True Corruption Pt. 02

"He gestured to the crowd to sit back down and the applause died down as we took our seats. He was still sitting on the stool and thanked us all for coming, and said how honored he was to have so many friends - old and new - come for his little gathering, and he was blessed to know so many interesting people. And ... and I guess that's when it happened."

"What happened?" Sam asked. "This is where the night turned?"

Miranda nodded, and took a long sip of water to moisten her throat. She steadied herself, and then began again.

"The lights never came up after his performance, and the first thing I noticed was the lighting, how dim and ... I don't know, sensual? ... it was. It fit perfectly for the music, but without it it seemed a bit ... odd.

"Then Luc stands and says, 'The best part about having interesting friends is that you never want for interesting conversation. And I was having the most interesting conversation earlier with our friend Maxwell. Max, why don't you come up here and tell everyone what we were talking about?'

Sure enough, up stands the third district's state rep, and he walks up to the stage. While he's approaching house staff are quickly and quietly hustling away Luc's cello, the stand and the stool, and replacing them with these plush and ornate cushions, like something some sultan would lounge upon. At least I think that's what must have happened; the whole room's attention was on Maxwell Gentry and his brief trek to the dais, and nobody said a thing. When he reached the dais, there was Luc, stretched out on half of the pillows like he was alone in his living room. It was so ... casual.

So Max reaches the stage, and ... we'll you've seen him in person before, he's a big guy, former basketball star at State I think, and he's kept himself in good shape. He cuts an imposing figure. Anyway, he reaches the stage and just casually flops down next to Luc, lounging on the pillows like they've done it a hundred times before. And Luc says, 'Max, please, tell everyone what we were talking about earlier.' And Max says, 'Well, you asked how the permitting was going on the proposed development at the Riverwalk ...' and Luc breaks in and says, 'No no, not that, what could possibly be more dull? I mean the really interesting thing. The thing you were so passionate about, tell us all about that.'

So Max says, 'Oh, that. Well, I was explaining how Bianca Bukowski has the most exquisite pair of tits I've ever seen, and she's got to be on the short list for best in the world.'

"He just said that, out loud, to everybody in the crowd," Sam said in disbelief.

"Yes!" Miranda said. "And mind you ... Bianca is sitting like, right over there, and everyone in the room knows she's sitting right over there. And you know what the first thing that popped into my head was? 'You know, he's absolutely right. Her breasts are absolutely exquisite.' It seemed so absolutely normal to be discussing Bianca's tits."

"Well, they are great tits," Sam said, "But ... that's fucking weird."

"So weird. But in the moment, nobody batted an eyelash, except maybe Bianca, who seemed quite pleased."

"Naturally," Sam said dryly.

"And so Max just launches into this ode to Bianca's tits, how they're the perfect shape and size, how he turns into Channel 12 every morning just so he can see them bounce and jiggle as she points out high pressure fronts or whatever. He says something like, 'I've bought my fair share of lingerie over the years, and let me tell you that there is no bra that's ever been created that could make another pair of tits do what hers do. It's like the float supernaturally high and proud on her chest. I would do almost anything to touch them, and I'd do it twice to suck on them.'"

Then Luc sits up, and says to everyone, 'That's just fascinating, because in a completely separate conversation I was having with Bianca out in the parlor, you actually came up. Isn't that right Bianca?' And everyone looks over at her, and she nods.

'Why don't you come up here and tell everyone why we were talking about Max,' Luc said, and he scoots over to the edge of the dais to make room for her between him and Max, and she walks over on the dais and climbs up between them. She looks so tiny between these two big imposing men.

'Well,' Bianca said, 'I don't remember exactly how it came up, but I was wondering aloud if the rumors about Mr. Gentry were true.' Luc prompts her to go on, and she says, 'Well it's obvious that he takes care of himself, and if he really does have a that big of a cock, Mrs. Gentry must be a very lucky woman, because I bet he fucks like a champion.'

"Holy shit," Sam said quietly. "Well, obviously I know where this leads ... "

"Sam, we all sat there and watched them, just like we watched Luc playing the cello. I guess we were spellbound by another beautiful performance. The three of them had a few minutes of back-and-forth banter, and then Luc got up and sort of faded into the background, and Bianca was letting Max feel her tits through her dress. She was closing her eyes and biting her lip, and suddenly her eyes shot open and she grabbed him by the collar and they kissed, slow and passionate.

