Cornered 2

Cheri grinned, and shook her head, awestruck, as she shuffled into a dim back booth in the almost deserted dining room of the private golf and country club, of which Craig was a member. She still couldn't believe it - who would believe it? She, Cheryl Bernard, aged 42; high school teacher of English Literature; mother of two; who still, ironically, believed she was happily married, was having a steamy affair. "Who woulda thunk?" she silently asked herself as they settled into the corner, snuggling together like a couple of teenagers.

Craig Pfeiffer was a vice-principal at the school where she worked. Four years her junior, he was single and handsome - with chiseled features and a muscular bod. Cheri had known him for five years. Everybody liked him; he was a bit of a flirt, a rather glib ladies' man, and the female staff were all sweet on him.

But, secretly, Cheri felt just a little bit superior. She smiled inside, smugly, when she watched the antics in the staffroom. "Sure, he's flirting with the them," a tingle sparkling across her sex, "But he's fucking me!" She felt a somewhat irrational satisfaction at being the chosen one - 'The' chosen one.

She smiled as she recalled how it started. The two of them had scared the shit out of each other in the copy room one evening, in the otherwise deserted school. Embarrassed and awkward, her heart still racing, Cheri had looked up into Craig's eyes - and he had peremptorily seized her in embrace and pressed his mouth to hers. It seemed that in a whirl of clothing they were suddenly screwing, right there on the table next to the copier. After that, they generally avoided having sex at school, ostensibly to reduce the risk to their careers. Nonetheless, they had been intimate, now, for coming on three months.

Initially, they'd used Craig's condo, but, really, only the first two or three times. To augment the spice of their secret trysts, they had, at Craig's insistence, begun to experiment with varying locations. Craig seemed to relish the idea of doing it in public, thrilling to the attendant risk of discovery; ironically, reveling in the exact risk they were allegedly trying to avoid. But Cheri was enamoured with Craig just enough to go along with it - delighting, still, in the excitement of the illicit affair.

Today's location seemed relatively safe, as it was well before dinner hour, and, therefore, pretty much empty. The moment the waiter turned away, after taking their drink orders, Cheri and Craig began to play tonsil hockey - groping and giggling like a pair of frisky kids.

Ray Smits, a college friend of Cheri's son, Mark, worked in the kitchen, and immediately recognized both Mrs. Bernard and Mr. Pfeiffer, when they came in. He had been to Mark's place a couple of times, and thought that his mom was cute, for an older woman. Cute enough for him to have entertained a few sexual fantasies about her.

He also knew she was married to a college professor, and that Mr. Pfeiffer, the man with her, was not that man. Mark's dad, Cedric, was working on getting his tenure, putting in long hours. A fact which, conveniently, it would seem, gave Cheri lots of free afternoon time.

Mulling this over, watching for a moment, from the shadows, Ray caught sight of Mr. Pfeiffer briefly dipping his hand into Mrs. Bernard's blouse. Ever the opportunist, Ray quickly contrived to inconspicuously set up his camera/phone - on video, at max telephoto - propped up on an unused buffet table. Catching glimpses of their amorous play throughout their dinner, it was not until he reviewed his surreptitious video after work, that Ray realized the treasure trove he had.

The video started out with Mr. Pfeiffer, hands beneath her top, seriously mauling Mrs. Bernard's tits. They were interrupted by the arrival of drinks, scrambling to straighten their disheveled clothing as a waitress approached. As soon as she'd left, Pfeiffer pulled Mrs. B's boobs free, flipping them out of her bra. He leaned in and sucked and nibbled her exposed nipple, twiddling the other bud while pushing his free hand down behind the table cloth, just out of sight, but apparently digging at her skirt. By her reaction he quickly made contact with her 'go' button.

After a short while, surveying the area constantly, they suddenly jolted into recovery action. Mrs. B., Cheri, managed to cover her chest, but left her bra askew across the top of her bosom. The waiter took their order, pretending not to notice. When he had gone, the lovers, believing they were unobserved, recommenced pawing and groping and kissing with an adolescent intensity. Pfeiffer pushed his hand down, apparently between her legs, and obviously began finger fucking her, nibbling her nipple once again, until (and Ray ran the video back over this part several times) it appeared - head thrown back, mouth open, eyes closed, shoulders trembling - Cheri climaxed.

