“You don’t seem to like my outfit,” said Morgan. She began to pout. “I have to admit, Lionel, I’m a little hurt. You’re the reason I’m wearing this, actually.”
His argument seemed absolutely forgotten from the onslaught of sensory information being delivered to him by Morgan's body.
“I am?”
“You are. I wore it especially for you. I wanted you to see how I look in red. I think I look dynamite. But I suppose you don’t agree.”
“I...I...of course you...” he shook his head. “No. Look.” He rapped his knuckles on the arms of his chair. “How attractive you are isn’t really the question. Do I smell booze on you? Because that’s not—”
“So you do think I’m attractive?”
She turned bent forward, letting him look down the heavy expanse of her cleavage. His eyes locked on immediately to the smooth, young, healthy, full tits she possessed. Tits that were, as she had just said, decorated solely for his attention.
As he was transfixed, she noticed the picture of his ex-wife still on his desk. What a piece of trash, leaving this beautifully masculine man. Morgan flicked it carelessly off the desk—and the photo landed, appropriately, in the bin waiting below. An indulgent smile cross her lips. Lionel didn’t seem to notice.
“I mean, Morgan...of course you’re attractive. That’s not really...wait.” He put a hand to his face. “Do you smell that? It’s so...it’s really hot in here.” He tugged at his tie. He had begun to sweat. “It smells like...berries. And clouds, somehow. You don’t—what are you doing?”
Her heel had landed on his knee. The long tip dug into his flesh, though not enough to hurt him. Just enough to get his attention.
“Something you like. Don’t you?”
He gulped.
“Morgan...you’re...clearly not in your right mind. Did you go to that party? Is that what’s causing this? Because I did some digging on my own, and I found these reports, and—”
Her heel slid up higher on his thigh, heading quickly toward the rapidly forming bulge in his crotch. “I don’t want to talk about all that boring stuff, Lionel. Baby. I want to talk about the best way to shove your cock into this fertile young body. Isn’t that more exciting?”
“F-fertile?” he gulped again. “Young? Morgan, you’re—oh fuck.”
Her heel landed on his cock. She began rubbing the toes up and down his thick, heavy rod, licking her lips as she delivered the pleasure she knew that he wanted. Calling herself “fertile” had been a bit of an ad-lib.
But then, she was fertile, wasn’t she? She could have as many babies as Lionel could pump into her. God, that would really seal the deal, wouldn’t it? If he made her pregnant. Then he would have to fuck her all the time, just to keep her in line.
Maybe he could convince her to fuck Colette too. Get her pregnant. The two of them waiting on him and his huge cock hand and foot, all day long, each girl trying to have a more pregnant belly than the other...
“You work so, so hard all day long, Lionel. Mister Powell. Won’t you let me your day a little easier?”
“If you want...shit.” He was huffing now. “If you think, I mean...if you want to go out, Morgan, I mean...I’m your boss. But even then, we can’t just do it something here. We have to—”
Her heel had relinquished its soft pressure on his cock, but only because she had dropped to her knees. “Do something here,” she said, smiling and licking her lips. “What a lovely idea, Mister Powell. I just finger-fucked Colette in the other room. I know you overheard us. I know you wanted to watch. I can make sure you watch later on. Would you like that?”
Whatever answer he had was cut short when he realized she was sliding down to her knees between his legs.
In short order, she had her hands unzipping and freeing his cock from the confines of his slacks. His hands came up to stop her, but she merely placed them on the side of her head, where the silken soft locks of her hair felt too good to massage to actually bother trying to stop her from giving this perfect man a beautiful blowjob that he so clearly deserved.
His cock was large and mostly hard, a fierce red pole of masculine power. It was everything she had ever hoped for in all her fantasies at home.
“I’ve wanted this,” she moaned, “for a long, long time.”
And then she slid her mouth over the turgid head of his member, suckling gently as he slid all the way down her throat with ease. There was no gag reflex, no hesitation. She knew exactly how to beautifully suck a man’s cock in the same way that she knew how to amazingly finger a woman like Colette.
