Always Available

THIS IS A STORY OF FICTION. ALL RELEVANT CHARACTERS ARE 18 YEARS OLD. ENJOY.

______

My name is Laci Fernandes-Lawrence. I am 31 years old. Married to my husband, Ryan, for 3 years. We have a two-year old daughter, Beatriz. I'm of Portugese decent. I am 5'3 and 116 lbs. With wavy brunette hair and green eyes, I have been told I resemble Emma Watson, just with longer hair. Blessed, or cursed with 34D breasts, (Large for a woman my size) I have enough suitors who enjoy them. My calling card, though has always been my legs. Being Portiguese, I have olive skin.

Ryan, my husband, is 30 and just recently completed his Master's degree in Engineering 8 months ago. At 5'7 and 150 lbs, he is one of those "pocket protector" wearing men. Having secured a position at Collier Engineering, he works earnestly, providing for our daughter and me. After dating several "studs", I'll admit I "settled" for Ryan. He is my safety net, but I do love him, immensely. He's been the perfect husband and daddy to our daughter.

My story that I'm about to share, willl explain how my honest attempt, and actions I took to help my husband jumpstart his career, backfired on us, resulting in the aftermath we find ourselves dealing with now.

________

Present Day

Internally excited that my husband was coming home later tonight from his latest 5 day business trip to New York, I was also nervous about the morning sickness I've been dealing with recently. Knowing his return tonight will be followed by a review of whether he will pass his 90-day probationary period, I have diligently performed my part of the "understanding" which has carried more weight in determining his job safety, moreso than his own performance. But right now, I'm more concerned with getting ready for another dinner at our usual restaurant.

Stepping into my dress, a zebra print wraparound dress embellished with a poofy floral design on each shoulder, I carefully pull it up to my waist. Putting on my bra, a white lace number, I clasp the fabric together to cover my breasts. Pulling the remainder of my dress over my shoulders, I twirl 'round in the mirror.

Unable to overlook the exhaustion that is prominent on my face, due to the numerous fuckings I've received over these past 11 weeks, but moreso these last 4 days, I take a seat on the edge of the bed. Reaching into the side table, I pullout a package of L'eggs Sheer-to-waist suntan colored pantyhose. Sliding them over each leg, I smooth them taut over my waist before stepping into my 4" white pointy-toed "fuck me" pumps.

Pleased with how I look, I proceeded to apply my make-up and bright red lipstick. Looking at the time, now 5:30, we have our dinner reservations for 6:15. As we've done the previous 4 nights, we go have dinner at a restaurant, come home, put my daughter Beatriz down for the night, then proceed to the bedroom where I open legs for Marshall, inviting him to fuck me for a good portion of the evening. Putting my matching zebra striped derby hat on my head, I see Marshall outside on the balcony on his cellphone.

Walking past the other side of the bed, the waste bin held several soiled nylons with runs in them that I've worn these past few days. A few used condoms, each filled with a batch of Marshall's cum, mix with the subsequently torn packages that once housed said condom. Marshall has a kink where the first time we have sex, he has me roll one on his thick phallus after I've given him a blow job. Once he fills it, the rest of the night, he pounds my bruised pussy, bareback. Being as old as he is, A bottle of Viagra sits right next to the 2 boxes of condoms that are on the nightstand.

Opening the sliding glass door I inform in of the time. "Marshall, E hora de ir." Meaning (it's time to go) he expects me to speak certain words or phrases to him in my native Portuguese, He especially enjoys me speaking Portuguese to him while we're intimate.

Waving me off, I proceed to get my daughter from her room for Marshall to buckle her into her carseat. Waiting for Marshall downstairs, I grab my shaul and purse.

A few minutes later, Marshall comes walking down the stairs. Tying his tie, I am in awe of the confidence he exudes. At 68 years old and the CEO of the company my husband has been employed by these past 11 plus weeks, I am also faintly aware of the secret disdain I have for him. Ever since Ryan left Sunday, Marshall, save for a couple visits from Colin, his Head of Security, has been here, at the house with me, delighted in the 'goods' I reluctantly am providing.

At 68, Marshall Collier is a very powerful man. Owning the largest, most profitable Engineering firm in the Midwest, he shows no signs of retiring. Ever since he decided to hire my husband, Ryan, almost 3 months prior, thanks to a phone call I had made in hopes of helping him, I've been mostly intimate with Marshall, but I've also had a few forays with a few of his most trusted Executives.

