When Trevor came in to the Environmental Awareness Center at ten a.m. for his Wednesday volunteer shift a new receptionist was on duty. She looked to be in her mid-twenties with long auburn hair, sparkling green eyes, a rosy blemish-free complexion and a buxom chest.
"Hi, I'm Trevor Bridges," he said extending his hand, "are you a new volunteer here?"
Ashley Thomas accepted Trevor's hand with a firm grip, "I am new, I had orientation on Monday and today's my first full day, but I'm not a volunteer. I'm part time. I thought I saw your name on some documents."
"Not bad report cards, I hope," Trevor chuckled.
"No, number one on the donors list, I think," Ashley replied with a sly smile.
"Don't believe everything you read," Trevor mumbled, then continued "So what are your duties?"
"Receptionist on Wednesday from eight a.m. until two p.m., and helping out any way necessary in "Water Pollution" from eight to two on Thursday and Friday."
"'Water Pollution,' that's where I volunteer on Wednesday through Friday; I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other," Trevor replied trying not to sound too excited.
"I'm sure we will," Ashley responded with a smile and a lilt in her voice while trying as politely as possible to extricate her hand from Trevor's.
"Oh, sorry," was Trevor's last, flustered, comment when he realized that he had held her hand during their entire little chat, well past the point of propriety. Blushing he scurried to the office he shared with the Center's Director.
"Why the red face, Trevor," Director Melissa Blomquist asked him as he walked into their shared office, "did something embarrass you?"
"Uh, no, nothing."
"Nothing, huh -- you're the third male volunteer today blown away by our new part-time employee. You've never blushed around me. What does she have that I don't besides a beautiful face, flowing hair, and big boobs?" Melissa laughed, "Oh, and thirty years less wear?"
"Hey, don't sell yourself short," Trevor laughed back, starting to relax, "you're taller."
"Obviously you haven't seen her stand up yet," Melissa snickered. "Now about the analysis of the dissolved oxygen and pH levels in Lake Michigan..." Melissa continued, snapping Trevor out of his mild stupor.
Trevor made a point of passing by Ashley's desk about twice as many times that day as required. He tried not to stare when he did so, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. The best reason yet for wishing I was twenty eight instead of fifty eight, he mused when on one passing Ashley was bent over inserting documents into a filing cabinet with her round, tight ass tempting him.
When Trevor drove his Prius home that night he saw that his wife Candice's Lamborghini was already in the garage. The masseuse's van was parked in front. As Trevor walked into his mansion he heard mood music playing in the den. "I'm home Candice," he roared, loud enough to be heard over the music before opening the door to the den.
"Hello Mr. Bridges," said Carl, the masseuse, turning to face him with his hands still on Candice's neck, "will you be wanting a massage later."
"No thanks, Carl," Trevor replied although he knew that he likely needed some release, but not from Carl's knurled fingers.
"How was protecting the environment today, Hun," Candice gurgled without raising her head from Carl's portable massage table.
"It's still there," Trevor retorted as he then closed the door. I'm glad she's getting her massage today, Trevor said to himself, I really need to fuck tonight and the probability of Candice spreading her legs, non-existent most nights, is 50-50 when she gets a massage.
Candice was in a good mood after her massage. After the butler served dinner Trevor put on some waltz music and danced with Candice, one of the few common interests that they shared, and opened up a new bottle of her favorite liqueur, Drambuie. His probability of getting laid increased about 10% with each glass she consumed. After she had had four and complained of being 'light headed' he carried her up the stairs, no mean task since she had put on twenty pounds since they got married thirty years ago, but doable considering his 6 foot 4 inch, 225 pound frame and his thrice weekly weightlifting sessions.
Trevor quickly removed his clothes and Candice's and after a few minutes of kissing unceremoniously put her on her hands and knees. Doggy was not a position Candice liked but Trevor did and his motivation was sky-high so she didn't have much choice. However Candice did offer some complainants as he stroked her hairy pussy first with his fingers and then with his rock hard cock. All she did was groan after he penetrated her, however.
Trevor pounded Candice's pussy like he was on speed imagining that he was fucking Ashley's perfect ass and despite Candice's ass wiggles in protest actually stuck a pussy-juice-lubricated finger in her pucker hole. Trevor didn't last long and soon was groaning and ejaculating, driving Candice into her own, rare, orgasm.
Trevor kept pumping long after he launched his last cum grenade, his ears interpreting Candice's groans as those of Ashley's. Finally he wore out, extricated himself from Candice's sixty year old pussy, and lay next to her on their bed. Candice was out of it for a few minutes but when cognizant held Trevor's chin while looking into his eyes.
"What got into you, stud? You fucked me like I was a three dollar whore," Candice said, half smiling and half sneering.
"Wasn't it wonderful?" Trevor mused, himself not yet aware enough to recognize the half sneer. "You did climax, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I did," Candice replied the half sneer temporarily waning from her face. After a few seconds the half-sneer returned and she persisted "Regardless of whether I climaxed, what got into you. You know I don't like it doggy or rough."
"Candice, we haven't had sex in more than two weeks and I was just plain horny and needed a good fuck," Trevor replied, realizing his mistake as the word "fuck" turned Candice's expression into a full sneer.
"I'm not a 'fuck,' Trevor," Candice barked as she started turning over to face away from him. "I'm your wife and you should make love to me. If you want to fuck get yourself a three dollar whore."
Apparently Trevor's words didn't help him when he laughingly responded "I think they cost more than that nowadays." The retort was an icy "Good Night," destroying any hope Trevor had of practicing his favorite post-coital pastime, namely sucking tit.
Thursday and Friday at the Center were both the best of times and the worst of times for Trevor. Since Ashley was working with him, two other volunteers, and a staff scientist, he had plenty of eye candy, and things seemed to get livelier than normal because of Ashley's sunny disposition. However with Ashley around it was hard for Trevor to concentrate on his work; she was screwing up his libido big-time!