As she slurped up and down his dense meat, Morgan’s perfect countenance remained intact, as if her beauty had a power unto itself. Her hair did not fall out of place no matter how much Lionel massaged her scalp or pulled at her shimmering locks. Her face remained angelic and needy, not a smudge of make-up anywhere.
Her lips, pink and glossy, remained moist and warm, creating a happy suckling home for her boss’s beautiful cock. And her clothes remained easily in place, though she would have been perfectly happy if they did not.
If Lionel wanted to, in fact, he could have ripped every piece of clothing from her back and fucked her wild. Fucked her into the corner, maybe, trapping her with his cock and making sure she had no choice but to take his babymaking sperm and get her as pregnant as possible.
But, he didn’t. Instead he threw his head back, groaning and grunting, encouraging Morgan to suck ever more of his big cock with helpful thrusts and gyrations of his hips.
“Take it, baby, yeah.” His voice was breathy and heavy. “Take all of it. Oh shit, holy shit, you’re so good. You’re so good, Morgan. I had no idea. No idea...no idea you wanted this. I would have...fuck, ages ago, before Lynn left me even...goddamn...Oh fuck...oh fuck...”
He was going to cum soon. Morgan was delighted to feel his balls tighten, his shaft begin to vibrate just so. There was no mistaking when a man’s orgasm was arriving. She sucked with ever more gusto, eager to swallow him down, aching to feel his white load flush down into her system.
She moaned loudly, knowing her sounds on his cock were only increasing the pleasure he felt from her sex-bomb body. Louder and louder her moans grew, filling the office, filling—she hoped—the ears of everyone listening outside. With some sort of lusty telepathy, she knew they were there, and she knew the staff were all touching themselves in tandem, aching, wishing they were as lucky as Colette or Lionel.
“”F-fuck...fuck, Morgan, I'm gonna...you're gonna make me...I have to, you might want...”
She stayed latched on, desperate for his cum. Her boss emptied himself into her mouth and throat, spraying hard. Gushing streams of heavy cum landed inside her and she swallowed each of them down with glee, eagerly awaiting more and more as he emptied himself into her body.
Once he finally sputtered out, the spasms of his cock leveling down to gentle trembles, Morgan slipped her mouth off his rod and began to gently lick and clean him up.
“Fuck,” he said, face in his hands. “Oh, fuck. Fuck me.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” she purred, sliding a hand up his abdomen.
“What?” He shook his head, and pushed his chair back from her. He furiously buttoned up his pants, shaking his head. “This was a mistake. All of this. You have to...you’re on suspension.”
“Suspension?” She raised an eyebrow, not quite believing him.
“With pay,” he said. “Because of how...because of your work before this. But you have to clean yourself up. You can’t just come in here to work and...fucking christ, you fucked me and Colette in the matter of half-an-hour, didn’t you?”
She shrugged. “I’m efficient, Lionel.” She was still on her knees, and crooked a finger at him. “Why don’t you come over here and I can show you how suspended I should be?”
He took a few steps forward, and then shook his head. Turning to the window, he opened it and stuck his head outside, taking several deep breaths. When he returned, his face was clear.
“You’re suspended, with pay. And that’s final. Call me in a week and we’ll talk about...” he waved his hands. “Whatever just happened. If you’re...serious. About something you feel for me, then you’ll wait.”
Morgan stood finally and left the office without saying anything else. A normal woman might have been hurt, insulted, or even outraged. She was merely curious at his resistance. She supposed she should have let him fuck her tits?
Deep in thought, considering how she might have pleased him better, she did not notice the heavy looks of arousal that nearly everyone in the office was giving her. Apparently it had become common knowledge, quite quickly, that if someone simply dragged Morgan into an office then they were asking for a romp with the sexiest woman they had ever seen in person.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and her eyes grew wide with pleasure.
It was Braddock. He had texted her:
New party tonight. Special event. Bring whoever you like. Starts at 7 PM.
