Bean Counter Ch. 05byCreamer©
"Dinner again so soon?" Susan asked with a grin as she answered the door at her dumpy apartment. "A casual observer might think you had improper designs on my virtue," she said with a straight face.
"A casual observer would be correct," I agreed, and came in. She had already dressed for dinner, a pretty turquoise sweater and a blue-green paisley silk skirt. I had proposed seafood, feeling in the mood to treat her to something she ordinarily couldn't afford.
"Does that mean you want sex, too?" she asked, feigning weariness.
"Yeah, pretty much," I agreed. "Before or after, I'm not picky."
"I'm open," she said, shrugging.
"Just what I wanted to hear," I said, and picked her up.
I mean that literally: I scooped her up and carried her back to her bedroom, threw her on her unmade bed, and while she was recovering from the sudden assault I flipped her skirt up and exposed the tiniest panties I've ever seen.
"Yum," I said, reverently, and dove in, nose first. Oh, she squawked a little, made some token protests, but inside of thirty seconds my tongue had burrowed into her folds and attacked her clit like a bird after a worm. Thirty seconds after that her hands became entwined in my hair, presumably to keep her pussy from falling off of my tongue in a moment of passion. I didn't mind -- my nose was pressed into my sister-in-law's pubic bone and I was eating her box like a starving man.
It only took her about five minutes to have an intense, toe-curling orgasm. When she finally was able to push me away, she sat up and looked at me wide-eyed.
"Oh. My. GOD!" she whispered. "I've never cum so fast. And rarely that hard."
"Just wanted an appetizer," I said, casually as I wiped my face on her bedspread. If she minded, she didn't say. "Something to take the edge off."
"And keep me horny all night long!" she accused. I shrugged again. "Okay, works for me," she said, cheerfully. "You wanna keep it up? Or are you hungry?"
"Let's table it until after dinner. Expensive seafood restaurant. And Oysters are in season."
"Let me fix my hair, do my makeup, and change my panties -- hell, I'll just ditch them. Then we can go."
Dinner was magnificent -- we both had lobster and a bottle of wine apiece -- and she had a healthy glow throughout the evening, thanks to my surprise cunnilingus. We talked about her folks and how they were reacting to Mary's impending divorce (not well -- their dad was ready to kill the sonofabitch, and their sainted mother was in a deep depression), how school was going for her, and, of course, juicy tidbits about my soon-to-be-ex-wife.
"She had the balls to call me and ask for money," Susan said, indignantly. "After lording it over me for all these years. Like I make a fortune or something. I have savings," she admitted, "but I'm saving up for laser eye surgery."
"But the glasses are cute!" I protested.
She made a face. "I'll keep a pair around afterwards to wear for you," she conceded "But they've been a pain in my ass since I got them when I was seven."
"You might be wearing them the wrong way," I quipped.
"I've always dreamed of the day I could wake up and see the alarm clock without putting them on. Anyway, I wasn't about to loan that bitch a dime. Serves her right."
"Thanks," I said. "I'm trying to make her life hell, and money is my most powerful tool."
She looked at me naughtily. "I'd say it was your second most powerful tool," she said, glancing down.
I laughed. "I concede the point. But the one thing I've worried about is her getting cash from you or her folks."
"Well, Daddy isn't inclined to give her any," Susan observed. "He's pretty pissed. And Mom wouldn't do anything Daddy didn't want her to. So I think you're safe there. That just leaves Sherri."
I nodded at that thought. Sherri Harrell-Eaton had been Mary's best friend since junior high school. They had roomed together in college, and they had continued to be close for the last several years -- even after Sherri had managed to marry a kind old coot named Lewis, who had about twice as much money as God. With her folks and Susan out of bounds, Sherri would definitely get hit on next. Not that I was too worried -- Sherri was a notorious social climber, and the moment she found out that Mary was socially out of favor, their "close personal friendship" would fade. I'd have to give her a call and make sure that didn't happen. She had always liked me -- I was a prime status symbol and "success object" -- and I'm sure I could turn her over to the Dark Side.
"Speaking of which, have you seen my lovely sister today?" she asked, sweetly.
"As a matter of fact I did. On her knees in a hotel room. Twice," I added.
Susan frowned. "Are you sure you're going to have anything left for me?" she whined.
