She's Sharp

If you hate cheating, have no sense of adventure, and no sense of humor, please don't read this story. It will disturb you -- and I sure don't want that!

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Are you familiar with a change in life event? No, I don't mean a change in circumstances that qualifies you to modify your health insurance plan. I mean an event that changes the way you look at life, alters your goals, revises your expectations, transforms your desires; and most importantly changes what you do.

I, Michelle Folger, nee Rothschild, had such a life changing event.

I have always been prim and "proper." I have never used a swearword in my life, except when I was nine and had my mouth washed out with soap for my lapse. I eschew getting dirty, including even when I was in elementary school. At least until my life changing event I was more proper than a nun and primmer than a Southern Belle.

I'm not just proper in my choice of clothing, makeup, and hair style, but I was always proper in the way I conducted myself and how hard I worked in school and in part-time jobs I had growing up. As a result I am successful in business, owning my own company. One reason I have success is because I hire competent help, give them responsibility, and pay them properly.

My parents, sisters, friends, and later my husband, always wanted me to be more laid back. I never argued with them, I just never changed. I always dressed smartly not just at work but at the gym (where I didn't sweat but "glowed"), going to concerts or sporting events, or even on picnics and horseback riding. I have dozens of high class outfits with perfectly matching shoes, purses, and jewelry, including from famous brands and designers such as Gucci, Oscar de la Renta, Victoria Beckham, and Christian Louboutin. Even my workout clothes are high end, the most inexpensive of which are Lululemon and Athleta.

I am not, and never was, overbearing with my children or forced my fashion or lifestyle choices on them. I ended up with an older daughter who pretty well mirrors me (although she is somewhat more laid back), a son who is accomplished but dresses like a slob, and a younger daughter somewhere in between. I love them all the same and never even comment on their choices in life, let alone try and change them.

I have a good marriage to my husband Derek. We had been married 26 years at the time of my life-changing event. He is kind and pleasant and works diligently, although he does not have the same drive to succeed that I do. He is not gross and rarely uses foul language -- if he was or did I wouldn't be with him. We have a vanilla sex life, which was fine with me at the time of my 47th birthday.

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My life changing event happened when I was about three months past my 47th birthday. By then all of my children had graduated from college, the youngest six months earlier, and were on their own.

I was travelling on business, as I did about sixty days a year. I had had a hard day negotiating to get better terms with two different suppliers, and one customer. All three had unreasonable demands or proposals. To say that I was not happy with the results so far would be the understatement of the year. The suppliers wanted to increase their prices, and the customer wanted me to decrease my prices, to the point that my profit would be razor thin.

After dinner with the female employee who was travelling with me, for one of the first times ever on a business trip I went to the hotel bar to get a drink. I rarely drink alcohol but for some reason I had the desire to get something fruity with an umbrella in it, hoping to get a respite from the angst from my consultations that day before I planned for my meetings with the same suppliers and customer the next day. I hadn't changed from my business attire of a two-tone dark Gucci jacket and skirt, lavender Ganni blouse, and Christian Louboutin shoes, as I sat on a bar stool.

As I was mindlessly stirring and occasionally sipping my pina coloda a young man came up to me and politely asked "Are you from She's Sharp?"

Before answering I took a good look at him. He was big, trim, extremely handsome with large azure eyes, and well dressed with a Rolex Sky-Dweller watch, or a very good fake, on his left wrist. He couldn't have been more than twenty six years old; it was hard to believe that he could afford a $40,000 watch.

After what I considered an appropriate delay, just to yank his chain, and to try and satisfy my curiosity since I had no idea what "She's Sharp" was, in my best prim and proper voice I replied "Is that any way to greet a lady? Certainly you can be more verbal and interesting than that."

He was only slightly fazed. "Sorry," he chuckled. "Perhaps I should have asked if you would like to join me at my table and do me the honor of letting me buy you a drink," he continued, motioning over to a two person table a few meters away in a secluded corner of the establishment.

"Thank you," I smilingly replied, extending my hand for him to hold in helping me get off of the bar stool, which I had found way too uncomfortable anyway.