See, this was not planned on my part. My father, Joakim, had worked as part of the financial team at Collier, 20 years earlier. Having been fired by Marshall for laundering $150,000 and subsequently moving us back to Portugal when I was 11, I honestly never knew the parameters of my fathers firing as I grew older. All the denials, and failures Ryan encountered with every resume he uploaded had begun to weigh on him. Always given the excuse of not having enough experience, the scribble marks over prospective positions soon dwindled to a resume sent here and there. Knowing my father had worked there, and the fact Ryan and I lived 2 hours away from where he is currently employed, I genuinely believed I was helping him when I reached out to Collier Engineering.

Watching Marshall, every step down the stairs, his focus was on his tie. Not a handsome man by any stretch, he carried about 280 lbs. on his 6'1 body. Overweight by every standard, his silver hair also clarified his elder status. Showing a bald spot at the top of his head, I'll admit, I am sickened by his appearance. But even admitting to all that,

Marshall is well respected in the industry.

Whereever we go, we are given the best service. In a way, being 'arm candy' for Marshall has its' perks, but at the end of the night, my incessant moaning does bring a lot of guilt.

Meeting him at the bottom, Beatriz is already in her stroller. Slowly, yet seductively, spining around, I hope I present myself in a manner satisfactory to him.

"Show me," he boldly says, knowing my next move.

Reaching for the hemline of my dress, I slowly began to lift it. As the glossiness of the tan hosiery on my legs come into view, I don't stop until he sees the top of the nylon touching my tummy.

"Is this acceptable Mr. Collier," I submissively ask.

Reaching forward he inserts two fingers in the top of the nylon. Pulling outward just a little, he peeks over until his eyes see the perfecty manicured landing strip, that has had it's fair share of cum matted upon it. Also noticing the swelling of my vulva, from our earlier session this morning, a mischievous smirk appears on his face. As he releases my pantyhose, I situate them until they're taut to my belly once more.

"Perfect," He said. "I can't wait to be between those luscious, European legs later on."

Wanting to puke, I pursed another smile, each one, fake. "Thank you, Marshall. I can't wait either."

Once Beatriz was buckled, Marshall joined me in his LandCruiser. Spreading my legs, as I'm expected to, he rests his big, meaty hand on my inner thigh. Putting my left hand on his his, the wedding ring my husband put on my finger shines brightly. Scraping my nails ever so gently over the top of his hand, we drive off.

_________

"I just got off the phone with Colin," Marshall said, beginning a conversation. (Referring to Colin Mathis, his main negotiator/Vice President) "Looks like Ryan has been over -performing the last 3 trips the team has gone on. He actually impressed our client with his diagrams enough that they want to hire the firm to do the project."

Inside, I want to jump for joy, happy that my husband is a natural at what he does. But being with Marshall, in his LandCruiser, the words cautiously leave my mouth.

"Oh that's good news," I quietly say, continuing to rake my nails over his hand.

"Their plane lands at 9:30 or so," he said. Pausing, he quietly reminds me, "But you'll be too busy to greet him when he does get home."

Reminding myself of my worry, I proceed to speak. "Marshall, on our way home from dinner could we stop by the Walgreens?"

Agreeing. he proceeded to the restaurant.

_______

"Mr. Collier," the maitre'd said. "Your table is ready."

Showing us to our table, I pushed Beatriz' stroller. Behind me Marshall had a hand on my hip. All the eyes staring at us honestly made me uncomfortable. Looking more like he could be my father and Beatriz' grandfather, and not the man who's been relentlessly ploughing me through the mattress quite often, we finally reached our table. Taking my place to the right of Marshall, Beatriz sat in her high chair. His hand, again resting on my inner thigh, and my dress partially over my waist, I looked at the much older man perusing the menu.

"Marshall," I began, nervous about what I wanted to say. "I've been having morning sickness," I softly, but submissively said.

Clearly not paying any attention, I spoke again. "Querida," I began, changing to a Portuguese word, "I..I stopped using birth control when you hired my husband.

The word "Querida" meaning baby is a term of endearment.

"So what is it you're trying to tell me? He quipped, soundimg impatient.

"I..I.. might be pregnant," I ashamedly admitted.

Just about to respond, Marshall and Laci were interrupted. "Good Evening Mr. Collier, the usual, sir?"

Nodding, Marshall agreed, but took hold of the waiters' arm. She'll have a Seltzer Water.

