Karen Ziegler Read online

  "Now, baby," he suddenly groaned, hoarse with mounting need. "Come over here and give me some of those sweet lips, the way I taught you."

  With a soft moan of pleasure, his naked mistress wiggled across the desk, then leaned on one elbow until her beautiful face was poised directly in front of him, within inches of his now hard, pulsing shaft of flesh rising menacingly up from the unzipped front of his trousers. Her long, red-lacquered fingernails scratched lightly over the heavily-veined surface of the rock-hard prick, causing it to jerk convulsively as the hot air of her breath blew softly on it. Max's breath quickened even more as she began to expertly massage the massive cock, lovingly, up and down until one glistening drop of pearly translucent fluid seeped out from the broad, mushroom-shaped head. She then moved her slender fingers down lower to his sperm-bloated balls, cradling their softness in her palm. Max groaned and gritted his teeth at her expertly tender ministrations of his stiff cock and large drooping testicles.

  "Do you like it, sweetheart?" she asked coquettishly, fully aware of the heated effect that her naked female body and the teasing touch of her fingertips was having on him. "Does it make you forget all about those nasty business problems that always bother you?"

  "You know damn well I like it, bitch," Max growled, irritated by her mention of the business annoyances that he was trying so hard to forget. "Don't tease me, Goddammit. Just suck my cock!"

  Suddenly, he moaned and jerked his anxious loins forward involuntarily as the delicious wet warmth of her parted lips closed over the sensitive, blood-swollen glans of his penis. He moaned louder and reached down to tangle his fingers tightly in her dark wavy hair, guiding the rhythm of her now-bobbing head below.

  God, how he had needed this!

  Max looked down to watch the beautiful woman's penis-filled face, her soft lips stretched wide with the thickness of his aching cock buried at least halfway up in her sucking mouth. June sensed his increasing excitement and began to suck harder, twirling her smooth red tongue titillatingly around the moist stickiness of the bulbous head. As he felt the tips of her teeth digging gently into the rubbery, resisting skin, he turned his head to gaze sideways into the huge mirror that filled the wall beside his desk for a better view of his gorgeous, willing mistress' face as his turgid, hard rod began to saw rhythmically in and out of the brunette's wetly ovaled mouth. Christ, just the sight alone was enough to drive him insane, causing his loins to tense more and jerk up into her laboring face until the reflected image he saw looked as though he were ramming his long, hard prick more than halfway down her slender throat. Practically all of his thick fleshy penis now seemed to disappear with each new powerful thrust he made until finally only a short stretch of it showed shining wet and white, protruding from her distended lips. She was gorged with his fiery blood-filled flesh, his pulsating length like a savage creature with its own existence and needs that had taken control over his body and mind.

  Jesus, he swore to himself, the bitch could really suck cock, as though she had been born with one in her mouth and had learned to treat it as part of herself. Sure, he often desired other women – the younger and more innocent the better – but he could always depend upon June to deliver the kind of pure satisfaction he wanted… like this… and without any bothersome preliminaries.

  June's experienced tongue worked with a nerve-tingling swipe of its tip on each out-stroke and was making his cock-head throb and lurch as if a live electric wire were being touched against it. The impassioned middle-aged steel executive was completely mesmerized by the lewd spectacle in the mirror, watching the pink moist flesh of her tightly compressed lips being focused on the labor of giving him this obscene pleasure. Her full, heavy breasts bobbed and swayed against her rocking torso, and the very sight of it incited him to increasing heights of brain-reeling passion.

  "Keep on, keep on sucking my cock," Max hissed through tightly clenched teeth, wishing that all of his employees could give him as much pleasure as this one, this mature, full-bodied woman. Shit, if the editor of the company magazine were a woman and not Henry Cummings, how he would love to shove his stiff prick deep down in her throat, as far as he humanly could, to teach her a lesson she would never forget, so that she would never again forget to include the face of Maxwell Alexander in any future issue. The thought of the missing picture in New World Steel filled him with a renewed momentary anger and he wound his hand brutally in his mistress' soft brown hair, driving her face down viciously into his thrusting loins.

  "Suck harder, suck faster, Goddammit," he snarled down at the woman slaving between his wide-spread, trembling legs. Her ripe body was beginning to gleam from the light beading of sweat forming on her ivory skin, and he was gloating and enjoying the sight of her lying subserviently on the desk, her lipstick-ovalled lips wrapped tightly around the thick roundness of his stone-hard cock as he stood over her, lunging his hips furiously into her lovely twisted face.