She whispers something in his ear, and they both stand up; he takes off his shirt and unbuckles his pants and pulls them and his underwear down the the floor, and out pops this incredible specimen of cock, big and thick and standing straight out. Bianca looks down, gasps, smiles, and then wraps both hands around it and squeezes.

Then she spins around and Max unzips her dress from behind; it's red and fashionable and looks amazing on her pale white skin, and she's wearing the same color lipstick and shoes to match. He peels the dress down to her waist, and she gives her hips a little shake and it pools at her feet on the floor. There she is in a red lingerie set, her amazing breasts now just covered by a lacy bra.

Max reaches in front and unclasps the front clasp, and the subject of everyone's obsession are right there, free and swinging. And Max was right, they're high and proud and possibly the most beautiful tits on Earth."

Miranda stopped and sighed, and finished her glass of water. She looked up at Sam and saw that he was still staring at her intently.

"Well, you know how that ended up, you saw the video," she said. "I got caught up a bit, sorry."

"I ... I guess I could stand to hear the rest," Sam said, and Miranda saw the little sparkle of hunger and need behind Sam's eyes. "That is, if you don't mind telling it, I understand if you're too tired, or sick of talking about it."

"How much do you want to hear, Sam?" she asked.

"All of it," Sam said. "What it looked like, what they said, and ... and how it made you feel. Tell me all of it."

Miranda saw him shift in his seat uncomfortably, and she knew. Her memories were making her feel that way too, though they presented different problems for her.

"Sam, I don't ..." she stopped herself. He deserved this, at least. "Well, I think we ought to move over to couch, somewhere a bit more comfortable," Sam looked at her for a moment, then stood up and quickly adjusted his cock; she could see its outline straining against his pants, the the wet spot where he'd cum in the the coffee shop.

"I'll get you some more water," he said, and he headed into the kitchen.

She got up and moved to the couch; it was ratty and a little dusty, but surprisingly comfortable once she got situated. He came out with two full glasses of water and handed one to her, and then gingerly sat on the other side of the couch. He was having obvious problems getting around.

"Sam ... let that poor thing breathe," she said with a coy smile. "You've already got one stain to deal with and you look so unhappy."

"Randi, I ... you think that's okay?" he said, starting to protest but clearly without any real heart in it. "I don't want to..."

"... make things weird?" Miranda finished for him. She chuckled. "I certainly don't have too much more to hide, Sam, and we're well past weird. It's okay with me. I trust you, do you trust me?"

Sam didn't hesitate. He unzipped his pants, unbuttoned them and dropped them to his ankles, peeling the sticky underwear from his body and his cock sprang free. After almost two hours of his swollen dick uncomfortably rubbing against the cloth, pinned either down his leg or in his waistband, it was finally out of confinement. He closed his eyes and sighed in relief.

Miranda's eyes widened a bit; Sam had a big, beautiful specimen of his own. She'd had no idea. She could see why he'd been so fidgety and uncomfortable; it must have been hellish keeping that thing under wraps while she gushed about her life-changing sexual experiences. And now she was starting to gush a bit under her skirt, too.

"Go get your lotion, Sam," Miranda said, gaze locked on his cock. He opened his eyes and looked at her, a little surprised. "Go, I know you have some. Guys have lotion for one reason and one reason only, and it's not moisturising. Get it."

Sam got up and almost fell on his face. He steadied himself, shot Miranda a grin, and then kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants. He padded into his bedroom and then came back out, dick in one hand and bottle of lotion in the other. He sat back down on the couch, facing his friend, holding his fully-erect cock.

"Do it," she said.

He squirted the lotion directly onto his cock and rubbed it in. Then he spat on it and rubbed that in in two or three slow strokes. He looked back up and Miranda; she was watching him intently.

"Where was I?" she asked quietly.

Sam looked right into her bloodshot eyes, still puffy from her big night, and saw the mischievous twinkle of old Randi, pre-high society Miranda, pre-sobriety Randi, pre-fall down drunk Randi. Old Randi, fun Randi.