Morgan's smile was alive with delight.
* * * * *
Eight hours later, Morgan and Colette drunkenly stumbled into the Braddock house with their arms intertwined tight. Colette’s resistance to coming to the party—as, looking at Morgan, there was no doubt what it would mean for herself—had been worn down after Morgan extracted her from the office and had her down several bottles of wine while licking the sweet young brunette’s pussy.
Morgan herself had her own turn having her pussy licked and drinking plenty of wine last, a heated pleasant warmth spreading through her body to match the heated pleasant warmth of the near-constant orgasms that Colette’s tongue delivered to her over-sensitive clit.
But despite all of this, Morgan's thought processes remained clear and her goals were adamant—she had to go to the Lust Party, and she had to bring Colette with her.
And so, when they arrived, they were both positively smashed and feeling rather in love with each other. Colette, for her part, was already hearing wedding bells and had heavily considered breaking it off permanently with the three on-again, off-again girlfriends she had. Living in the lesbian world meant that her circle of friends had quite a few people who simply slept with everyone, Colette included. Morgan made a mental note to introduce herself—and some of Braddock's elixir—to all of them.
But Colette had no second-thoughts about breaking it off with these girls, even though she had known them since she had entered college more than a decade before. Even being Morgan’s permanent footstool and pussy-licking servant was an upgrade in Colette's mind. Any way to be close to the brilliant, sun-like scorching hotness of Morgan was an immediate win for the nerdy babe.
Morgan, while rather enamored with Colette, was mostly wrapping the researcher around her leather-gloved finger simply to add more fuel to the lust fire when she inevitably tried to seduce Lionel once again. Certainly he felt compelled to turn Morgan down after a blowjob at work, but how would he feel about turning down the two of them, dressed in nothing but lingerie, heels, and overcoats, showing up at his house and begging for his cock?
Begging for his cock, and begging to be bred. Begging to be his pregnant little hand servants, to be ordered around at his leisure and taught how best to suck and serve to please him the best...Morgan's mind was on fire with this fantasy. She needed to make it come true.
And so she simply had to go to the Lust Party to make sure that Colette was on board with the idea as well.
Colette might have been a lesbian now, but Morgan was certain she could turn her around. If the Lust Party didn’t do it, then Morgan would simply tie the silly girl up and lick her pussy while flashing a thousand gigabytes of cock pictures at her in a dark room for...oh, maybe just a few days. That would turn anyone around.
The only morality Morgan had anymore was her own pleasure. Every code of ethics and line of right and wrong that she had ever been taught took a firm and steady backseat to doing whatever she could to make sure that the only sensation she felt was endless bliss. There was no competition.
Morgan was still dressed in her stellar red suit, looking stunning still even after hours of fervent lovemaking. Colette looked dazed, dressed in a tight black cocktail dress that Morgan made her wear (one that she had bought earlier that afternoon, quickly modified so it fit the brunette's frame), but still was attractive with her natural lithe, skinny frame fitting inside of the tight confines of the dress so well.
The first thing Morgan noticed upon entering was how subdued everything seemed to be. There was only one bowl of punch located in the dining room—a stark difference between the several of the other night—and it was almost all gone. There were no bowls anywhere else. There were no party-goers madly fucking in the corners, no newly-fashioned paramours going down on each other in every study and library in the expansive mansion.
She dragged Colette over to the bowl and gave her a long drought of the stuff. Filling the cup meant that all that was left were mere droplets in the ornate bowl.
“Drink,” she said, holding the cup up to her lover’s face.
Colette’s time for refusals was long, long past. Grinning and giggling, she tipped the glass back and took it all down in one go.
“Was that good, Morgan?”
She could have easily replaced “Morgan” with “Mistress” and kept the same worshipful, obedient tone. Anyone who gave a woman more than a dozen orgasms in the space of eight hours would earn the same kind of loving adoration as Morgan had earned from Colette.
