Her Fiancé's Father

Jack and Isabelle's baby had been born three months earlier and Martin was a doting "father". Not surprisingly, everyone pointed to how the baby resembled Martin and he was touchingly flattered. However, Jack and Isabelle wanted to celebrate their secret and the day finally came when they were able to find an excuse get out together. Isabelle told Martin -- her husband and Jack's son -- that she had an important exhibition to attend. She carefully picked a day when Martin had an important deadline and when Carmen -- her mother-in-law and Jack's wife -- had a ladies' outing. Jack volunteered to drive her and as soon as the Jaguar was out of the long driveway, he put his hand on her thigh and traced upwards under her skirt towards her thong panties. She sighed, saying, "I've missed your crudeness, Jack."

"So, is Martin fucking you yet?'

"Just once so far," she giggled. "He's so concerned, the poor dear. He thinks I'm delicate. He asked me last week and when I said 'yes', he asked twice more to be sure. Then he was on top of me, three thrusts and he was done. I should have won an Oscar for the fake orgasm I put on. It makes him so happy, poor dear."

"Are you sore?"

"Jack, it's been three months. I've been doing my Kegels since week two. My vaginal muscle tone is better than ever -- I'm tight as virgin. Even Martin found it hard to get into me and then he cried out how snug I was."

"So, not sore?"

"With Martin, no. But he's, shall we say, rather less well endowed. But I am sure you will make me sore, and I can't wait!"

Jack smiled smugly.

They got to the restaurant -- a new French-Japanese fusion one that had received rave reviews -- and Jack gave the keys to the valet. They had a reservation for a secluded booth. Their hostess seated them and as Isabelle settled down, she snuggled up to Jack.

"Well, Jack, I think I should tell you that you are being a bastard," she said, coquettishly.

"What do you mean?" he asked, slipping a hand on her upper thigh again and tracing it up under her short skirt. He lingered on the rough lace of her stocking garters before proceeding up to her crotch to find her clit through the thin material of her thong.

She gasped, and murmured, "Wow! I like that!"

"What do you mean about me being a bastard?" he asked, as she snuggled closer to give him better access. "THIS?" He ran his nail over her clit through her thong panties, drawing a sharper gasp from her. Under his ministrations, her thong rapidly grew moist.

"God, no," she said, breathing hard. He enjoyed watching her full, young breasts jounce under the thin material of her chiffon top. Engorged with her mother's milk, they were rounder and fuller. Her incipient excitement had accentuated her lactation and it seeped through her thin bra. It had wet the chiffon of her top around the aureoles, making her nipples stand out as clearly outlined pokies.

"Then what?" he asked.

"You know what I mean," she snorted, gathering her composure with some difficulty. "Its just competition and alpha male stuff for you. You got me pregnant to compete with Martin, your own son. In the same week impregnated Trixie Ann to compete with her loser husband. Did you know she had your baby?"

"No," said Jack, nonplussed.

"Then three months ago, you made Jillian come in the airport bookstore and then fucked her in the ladies' room. Now that you've got her lusting for more, you don't return her calls. It was all about power."

"That's not true," protested Jack. "I did keep my business meeting at her house, bought the first installment of her software for $15,000. Then I fucked her in her study. And her whole family was home."

"See? That's my point -- it is all just power, competition and risk with you. You don't care about her at all. But you obviously gave her such mind-blowing sex that she can't get enough of it. Leila told me that she keeps calling you, twice or thrice a day. And now she's pregnant too."

Leila was Jack's Oxford-educated executive assistant. She was full-breasted and firm-bodied, with an angelic face.

"Jillian calls? Jillian's pregnant?" Jack's surprise was genuine. Leila didn't tell me."

"Well, if you would talk to Leila once in a while, instead of just fucking her every day, you would know as much as I do."

"I don't fuck Leila everyday," said Jack, irritated. "And I do talk to Leila -- she manages my schedule like a Swiss watch. I wish you wouldn't make me out to be such a satyr."

"Mmmmm," Isabelle said, tightening her thighs around his probing hand and wiggling her bottom to increase the effect. "Don't stop being a satyr now."

Her breath came in a gulp, as she raised her bottom saying, "For God's sake, strip off my thong."

