College is an interesting time. Plenty to do, all sorts of people. People with money, people without. I left for school with what I had saved working at a grocery store, plus one third of the value of a scholarship my parents had given me as a reward. The engineering program offered a coop experience. A year and a half of school followed by six months of work, then the same again. We'd drink together every night, those of us on the coop program, and drag ourselves into work in the morning.

My boss. He was . . . I don't know how to put it. Charismatic in an obnoxious sort of way, which is to say that he would have been charismatic if he weren't obnoxious and I was uncertain which was under his control and which wasn't. But his enthusiasm and genuine interest in work made the process a pleasure, and also his lack of condescension. It was given that he knew more than me and that I was a student, not an engineer, and that I was to do as he asked, but none of this was ever felt in our interaction. Something about me at this time, perhaps loneliness, perhaps pleasure in his company, made me think of him when I . . . yes, well anyway. The truth is that I would fantasize about walking into his office, shutting the door behind me, and without a word, kneeling between his legs and unfastening his belt, unzipping his pants, pulling his half hard dick out and sucking it until he came in my mouth, then walking out without a word, leaving him unsure as to what had just happened.

But none of this ever entered my mind during work hours. Moments of self-consciousness that I didn't lend thought to, perhaps, but nothing more. It didn't even strike me as strange when he came to my little cubbyhole of an office one afternoon and said, "If you ever want a break from drinking, my wife would love to have you for dinner. She makes me feel guilty for leaving a perfectly nice young man all alone in a strange town with no one to . . . hell, I forget how she said it The point is, you're coming home with me tonight for dinner."


"I didn't want to give you a chance to think about it."

Eric made following him home difficult. He wove in and out of traffic and I ran more than one red light not to lose him. Pulling into the driveway behind him, I unfastened my seatbelt and stepped onto the concrete. He was smiling broadly back at me. "Come on," he said. "Don't want to keep our hostess waiting."

Our hostess was dressed formally. Well, formerly with a caveat. She wore a black top that concealed her breasts then parted to reveal her stomach, a skirt slit up the side nearly to the waist that revealed a garter belt, and what I can only presume people refer to as "fuck me pumps."

"You look lovely," Eric told her.

"Thank you," she said, looking at me. I could smell her pussy.

"I thought I heard you say something about switching to unscented fabric softener."

"Jerk," she said in a quiet, flat voice. "Make us drinks."

So, we sat and drank our drinks, Eric rambling and his wife gesturing to him every time I looked at her. A tilt of her head, a finger casually moving to point in his direction. Finally, she raised her eyebrows in exasperation and jabbed her finger twice towards her husband. I slid out of my chair - It seemed somehow easier - and crawled across the carpet to him. "Good boy," I heard her say. Eric's babble slowed but did not stop even as I unzipped his pants. When I took him in my mouth, his hand dropped to my hair and he fell silent.

There was something strange about sucking his dick, something that felt so wrong, tabooed, but in a warm, wicked welcome way. Whatever came over me, some desire to play out my fantasies for him or I don't know what, I basked in playing the part of the slut. When he groaned, I looked up into his eyes, bobbed my head twice more, then pulled back and began running my tongue around the head of his cock. "Cum in my mouth," I said and began sucking the very tip. Eric was watching me with mild astonishment as I slid my tongue down the underside of his cock. "My mouth is so hungry," I said, tilting my head to suck at the dark trail of veins that ran along the bottom of his dick. I engulfed him again, basking in my role as the seductress. When he began to gasp, I took him to the back of my throat and began swallowing to massage the head of his dick with the muscles at the back of my mouth, and all too soon I was struggling to accommodate rushing cum sprayed in spurts into my throat.

"Should we go upstairs?" Eric's wife chirped. I stood, the outline of my erection bulging in my loose pants.

Eric's wife smiled with the oddest little tilt of her head as she walked over to me. "I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Kathy." She dropped to her knees before me and deftly unbuckled and opened my pants. I let out a vague gurgling sound when she took me in her mouth. Instinctively reaching down, I placed a hand on either side of her head and began rocking back and forth on my heels with slow, steady enthusiasm that mounted with each puckering of her cheeks until I was fucking her face in a rabid stupor. Sharp pain brought me to my senses, her hand squeezing my balls.

"Fuck," I heard myself cry and then fell into complacency and let her mouth work its magic and half watched as her hand moved between my legs. Her head froze with only my head in her mouth and, without warning, a finger thrust itself into my asshole. I lost a few seconds. When I came to, Kathy was rising to her feet and the head of my cock was sheathed in hot cum, my own hot cum, dripping down onto the carpet.

She took hold of my wrist and, molding her hand around the back of mine, pressed it into her warm crotch. "Does baby like what he feels?" I nodded mutely. "Get hard soon." She turned and walked off into another part of the house.

"So," Eric said, "did you notice the traffic on Lafayette on the way here? That road construction has been going on for eight years now."

I gave him a disgusted look.

