So there I was, sitting naked on my boss’ desk at seven o’clock on a Friday evening in March, having just emptied my balls into the glorious body of my boss, Lilah Morxay, president and CEO of Morxay Cosmetics (that ‘x’ is, of course, pronounced as an “szh”-- but everyone knows that) while her stunning secretary-slash-lesbian-lover screwed her ass with a strap-on. The same secretary who now sat not twelve feet away from me, regarding me coldly, naked except for the tight, black leather boots that clung to her legs and the black vinyl S&M teddy outfit.
The vinyl teddy stopped just below Jennifer's magnificent breasts, which appeared to be supported somewhat by a small, shelf-type built-in bra. Leather straps from this bra ran around and between her breasts and attached to a black slave collar that circled her long, model’s neck. Her breasts were large and perfect, erect and proud, showing a shadowy and inviting cleavage between their swollen fullness. The effect of the teddy was to make it appear as though she were serving her tits up to me on a platter, the brown nipples begging for my lips, the ripe and engorged flesh waiting for my fingers.
Jennifer was a classic statuesque blonde of intimidating beauty, perfect in every detail, from her magazine-cover face to her long, deliciously curved legs. Her hands were smooth, aristocratic, her nails just the right length. Even the beauty mark above her lip was placed perfectly. The only jarring note was the loud and garish makeup she wore, but the contrast between her perfection and the exaggerated, silver-blue eye shadow and bright crimson and wet-looking lipstick was arousing, as it showed how willing she was to betray her own classic beauty for cheap, whorish sexual pleasure.
The only bad thing about Jennifer was that, well, she was gay. She was Lilah Morxay’s toy, and as Lilah herself had told me earlier, I was not to so much as look at Jennifer without Lilah’s permission. But Lilah, temporarily fucked out, had just given me that permission. Had, in fact, ordered Jennifer to “clean me up”, and both Jennifer and I knew that Lilah hadn’t meant a sponge bath..
Now Lilah was either in the shower next door, or already in bed. And Jennifer and I were sitting alone in Lilah’s office, the remnants of our recent sex session scattered around us, checking each other out, and not, it was obvious, with mutual admiration.
“Well,” I said, a bit too brightly, “you heard Lilah’s orders.” I tried to make it sound like I wasn't for it either, but that an order was an order, so what could I do? Acvtually I was dying to feel Jenn's long, lexxy tongue curl around my rod, still dripping with Lilah's love-juice.
Jennifer’s blue-green eyes were icy. Without answering she bent over and picked up her trench coat off the floor, where she’d dropped it in the heat of our sex with Lilah. Reaching into a pocket, she withdrew a package of cigarettes and a lighter. She took one of these fashionably long and slim smokes from the pack, placed it between her lips and casually lit it, then exhaled a cloud of blue-gray smoke right at me.
I was surprised. She didn’t seem like the smoking type. As she took the cigarette from her lips, I noticed the bright red blot of lipstick on the filter. It turned me on. I’m weird that way.
“Is that what she said?” she asked coolly, cocking an eyebrow at me.
You’ve got to understand that my relationship with Jennifer was a little more complicated than my relationship with Lilah. Lilah was my boss, and up till then had been way up the ladder and remote from me. I knew next to nothing about her before she’d had climbed on top of me. But Jen I saw most every day. I was one of a long line of male employees who’d tried to talk her up or get some response from her; men were always finding an excuse to go over and talk to Jen and she always shot them down with no more than one of her stony glances or a frosty silence. But still they came back. She was the kind of woman you just liked to look at, just wanted to be around, in case some miracle occurred.
As I say, I’d made my share of clumsy advances towards Jennifer, and had held my share of one-way conversations, all without making a dent. But all that had changed now. I’d had my cock up Lilah’s pussy while Jennifer was screwing her ass. We’d all come together. I’d seen Jennifer lose it in orgasmic ecstasy. That had changed everything. She couldn’t hide behind her intimidating beauty any more. She could sit there in her boots and teddy, tits hanging out, smoking and looking down her nose at me, but now I knew her as she really was. Everything had changed.
“You don’t like me much, do you Jennifer?” I asked her.
She took a drag, exhaled another plume of smoke. “It’s nothing personal.” she said. “I just don’t care much for men.”
“Well, that puts you in an awkward position, doesn’t it. “ I said. “I mean, Lilah told you…”
“I know what Lilah said.” Jennifer looked at me sharply, then she smiled. “Really, I have nothing against men in general. They can be useful. If they know their place.”
“And what is their place?” I asked her.
She didn’t answer me immediately. Instead she crossed her legs, placing knee over knee, and sat up straighter in the chair, regaining her imperious attitude. Her nipples were pale brown and the size of half-dollars, and I wondered if they’d ever felt a man’s lips on them.
“Lilah and I are a lot alike.” she said. “On the same wavelength. That’s why we work so well together. We have the same attitude towards life, towards men, towards sex.”
It took me a moment to understand what she meant. When I did, I had to smile.
“Even when it comes to whips?” I asked.
Jennifer took another drag and dropped the cigarette casually into the drink Lilah had poured me, it seemed like ages ago.
“It’s not about whips, Mr. Narr.” she said. Strange. around the office she called me Rob, like everyone else. Now I was Mr. Narr.
“It’s not the whips. It’s the control.” she said.
“I don’t get you.”
“The whips, that’s just Lilah. She likes that…that symbolism. But me, I just like the control.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked at me from beneath the fall of golden hair. I recognized the look. It was the one Jen used when important clients came to visit. Important male clients.
“I like a man I can control. A man who’ll do what I tell him to.”
Before I could reply, Jennifer brushed her hair back and leaned forward. Her breasts hardly changed shape. She seemed remarkably at ease for a woman dressed in nothing but boots and a breast-exposing teddy, talking to a man whose privates she was expected to lick clean.
“See” she said, “Lilah’s right about men. Men don’t know how to make love. They’re slobs. They’re selfish. All they want is to get their rocks off on you. They’re like those little dogs that grab your leg and start humping you, ridiculous and disgusting. Apes. They think because they have a pole hanging between their legs that their God’s gift. They don’t have a clue!”
I found myself nodding along to her litany of grievances. I was half hypnotized by her, and half in sympathy of what she was saying. My dick was telling me now that he was fully recovered from the previous session and ready for more, and it was all I could do to try and keep him down as I listened to Jennifer and thought about what was about to transpire between us. I had no doubt that I was about to fuck this gorgeous piece of ass, was going to have the privilege of being the first man to touch her in what I guessed was a long, long time.