Jack was more than happy to oblige, sucking on one of her nipples through her wet chiffon top and bra as he leaned over. Her milk was warm and sweet, though tinged with the taste of the chiffon. She raised her bottom and he managed to get the thong down over her legs and over her high heels. He put it to his nose and inhaled deeply. The thong was soaked, and her musky, slightly sour secretions were a great turn-on for him.

Their waitress was a young college age redhead who stood at a distance uncertainly. Jack did not know how long she had been waiting and watching when noticed her -- not that he cared. He put the thong in his pocket and beckoned her.

"Don't mind us, Bethany," he said to her, reading her name embroidered on the breast of her blouse. "We're just celebrating our first child. I'd love a beer -- a Corona in a longneck bottle. And my girlfriend would like glass of Dom Pérignon."

The waitress bobbed her head and left quickly.

"Now you're making a play for the new weather girl on Channel 5," said Isabelle, her words interspersed with shallow pants. "Suzy Abrego."

"I don't know what you are talking about Isabelle," he said, his fingers returning to tease and excite her clit and trace the boundaries of her nether lips.

"Don't even try to pretend," she said, her breath coming in sharp intakes again. "Leila tells me everything. She says that Suzy's husband is a millionaire financier and property developer. And he's a big guy too, used to be a linebacker in college. At least he can compete with you. A lot better than Jillian's poor unemployed husband can."

"I've not done anything with Suzy," said Jack, guardedly. "She's really keen on her new husband. He's an idiot, though. Doesn't give her nearly enough attention. She was just using me to make him jealous."

"That's not what I heard," said Isabelle.

The waitress returned with their drinks. As she set them down on the table, Jack could not resist running his free hand up her skirt to get a quick feel of her panties. She gasped, but having seen what he was doing to Isabelle, she lingered for a moment. Encouraged, he pushed further, getting a finger inside her panties and finding that her cunt was shaven and silky smooth.

"Can I get you anything else?" she said, her voice breathy. She put a hand on Jack's wrist to push him away, but it was a half-hearted attempt.

"Maybe later," smiled Jack, withdrawing his probing hand. She left without another word, but she peeked back over her shoulder and her look spoke volumes.

"Suzy would never have let me do anything," continued Jack to Isabelle. "But like I said, her husband's an idiot. I'd taken her out to dinner to discuss the winter season and he showed up under some foolish pretext of having another meeting at the same restaurant. She got really pissed at him and let me kiss her just to get back at him. Of course, I managed to get my hands under her top and on her bra. She's got a great body. Then to make matters worse for himself, he came to our table and tried to give me a prospectus of his new development."

"Leila told me that she took off her panties right there in the restaurant and gave them to him, folded in his prospectus."

Jack stopped working on her cunt, surprised.

"How does she know that?"

"Leila has her ways," panted Isabelle. "But there she was, commando with you in the restaurant. I can't believe you stopped with kneading her breasts through her bra. You're not one to stop at first base."

Jack resumed teasing her clit again. He took a long pull of his beer with his free hand. Isabelle sipped her champagne delicately, trying to get it down over her breathlessness.

"You did to her what you're doing to me, didn't you?" whispered Isabelle hoarsely, after they set their drinks down again.

"OK, I did get my hand under her skirt and stick a finger up her cunt," he said stoically. "When she took off her panties, it was just too much of an invitation."

"Did you get her wet?"

"Yes."

Isabelle felt a spasm and as it hit, her thighs suddenly tightened. She could have come then, but she wanted to build up to a more powerful orgasm, so she counted to ten and held on rigidly till the spasm passed.

"You gave her a hand job, didn't you?" she breathed after the spasm passed. "Just like now."

"Yes."

"You made her come didn't you? Right there in the restaurant?" Just saying this, and picturing Jack with his hands up Suzy Abrego's skirt was raising Isabelle's level of excitement.

"How hard did she come?"

"Not very hard. She came really soon. I'd barely gotten two fingers into her cunt."

"Have you fucked her yet?"

"Hell no. She's a tough nut to crack."

"Aren't you seeing her this week? To try to fuck her?"

"Yes," said Jack, increasing the rhythm of his fingers of his fingers again. They picked up their drinks again and this time Jack drained his beer.

"Oh Jack," she whispered. "Without you fucking my brains out, I've had to do so much coke!"

"You do coke? Where do you get it?"

"Like everyone else, Jack. I have a dealer. A big black guy in the city."