"Max had just removed Bianca's red lacy front clasp bra, and her glorious, world-class tits were free and as advertised, and she's standing there in nothing but panties and matching heels for all to see," Sam said. He gave his cock one long, deliberate stroke and shivered a little.

"Mmmm," Randi said. She licked her lips, and then closed her eyes and recalled the previous evening. "That's right. I think everyone in the room's breath caught in their throats, and for good reason. Sam, her tits are perfect. Bianca stood there in heels, ass and chest jutting out, thighs flexing to keep her steady. She was a goddess up on a pedestal, a goddess built for sin. And Max couldn't wait any longer to worship her.

He flings the bra aside, reaches around, sliding his hands from her waist up her body to cup her breasts, his dark skin contrasting starkly with her paleness. Max has big hands, strong hands, a basketball player's hands, and they wrapped themselves around her tits like they were meant to be there. And maybe they were, but he could barely cover them. He reached up and lightly rubbed her nipples between his fingers, and she looked back over the shoulder and says something to him I couldn't really hear.

Max kissed the nape of her neck and she closed her eyes and flung her head back with a groan, resting the top of her head on his broad black chest behind her, and moaned it again, this time louder and much clearer: "harder."

Max takes his right hand, releases her breast and slowly brings it up to her chest to the front of her neck, and I could see him tightening his grip on her throat. Her eyes shoot open as he grabs her other nipple with his left hand, pulls and violently twists her pink nub that's now standing maybe an inch out from her perfectly round globe. He does the same to her right nipple. Her legs start to shake a little, her leg muscles rippling; this chick does some serious yoga, I'll tell you that.

It seems like she's going to teeter and fall anyway, and Max quickly shifts his arm, moving from her throat to wrapping it around her rib cage, muscles clearly defined, his arm just under her breasts, lifting them ever so slightly. As soon as Max's hand moves away from her throat she draws a deep ragged breath that we can hear scraping across her vocal cords. Her lungs fill and she screams out, 'HARD..." and before she can even say the second syllable Max, lightning quick, slaps her breasts with his left hand, one-two, dead on each nipple with two loud smacks in quick succession, and Bianca just explodes up on the dais, cumming violently.

Max reaches his left arm down around her hips and pulls her close so she doesn't go over the side; she loses all control of herself. The "ER" finally escapes her lips, but it's now the first syllable of an orgasmic scream that's shockingly loud: "EEERRRRAAAAAHAHHHHHHH!" She takes another ragged breath in, "HUUUUUUHHH," and then screams, picking up where she left off: "AAAAAHHHHHHHH!" she roars again. And that's when I realized for the first time that I was soaking wet, and something in the back of my head quietly said, "Dorothy, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

Miranda opened her eyes and looked at Sam. He was looking at her intensely. She looked down and he was stroking his big cock slowly and steadily. She plucked the water off the coffee table to her left and took a sip, and looked back at him. "How are we doing there, cowboy, still loaded?"

Sam grinned at her. "I'm pacing myself." He nodded down at her. "How about you?"

Miranda looked down, and realized she had her skirt up around her waist and her hand buried in her black lace thong, two fingers working up and down from clit to her slit, in and out of her sopping pussy, and then back up again. She froze, and looked up at Sam.

"Oh wow I, uh, I didn't even realize I was ..."

"... I know. And that makes it even hotter," he said, smiling at her. "Uh, you should get comfortable too, it sounds like we've got a while to go before I'm fully caught up."

Miranda just sat there for a few heartbeats and then stood up. She straightened the skirt down from her waist, then unclasped and then unzipped it at her hip. She looked up at Sam, and then slowly shimmied her hips back and forth, her eyes locked on his, pulling her tight skirt down her long legs until it fell to the floor. As she bent over, she knew he got a nice look down her shirt.

Sam made a little growling noise deep in his chest, almost sub-vocal and purely animal. She'd never heard anything like that from him before. Then again, he'd never sat on the couch in front of her, stroking his cock, while she undressed in front of him. They were way off the map at this point, she thought, and ... goodness was it fun.

