Good For The Goose 4

"Hey there, lover," Ariel breathed into the phone, "What're you up to?"

His reply came, equally breathy, with just a hint of facetiousness. "Just fucking my secretary. You?"

"Gave a handjob to the young fellow in the mail room this morning--surprised the hell out of him. Came so fast... and in buckets! All over my hand... and the floor. Luckily didn't get any on my clothes. 'Don't tell anyone,' I told him, 'and you might get lucky again.' How 'bout you? Details?!"

"Oh, you know..., Genevieve is so young..., so innocent. Y'know, she's only twenty-five! Anyway, I got her so worked up with my fingers up under her dress, she was whimpering pathetically, so I swept off my desktop--that's gonna be a bitch to clean up, heh, heh--and threw her onto her back, while she was still critically aroused. I ripped off her thong, and fucked the shit out of her. Surprised and shocked but ultimately delighted by my size, she squealed like a banshee. I barely got it into her tight little box. But my god, she came like gangbusters. Said it was her strongest orgasm ever! Didn't want to stop."

"Ooooh! Hot! I like it!"

"We can review it all, tonight."

"Looking forward to that," Ariel snickered. "See ya later."

"Bye," Janek purred, before adding. "Love you."

"You, too."

They both assumed that they had disconnected, but in the instant before she would have hit 'Off", Ariel had heard a giggle--from her phone. A young woman's giggle! It took only a moment to realize the line had been left open. Blissfully ignorant, but feeling a glint of naughtiness, Ariel allowed herself 'just a moment' of guilty eavesdropping.

At first, she was confused. What she heard didn't, she told herself, make any sense. "O-mi-gawd! Were you saving up, or what?" a young female voice exclaimed. It was, Ariel suspected, her husband's new, young PA. And Ariel's loving husband joined his wonderful PA in a breathy chuckle, before she continued. "Don't you ever fuck to your wife anymore?"

"Of course I do. We make love two, three, maybe four times a week! I love her...! It's just that sex with you is... is, so... I don't know... so exciting!! I love Ariel...," and, here he paused, as if choosing his words carefully, "...but she's old--er--older; I mean more mature and secure--while you, you are young, and exciting, and adventurous."

The woman chuckled. "Remember when she called and you answered while we were fucking! What a kick!"

Janek snorted. "You're evil. You know that? Pure evil!" Then the quiet was filled with rustling and giggling.

"Well, it's a good thing," she panted, "you've got a blotter on your desk!"

Really, it was classic cliché: by the breathless panting, and muttered interjections, it quickly became quite obvious to Ariel that the clueless couple at the other end of the call were actually in-between main events.

"Innocent, my ass!' chirped the young female voice, which, Arial was suddenly quite certain, was the voice of Genevieve, her husband's office assistant. "I can't believe you actually told her!...and she didn't go ballistic!"

Janek chuckled, "She thinks it's just a game--a fantasy game. Ariel, apparently, read about it," he went on to explain, "in some...woman's rag..."--the note of disdain in his voice, as he said that was obvious--"...a couple of weeks ago."

Ariel had heard enough. She knew the history, anyway; she had lived it. Sad and distressed, she disconnected, and, though she felt emotionally devastated, Ariel realized that, intellectually, she was not really surprised.

Both she and her husband had high-powered positions, albeit in different companies, and worked long hours. For a while now, Ariel had been trying to ignore the nagging doubts about her husband's fidelity--or lack thereof--that whirled about in the offing of her mind. She had originally thought, or maybe just unconsciously expected, that the 'game'--their role playing--would get his erotic attention focused at frequent, random times during any given work-week--not to mention the spice and variety it would furnish.

So, Ariel had initiated the mutual-masturbation, phone-sex game by calling Janek one lunch hour and, after determining he was alone in his office, she described a fantasy scenario. "This morning, on the way to work, I went through a radar trap and got pulled over for speeding. I tried to get out of it by whining, and the policeman suggested that, instead of extra points on my license, I could earn brownie points by giving him a blow-job. Anyway, the long and short of it is that he took me into the van and had me suck off five constables before he let me go. Needless to say, I was late for work, but my driving record remains spotless. How was your morning?"

As they had previously discussed the basic outline of the game before, Ariel's hubby had bought right into it and described, for that first exchange, getting stuck in the elevator with the boss's--Mrs. Lansing's--PA.