"You pay him cash?"

"I couldn't explain that much missing money to your son," she said, rolling her eyes through her panting breaths. "No, Jack. I just let him fuck me."

"But you've been pregnant!"

"Jack, I'm French. He fucks me in the ass."

Jack was so aghast that he stopped his ministrations.

"Don't stop, Jack," she protested. "Honestly, you're as naïve as Martin! I'm not delicate. I've had men fuck me in the ass for since before I was twenty. Did you really think you are the only man I am fucking?"

"I thought I was special," said Jack, crestfallen.

"Of course you are special -- it was your baby I wanted. But you fuck other women, so you've got to get used to me fucking other men. My black drug dealer, DeShawn, he has a big cock. When he's in my ass, God, it hurts at first."

"How big?" asked Jack, slowly resuming his teasing of her clit.

"Almost as big as yours," panted Isabelle. "Don't stop now."

"Does he make you come?"

"Of course! Why would I fuck him otherwise?"

Now he picked up the beer bottle ran the lip up her thigh. He used it to trace her wet cunt and then teased her clit. She let out little yelps as the cold glass touched her intimately. Without further warning, he inserted the bottle collar into her, twisting it to create a little friction. Then rather sharply, he pushed the entire long neck of the beer bottle and began to piston her with it, thudding his thumb against her clit with every thrust. She picked up a napkin from the table and bit down hard to stifle her cries, but she was still loud enough to draw the attention of a couple from a few booths down, who stood briefly to see what was going on. Jack and Isabelle ignored them. Within minutes, he drove Isabelle over the edge -- she stuffed the napkin into her mouth to smother her squeals. Her control in delaying her climax was rewarded as she came very hard, the cold glass of the beer bottle stoking rather than tamping her excitement.

As Isabelle wound down from her high, she leaned against Jack contentedly, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She had a sheen of sweat all over that made her clothing cling to her. Her thin bra and chiffon top were rendered almost transparent, so the creamy skin of her breasts and her long, hard nipples were plainly visible.

Jack set the beer bottle back on the table, the long neck now coated with her womanly secretions. She raised her champagne flute and clinked the bottle before draining the bubbly wine. Then her hand slipped into his lap, tracing his manhood through his pants.

"You've earned your reward, you bad boy," she said in a low voice.

She proceeded to unzip his fly under the table. Jack had his pants specially tailored, so that he did not need to wear underwear. She began to give him a hand job. He was already semi-tumescent from the attentions he had lavished on her, so she only needed a few fellations to get him fully erect.

"Come on, French girl," he said. "French me."

"You only have to ask," she purred.

Without further ado, her head disappeared below the table and her lips formed a tight seal around his cockhead. It was so sudden, that he had to grip the tabletop tightly to keep from crying out. She now began to fellate him with her mouth, taking more of him in with each dive. He looked down and saw her rosy lips inching towards the base of his cock, leaving traces of her bright red lipstick on his shaft.

The woman from the few booths away now passed by their booth, obviously drawn by the sounds of Isabelle's muffled passion. She leaned over, ostensibly to adjust her high-heeled pump. She took a quick glance over. Isabelle was out of sight beneath the tablecloth, so Jack buried one hand in her hair to keep her down. He met the woman's eyes boldly, noting with satisfaction that her male partner had not accompanied her. He managed to keep a straight expression only with great effort. Isabelle was sucking on his cock with gusto, as much to breath as to excite -- she had swallowed almost his almost his whole length and his cockhead was at the base of her throat. It took all of her great expertise to avoid choking.

The woman was a slim and tall brunette, probably in her twenties. She wore a short cream knit dress and beige stockings -- Jack noticed her stocking tops and black snap-on garters when her dress rode up as she adjusted her pump. The dress was very tight and it clearly outlined her bra and narrow thong panties. It had a low V-neck, which showed her black choker and emphasized her pert, rounded breasts and her tight cleavage.

She straightened and came over to their booth, moving slowly and sinuously and meeting Jack's bold gaze without flinching.

"Excuse me," she said in a low, husky voice. "Aren't you Jack Grierson, the CEO of Clement Industries?"

"Yes, I am," said Jack pleasantly, recognizing her Russian accent. "Who are you?'