  He could feel a powerful pressure building relentlessly up to a fever pitch in his painfully full balls, and he knew it would not be long now. His huge cock felt like it was ready to explode and spew the hot creamy sperm in his bloated testicles in all directions, everywhere in the room.

  He drove his pelvis heartlessly into her face, even more cruelly now, and heard with delight the mumbled cry of protest that came from her as his long hefty prick drubbed deeper and deeper into her tortured, warm wet mouth, driving far down into her working throat. But he heeded nothing in his quest to end this exquisite agony, the ecstasy that was building, building, building to the peak of spectacular relief in his burning loins and within his balls.

  Suddenly he felt a great upheaval in his lust-swollen testicles as the boiling white sperm began to race in a hot stream up the length of his thrusting cock. His own lips pulled back over his teeth in an ecstatic grimace and he gasped hoarsely as though in excruciating pain. His thick fleshy penis began a sudden wild staccato jerking that, without warning, flooded his beautiful mistress' hungrily sucking mouth with burst after burst of heatedly sticky cum, ballooning her smooth cheeks outward with each bullet-like spurt, so that she had to swallow quickly to keep from choking, yet still mewling and crooning at his driving loins.

  "Don't stop, baby, suck it, suck it!" he rasped as he tightened his hands in her tawny hair and convulsively slammed his pulsating cock farther and farther into her lipsticked mouth and deep down into her distended throat. The naked woman obeyed and continued to suck insanely as he shot his lewd sperm into her, filling her mouth, almost drowning her, until at last he gave a shuddering sigh and pulled himself back and out of her lips for one final thrust. But he missed her still eagerly sucking mouth by a fraction of an inch when he lunged forward again. The blunt inflamed head rammed against the side of her face by mistake, leaving a long sticky trail of hot cum smeared lewdly along her upper lip and her right cheek. Undaunted, June twisted her head and maneuvered her voracious mouth to seize the base of his hard-throbbing staff of flesh between her teeth, like a dog with a stick. Then, grasping his scrotum with her fingers, she lifted her head to guide the glistening tip back into the warmth of her open mouth, squeezing up on the cock with her fingers to milk out and devour every last drop of the delicious white fluid.

  Little by little, his sated penis deflated between her ovalled lips and, at last, Max collapsed back into his chair in exhaustion, pulling his prick from her lips with a wet little slurping sound that resounded wetly in the stillness of the office. A great sigh of relief escaped his lips, and June lay back happily on the desk, a loving, contented smile spreading across her beautiful, cum-smeared face. She lay there for a few moments, catching her breath, then sat up again on the edge of the desk.

  "That's something you can't get in a board meeting, isn't it, Max?" the perspiring brunette asked with a proud little smirk, a sparkle of female triumph in her brownish-yellow eyes. Catching sight of the magazine that lay crumpled beneath her rounded thigh, she picked it up and added with a silly giggle, "Why don't you have H
enry do a story on my blowjobs, Max? Think of the publicity you'd get!"

  At the sight of the copy of New World Steel, Max's face darkened and he felt his irritation returning anew. He knew that it was no use trying to explain to June what that irresponsible punk, Henry Cummings, had done, for she would only laugh and tell him he was being too sensitive. Still, though, it was his magazine and his company, and he had a good mind to teach that young editor a lesson. Perhaps June might have some ideas, he mused inwardly.

  Just then, his angry thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of the intercom.

  "What do you want?" he barked gruffly into the console, abruptly motioning to June to get off his desk.

  "You have a visitor, sir," the receptionist's half-frightened voice informed from the speaker. "I wouldn't have bothered you, sir, but she said it was personal and very important. She says her name is Mrs. Cummings – Mrs. Henry Cummings. Isn't Henry Cummings the…?"

  "I know who he is, dammit," Max interrupted impatiently. At the same moment, however, a strange light of interest began to fill his crafty eyes. "Personal, is it? Well, ask her to please wait for five minutes or so, and then send her on in."

  The red light on the console blinked off and Max looked up to see June standing before his desk, her hands placed defiantly on her full hips, hurt glittering in her amber eyes.

  "Max, I don't try to tie you down, but after all, this is my territory!" she angrily protested. "Can't you take that girl somewhere else? I mean, after what we just did, that makes me feel awful!"

