Suddenly the conversation in back of us paused for a moment.
“Was that a dog I heard?” asked a female voice.
“Maybe it was a dying squirrel,” smirked a male voice in return.
And Chris and I held our breaths, eyes open and alarmed, our bodies tight as we paused, breathless, waiting. But soon the hubbub of voices started up again and we went back to our wicked ways. Slowly, oh so slowly, I inched the bottle up my puss, the green glass hard, smooth and relentless in my channel. I slid it in partway and then pulled it out, moaning low in my throat as the glass reappeared between my cunt lips, coated in cream. The big man growled deeply, his hand fisting his dick at light speed as my pussy gushed and streamed with white, clit stiff and trembling in the air.
Suddenly my mom’s voice cut in.
“Lindy!” she sang out, “Can you help me in the kitchen please?”
And I groaned. I knew what it was, Brenda probably needed help getting the cake ready, lighting candles or getting the dessert plates.
“Sure Mom,” I managed to say in a semi-normal voice, the words a little croaky despite my best effort. “In a sec.”
And with another sweet shove, I pushed the bottle in again, this time frigging my clit at the same time, gasping under my breath, my body pulsing and arching. It was so good, so hot, to know that we were touching ourselves within twenty feet of assorted family and friends that Chris and I came simultaneously, my pussy pumping around the glass bottle as Chris roared under his breath, ejaculating all over my breasts, dripping onto my stomach, running into the sweet vee between my legs.
“Awwww fuck,” he moaned quietly. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
And I was no better. The shower of white electrified me, I loved seeing the sperm jump through the air, sail in arcs before spattering on my tits, globs and rivulets running all over me. My cunt pulsed and spasmed on the bottle inside, gripping it tight, my nether lips seizing the green glass like it was the real thing, a dick inside with a job to do.
“Oh oh oh!” I cried breathily, trying to keep it down. “Oh!”
But we’d both been too loud.
“There’s that damn dog again,” said the disembodied female voice, this time a little louder. “Wonder what’s going on?”
“Or it could be the squirrel again,” smirked the same male voice. “You know, death throes and all.”
Suddenly, I recognized who it was. It was my Aunt Mildred and Uncle Ronald, my dad’s sister and brother in law. They were middle aged busybodies to the max, always gossiping about this or that, nosy and annoying, I tried to avoid them most of the time. And unfortunately, footsteps were approaching as their voices grew louder.
Chris had the same realization, his dick still stiff, shaking with the remnants of his cum as he stuffed the massive pole back into his shorts. Just as quickly, he threw the towel at me and I covered myself, rubbing some of the semen into my skin as I swathed myself in terrycloth.
And in the next second, Aunt Mildred and Uncle Ronald were on us.
“Oh hey there,” simpered my aunt, looking Chris up and down closely, that big body so devastatingly gorgeous that she’d probably forgotten about the weird noises already. “I’m Mildred, Jim’s sister. You’re his boss right? Chris?”
And to his credit, Mr. Jones looked completely calm, completely at ease even though two dark slashes still decorated his cheekbones.
“Yes, I am,” he said deep in his chest. “Chris Jones. Nice to meet you.”
And I took that as my opportunity to slip away.
“Bye Aunt Mildred, Uncle Ronald,” I squeaked. “Mom’s expecting me in the kitchen so I gotta roll. Talk to you later, okay?”
But Mildred didn’t even notice and her husband was too busy cowering in Mr. Jones’s presence to be aware of me. So I crept off quietly, trying to look as normal as possible as I walked past the remainder of the guests, Chris’s cum warm and hot on my body, smeared all over my breasts. Oh god, this was so wrong, we’d frigged ourselves to orgasms within twenty feet of the other party guests, at my parents’ anniversary party to boot. Oh god, we were such dirty perverts, oh god, oh god.
But I couldn’t resist. When I got to the patio door I shot a quick look backwards in Chris’s direction. And what do you know but he was looking right at me, his blue eyes knowing, a slight half-smile on his face as he took in my curvy form. My pulse jumped, my body flaring with heat once more. Because oh god, what had I done? What had we just done together? Mr. Jones was my dad’s boss … and I had just fucked myself with a coke bottle in front of him.