As we sat down he introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Charles."

"No last name Charles?" I smiled back.

"Just Charles for now; and you?"

"Michelle; for now just Michelle," I replied, shaking his extended hand..

"Do you come here often?" he asked.

"No, not often. I'm here on business."

"What's your business?"

"I'm the CEO of a manufacturer of specialty consumer goods and I'm meeting with suppliers and a customer."

Charles smiled widely when I said that.

We discussed many things over the next hour or so while we each consumed two drinks. He was very erudite for one so young and had travelled to almost as many places in the world as I had. He also asked relatively sophisticated business questions that few people besides CEOs would know the answers to, and he seemed very pleased by my responses, smiling after each one.

At the only lull in our hour long conversation he said "Now that we've established what a successful CEO you are, I hope that you're as interested as I am. Would $1,000 for two hours suffice?"

I wasn't sure what he was getting at. I must have had a perplexed look on my face and hadn't responded after about ten seconds when he said "OK, $1,500 then?"

Then it dawned on me. He thought that I was a call girl -- but wait!

Even though I pride myself on staying in shape and fill out a classy suit and blouse very well, and while I have enough ego to think that I look young for my age, there is no way in hell that he couldn't know that I was over 40. How many 40 year old call girls are there I wondered; and how many twenty-something guys want a 40 year old call girl; and how many call girls dress in the expensive business attire that I had on; and how many CEOs of companies also worked as call girls? While I was having great difficulty in running this truly surprising development through my mind, probably with a shocked look on my face, Charles continued.

"Look, $2,000 cash is my final offer, and I can guarantee you that you won't be disappointed," he said as he gently took my hand and put it on his crotch.

At first I thought that he must have a snake in his pants, and I actually squeezed it trying to figure out what it was. I'm sexually naïve, but not stupid; it was a large penis that grew another 10% when I squeezed it. "Oh..." involuntarily came out of my mouth which Charles undoubtedly took to mean "OK" because he got an enormous grin, pushed the table away, almost lifted me off my seat, dropped a $100 bill on the table, and started escorting me toward the elevators.

For some really odd reason all of a sudden the words of my kids, parents, and husband "don't be so uptight; relax; have some fun," caromed through my addled brain. Before I had a chance to really think the elevator bell rang -- it must have been waiting on the floor we were on because Charles had only pushed the button a second before -- and he quickly ushered me inside.

As soon as the elevator door closed he grabbed my butt with both hands and kissed me as zealously as I have ever been kissed in my life. I was so startled by the entire chain of events that I must have acted instinctively rather than with rational thought because when we reached the top floor -- he apparently had the penthouse -- I found my hands around his neck.

As soon as the elevator door opened Charles picked me up, somehow swiped his key card over the sensor with me still in his arms, and just like that we were in his room, again before my thoughts could crystalize.

"Let's interlock our bodies as quickly as possible," he groaned while planting quick kisses on my neck -- an odd choice of words that actually rang a bell in my mind that somewhat distracted me -- and soon my jacket was off and my skirt unzipped as he mumbled into my ear "You're the fucking sexiest CEO I've ever seen and my poor employee ass is going to turn you into my fuck toy as fast as I can. I'll make sure that you're bow-legged at your next board meeting."

As he moved me toward the bed he also mumbled "I trust that you know my STD-clear certificate is on file." I didn't know what the heck that meant, but guessed that I would find out.

Obviously what was transpiring was about as improper as anything could get -- let alone for an always prim and proper person like myself. I wasn't then, or at any time after that, able to figure out why my always proper and staid instincts didn't force me to stop the situation before it progressed. Perhaps I was just so out of my range of comfort and experience that all my faculties deserted me. Whatever the reason before I was sure what was happening I was lying on my back on the plush mattress in the main bedroom of the penthouse, with my legs splayed out, and Charles busy licking, sucking, and fingering my vagina and clitoris.