As dinner arrived, Cheri looked winded and unkempt. As the amorous couple ate, they spoke - eyes down, heads inclined together - almost coyly, as if they were embarrassed with their behavior. But, between dinner and dessert, they began intense necking yet again. Then, after catching her breath, Cheri glanced furtively about, giggled, and dropped her head into lover's lap.

They almost got caught that time, with the unexpected arrival of the busser. Sitting up suddenly, Cheri pretended to be picking something off Craig's lap, nonchalantly wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Still, she apparently gave, if Craig's facial expressions were any indication, an acceptable surreptitious blow job - "Not actually very subtle," Ray thought as he watched the footage once again that night in the privacy of his own room. It was not the best video quality, he mused, but eminently discernable. And, in a flash, an irresistible idea sprang fully formed into his head as he viewed his catch a third time.

Ray put his devious plan in motion right away, dropping by the Bernard residence the very next Saturday afternoon. He knocked sharply on the back door. Luckily Cedric was working the weekend, again, as usual. Marie, Mark's Grade Twelve sister, was at theatre rehearsal - always busy, it seemed, with the community theatre troupe or soccer; and Mark, working hard at 2nd year arts, in college, was at the library until goodness knew when. Cheri opened the door, looking slightly puzzled.

"Hello, Mrs. Bernard. I'm a friend of Mark's."

"Oh, Mark's not here at the moment, he's..."

"That's all right. It's you I wanted to talk to." Cheri felt shiver run down her back. This young fellow was a little too slick - sleazy. "You see," he continued, "I work at the golf club restaurant. And I just wanna show you something. May I come in?" Cheri's blood ran cold, as she woodenly moved aside. "Lookit this, will ya?" He wasted no time in firing up the video player on his phone and showing it to his frozen subject.

Cheri watched in horror, mouth agape, as the content of the video sunk in. A hollow feeling filled her gut, spreading slowly, blotting out her emotions, her awareness; blotting out everything, save a glowing ember in the back corner of her mind, a spark of erotic appreciation of how, objectively, hot they looked, there, having sex in public. She continued to watch, intently, all the way through, until her image surfaced from Craig's lap to shimmy out of her panties and slither up his body. She had captured his face in her unsupported cleavage, then, as she recalled, she'd straddled his lap and located his twitching cockhead with her tingling pussy lips. The video recorded her, impassively, as she lowered herself onto his rigid peg, and began riding it stealthily.

The sudden slamming of a door, on the recording, startled her. She heard the chatting voices of other dinner parties that interrupted their fuck, but the slamming of the door had, apparently caused the camera to tip over, and so only the audio was recorded, as they scrambled frantically, she recalled clearly, to avoid detection. There was no video of them gathering themselves and leaving - nor, Cheri shivered, of what happened in the parking lot. Thank goodness!

Ray had watched enough crime shows on the tube to understand the rudiments of blackmail. And that's all this was - basic but effective, or so he hoped, extortion.

"If you don't want this shared around - family, friends, neighbours, colleagues, the net - you'll do as I say." He grinned an evil grin.

"You've got to be kidding," Cheri gasped, knowing full-well that he wasn't.

"No. Just think what this will do for your career, not to mention your personal life." He chuckled. "Nope, you're hooped. You've got no options. I mean, look at this," and he turned his phone so she could see the share screen, showing that at the touch of a button he could send the offending material to her son, Mark. "And he would only be the first!"

Dropping the phone into his pocket as he dropped the friendly façade, Ray growled, "Now, show me you understand, by giving me a quick blowjob." Cheri froze as he lowered his fly, and opened his jeans, exposing his stiffening prick. "Right now!" he demanded, impatiently.

Amazingly quickly Cheri resigned herself to coerced felatio, right there in the laundry room/mud room, figuring it was probably the best place to be forced into such debauchery - as there were several escape routes. She dropped to a crouch and tentatively took him in hand, studying the thickening appendage for a moment. Afraid someone might come home, and she'd have to explain how she got into that position, she simply closed her eyes and dove into her task.