"Sweetie, I'd have to be a dead monk not to pop a boner over you," I assured her. "But let me tell you what happened, and how it fits into my Evil Plan," I said, and told her about the hotel room and the House Detective. "If everything goes right, Mr. Sensitive will have some suffering to do for his Art."
"How generous of you to provide him with such an opportunity!" Susan giggled.
"I'm known for my generous nature," I conceded.
"But not your forgiving one," she added.
"No, not so much," I agreed.
"Good," she said, with a little more emotion than I had anticipated. "You don't know how it was, growing up in her shadow. Everything always came so easy to her: she was pretty and popular, and everyone liked her. Me? I didn't even get felt up until high school, and that was by a couple of geeks in the Chess Club that met in the library. My first boyfriend in school, Jared Aimes? She cold stole him away before he even got a chance to kiss me!" she said, her eyes blazing. "She made my life hell growing up, and she lorded her marriage over me every time I saw her!"
"To payback," I said, proposing a toast. She smiled and joined in.
After dinner we went back to her place for some more wine. After getting me a glass, she sat between my knees on the couch and fished my hard prick out of my pants and started a tongue ballet on the head. I moaned, but resisted the urge to grab her by the ears and plunge down her throat. She was still determined to show that she was a better fellatrix than Mary, and I was more than willing to hear her compelling arguments.
About ten minutes in, my cell rang. I glanced at it, and smiled.
"My, my, it's your darling sister," I noted. "Should I take the call?"
"If she wants to give you head again, tell her you're spoken for," Susan growled around my dick. "But go ahead and talk. This will be fun!"
I smiled and hit the green button. "Bill, here," I said cheerfully.
"Bill, thank God!" Mary began, her voice tinged with desperation. "I need your help! Tim's been arrested!"
"Is this . . . Mary?" I asked, doubtfully.
"Yes! You know who it is! They've got him downtown!" she said.
"Tim . . . has been arrested? Drugs?" I asked, sympathetically.
"No, no, trespassing and disorderly conduct. But they set bail at five grand, and I need to raise it or he stays there all weekend, until the magistrate comes in on Monday!"
"How terrible," I said. "Where was he trespassing?" I asked, innocently. Susan smiled around my cock.
"At the . . . that doesn't really matter, does it?"
"Well, if he was trespassing at an elementary school or something, then yes, that might matter," I offered.
"It was . . . at the Regency," she admitted with a sigh.
"The Regency?" I asked, feigning shock. "That's a coincidence. I was just there today."
"I know, I know, Bill, we got our gas cut off, and since you had the room for the night, I just thought it would be nice—"
"To fuck your baby's daddy on your poor, pathetic ex-husband's dime?" I offered. "Yeah, I can see how that thought might come naturally to you."
"Don't be such an ass! I'm asking you for help, here. The bail bondsman will get him out for ten percent of bail, and I've raised three hundred, but I need two more. Mom and Dad won't help, Susan isn't answering her phone, and Sherri's been out of town. I need that money, dammit!"
"And you're asking so charmingly, too," I said, catching Susan's eye as she bobbed her pretty little head up and down my member.
"I'm desperate, Bill -- I don't know what else to do!"
"Maybe let him spend the weekend in jail," I suggested. "Drunk and Disorderly is a bad habit that could stand breaking. Might be good for him. Character building."
"That's JAIL! I can't let him stay in JAIL!" she wailed.
"Yes, he's an attractive man, and I'm sure he'll be the belle of the cellblock. Look, if he was headed to go to the hotel room that I paid for to fuck MY wife, I'm not really losing sleep, here. And having you whine to get me to bail out my wife's lover, that's a bit galling. And this is a really bad time. I'm on a date, right now—"
That got to her -- she sounded shaken. "A date? WHO?"
"That's none of your business, actually, but she's getting upset that I'm ignoring her. Look, call me tomorrow and let me know how it worked out. If you can't figure anything else out, maybe we can work a deal."
"What? Bill, I—"
"Later," I said, and turned the phone off. Susan's lips never left my dick, but she laughed anyway. "Mission Accomplished," I declared.
"Are you going to give her the money?" she asked.
"Not without extracting some concessions," I said. "Since I put him there, I feel just the tiniest bit responsible. But I plan to turn this to my advantage."
"Do tell," she said, leaving my cock and straddling my lap. "I want to know—" she said as she impaled herself with a grunt, "—every little detail!"
And so I did. She approved. Hell, she wanted to watch.