After, eventually taking our orders we talked. About my husband, myself, my father, his misdeeds. But what bothered me most was the indifference this man showed. Being wealthy, I assume, affords you many advantages others don't get. Knowing that when we get back to the house, the house he convinced Ryan and I to lease since we originally lived 2 hours away, he will be pumping a few more loads into me, I have become use to his nonchalance.

"Did you bring my Viagra," the question, normal as of late.

"It's in my purse," I said, reaching for the bag.

Retrieving it, I had the blue pill to him. After ingesting it, I counted down the minutes before it took effect. Once it took effect, my night became longer. After putting my purse back down between us on the floor, our food arrived.

Honestly, having dinner in a pricey restaurant that I, technically, am not paying for, with a very wealthy man, is exciting. All the stares elicited while we patronized the restaurant were actually intriguing. Seeing an overweight, almost 70 year old man dining with a much much younger woman and a very young toddler in a high chair could have stirred any of a number of conspiracies to their assumptions.

There was a couple that figured us out, but also, weren't too timid to express themselves in public. "Oh he's fuckin' her," I heard, when I had excused myself to take my daughter to the restroom. "You don't dress like that for your father."

I guess the lassitude, obvious on my young visage, told quite the story. As much sex as Marshall and I have had over these past 3 months, but definitely these last 4 days since my husband left on his business trip, has taken its' toll. I walk with a gait in my stop. I am very submissive and timid towards Marshall. Being expected to be "Always Available" as Marshall explained to Ryan and me, when we finalized this..... understanding, I have been just that, Available.

My poor husband Ryan can only have sex with me so long as he wears a condom. Learning Marshall has a camera in the bedroom of the house we currently live in, Ryan and I can't try to dupe the situation. Clearly understanding the situation, I make certain he wears one. Any mishap, Ryan is fired, IMMEDIATELY, and we are out on the street. Intercourse with him seems forced now. Not enjoyable. He works, comes home, we eat, and just live.

When Marshall, Colin, Thomas, or James are with me, Oh my goidness, is it raucous. All of these men are later 50's to late 60's with Marshall, the oldest. In almost 3 months, the amount of condoms that have been used was astronomical. The bottle of Viagra, that sits on the nightstand by the bed, has been refilled twice already. For 4 men, that's astounding.

The kindness this man shows to my daughter, talking to her like a grandfather would, puts a smile on my face. But the difference in how he treats me and my husband, wow. As long as Ryan performs and does "what's in the best interest of the firm", he will be employed. Just the thought of my husband being blackballed in the industry frightens me.

But each night that I lie down on the bed, and raise my legs, I am comforted knowing Ryan's job is secure. Colin, Thomas, and James, who are 2 Vice-Presidents and one, chief of Security, have indulged in ‘my talents' a few times, but I'm mostly with Marshall. Fucking me relentlessly, I'm simply a vessel for this man.

After paying our bill, we proceed to leave. Pushing Bea's stroller, I have a sense of entitlement, since the man I am with is probably more prominent than anyone in this establishment.. Yes, in ways, that sends a rush through me. When Marshall and I are alone in the bedroom, just the 2 of us, grunting and moaning for hours on end fulfilling our carnal desires, nothing, and I mean nothing, could disrupt that. Well, other than my 2-yr old daughter Beatriz.

Joining me in the front seat after securing Beatriz in her carseat, Marshall was pleasantly surprised to see my dress up over my waist and my legs slightly parted.

"These thighs are awaiting your hand to rest upon, Mr. Collier," I seductively announce.

Placing his hand on my legs, the sensation of the tan colored fabric on his hand, must be exhilarating. In less than an 90 minutes, these 2 sheathed legs will be flailing wildly, yet again, in the dimly lit refuge we share most nights.

"You're insatiable, Laci," Marshall points out. "How lucky am I?" the shit-eating grin, plastered on his offensive face.

"We'll just have to wait and see, right," as I begin tenderly scraping my nails over the top of his right hand. Noticing my wedding ring, a sense of guilt always rushes over me.

_________

Pulling into the Walgreens parking lot, I quickly peck Marshall on the lips and go into the store. Locating the pregnancy tests, I grab 2. Going up to the counter to pay, using the credit card Marshall allows me to use, I pay for them. A sly smirk from the girl behind the counter, tells me she knows. Getting back in the vehicle, we proceed to the house.

Looking outside the window, watching life go by, people enjoying each other, cars passing us on the road, I sigh, silently, knowing what's in store for me.

__________

Arriving at the house, Marshall, ever the gentleman, opens my door, staring at my legs, I can only laugh inside. This powerful man, rich and demanding of respect, is like a puppy dog when he sees my legs.