"What? I'm the sort of person who needs to talk to fill the silence."

"Does that mean the television would be enough for you?" I asked.

"Get undressed, kiddo. Kathy will be back in a few minutes. Would you like another drink?"

"I don't see how it could hurt."


Eric mixed a gin and tonic at the wet bar as I idly wondered whether the two of them had problems with alcohol. "Did you have that installed?"

"What?" he asked then, looking down, said, "Oh, this? No. Came with the house. Place was built in the late 70s. Every third house back then had one, trying to recapture the nostalgia of the 50s when dad was supposed to come home and have a drink to unwind. Did you ever meet that man? I know I never did."

I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees and my fingertips pressed to my temples.

"The shock will pass soon."

I looked at him, confused.

"Oh, so you've done that before?"

"No," I said with a shake of my head and took the drink from him.

Eric sank into the chair opposite from the sofa I sat on and stared off into space, fingers toying with the top of his glass. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

I stared at him blankly, unsure how to answer, unsure what I wanted.

"Are you clean?" he asked, spreading his legs and pointing beneath his crotch. I nodded my head in a slightly non-committal fashion. "Come over here and let me take a look."

Rising up off the sofa, I waked in front of Eric's chair and bent over, placing my hands on my knees. "Don't fuck me." A flush ran through me. "Yet."

"Dear Christ," Kathy's voice rang out from the doorway. "It's like a God damned Luis Bunuel film in here. Have either of you seen The Discrete Charm of the Bourgeoisie?"

Eric laughed. "Would you like to fuck my wife?" he asked.

"I don't need your permission," I said to him and, walking over to Kathy, embraced her with a kiss.

She broke away. "You're asking for it." I stared at her, slightly quizzical. "My pussy," she said, with a grin that looked more like bared teeth. She unfastened the skirt at her waist and lay back on the sofa, draping one leg over its back. Kneeling between her legs, firmly erect, I pushed into her warmth. Her eyes widened in slow, pulsing time to my thrusts until she stared glassy eyed off into space. "Who are you?" she asked.


"Kevin? Kevin? Kevin?"

"Mommy," I whined, in a pained voice.

She wrapped an arm around me. "Fuck me. Fuck me good." It seemed only a minute later that she held up her hand, signaling that she was too sensitive to continue. "Just give me a minute," she said and stood, one arm out for balance. I wouldn't let her get away. Grabbing her from behind, I pushed her into the side of the sofa. She instinctively gripped the arm and I pulled her hips back. "You bad fucking boy," she groaned as I slid into her again. The whines and mewls and scent of her cunt enveloped me. "You don't dare," she said.

I saw Eric slip behind me out of the corner of my eye and felt his hands on my cheeks, gripping, rubbing. Hunching forward over his wife's back, something in me changed. I was no longer approaching orgasm, stuck in some strange limbo of half-satisfying stimulation. His grip on my hips told me he wanted me to be still.

"Mmmmm," Kathy hummed, begging to squirm and grind against me. Something warm and soft touched my anus and my whole body seemed to contract. When it entered me, I screamed. I reached orgasm in a matter of seconds through which high pitched shrieks echoed through the house. Begging Kathy not to cum, I slumped over her, grabbing her back for balance.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. "We should take a shower. Come with me."

I followed Eric upstairs as he stripped his clothes off and tossed them on the floor, watching his body in a way that was unfamiliar to me, seeing its beauty. We wound up face a tile enclosure with no door, opposite a tub. Eric pushed me into the turned the water on and pushed me roughly into the tile room. Shivering violently under the cold water, I placed both hands on the wall and bent over. The water began to warm and I closed my eyes. I couldn't hear much through its hammering. Hands spread my ass cheeks and something pressed into me, a rough pressure that found its sweet spot. I groaned with a tremendous sense of relief when his cock slid inside me, eyes opening. Out of their corner, I could see Kathy, still dressed except for her skirt, playing with her pussy as she watched her husband violently fuck me. I stood there and took it, my sphincter tightening and loosening around his cock, fixated on his wife's pussy. Then something changed. My shitter lost all resistance and Eric was slapping against my ass with ease. The hands on my waist that he had only been using to brace himself started guiding me and his pace slowed. Working with his hands, we found a sensuous rhythm. We were . . . making love. The world grew hazy as I watched Kathy open her top and begin to play with a nipple, a droplet of moisture appearing on its tip. "Baby," she cooed. Gasping and grunting and oblivious in the throes of passion, I didn't stop to think. There was no thought. Off in some other world, I could still feel Eric's cock, but mostly there was only my warm, writhing, pleasure. I heard Eric cry out and then emptiness as he left my body. I slumped to the floor and again noticed Kathy, massaging both breasts. I staggered over to her and latched onto her, fastening onto one, cupping the nipple with my tongue as I began to feed on the few drops of milk I could suck from her. When it was clear no more would come, I looked up at her.

"You've been a good boy," she said. "Do you want to go home or would you like to stay for dinner?"