CHAPTER FOUR
Chris
I couldn’t get the thought of Lindy out of my mind. When had she become so delicious, so irresistible? I’d gone to the party for her, although it was supposedly to help my employee celebrate his twentieth anniversary. But I didn’t give a fuck about Jim, it’ll all been for his daughter.
And as usual, my sixth sense paid off. The brunette was all grown up now, curvy and delectable wearing a swimsuit way too small for her. What the fuck was she thinking? I saw the teen sneak out the side door, skulking by the edge of the lawn before lying on the lounger, sunglasses on. But Lindy caught my eye immediately because her curves were leaking from the black nylon in every direction, her boobs almost busting out and nothing more than a tiny string on the bottom.
And fuck, I had to have it, had to get my hands on that. But I’m a predator who waits for the right time, waiting for the precisely right moment to strike. So I waited until late afternoon, biding my time, when everyone was relaxed with a warm, balmy breeze blowing through the trees. And most folks were gone by now, just a bunch of losers still hanging out by the food table. Perfect, no one was gonna notice. So I strode over to Lindy to reacquaint ourselves, and fuck, but was it an incredible getting-to-know-you-again.
Because every thought of being appropriate flew out of my mind the moment I laid eyes on her up close. WTF? That swimsuit was even worse up close. Her tits were so huge that I could see the top of one of one pale pink areola, the rosy circle sweet and sensitive, it was that low-cut. And oh fuck, but the crotch was no crotch at all. It was more like a string running between her pussy lips, how the fuck could Jim and Brenda let their daughter wear this? A burqa would have been more appropriate, or maybe a full-body scuba suit, yeah that sounded more like it.
So my eyes blazing, I said a rough hello. And fuck, the conversation went off the rails from that very moment, there were no niceties, no “getting to know you” small talk. Because within minutes, the brunette was fucking herself with a coke bottle for me, pushing that green glass up her cunt, the bottle smeared with white as it moved in and out, and I was an animal in response. I grabbed my dick and went at it sixty miles an hour, spraying Lindy with blast after blast of slick semen, painting her torso, her boobs, her stomach with my cream, watching as arc after arc landed on the girl, glistening on those generous curves.
But the brunette was no newbie. Sure, she gasped when the first lash of sperm hit her tits, but soon she was massaging it into her skin, treating it like lotion, even pushing some of it into her cunt as she came all over the coke bottle, her labia gripping the glass tight, hugging and convulsing as she practically shot off the lounger. And oh fuck, oh fuck, we’d done it all within twenty feet of the remaining guests, fuck, within twenty feet of her mom and dad, muffling our moans, letting out silent screams, forcing our bodies not to betray us to the world.
So yeah, that happened. And shit, but the encounter has been on repeat in my mind since it happened, for sixteen fucking hours straight driving me crazy, and now I’m ready to ravage the girl again, abduct her from her parents’ house and bring her back to mine, tie her to a bed and make her cum until she absolutely shatters.
So what could I do? Seething with frustration, I ground my teeth until an idea popped into my mind. I didn’t get to be CEO without some ingenuity, and I realized the solution was right in front of my eyes. Because I didn’t need a reason. I’m Jim’s boss, I own t
hat man, and fuck, if I wanted to go over there now and help myself to his daughter? It was fucking wrong, I was an asshole, a caveman, but so what? The blood was pounding in my groin and I jumped into my SUV, ready to take what was mine.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lindy
I was lying in bed re-living my encounter with Mr. Jones for the millionth time when tires squealed into the driveway. What the hell? Even though I’d been in the middle of lightly tracing my clit, absentmindedly stroking my wet cunt, I jolted up in bed to glance out my second floor window. And oh my god, but it was Chris Jones himself, the man of my dreams, his masculine form huge and assertive, stepping out of luxury SUV, the expression on his face grim.