A wicked little smile played over her lips, and she stood up straight again. She reached up over her head, her chest thrust out, silky blue blouse clinging in all the right spots, and pulled the pens from bun in her hair and shook out her shoulder-length blonde hair. She saw Sam's eyes go a little wider and he slowed his stroking, now even more deliberate. She crossed her right leg over her left, planted the sole of her left shoe firmly on the floor and spun, turning her back to him. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked back at him, and then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her thong, bent over, and pulled them slowly down her ass.

Sam groaned out "oooohhhh wow," and took his hand off his cock all together, content to watch for a while lest he finish way ahead of schedule, way ahead of Randi. He saw her panties were pitch black with moisture; they clung to her lower lips almost jealously, not wanting to let go as she peeled them off her body. The thong finally let go and popped out between from her swollen pussy lips, and Randi slowly pulled it down her legs. They were spread apart just enough so Sam could see it all, see how wet she was, see the sticky strings of moisture that coated her, glistening just a few feet from his face. Her pussy was completely bare; he'd never seen that in person before.

She bent almost in half - she was no stranger to yoga herself - then stepped out of her panties and straightened, thong swaying from her crooked finger. She turned again to look at Sam, and then on sheer impulse spun the thong around her finger once and flung them at Sam. He reached out reflexively and plucked them out of the air with his right hand, the one that had just been stroking his now painfully throbbing cock, and he balled them into his closed fist.

"Fuck, Randi," he said in a near whisper. "They're fucking soaked through."

"Have been most of the day," she said, and gave him her most dazzling smile.

Sam took a deep breath, let it out, and then on an impulse of his own he brought the panties up to his face and inhaled the scent deeply, closing his eyes. He had been able to faintly smell her all day, but this was the pure, uncut shit, right to his brain. If a gentle breeze had found its way through his living room and over his cock, he would have cum everywhere. But he held on somehow, and open his eyes. Miranda was still smiling at him, amused.

"I didn't take you for a panty sniffer, Sam," she said with a little laugh.

"I'm not ... actually I think that's the first time I've ever done that," he said, grinning sheepishly.

"How was it?" she said, needling him a little.

"You know how it was, Randi," he said grin fading a little, eyes hooding over as he looked at the beautiful blonde woman smiling at him, hands on her hips, naked from the waist down except for a pair of red high heels.

"Tell me," she said.

"Better than Bianca's tits," he said, looking at up her.

That scored a hit. Randi felt a rush of desire flood her body, making her tingle a bit in all the right spots. She started to bend down to undo the buckles on her shoes, but then stopped and straightened, flashing another smile at Sam.

"I'll leave the heels on, just like Bianca did," she said.

"Yes, please do," Sam said. "She really left them on the whole time?"

Randi nodded and laughed. "Just like in the pornos. It was really quite something."

Sam shook his head, laughing. Then he looked down at his fist and felt the warm wet cloth he was holding, and then saw his fully engorged cock standing straight up, just now backing from the brink but still throbbing with need. He looked up and saw Randi, his friend, not just Randi, the sex goddess.

"Jesus, Randi, what are we doing?" he said, a little reality flooding into his brain.

Miranda took two slow, unbelievably sexy steps towards Sam, and bent over him. Sam froze and held his breath, his heart beating a mile a minute. Miranda carefully reached over towards Sam's lap, and then kept going to pull a pillow out that was half wedged between him and the couch. She tugged it free, and Sam let out a great gust of breath.

She turned, perched the pillow next to the arm of the couch and then positioned herself on it, pillow at her shoulder blades so she lay almost flat, head just resting on the arm. She moved so she could see Sam easily. She locked her gaze with his, and let her left leg hang over the side the couch, and put her right leg on top of cushions so her legs were spread wide, giving Sam the best view he could possibly hope for. He could have reached out and touched her pussy if he tried.

She brought her right hand up to her lips and traced her fingers along her mouth and then licking them.Then she took that hand and slid it down herself until she got to her still-hot, steaming pussy. She flattened her hand and ran her fingers in two lazy circles around her clit, shivering as the pleasure shot up her body.

Her eyes never left Sam's, and she said, "I'm having the most fun I've had in a very, very long time. What are you doing Sam?"

"I'm jerking off in front of my best friend while she strips for me, lets me sniff her soaked-through thong and tells me the most unbelievably raunchy story I've ever heard," Sam said, keep his gaze level with hers.