2. The Jack Grierson Chronicles -- Casey
1. There was only a perfunctory knock on the door and Laura Kristin Carlotta "Casey" du Paige swept into Jack's sumptuous corner office. She was cool and elegant in a Versace suit. The plunging neckline together with a double-strand pearl choker emphasized her full and firm breasts. The skirt was tight and smooth around her firm and rounded hips. "She's wearing a thong," Jack thought lasciviously. "Or maybe she isn't wearing panties!"
For all his lechery, all he had gotten from her were a few cheap feels. Nothing seemed to faze her. She blunted even Jack's rough and ready approaches with sarcasm, a haughty manner and when necessary, a quick and strong pair of hands. Jack's father-in-law Reginald St James, who owned the corporate group, had brought her in as Executive Vice President. Jack was sure that she reported everything to St James, but she was far more than a mere spy. She was sharp as a whip and as hard as nails. Her auburn hair was cut in a short bob. Her icy blue eyes were piercing behind fashionable Dolce & Gabbana glasses. Jack had stolen a look through them, so he knew they were plain glass. She only wore them to look more authoritative.
As usual she had a slim file that she opened on Jack's desk. She proceeded to lead him through new incentive policies that she had developed. They went over it fast, each knowing and appreciating the other's quick brains and sharp thinking. Jack signed the required documents and said, "Well, just run it by legal and we should be able to implement it all by next month."
She snapped the file shut. Following up on his earlier thoughts, Jack put his hand on her hip and squeezed, feeling for her panties through the skirt. He felt her warm and firm flesh, but could not find a panty-line before she slapped his hand away with practiced ease. Jack's groping had become routine, but Reginald St James paid her far too much for her to worry about it.
"Well, Casey," said Jack. "Do you finally want to suck my cock?"
His crude come-ons never failed to irritate her.
"That's you in a nutshell, Jack. Part American, part British and all asshole." Her voice was sharp, like a whiplash, but Jack was used to it and merely smiled blandly.
She swept for the door, clicking her open-toe Jimmy Choo stiletto heels on the parquet floor. Her hand was on the doorknob when Jack spoke.
"So why are you going to Stockholm again? It will be the sixth time this year. Our Swedish operations are worth less than a hundred million, certainly not enough to justify that much of your time."
She released the doorknob and slowly turned around to face him.
"How do you know about my Stockholm trips? I didn't use company funds or the corporate travel office."
Jack continued smiling blandly.
"Come on Casey, I know that you and Mr. St James have me watched. Don't you expect me to do the same?"
"Well, it is none of your business."
"Oh yes, it is. You are going on company time," he paused and smiled. "I think I'll go over next week when you are there; I haven't been over to our Stockholm office for some time. We can have some fun together in the Stockholm archipelago."
"I will make sure to avoid seeing you, Jack," she said. Now she did turn and sweep out.
"I've got your itinerary!" he called after her. "I'm booked on the same flight -- we're both in the First Class cabin." She did not stop walking, but he was sure that she heard him.
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2. No sooner had the door swung shut behind Casey than it opened again and Farah Hojjat, Jack's attractive executive assistant came in. She wore a dark business suit with a semi-diaphanous silk blouse, dark stockings and strappy pumps. A native Iranian, she had grown up in England, earning her undergraduate degree and MBA from Oxford. Jack first met her at an Oxford alumni event, where he had gone to represent St James, who was a big donor. She was married to Hossein Dardelli, a very religious Iranian diplomat, who viewed women as mere vessels to serve male sexual appetites.
Hossein's religious views ruled his sexual relations with his wife. He fucked Farah regularly, every other day, but it was always the same. He came home late, usually after she had gone to bed. He shed his clothes in the dark, and bulled into bed naked, already with a hard-on. He pulled off her panties, pushed up her nightie and pushed his cock into her with no foreplay. He cursed her if she did not work her hips and hands to help him enter her as soon as possible. He pounded her hard and fast and almost always came with a series of grunts just as she was beginning to get moist. He was in no hurry to become a father and usually pulled out and squirted his modest ejaculate on her belly. Needless to say, Farah found her conjugal relationship boring, often painful, but never pleasurable.
At work, she spent a great deal of time with Jack and he had become a big part of her sex life. Their affair had begun with Jack as predator and her as prey -- when they met for the first time, Jack had forced himself on her. But over time, she had grown addicted to the intense physicality of their sexual interludes.
In quick office romps, Jack hiked up her skirt, stripped off her panties and fucked her over his desk, often doggie-style. With his nails scraping her aureoles, often through her bra, he always had her nipples thick and engorged almost instantly; with his fingers working her clit, she was wet within moments. When he drove his huge cock into her soaking cunt, it only took a few more minutes of pistoning for her to go over the edge and come, often with such loud cries that he had to stifle her with a cushion.
In multi-hour afternoon trysts in his suite at the Hilton, he fucked her repeatedly, in every position and in every orifice, often using bondage. He fucked her in the bed, on the furniture, on the thickly carpeted floor, holding her up on the walls of the anteroom, over the sink and in the shower. Farah had so many mind-blowing orgasms in these marathon sex sessions that she was lightheaded for hours afterward. She always went home and straight to bed, for she could not concentrate on anything else -- all she could think about was sex. Delightfully sore as she was, she often masturbated as soon as she got into her own bed at home. Gouts of semen that Jack pumped deep into her seeped out as she masturbated and she used the viscous fluid lubricate her clit with her rapidly moving fingers.
Initially she was worried by her unfaithfulness to Hossein. But soon she was inured by the contrast between Jack's delight in driving her to longer and harder orgasms, and Hossein's single-minded focus on his own ejaculation. Jack was keen to breed her and she was not entirely averse to the idea, so she was rather lackadaisical about birth control. This attitude, coupled with Jack's determination, made it inevitable that Farah became pregnant. Jack was the first person she told and he insisted that she have a DNA test. He was delighted when she gave him the results confirming that he was the father.
She told Hossein a week later, and endured an hour-long tongue-lashing as he berated her for her lack of consideration for HIS position. A child would complicate his life and he needed to focus on his career, he shouted. It was Islamic to have children, she countered, eventually calming him down. She took considerable pleasure in the fact that her husband did not even begin to suspect her secret sex life. And that he would bring up Jack's child as his own.
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3. Casey had stoked him and Jack was even hornier than usual. So now he enveloped Farah in a tight hug, running his hand over her belly where her pregnancy was just beginning to make a bulge. He slid his other hand up her skirt to feel her crotch. But she had had severe morning sickness since she had woken up and it blunted her sexual desires. So she twisted out of his arms saying, "Be serious, Jack. I've got an important courier package for you."