"I am Anastasia Olenskaya of the CNBC Social Hour," she said, her tone carrying just the hint of suggestion, but keeping her voice down to avoid her husband hearing. "We are putting together a series on our most colorful business leaders and your name has come up in our meetings more than once. I would love the chance to sit with you and discuss your social life. Your name is linked to so many different beauties, yet you seem to have a stable marriage. And your beautiful daughter-in-law, Isabelle de la Roque Grierson, seems to accompany you everywhere, even when you have another woman on your arm."

Isabelle tried to rise, but Jack tightened his grip and held her down covering her choking sound with a cough.

"If you want to write about my social life," he said in a low tone. "You'll have to become part of my sex life. Then you can write about it firsthand."

"I don't understand ..." she began.

"Come on now Anya," he said, using the common Russian nickname for Anastasia. "I wasn't born yesterday. You look like a Russian supermodel with great tits and ass, you have no journalism experience and you are already a program head for a major business network. I can do the math."

"I do a great job," she said stiffly. "You can see my ratings."

"Yes, yes, businessmen love to watch your gossip, since you wear low-cut tops without a bra. And you have enough wardrobe malfunctions to keep them salivating. I know your boss, Stu Bernstein. I know you banged him to get your job."

"I don't need to take this," she hissed. But even though her eyes showed her anger, she did not leave.

"I think you want the story," said Jack, moving his hips to allow Isabelle to a little breathing room. "Why don't we start right now?"

He allowed his free right hand to rest on her knee and then wander up her thigh, slowly. He paused as he reached the hemline of her dress and looked up into her eyes again. She still looked angry, but she stood her ground. He ventured a bit higher, getting under the hem of her dress and reaching the tops of her stockings. He traced a finger over her snap-on garters, first her left and then her right. His left hand was still buried in Isabelle blonde mane and he now began to move her head and his hips, fucking her mouth slowly.

Anastasia took half a step closer to give him better access. Now she saw Isabelle's back and rump beside Jack, though her head was buried in his lap and concealed by the tablecloth. Jack's response to Anastasia's encouragement was immediate. From her garters, his fingers quickly traced her inner thighs and reached her thong panties. He began kneading her crotch roughly, but adeptly. She was adroit as well, and rotated her hips, increasing the pressure of his fingers on her clit.

He massaged her thong into her cunt. Clearly, the sight of the semi-concealed Isabelle sucking his dick was turning her on, for she grew wet very soon. Jack pulled her thong down and her hands came down to help him. As the thong slid around her ankles he hissed, "Give me the panties."

She daintily stepped out of the thong and put it in the top pocket of his jacket. Now when she stepped closer, his hand went straight to her crotch. He inserted two fingers into her cunt and began to finger fuck her. Her cunt was warm, wet and tight around his digits. Each time he sank them in all the way, he ground his palm around her clit. She was breathing faster and faster.

He knew she was close to coming when she leaned over, took his head in her hands and began kissing him aggressively. Their mouths opened and her tongue was quick, hard and moist, all at the same time. Simultaneously, his grip on Isabelle tightened and he began to fuck her mouth harder as he mounted towards his own climax. Just as he felt Anastasia's lower body begin to jerk and her cunt begin to spasm, he let himself go. He still held Isabelle's head as he pumped two enormous gouts of thick, musky jism down her throat.

He felt Anastasia rub her firm and pert tits on him and mew into his mouth as she came.

The three of them slowly released each other, overcome by lassitude for the moment, as the sexual tension drained out of them. Anastasia leaned on the table to support herself. She leaned forward over Jack to keep her head out of the line of sight of her husband.

"Call my secretary," he whispered in Anastasia's ear. "She'll set up an appointment. And give my compliments to your husband."

Isabelle emerged from beneath the tablecloth, a thick trail of Jack's semen running from her lips and sparkling globules of it in her blonde hair. The two women locked eyes for a moment, appraising each other coolly.

"Well Anya, we should meet," she said, her voice slightly indistinct since her tongue still heavily coated with Jack's thick, viscous ejaculate. "But without Jack in between us."

"Perhaps," said Anastasia coldly, pulling down the hemline of her dress.

She turned and slowly walked back to rejoin her husband. Her panties in his pocket made her hip-swinging gait even sexier to Jack. As Anastasia disappeared back into her booth with her husband, both Isabelle and Jack finally became aware that Bethany was standing ten paces away, waiting with wide eyes.