What the hell? What was he doing here Sunday at six a.m.? No one in the neighborhood was awake, there were a couple birds tweeting, a couple rays of sunshine just starting to come out from behind the mountains, what the hell? This was insane, nothing good could come of this. So I rushed downstairs in my nightshirt, a big pink tee that came down mid-thigh with only my tiny panties on underneath.
“Mr. Jones,” I hissed opening the front door and poking my head out. “What are you doing here?”
He stopped for a moment, looking dazed as if caught momentarily unawares. But then recognition dawned once more at the sight of me and he charged up the stairs, seizing my wrist.
“Come on Lindy,” he ground out.
And god, but his big hand was so warm around mine, so commanding and possessive that I almost went with it, almost let him drag me off.
But reality got a hold of me, and I resisted, pulling my arm back, squeaking a bit even as I tried to keep my voice down.
“Mr. Jones!” I protested, “Stop! What are you doing?”
But with one thrust, he pulled me out from behind the door so that I stood with him on my front porch in nothing but my nightshirt. And that made the big man stop, eyes eating me up, running over every inch of my form, hungry, almost panting.
“What the hell?” I whispered angrily again. “You can’t just come and abduct me, what the hell?”
Chris shook himself but the look of determination didn’t leave those blue eyes, if anything they only got more intense.
“Lindy,” he ground out. “Come and talk with me in my car.”
I shook my head furiously. Hadn’t he just heard my outburst? I wasn’t about to be kidnapped.
“No,” I shot back, still whispering. “We can talk here.”
But the morning was cold and I was shivering, my arms and legs bare, the cold of the wood planks beneath my bare feet seeping into my very being. And Chris knew it too.
“Baby,” he ground out smoothly. “I’m not here to abduct you, trust me,” he said, his eyes darkening. “I just want to talk about yesterday and we need to do that in some privacy without your parents hearing. Come on, into my car,” he jerked his head towards the SUV again. “We won’t even drive, let’s just sit in the cab and be warm at least.”
And I stood, trembling, practically naked on our porch, weighing my options. On the one hand I could ignore him and slam the door on him, but I had a feeling he’d just pound loudly and wake my parents, he wasn’t giving up. So that was out. Or I could go with him and get in the car, and hopefully have a productive conversation about yesterday. Because yeah, I wanted to talk about it too, I wanted to figure out what the hell had happened, how in the world had I just bared my cunt to a forty year-old man, an alpha male more than twice my age?
So wrapping my arms around me tight, I nodded.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll go with you, but no sounds.”
And Chris nodded silently, agreeing. Slowly we crept over to the silver SUV and like a gentleman, he held the door open for me as I clambered into the passenger seat, trying to keep my nightshirt down as I got comfortable. God, why were these SUVs always so high up off the ground, you practically needed a footstool to get into one of these things.
But Chris just chuckled deeply in his throat, his eyes appreciative as he eyed the backs of my creamy thighs, the obscene length of leg exposed as I sat down.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, baby girl,” he remarked low in his throat before shutting the door behind me. And circling the car, he got into the driver’s seat, only to start up the ignition.
“Chris,” I said sharply, my eyes turning towards him again. “We said we were going to talk in the driveway.”
“I know,” he ground out even while pulling the car away from the house, “but I’m gonna go around the corner and park so we don’t alert your parents. Here, look,” he said as the SUV rolled to a stop. “We’ll stay right here.”
And my heart beating furiously, I nodded. My thighs were shaky, trembling a bit, and my insides were getting melty again in his presence. I couldn’t understand it. The big man had acted like a fucking caveman, driving to our house at 6 a.m., forcing me to come outside, and then forcing me to get into his car for crying out loud. It was so crazy, like he’d lost his mind.
But the thing was that I’d lost mine too. Because I was the one who hadn’t put a robe on, who didn’t grab a jacket before coming downstairs, who’d willingly got into the car on the flimsiest of excuses. And now that we were alone again, I found myself mesmerized by him, that big frame, the muscled arms, the strong thighs and long legs.