Cheri realized that the better the head she gave, the faster it'd get done, so she conjured up some enthusiasm, and really went at it. Rounding her lips, she pushed deep onto his still hardening cock, then sucking in her cheeks, she pulled back to the rim of his glans. Pausing just a moment, she pushed herself back over him again, a little deeper this time. She did this a few more time until her lips brushed his pubic beard, and she held him deep-throated, rocking his cockhead subtly against the back of her throat, and flexing her cheeks against his shaft. She had, she thought to herself, learned a lot about felatio from Craig.

Ray resisted the urge to use his hands to guide her, or even to touch her. He let her - obliged her, as it were - to do all the work herself. He just thrust his hips against her face - while retrieving his camera from his pocket. Ray could feel a climax building in his balls. He wasn't going to hold out much longer.

"Ah, you're doing well," Ray groaned. "Keep on sucking. And let me see your eyes." Puzzled, Cheri pulled back slightly, and looked up, through her lashes, at him, through the camera lens. Ray was well-pleased with the picture. She looked, he thought, all doey-eyed and sultry - even willing. Suddenly, his crisis upon him, he frenetically rammed his hips at her, cupping the back of her head with his free hand, and pulling to meet each thrust, until he froze, holding her tight against his pubis, his erection jolting and juddering in her mouth. Throwing his head back, he bellowed, "Arrrgh!" as his camera continued to click, and he unloaded his thick cum, in a series of spurts, down her gullet.

Cheri gagged and sputtered, leaking the excess semen out the corners of her mouth, as well as out her nose. Nevertheless, much to his delight, she was able to swallow most of his emission. Rocking back on her heels, she let the still turgid tool drop from her mouth, and wiped ineffectively at the cum on her face. Pulling herself up on his hips, she rose to stand in front of her conquistador - her rapist. She looked him in the eyes, her own face silently questioning.

"Well," he said, smugly, "now that we've established some good will, I'll be back to negotiate a more enduring settlement." Then as Cheri watched, motionless and shocked, he turned and left furtively through the garage and out the side door.

Cheri stood there, flustered, staring at the closed door for a long while. Absently wiping the cum off her face with an old towel, she ruminated on what just happened. She was disgusted with herself, at how easily she had given in. How quickly she'd concluded there was no way out. And how, in ostensibly trying to get it over with, she'd started to really get into it - how she'd compared, as she'd sucked, her blackmailer's cock to her husband's, to Craig's. Given how quickly and completely she'd caved, how easily she'd capitulated, she was surprised she didn't feel worse. It must be, she decided, due to her guilty conscience. It occurred to her that, if it was not actually divine retribution, it was, most certainly, some sort of negative Karma, a result of being a cheater - an adulteress. Whatever. Perhaps she was just getting what she deserved. And that was why it was not so shockingly bad as she thought it should be.

Late the next school day found Cheryl waiting until the office staff had gone before entering Pfeiffer's office. He was waiting, curious about the cryptic text she'd sent him that morning. Cheri closed the door behind her, and, leaning back against it, let out a heavy sigh before dissolving into tears. Craig came around his desk and pulled her into his arms, whispering comforting nothings into her hair.

Slowly, as the tears subsided, she told him what had happened. He wanted to know all the details - details of the video, and the assault. Craig hugged and squeezed her tenderly, while asking her to go over it, again and again, in greater and greater detail. At first Cheri thought he was working out a plan to rectify the situation, to save her from impending humiliation, but Cheri soon realized, as she described the contents of the video, that he was getting turned-on - getting increasingly aroused by the lurid details of their own liaison. Cheri could feel his firmness pressing into her thigh, and the trembling tension in his embrace.

She was, at first, appalled by his response. He was actually titillated by the whole thing - by her threatened exposure. Not really too concerned with her well-being, he didn't seem even cognizant of how it could impact his own life, too. Cheryl couldn't understand it; notwithstanding, she could feel herself beginning to get turned-on; aroused by his growing arousal. In fact, as she continued with her description of the situation, and description of the video, she reached down to stroke his stiffening boner, as they fed off each other's excitement. She was baffled by the inappropriateness of what they both felt; but thrilled with the mutual arousal, nonetheless.

Especially when she recounted the video of her orgasm on Craig's fingers: "You could clearly see that your hand was at my sex; clearly see movement, diddling," Cheri recounted, her breath becoming ragged. Craig slid one hand between them, cupping Cheri's boob, his fingers catching and pinching her nipple through her top and bra. "You could tell I was getting aroused. My mouth went slack; my head went back; eyes rolled back, then closed. You could almost see me vibrating." The erotic image filled her awareness as she continued, dreamily, shocks of sensation radiating from her stimulated tit. "I had never been so turned on as I was at that moment!"