After fucking her sister far into the night, I was actually a little reluctant to see Mary, and almost hoped she'd found a way out of her predicament without me. But about nine o'clock the next day, right after my morning jog and shower, I got the call.
"Bill?" she asked, wearily. "Can I come over?"
"For what?" I asked, obtusely.
"To talk. About money," she added, to make sure I didn't misunderstand.
"Sure, we can talk. I'll be here for a little while longer."
A half-hour later the ugly orange Gremlin pulled into the driveway, belching smoke and driving down the property values. I let her in the back door and went back to making breakfast.
She looked rough -- two sweaters and a coat against the cold. And she had been crying. No amount of bad makeup could hide that fact.
"Bill, I need the money," she said without preamble. "I can pay you back."
"How?" I asked, simply.
"What do you mean, 'how'? I have a job," she said, offended.
"Yeah, and you have no gas at your house. When would I get it back?"
"Bill, it's a lousy couple of hundred bucks!" she said, exasperated. "You probably spent that last night on dinner!"
"That's not the point," I said, evenly. "The point is it is MY money you want to borrow to get YOUR fucking lover out of jail. I'm sure you can appreciate how reluctant I am about this. The fact that I'm even discussing the matter is beyond me."
"Bill, don't—" She stopped herself, just shy of calling me an ass again. That was a good start. She sighed. "What's it going to take?"
"Well, that's an interesting question," I said, flipping eggs. "I won't loan you the money -- it would look bad in court."
" 'But . . .?'" she asked.
"But . . . I might be willing to purchase your services for that sum."
She fixed me with a wounded stare. "You . . . what?"
"I want to rent your pussy," I said, matter-of-factly. "It's been a while since I've been there, and I'm feeling nostalgic."
"Bill, I'm already sucking your dick like EVERY DAY!" she said in disgust.
"And it's good, don't get me wrong. But a man likes variety. How much do you need?"
"I . . . about four hundred. That will get him out of jail and get our gas cut back on," she said quietly.
"Then . . . this is what I propose. I'll give you the cash. But I want three things. I want your pussy, twice. And I want a little more control in how you approach the blowjob issue. Nothing fancy, just some whims of mine that I've fantasized about for a while and would like to fulfill."
"Like what?" she asked, warily.
"Some costume changes, maybe some role-play. And no complaining. If I show up somewhere where you are, and there isn't a compelling reason for you not to, I want to be able to tell you to drop to your knees and not get a complaint about it. I'm not trying to get you fired," I said, anticipating her objection, "nor do I want us to get busted. But . . . I just want a little more understanding and a little less lip. No pun intended," I added.
She looked dejected. "And this is the only way you'll do it?"
"Is it so bad as all that?" I asked. "You used to like my dick in your pussy." She grimaced at the frank language. She would rarely talk dirty to me.
"Dammit, Bill, you're treating me like a whore!" she cried.
"Dammit, Mary, I was treating you like a cherished wife, and you threw that part away!" I raged. "You want cash? From me? For this? Why should I do it, because I'm a forgiving man with more generosity than brains? My pride won't let me 'loan' it to you, thank God. But I don't have a problem paying for pussy -- even pussy that's supposed to be mine! This is a separate arrangement from everything else. A side deal. You let me fuck you twice, and I'll pay you your money. And if you feel like a whore for fucking your own husband, well, I guess that's just gravy!"
"You are such a bastard," she said, tears rolling down her face.
"You're welcome to walk," I said. "I believe you are familiar with where I keep the door. But this is a one-time offer that expires in the next sixty seconds."
"Fine! I'll do it!"
"You agree to all of my conditions?"
"Good. Let's get the first screw out of the way, and then I'll write you a check."
She nodded and started taking off her coat, not looking at me. "I'll see you in the bedroom," she muttered.
"Not necessary," I said, turning off the burner and moving behind her to take the coat. "Why don't you suck me a little, and we'll tear off a quickie right here. Then you can get Jethro out of the pokey, and come back tonight to do the second one. And you can act like you enjoy it. And wear something sexy. The thrift store look might be in, but I prefer my piece of tail to look attractive in a more traditional sense."
"I hate you," she sobbed, dropping to your knees.
"Don't take it personally," I said, pulling down my sweat pants. "It's just business."