“Chris,” I breathed slowly, “what is this about?”
I turned to face him over the center console even as his hands gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. And slowly, he turned to look at me.
“Lindy,” he growled in reply. “I wanted to see you again.”
I quirked an eyebrow at him, my insides flushing.
“Really?” I murmured. “There are easier ways you know, you could have called instead of coming to my parents’ house at 6 a.m. on a Sunday.”
And he shook his head as if to clear it again before fixing me with a hot blue gaze.
“Oh I know what I’m doing,” he drawled. “I just wanted to make sure it got done right.”
Done right? What was he talking about? I shot him a curious glance and he chuckled deep in his throat in reply.
“You know, I hear college is really expensive these days,” he drawled, nonchalant. “You making your parents’ proud? Doing well at school?”
And I colored then because the truth was, college wasn’t going well. I’ve always studied hard, always been a good student, but unfortunately, I wasn’t that good, not in high school and not now. I dunno, maybe I have dyslexia or something but I’m more of a B+/A- student so I wasn’t able to get a very big scholarship, more just pocket money. As a result, my parents were forking over a sizeable chunk this year, and things weren’t looking up for the next three either based on my freshman grades.
But Chris didn’t know any of that, so I bit my lip.
“I’m doing okay,” I said quietly. “Yeah, my grades are okay, why?”
The big man looked at me speculatively.
“I hear Hudson University’s expensive, that’s all,” he drawled. “Tuition’s something like thirty thou a year right?”
I colored. It was forty plus living expenses on top of that, and I bit my lip again. Jim and Brenda were paying most of my bills and I knew it was a strain, my parents had taken out a second mortgage because of me.
So I gulped, looking at the big man again.
“Why?” I asked quietly. “Is there a scholarship or something I could apply for? Is United Electric sponsoring a grant for students this year?”
It was possible, sometimes local businesses chose a student to support in return for an internship, maybe as a marketing gig more than anything else. And I’d be a perfect fit, the kid of an employee, I’d grown up in this community with strong ties to the school, to other families, it’d be fabulous advertising for United Electric.
But Mr. Jones just rumbled in his chest, smiling slightly.
“Yeah, a little like a scholarship,” he said. “Kind of, but not exactly. Because you know Lindy,
I fired your dad last week, gave him a month’s notice but after that he’s gone.”
I sat stock still, stunned for a moment. What the hell? My dad had been perfectly fine this last week, maybe drinking a little more at night, but he’d made no mention of being let go. And why did Mr. Jones come to my parents’ twentieth anniversary party yesterday if he’d just fired my dad? That was like rubbing salt into the wound, making my dad feel even worse on his special day.
As if reading my mind, the big man answered.
“Your dad asked me to come,” he said casually. “I wasn’t going to, but he didn’t want to ruin your mom’s day.”
And I gasped again.
“So this entire week, my dad’s been fired and he’s just been putting on a show?” I asked, my cheeks coloring.
And the big man shrugged.
“Yeah, pretty much. Jim’s got one month before he’s gone for good.”
And at that, I began struggling to get out, futilely yanking the latch, trying to unlock the door.
“Let me out,” I struggled, hissing. “You’re an animal, treating my dad that way, I hate you!”
But my struggles were futile, the big man had locked the doors and I was stuck inside, the dark tinted windows shielding us, the big silver SUV rock steady even as I thrashed inside.
“I can’t believe it!” I shrieked again. “You fired my dad!? Jim needs his job, my mom doesn’t work, I’m in school, how could you do that to him?” I cried, my eyes welling up with tears. “How could you?”
And I was about to throw myself bodily against the door, go crazy and escape somehow, some way, from this confinement. But Chris grabbed my shoulders and turned me to look at him, gazing deep into my eyes, his blue ones piercing, arresting.
“Listen to me Lindy,” he said roughly, giving me a small shake. “I didn’t want to fire your dad but Jim was stealing from me,” he ground out. “Hear that? Stealing, caught red-handed, admitted the whole thing.”
Client No. 6: A Dial-A-Date Romance Page 68