Cheri could picture, in her mind's eye, the screen on Ray's phone, with the tiny image of Craig lowering his head. "Then you could see me stiffen and twitch and jolt, as you dropped your mouth and bit my nipple, blasting me into orbit!" Moaning at the recollection which was firing her up, even as she retold it, Cheri went on. "You could see my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath."

She paused her reminiscence for a moment, luxuriating in the building tension. Craig prompted her softly, as he continued to manipulate her sheathed breasts. "Go on. What else did it show?"

"Well, it ended just after that - just as I was straddling you, riding your cock, just as we were rudely interrupted by that group of people. But," Cheri purred, savouring the recollection, "Ray, that bastard, really missed the best part - after the coitus interruptus by the arriving diners - the parking lot, following our hasty retreat." They had stumbled into the dusk, laughing and clutching. Standing in Craig's office, they each, quietly, recalled the scene.

As they'd reached the car, parked against the trees in the gathering gloom of the evening, Craig had stopped her, crouched before her, and, with one smooth motion, reached under her skirt to run his fingers through her soaked bush, confirming the absence of her panties. Without missing a beat, he'd flipped her skirt over his head and planted his face into her still-moistened snatch. Drawing his tongue along her furrow, circling her clit, he'd begun to eat her. His expertise had immediately become evident through Cheri's sudden and intense arousal. Holding his head in tight, she'd vibrated, whimpering pathetically. And he'd played her like a fiddle, bringing her ever so close to climax, then pulling back to leave her hanging.

Just when she'd thought she could take no more, he had stood abruptly, spinning her around, and bending her over the rear fender, resting her elbows on the trunk lid for support. Having managed, somehow, to set his cock free, Craig had pushed into her savagely, urgently, and begun to pound her pussy. Fucking her doggy style in the gloaming, they'd ignored the arriving vehicles pulling up to the clubhouse, just across the lot. Cheri's orgasm had begun with the fourth stroke and continued, peaking and subsiding, but not ending, until Craig had grunted and slammed himself into her, holding his hips hard against her ass, pumping spurt after spurt, gush upon gush, into her welcoming cunt.

Falling onto Cheri's back Craig had slipped out as he caught his breath. Looking back toward the clubhouse as they rearranged their clothes, Craig had thought he detected a few curious or puzzled glances in their direction, from fellow patrons.

"I don't think I'd ever cum so hard in my life," Cheri observed, her breath ragged with the memory, just as Craig's was. At an unseen signal, they both began pulling at one another's clothing, pulling limbs free, knocking things off Craig's desk. With a chaotic scramble, they dissolved into wild, passionate sex right there on his blotter, feet tangling in his desk lamp, his laptop under their bodies. Stabbing her with his rock-hard erection, he felt himself gripped by her spasming vagina as he proceeded to pound her mercilessly. Of course, Cheri wasn't looking for mercy. Raising her legs, she locked her ankles around Craig's ass, and pulled tight, willing their frenetic connection to meld into one. Mewling and squealing, Cheri's desperate cries accompanied Craig's gasping moans, heralding in an unbelievably strong shared orgasm, that left them both panting and quaking.

In the afterglow, as her situation slammed back into her awareness, Cheri asked, "What now? He's going to come back! What can we do?"

Craig looked at her, pondering. "I dunno. See what happens next, I guess. I mean, you've already given him a blowjob. Will he want something else - something more? Probably. But what, you'll have to wait and see, won't you?"

Though Cheri was disappointed with Craig's response, she was not really surprised. Somehow, she understood his unarticulated point-of-view. He really didn't see it as his problem. "He's not the one having an extramarital affair," she realized. "He's not the one being abused."

"Yeah. Wait, I s'pose, and see what he does next." He seemed, almost embarrassed by the lameness of his solution. Cheryl realized, then, that she was on her own. Craig was going to be virtually no help at all.

Cheri spent the rest of the week on pins and needles, desperately trying to appear normal around the house and in her classroom. At last, on Saturday morning, less than a week later, the inevitable arrived.