I rarely got oral from my husband Derek -- and actually had always been apprehensive when receiving it, usually with the thought in the back of my mind that it somehow wasn't proper. I had no such apprehension now, probably because Charles was many times more vigorous in going after my crotch than Derek (or anyone before him) ever had been. I must have had three orgasms in quick succession before he let up on me.

When Charles did ease his oral attack through my poorly focusing eyes I saw him straddle me. Then I got a good look at his penis. At first I was shocked by it, never having seen an uncircumcised one before even in print or on a screen (I never look at porn in any form), let alone live. Once I figured out that it was uncircumcised I became concerned about its size. It looked about twice as big as any I had ever seen before, more like a boa constrictor than a penis. "Oh no -- is he going to try to shove that thing into my poor little vagina?" bounced around my brain a few times.

In fact Charles did insert his monster penis into my poor little vagina. Fortunately he didn't just shove it in, but inserted it gradually. At the same time I felt like I was being split in half, and better than ever before in my life.

Once Charles started pulling out and pushing back in I experienced sensory overload. As best I can remember I started squirming around like I was having a seizure at the same time that I was squeezing and releasing my pc muscles, I momentarily passed out when he injected what seemed like a gallon of seminal fluid into my abused vagina. When I regained awareness his snake was still inside me and he was slowly moving in-and-out while groaning like an old waterwheel.

Charles eventually pulled out -- with a loud "pop" that sent an electric charge up my spine -- and lay next to me. "Wow, you're a great piece of ass," he grinned. "You can be my CEO and boss me around any time."

"Actually, that was the most toe-curling experience of my life," I sighed, aghast at myself for not being "proper."

"I especially loved the fake wedding and engagement rings and the fake Louboutin shoes; and you must have studied hard to sound like you knew what you were talking about when answering my business questions," he cackled. I was going to correct him when he planted another of his exquisitely sensual kisses on my lips and then said "How about sucking my cock for Round #2 -- doggy style?"

"Round #2?" I asked myself "Surely he doesn't want to have intercourse again?" I was confused because Derek and I had never had sex twice in one night. A few times we had sex at night and again the next morning, but I could probably count those times on one hand. I was about to inquire when he said "Come on Michelle -- you want to keep your little worker bee happy, don't you?" and then gently, but positively, pushed my head down toward his crotch.

I was about to protest when I got a good look at his penis and it started to twitch. I was fascinated by its foreskin and size. I also wondered what a penis that had just ejaculated into me would taste like. I gingerly held it -- causing it to twitch again -- and then slowly inserted the end into my mouth.

I was spellbound by the texture and feel of the foreskin, and tasting my own vaginal secretions surprisingly didn't gross me out. I was still clearly hesitant, never before having inserted a penis that had just discharged in me into my mouth, but soon I got the hang of it. I found oral manipulation of this ever growing snake was actually fun, as was lightly squeezing one of Charles' testicles then the other.

It wasn't long before the snake was completely turgid, and since this was a night of firsts I thought "Why not be on top," again something that I had done only a few times in my life. I lifted my body up, held the rigid snake in my hand, and gently lowered myself onto it. Since I had already been reamed out once, this time the insertion was easier -- that is until I bottomed out with still maybe an inch of penis to go.

I had been so busy carefully lowering myself that I hadn't looked at Charles' face. When I did I saw that he had a grin as wide as the Mississippi. He latched onto my breasts and began squeezing them as he mumbled "This is even better than doggy."

Spurred on by Charles' obvious worship of my breasts and his occasional buck upwardly I became more sexually energetic than at any other time in my history. I screamed when an orgasm hit me so hard that I almost went limp, causing Charles to pull my chest into his and then to pump his pelvis upwardly until he unleashed another tsunami of seminal fluid into my vagina, resulting in yet another debilitating orgasm for me.

Eventually Charles rolled me off of him, causing another jolt up my spine when his penis left my vagina. I groaned as I turned onto my side, totally exhausted and barely able to keep my eyes open. I looked at the digital clock next to the bed and was surprised that it was only a little after 11 p. m. It felt like 4 a. m. I was so wiped out -- but happily wiped out.