"Bloody elevator," he'd begun, "came to a sudden halt between the 16th and 17th floors. Almost immediately Ms. Harrison--the only other rider--began to freak. Seems she suffers from acute claustrophobia. I tried to calm her down--you know, talking softly; massaging her shoulders; but she started to panic. When I offered to hold her, she clamped onto me, so I started rubbing her back--then her chest, then her pud, and little by little she started to calm. With a hand under her skirt, cupping her panty-clad pussy, it just seemed natural to begin fingering her, slowly pushing beneath the gusset of her thong underwear, and stroking her lips.

"Her eerie calm, in the silent, motionless elevator, began to give way to arousal, which flared the moment my fingertip touched her clit. Dropping to crouch before her, I ended up ripping her silken dainties right off her hips, casting them aside as I set to some serious pussy-licking. Prim and proper Ms. Harrison came so hard I had to hold her upright by her firm, flat waist. Finally, without saying another word, I stood up, spun her to facing the corner of the car, flipped up her skirt, and stabbed her, rear-entry, with my steely-dan. I came, flooding her box with cum, just as the elevator jerked back into commission."

The directions for the game were pretty simple. One just had to imagine and describe, in detail, an illicit affair--a one-off hook-up or a long-term tryst--then identify who you imagine you are having sex with--and what you do. The only rule was that it mustn't be each other: "Not me--I'm right here; I'm the one you're cheating on; remember?--the one you're sharing this fantasy with." Having tried it a couple times, both Janek and Ariel found it stimulating enough to keep at it. Now it was a matter of trying to outdo one another. Given the newly emerged circumstances, Ariel determined to really, really outdo her, so-called, loving husband. With an edge of bitterness tainting her, she began to plan her revenge.

So, after work, that same evening, which was several weeks into the game, Ariel poured Janek a glass of Merlot as he came into the kitchen. "That was very hot at lunch today!" she observed, "I almost came!" Then, she added very casually, not betraying any emotion, "How about you?" He waggled his hand indicating maybe, maybe not. Ariel was sure she detected him tense slightly; she went on blithely, "Maybe next time we should stay on the line a little longer." With a carefree laugh, she raised her glass to him.

Janek recovered admirably quickly, raising his glass as he complained, "Damn! A phone-sex nooner in the office would have been just about perfect--as long as I didn't get shot-spots on my trousers!"

Ariel smiled. "Maybe next time," she purred, putting her glass to her lips.

The next time, as it turned out, was two days later, just after 5:30. Ariel called her husband's direct line. "Hi!"

"Z'up?" After a brief pause, she added, meaningfully, "What did you get up to today?"

"Just got back from a meeting with the boss." The boss, as Ariel knew, was Maureen, Mrs. Lansing, the CEO. "She needed me to eat her out! She says I give the best cunnilingus!"

"Oooh?"

"Yeah. She had me close the door behind myself, and, staying in her seat behind her desk, she swiveled her chair to the side, flipped up skirt, removed her panties, spread her knees, and crooned, 'Come and get it!'"

"And...?"

"I, of course, went down on my knees, and quickly brought her to orgasm. Christ, she cums hard for an old broad. After that, she stood, bent over the desk, and I fucked her in the ass. She likes it up the Hershey Highway even better than in her cunt! Don't worry--I removed my pants and jacket... to save on cleaning bills." Reality or fantasy? Ariel was not sure, as he continued, "Gotta clean up. What about you? What did you get up to today?"

"You'll be home in a bit, eh? I'll tell you over a glass of wine. See you soon."

Later, standing around the kitchen, Ariel described her 'tryst' with an almost paradoxical nonchalance. "Visited the mail-room again. The young guy had a courier friend with him today. I had to blow each of them while I stroked the other. After they'd cum once each, they wanted pussy, but I put my foot down. 'Not today,' I told them. 'Some of us have work to do!"

Of course, that was all complete fantasy on Ariel's part. That's all any of it was supposed to be; but Jan had crossed the line. Now--fantasy or reality--who could tell? And therein lay the key. The idea came fully formed. "Yeah, who could tell? What's good for the gander is good for the goose." Mind you, Ariel's planned revenge wasn't simply Plug 'N Play; it would take some doing... some serious organizing. Notwithstanding, the game continued in its 'innocence', and calls continued to be made by either spouse, with 'fantasies' shared several times a week--mid-morning, at lunch, or near quitting-time.

