Michael was the owner of a company that my company had started using. We put quite a bit of business his way. Helped see his company through a bad spot, I understand, and he was appreciative of having us as a client. It was a good deal for us as well. We weren't a charity, after all, but we were willing to go with a local who was struggling and he gave us good service at a competitive price.
Towards the end of the year Michael's firm had recovered to the point where he was doing very well. To thank the businesses that had helped him out when he was struggling he threw a party, inviting the upper echelons of the various firms.
My immediate inclination was to decline the invite as I'm not really a big party-goer. I changed my mind when my boss told me that I'd have a great time and that, as he wouldn't be able to make it, I should offer his regrets to Michael personally. I told my boss I hadn't actually intended going. He informed me that he'd already accepted on my behalf and to have fun.
I trotted along to the party and gave Michael my boss's regrets. In turn I was introduced to his wife Barbra and then turned loose to go and socialise.
A few words about Michael and Barbra. Michael was in his thirties, a typical businessman. He was reasonably intelligent and worked hard. Possibly a bit single-minded where his business was concerned. Barbra was in her early twenties, a blue-eyed blonde with a luscious figure, and a born flirt.
After a little while at the party I bumped into Barbra again. She bumped into me, I should say. Quite literally, as I felt the pneumatic compression of her breasts as they squished against my chest. She smiled and apologised, standing way too close for my peace of mind. She didn't move on either, standing there chatting away, her bounteous breasts not quite brushing against my chest as she talked. OK. I have to admit that she waved her hands about a lot while she talked and this seemed to make her breasts bounce about and several times they bounced against me. Was I complaining? Not that you would notice.
Now any red-blooded man who stands next to a hot blonde, feels her breasts brushing his chest, hears her talking to him as if he was the most wonderful man in the room, and does not have a masculine reaction must be a eunuch. By the time she finished talking and moved on to her next victim my trousers were far too tight for what they had to contain. I sort of drifted elsewhere for a moment of privacy and adjusted the contents of my trousers. If a part of my anatomy wanted to stand it was only fair to move it into a position where it could stand.
The party was spread across a number of rooms and I wandered around, networking. Some of the people I knew, some I didn't. I chattered with a few interesting people and met a few bores. I suppose they felt the same way about me. Then I came across Barbra again and my old fella snapped to attention before I even opened my mouth. Fortunately it was now in a position to do that without being needlessly constricted.
Now I'm not quite sure of the next sequence of events. I know I was talking to Barbra when another couple joined us. The four of us quickly devolved into two pair, me talking to the new guy and Barbra talking to his wife. He moved on and I turned around and promptly bumped hard into Barbra in a rather embarrassing manner.
She had turned away from where I was talking to that guy and was bent over the coffee table selecting something to nibble on. I turned and cannoned into her and it was only my quickly grabbing her hips that stopped her from flying across the coffee table. I hastily steadied her and backed away, face rather hot.
Barbra turned and looked at me, giving me an amused feminine look.
"You'll find that sort of thing works a lot better when you don't have clothes in the way," she said softly, laughing at the look on my face.
If you're wondering what she was referring to let me put the pieces together for you. There was me, erection standing tall. There was her with a tight skirt, which just naturally stretched across her bottom when she bent over. There was me with my erection pressed firmly against the crack in her buttocks as she bent over the coffee table, hands on her hips saving her from falling, and also holding her firmly against my erection. There was no way on god's earth that she didn't know what was pressing so intimately against her.
I started stammering out an apology but she just laughed at me, patted me on the cheek, and said, "Later."
Then she started circulating, heading one way while I slunk off in a different direction.
It was later in the evening and I was crossing the hall, going from one room to another, in search of some entertaining company or a drink, when I was called from further down the hall.
"Oh, Rodney, if you have a moment?"
I looked down to see Barbra holding up a hand indicating she wanted me so I sauntered down the hall, trying to look casual, trying to ignore a certain appendage that had jumped to attention again. My immediate response to that woman made me wonder if she bathed in some sort of irresistible pheromones. They certainly worked on me.
As soon as I reached her she promptly invaded my personal space again which seemed to be a habit with her.
"I was just wondering if you still had that little problem," she said softly and before I could wonder what little problem I found out. Her hand landed on my groin and checked out the contents therein, closing around my erection.
"Oh, dear," she murmured. "It appears that you do, and it's not really a little problem is it? I would be most remiss as a hostess if I left a guest feeling uncomfortable."
With that she backed into the room she was standing next to and I just naturally followed her in. With her hand still closed around my erection I felt I didn't have much choice. It would have been rude and insulting to snatch it away from her.
As soon as we were in the room Barbra flicked the door closed and my zip down at the same time.
"It's not right to keep something like this all cramped up," she informed me, expertly extracting my cock from my trousers. "Just look at the poor thing. It's going to need a bit of a massage to get its full strength back."
I had no need to wonder where I'd get the required masseuse. Barbra had already applied for, and accepted, the job. Her hand was rubbing my cock, stimulating it, stretching it. I suspected she was using her hand to measure me, trying to determine how many inches I had. The way she kept checking she apparently didn't believe her first results.
She stroked and stimulated, coaxing my cock to greater heights. I was wondering just how far she was going to go when she changed tactics.
"It's too dry," she told me. "My hand can't slide along it the way she should. You need a little lubrication."
With that she sank to her knees and her mouth closed over me as she started supplying the required lubrication. Her head bobbed up and down as she worked, tongue and teeth supplying loving care. Damn-it-all, I was as hard as a rock. Hard enough to crack coconuts, and still she teased me. This time I knew she was going to keep on until I blew.
This time I still knew nothing. Barbra suddenly stood up and took a step back, leaving me standing there with a cock so swollen it was practically slapping me in the face. She reached down to her skirt and did something and the damn thing just slithered down, pooling around her feet. I was somewhat surprised at this. The skirt had looked so tight I'd have figured it would require several minutes to pull it loose from her hips.
The only thing Barbra was wearing below the waist was a pair of shoes and the tiniest pair of panties I'd ever seen. I mean, these were so tiny that they came under the why-bother category. Not being a complete idiot I knew just what I was supposed to do with those panties. I bravely stepped forward, took a hold of them, and peeled them down and off, Barbra daintily raising each foot to let me slip them off. Possibly I was supposed to drop them on top of her dress but they accidentally fell into my pocket.
"You're a married woman," I said softly. "A beautiful married woman."
She blushed slightly and didn't say anything.
"That means you're being a baaaad girl," I continued. "Do you know what happens to bad girls?"
"What happens to bad girls?" she asked, her voice husky with passion.
"Well, secondly, they get fucked hard."
