.

The fantasy began!

After we had left our neighborhood, and the suburbs were behind us, Patrick picked up speed. I didn't say a word for fully ten minutes. This was more fun than I ever imagined it would be. I knew Patrick sensed I was sitting there behind him, but he followed my orders exactly! I wasn't sure exactly how to break the silence. Then, suddenly I knew. The answer was about a hundred yards up the highway. I saw a man standing on the side of the road. His hand was out, his thumb pointed westward. It was a spur of the moment decision. I knew this was the perfect opportunity!