Taking his hand, I put my legs out. "Obridago, amor," I quietly announce, as I step out of his vehicle. Meaning Thank you, baby, just speaking my language, seductively to him drives him wild.

After getting Beatriz out of the car, we go into the house.

"15 minutes, Laci," Marshall pointedly says.

Having a routine, I know his meaning. Taking my daughter upstairs, I get her ready for bed. Now 7:50 pm, I'll have a few extra minutes to prepare for Marshall.

"Remember, honey," I explain to my daughter, barely able to even understand, fully what I say to her. "Go to sleep. Mr. Collier and mommy have a long night planned."

Kissing her on the forehead, I tuck her in to her warm bed. Closing the door behind me, I proceed to our bedroom. Standing at the window, overlooking the large entrance to the house, Marshall is talking on the phone with someone. Taking the 2 pregnancy tests out of my purse, I go into the bathroom. After doing my duty, I place them on the nightstand next to our bed. awaiting the results.

Engrossed in a conversation I have no knowledge of, I stand right next to him, submissively awaiting his attention. Realizing my presence, he turns. Catching my gaze, he continues his conversation. Reaching for my sun hat, I remove it. Placing it on the table I place my petite hands on the strings of my dress. Not breaking eye contact with him, I pull the sash ever so slowly, feeling the tight feeling of my dress, loosen slightly. Now reaching for his belt, I unloosen it. Unsnapping his pants, I help them down his fat legs until they pool around his shoes, as I simultaneously kneel before him. Placing my fingers at the top of his underwear, I pull them down, ashamed of the woman I currently am.

Freeing the fatter-than-lengthy battering ram, I stare at it in disbelief, wondering how a 68-yr old man can hold that much girth in his pants. Never concerned with his length, just the thickness of his penis was something I wasn't prepared for the first time we had sex that night in his office.

Our eyes fix on one another, I ran my tongue slowly along the length of his cock. Engulfing what I could of his meaty pole, I work my throat up and down as the warmth of my passageway, and my throat muscles massage his bloasted beast.

"Jerry, we'll finish this conversation later," Marshall says, as I speed up my antics.

"GLUCK! GLUCK! GLUCK! GLUCK!"

The urgency of my deed, the usual beginning to our night, I awaken the beast hidden by his Armani underwear in preparation for the work it will be doing shortly.

"Damn Laci, you can suck dick," Marshall utters, holding my hair up for me. "Where have you been all my life?" The soft, yet authoritative nature in his voice, noticeable, he gives me usual sign. Gripping my head, he soon takes over thrusting in my throat.

"GLUCK! SHLOCK! HACK!"

The carnality in which Marshall employs, using me like a ragdoll, I feel his testicles rise. Awaiting his pending eruption, I am now at his mercy, my hands flat on his thighs as he is in control of everything.

"AHHYESSLACIGODYESSSSS!" Locking my head against his scrotum, my face is smooshed into the rolls of his belly, I feel bladt after blast of warm ick coating my throat. "God yes Laci!" Continuing to jerk uncontrollably in front of me, I feel his pent up juices coating the back of my throat. Desperate to swallow, I can feel it purging out of the sides of my mouth. Dripping down, his thrusting slows, then stops.

"AHHHHHHHHHH."

Releasing his grip, I pull off desperate for air.

"HACK!HACKHACK!"

Coughing as I try swallowing, the mascara on my eyes ran down my face.

Steadying himself against the wall, Marshall, breathing heavy, helps me to my feet. Looking like the whore that he treats me as, he simply orders, "Get on the bed Laci, I need to pound that pussy. Leave everything on."

Making my way to the bed, I sit as I lift the hem of my dress showcasing the sheer pantyhose encasing my legs. Stepping out of his pants and underwear, he climbs on the bed. Not bothering to remove his shoes or shirt, My husband's boss moves between my spread legs.

"Foda-me, (Fuck me) Marshall," I seductively mewl, as he takes hold of my legs and lifts them.

"Oh God yes," I yelp as he pushes his thick enormity into my waiting hole.

_______

10:15 pm...

"UNH!UNH!UNH!UNH!UNH!UNH!UNH!"

My nightly moaning, permeating throughout the relatively quiet house, had been flowing, continuously, since Marshall took his rightful place between my legs.

"EENER!EENER!THUMP!THUMP!EENER!"

That usual thumpage of the headboard battering the wall, as well as the annoying squeaking of the mattress and bedsprings have been playing their melodic tune.