Charles obviously misinterpreted the reason for my looking at the clock; he apparently thought that I was going to announce that his two hours was almost up and that I was leaving. At least that's what I suppose because he whispered into my ear "Will you stay the night for another thousand dollars; I've got to fuck you again."

"Have sex with me again?" I thought. "What is he, the Energizer Bunny?" Despite my disbelief I rolled over into his arms, which he obviously took as agreement. "You won't be sorry," he mumbled as he first played with and then sucked my nipples -- that really did feel good -- and then to my disbelief shinnied down to my crotch and started sucking on my clitoris again. A few orgasms later I passed out.

I don't remember much of the details rest of the evening/morning (although I will never forget the overwhelming feeling of pleasure), except thinking -- at various points in time -- "he must be popping little blue pills?" "how can every intercourse session be just as great as the last one?" "why hasn't my vagina run dry?" "what position will he move me into to have intercourse the next time?" "do I have any idea how many orgasms I've had? Is it more than the entire last year with Derek?" "how do I have the energy to keep moving around and squeezing him when his penis is inside me?" and many other thoughts.

Charles' alarm rang at 7:03 a. m. -- at least that's what the digital clock on the nightstand said. After he turned it off he said "Sorry, but I have an important meeting at nine, and I wanted to make sure to have some time together this morning."

I groaned as I thought "He can't possibly want to have sex again; my vagina is burning up and my breasts are raw."

"First, however," he said in a cheery voice, "let's go on the website and fill out the She's Sharp questionnaire. I normally wouldn't do this with my partner but you've been such a great CEO that I want you to see."

This piqued my interest. I sat up as he got his laptop computer and brought it into bed. I have a good memory and I intended on recalling every aspect of what he was doing in case I wanted to find out what this organization he thought that I was from actually was.

I noted the website address and the passcode that Charles entered to gain access to it. Until the passcode was entered there was no real information on the screen. He hit "questionnaire" on the menu and one popped up. He entered his screen name, "Gunner." and asked "What's your pseudonym?" Without thinking too much the word "Athena" popped into my head, so I gave that. "Appropriate, given that you're a goddess," he chuckled, "although Aphrodite would be more appropriate."

Charles was almost giddy as he entered one positive thing after another in response to survey questions. Then he got to the final inquiry: "How would you rate your overall experience, including all of the factors individually questioned above, and any subtle things not listed: 0-50 a bad experience; 51-70 acceptable but not earthshattering; 71-85 will definitely use your services again; 86-100 undeniably other-worldly ____."

Charles entered "96."

I suddenly became miffed and slapped his arm. "Why not 100, doofus?"

"I want to give you something to strive for," he smiled.

"How about if we shower together; would that get me four more points? I want perfection."

He smiled wickedly. "You may not like it."

"I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

Into the large -- very large, with multiple shower heads -- penthouse shower stall we went. His constant rubbing of my breasts and vagina, and my constant manipulation of his testicles and penis -- including moving the foreskin back-and-forth -- as the water beat upon us caused me to rally. After we were both suitably charged up I bent over and grabbed my ankles -- I'm very flexible.

From behind me Charles started rubbing my butt cheeks, vagina, and dark hole. Being the sexually naïve person that I was I didn't give it much thought when he soaped up my dark hole and even temporarily ran his thumb into it. Shortly after that I found out what he meant by "You might not like it," although I was also true to my boast of "I can handle it."

The doofus inserted his large penis into my dark hole. It really hurt at first, but I grit my teeth and concentrated on the streams of water hitting me. Once he got past my sphincter it felt a little better, and fortunately he went slowly until almost all of the pain subsided. I could feel him orgasm although the amount of discharge was very small since he had made so many discharges into me over the last ten hours he couldn't have had much left. I actually felt good when he extricated his snake, the extraction causing a very pleasant, and long-lasting, tingle.

I turned around, soaped up his penis, kissed him while he massaged my already over-used breasts, and then we turned off the water and dried off.

"I wish that I could give you more than 100," he grinned as he brought his laptop screen back to life, inserted "100" onto the total rating line, and then pressed "Enter."