Getting your dick sucked by your sobbing ex-wife before breakfast is a particularly unique sensation -- and one I highly recommend. She sprawled on the floor and took my cock between her lips and half-heartedly worked at it until it was at full stand, and every time another tear dripped down her nose and across my cock I swear I almost blew my load. But I waited -- I wanted this to be good.
When I was sufficiently hard I pulled her up to her feet and began to strip off her sweaters, then unbutton her shirt to reveal her bra. I wasted no time in pawing those tender breasts, rolling the nipples gently but painfully between my fingers. She winced but didn't say a word. Satisfied, I turned her around and encouraged her to lean forward, then skinned her jeans and panties down to her knees.
"That's a nice ass," I breathed, and licked the top of her crack.
"Just shut up and do it!" she insisted.
"All right," I agreed. "But don't be whining about foreplay later," I said. She buried her head in her arms, presenting her ass to me, and kept crying.
I positioned myself at her entrance, and pushed forward slightly. I expected her to be dry as a bone, under the circumstances -- instead she was as wet as I'd ever seen. My cock went into her mushy depths like a plow through a snowbank.
"AAHHHhhh," I groaned as I felt that familiar pussy clamp around the girth of my dick. She had gasped when I pushed into her but kept crying. I didn't mind. Oh, there was the part of me that was still in love with her that looked on in anguish at her being hurt. But the much larger and much angrier part of me considered this to be just revenge for her treachery. "Damn! That's some good pussy!" I said, pushing forward forcefully.
It was a quickie grudge-fuck, all about my pleasure. Despite that fact she had a massive orgasm on the twelfth or thirteen stroke, one of those knee-weakening, mind-bending climaxes that makes you scream. I know she did. I smiled to myself and reveled in her hot, wet depths and pistoned my hips passionately against her smooth white ass. And while I fucked her, I kept up a litany of verbal humiliation.
"Now that's pussy worth payin' for! God, it's good! Hot, wet, tight -- he must not be fucking you very often, if you're this tight! I love taking you from behind like this, it's like being a fucking animal!" I knew she disliked doggie for just that reason. I redoubled the ferocity with which I banged away. "And you look so sexy, pushing your ass back to meet my dick -- is your pussy happy? Is your pussy excited? Man, you're dripping like a fucking faucet! Did your pussy miss my cock? Did it? Ah . . . here you cum again! MAN! That was incredible -- you must be really turned on to have two in a row like that! I guess you've gotten more orgasmic since you've been fucking around . . . or is it the fact that you're getting paid to do it making you cum? Two hundred dollars a fuck, that ain't bad for whoring. And you're a natural, too! That's it, isn't it? You're getting off on getting paid! Well, hope you aren't close to another one, because here . . . I . . . . CUM!" I shouted, and filled her cunt with my spooge in a long, cathartic blast.
It took both of us a moment to come to our senses -- the whole episode had lasted only ten minutes or so. I pulled my pants up, and then pulled hers up before she could go clean up -- I wanted her to walk around with my load sloshing in her all day. She hadn't picked her head up off the counter, and was still quietly sobbing. I left her alone to pull herself together while I went to get my checkbook -- and turn off the remote camera.
Of course I had taped it. How could I pass that up?
When I came back in, she was pulling her coat on, a blank expression on her face. I handed her the check. "About nine o'clock?" I asked, nonchalantly. She just nodded and left without another word.
I felt . . . liberated. If nothing else, I'd gotten a crack of the wife's twat one last time, and if she kept her word, twice. Plus a little more control in the blowjob department. Not a bad purchase, all things considered. I whistled and went about my chores with a deeply satisfied feeling as the Gremlin put-putted out of sight down the road.
I stayed home most of the day, taking care of some details on the new account and continuously checking in on Mary Television ("I want my MTV!"). They didn't get home for the longest time. About seven o'clock, finally, I checked and heard voices on the monitor.
". . . thank God I'm back home," Tim's whiney voice said.
"I know, sweetheart," Mary said, soothingly. "It must have been awful! I can't believe you got into a fight!"
"I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come to rescue me," he said, pathetically. "That big black guy -- Darryl, he was the one with the tattoos -- he said he'd rape me tonight. Rape me! I'm not gay," he said, defensively. "He kept admiring my ass, but I'm not fucking gay!"
"I know, I know," Mary said. "Don't worry about it. It's all over with, now. You'll never see him again."
"Thank God!" Tim said. "Hey, it's warm in here! Did you get the gas back on?"
Pause. "Um, yeah, I called them this morning?"