Ariel wasn't one for playing with herself. She couldn't remember the last time she'd actually masturbated; probably not since she was sixteen or seventeen. Still, she had been astonished to find herself, right at the outset of the game, getting turned on by their erotic word-play--her own, as well as her husband's. It must have been realistic because there was, still, no denying her growing arousal. And, curiously, the arousal persisted, despite her vengeful musings. She would have thought she was too busy concocting her next verbal fantasy to be distracted by those more carnal sensations. Yet, unconsciously squeezing her thighs together and squirming on her seat contributed to the insistently rising erotic buzz; slowly, her finger-tips autonomously found their way to her nipples.

Her sudden awareness of her husband's dalliances seemed to have sharpened Ariel's senses, for she was able to, with a fair confidence-level, determine by listening for subtle clues, that Gen was very often there, with Jan, when they played. That would more than explain why Jan's scenarios mainly involved his assistant; although, that being said, he switched it up from time to time to include his boss, or, at other times, a client; sometimes a colleague; sometimes a random anonymous woman--on transit, in the mall, on the street.

For instance: "Well, I'll tell you--just this morning, I was heading out to snag a coffee, when this woman and I reached for the crosswalk button at the same time and inadvertently touched hands. She turned and we apologized at the same time, and we shared a smile at that; then, when the light turned, we, somehow, stayed in step, all the way to the same coffee shop. I held the door for her and we struck up an idle conversation as we stood in line.

"Turned out we work in the same building. She mentioned the fabulous view, and I said my view was wholly obscured by other buildings. As we picked up our respective beverages she said, with a rather coy innocence, 'Come on up for a bit, and I'll show you.'

"Her office was on the top floor--north-west corner! The view was spectacular! I stepped up to the glass to more fully appreciate it. Turning back to her, my jaw dropped, cutting short my exclamation of the phenomenal view, for she had begun to disrobe, removing her jacket, opening her blouse and baring her boobs. With a challenging stare, she grabbed my hand and dragged me to the couch. Pushing me down, in one smooth motion, she shucked her panties from beneath skirt, and knelt down to expertly open my fly and fish out my rapidly stiffening prick. After a quick visual appraisal, she leaned in and inhaled my cock.

"Man, could that woman suck cock! Her tongue skated over and around me. Hollowing her cheeks with hoover-like suction, she shoved herself onto my peg with a vengeance, cracking the vacuum as she withdrew, then pushing herself over me again--a couple of times until, with a little gag-cough, she swallowed my sword completely--real, honest-to-goodness deep-throat.

I thought I was done for! I had never felt so rock-hard rigid in my life, but just as I was about to explode, she pulled right back off me, grabbed my hand, and virtually dragged me off the couch towards the window-wall. My erection bobbed and bounced as we moved--vibrating so hard it was almost audible!

Dropping my hand, she stepped up to the window. Bending forward at the waist, she flipped her skirt up, then, reaching straight-armed, she placed her hands on the glass. In that position, her back arched, her derrière thrust out, she wantonly glanced over her shoulder, her eyes veritably shouting her challenging, "Well?!"

Ariel tried to picture the tableau Jan had described--his Steely Dan ringing like a tuning fork as he approached the beckoning backside. In fact, she had to, reluctantly, admit, he played the game very well. He continued smoothly, painting the lewd scene with his low, sexy voice.

"So, what could I do? I stepped up and, holding her hips, placed my cock-head against her puffy, steaming twat. I held still in a very pregnant pause--just for the dramatic effect, you understand.

"'Fuck me,' she pleaded, 'C'mon..., fuck me hard!' And so I did--if only to stop her whining!

"With a peremptory flexing of my hips, I, almost viciously, sank my quivering member into her blossoming vagina. The velvet tunnel gripped me firmly, slowing my deep penetration, while, at the same time, she reared back to meet my stabbing thrust, until I was balls-deep, my scrotum swinging up to smack her clitoris. With barely a hesitation, I pulled back to ram back into her. I could actually feel her pussy-juices seeping out of her vaginal walls to lubricate my repeated insertions. My rhythm settled into a quick-time pounding--my thighs slapping loudly against her butt-cheeks.

"Her arms collapsed every few strokes under the forceful onslaught, causing her to step forward to keep her balance, and resulting in her tits and face pressing against the glass; until she pushed back, away from the glass wall, straightening her elbows and, catching the rhythm once more, plunging back onto my insistent hard-on. Meanwhile, my hands alternated between mauling her boobs--pinching her engorged nipples--and hanging onto her hips--ensuring the continued integrity of our physical connection.