“Good girl,” said Morgan, petting her head and kissing her on the neck. “That’s my good little pretty. You’re such a good babydoll.”
The other woman giggled with clear pleasure at following commands. She was naturally a submissive, and Morgan had to work only a little to find all the right words to make that submissiveness come right to the surface.
Then, Morgan noticed the little vial—the one that Braddock must have dumped into the punch. One little vial of that had been enough to affect an entire bowl of punch all by itself. Its potency, its power, attracted her greatly.
She shook the vial in her hands, examining closely. There was not much of the substance left, whatever it was. But there was a short little swig there.
No doubt that small amount, in its concentrated form, that would have been enough to fill several, several drinks. Morgan licked her lips. Next to her was Colette, giggling and cooing, pressing against her shoulder. Morgan could feel the soft, melting heat of Colette’s cunt as it pressed against Morgan’s thighs.
Whatever had happened to Morgan—all this beauty, all this confidence—it was a result of this substance. The thought of making two of herself was inescapably hot. There was no way, no way, that Lionel would be able to resist that.
And then finally...finally she could get to wrap her legs around his waist. Finally she would be able to feel him thrust inside of her, emptying himself, filling her with his fucking children and getting her so fucking pregnant...
Morgan took Colette’s cheeks and popped her mouth open, emptying the vial into the other girl’s throat. Colette giggled, simply going along with whatever Morgan said at this point, and downed the dark substance in one go.
“Fruity,” Colette breathed after swallowing. She burped slightly, and then giggled at the decisively unladylike gesture.
And then, abruptly, she passed out. Morgan managed to catch her before she fell all the way to the ground. A contented smile was on Colette’s face. Morgan shook her, trying to wake her. Oh god—had she just killed her new lover?
“Yes,” said a deep voice. “I did my own experiments with testing out the substance by itself without adulterating it with the punch. The effects are more potent, as you’ll notice, but they do create an intermediate period of stasis for a while. Not much good for parties. I can’t very well be giving out drinks that make everyone pass out on the first sip, can I?”
Morgan turned to see, of course, Braddock. He was just as handsome and mature
as he was the day before, a true silver fox. Heated desire, real and potent, overwhelmed her. She let Colette drop roughly into a nearby leather chair and focused all of her considerable charm on the new man.
He had a cock, and there was no doubt he knew how to use it—and she wanted to serve and pleasure him without any reservation.
“You’re so smart and strong, Sir,” she cooed, mincing her knees together, bringing her hands up under her considerable tits to push them out even more. “So wonderful and good. I’m so lucky to be in your presence.”
He wore a deep black robe, barely tied shut. She could see his considerable musculature thriving beneath, and edging around the opening in the middle was the thick head of his cock. Morgan began to drool. She hadn’t considered herself as having any feelings for this man before ten seconds ago, but now that she saw him, those feelings of love and adoration were all that she felt.
Dimly, she began to notice that his wife and concubine, Eleanor and Yolena, were behind him on the floor. They were kissing his robe.
Yolena looked heavily pregnant—six months or more. Morgan's eyes grew in surprise. She had seen the woman just two nights ago and her stomach was flat as a board.
The dark beauty must have been incredibly fertile...and Braddock incredibly virile. Morgan felt her cunt's juices getting thick, aching to take him in and keep him there for the rest of her life.
He took a hand and caressed Morgan's face, taking a few moments to guide his fingers through the thick locks of her stunningly smooth hair.
“My elixir did quite a good job on you, I must say. I haven’t had many opportunities to test it out on women who were already young and beautiful, outside of Yolena here. But those were...special circumstances, shall we say? With a bit more visitation from the arcane.”
Morgan just giggled. He was talking about so many ideas. She could hardly keep up when all she wanted to do was suck his massive babymaking cock.
“Mostly, it’s women who are, you know...high-society,” he explained. “The long-term wives of men with ambition, or, occasionally, women with ambition. Not enough of that latter category, really.”
Lust Party Bundle (Unprotected Delights) Page 6