"Slowly, our pace accelerated--though it was unclear whether it was she or me who initiated the sprint to the finish. Our synchronized breathing became ragged and irregular. Pounding violently, I suddenly stiffened, pulling her hips hard onto my thighs, holding myself deep within her. I let go with a bellow, pouring torrents of cum into her quivering cunt.

"Raising my eyes to look beyond her drooping shoulders, I finally exclaimed, 'What a view!' Then, I pulled out and ruined my handkerchief, before tucking and zipping. With a nod and a satisfied grin, I left her straightening her raiment. Not only didn't we exchange numbers, we didn't even exchange names!"

As outlandish, and highly unlikely, as his vignette was, Ariel thought she detected a very subtle, syrupy note of true satisfaction. "In fact," she thought, "he plays the game so well, describing each scenario in such lurid detail--whether fantasy or reality, I can no longer tell."

Over the course of the first few weeks, Ariel and Jan had developed a sort of verbal code: "What did you get up to today?" or "...this morning?" or "...this afternoon?" became the euphemism for "Game on--let's hear it!" That was quickly shortened to "What's up?" then, soon after, spoken in the vernacular: "Whazz'up?" or "Z'up?" Greeting one another that way, whether on the phone, meeting at a restaurant or bar, or at the door, when they got home, after work, became a standard challenge.

Having discovered her husband's infidelity, Ariel began to really make an effort, with limited success--she did have standards, after all--to describe actual scenes--scenes that had either recently taken place or were actually, currently taking place. "No time like the present...," she thought as lunchtime approached and she headed for the office of Brad Dunsmuir, her boss.

She had loosely explained the game to Mr. Dunsmuir, whom she was quite aware, had always had and, indeed, still had the hots for her. Brad Dunsmuir was a confirmed bachelor and a bit of a Lothario. Notwithstanding, Ariel surprised the hell out of him when she suggested she'd like to give him a blowjob--"Right here; right now!"

Guiding him back so that his butt was against the front of his desk, she crouched in front of him and playfully pulled at his zipper, teasingly unwrapping his rapidly stiffening woodie. What emerged from the open front of his trousers was a very impressive, outstandingly erect, heavily veined sceptre, with a single pearl of pre-cum beading at the tip like a serpent's tear. "There will be no need for exaggeration in the retelling of this," Ariel said to herself as she sat back for a moment to assess and appreciate the unwrapped gift.

Rounding her lips, she leaned forward and pushed herself over the trembling root, slowly and studiously, until it hit the back of her pharynx, the plum squashing and blocking, for a moment, her airways. Pulling back just far enough to snatch a breath, Ariel began bounce her face over his stiff boner, over and over again--swirling her tongue around and about his shaft on every withdrawal, breathing at the front of every stroke, and plunging herself onto him, pushing deeper and deeper on every in-stroke. Hollowing her cheeks, she could really feel the vibrations, the tremors and jolts as his already enflamed arousal grew. With a final push, an above-and-beyond effort, Ariel forced his swollen glans past her gag-reflex and into her throat, just as his arousal reached the point of no return! Struggling not to gag or choke, Ariel sucked down spurt after spurt of man-cream, until his erect penis slowly began to lose its structural integrity--and she could breathe again.

"That just might have been," Mr. Dunsmuir announced, "the best fellatio I've ever experienced!" Once they'd both caught their breath, Mr. Dunsmuir--Brad--said, "Please allow me the pleasure of returning the favour, and going down on you."

"Absolutely," Ariel purred, pleased that things were going just as she'd hoped.

Reaching back for the phone, Ariel managed to call Jan while she sat, thighs spread, on Brad's desk--legs hanging over so he could return the oral favour, as it were. While he ate her, she described his blowjob in breathless detail. Brad's talent for cunnilingus was surprisingly wonderful--slow and deliberate; feather-touch, interspersed with long, strong strokes and probing tongue-tips. She let Jan believe that her gasping, ragged breath and eventual climax were due to her own manual manipulations. When they concluded the call, both she and her husband were very impressed--but for quite different reasons.

The next time she had cunnilingus was from a colleague--some time later, at break-time, in the disabled washroom outside the office. Frenetic and rushed, with the risk of discovery, it had its own brand of excitement--carried its own flavour of satisfaction. Ariel got aroused all over again as she recounted the incident to her hubby.