  Max chuckled at her words, then broke into laughter at the pain-stricken expression that immediately came over her face. "Oh, but baby, you don't understand," he finally managed to say through his cruel mirth. "I don't even know this broad, but I do have a little score to settle with her husband," he added a bit more soberly, smoothing back his slightly greying hair with the palm of one hand.

  Reaching across the desk, he gave June a quick reassuring pat on a generously rounded buttock cheek, then turned his thirty-four-year-old mistress around and shoved her gently toward the door through which she had entered his office earlier.

  "Don't worry, baby," he consoled her jovially, "this is just business. If anything comes up, I'll make certain to call you in."

  June shot him a long, unbelieving glance and started across the room, pausing only to pick up the flimsy negligee that she had dropped to the carpet when she had first entered the office. As Max watched the provocative sway of her smooth, cream-like buttocks on crossing the room, he felt a brief moment of regret that he had not had more time to spend with this always-exciting woman. She was so damned dependable. But then, just as quickly, he marshaled his thoughts back to matters of the immediate moment. He quickly zipped up his trousers, then, and sat back down in his chair, beginning to speculate over what Mrs. Henry Cummings could possibly want with him. Whatever it was, Max was going to make damned sure that that young editor, bright as he was, never forgot to put the company president's photo in the magazine again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "Mr. Alexander is engaged right now, Mrs. Cummings, but he'll be free to see you in a few minutes, if you'll be kind enough to wait here."

  Lost in her own thoughts, Kathy Cummings was startled by the sound of the blonde receptionist's voice, but after a moment, she murmured absently, with embarrassment, "Oh yes, of course, I'll wait. I know he's a very busy man."

  By the time Henry Cummings' young wife had collected herself sufficiently to speak, the pretty receptionist had already returned to her desk and was answering one of the insistently buzzing lines on the switchboard in front of her. With a fleeting, nervous glance around the spacious, modern waiting room, Kathy ascertained that, curiously, there was no one else in line to see the president of Alexander Steel. She stiffened with irrational apprehension as she wondered again exactly what she would say to the powerful mysterious man who was her husband's boss. Now that she was here, sitting in the very building in which Henry worked, the nervous young woman wondered if perhaps she had made a foolish mistake by coming here. For the flash of an instant, she was tempted to turn right around and go back home again, to its relative safety, but the mental image of her and Henry's home made her remember exactly why she had come downtown today… and why she would not go home until at least some small step had been taken to set their marriage straight again.

  But what on earth would Mr. Alexander think when she attempted to explain why she wanted to get a job, she wondered nervously. How could she ever make him understand that perhaps the very future of her marriage with Henry depended upon whether or not she could really prove herself to be a contributing, productive member of their marital partnership?

  Kathy shifted anxiously in her chair, picked up a magazine from a nearby table, then quickly put it down again, deciding instead to make a last-minute check of her makeup in a tiny mirror which she withdrew from the expensive shoulder bag now on her lap. It would not do, she knew, to walk into Mr. Alexander's office with smudged lipstick or a grimy face from the long bus ride she had made from their suburban home into the industrial section of Los Angeles.

  It took Kathy but a minute to pat her long, shiny strawberry blonde hair into perfect place and then apply just a touch more of pale beige lipstick, adding a slightly more pinkish color to her already full, sensuous lips. The thin line of eye makeup around her wide brown eyes was still perfect, though, and she knew from experience that, no matter how determinedly she powdered her face, the light smattering of golden freckles across her nose and part way down her cheeks would show through anyway. Even though she was almost twenty-two years old, those puckish freckles gave her the appearance of a teen-aged tomboy, despite her alluring curves, but she had learned to live with them over the years consoling herself with the memory of Henry once having said that they were "cute" and made her actually prettier. Despite what was to her the annoyance of the freckles, she could see in the little compact mirror that she was indeed a very attractive young woman, the kind of young woman whose sweet, almost childlike facial features were a direct contrast to the delectable, curvaceous symmetry of her sensuous-looking body. The long, lucent swing of her shoulder length reddish-blonde hair tended to sophisticate her pixyish beauty, so that she almost looked her age.

  Replacing the mirror in her handbag, the exquisite young wife shook her golden hair ruefully. It was disconcerting to look always so cherubic and inexperienced, especially at times such as this afternoon, when she was determined to impress Henry's formidable boss with her maturity and potential efficiency – impress him enough to land a decent job. With an involuntary gesture of nervousness, she reached down to smooth out the short skirt of her crisp, navy-blue cotton dress over her silky, suntanned thighs, hoping that the prim little frock with its lace cuffs and collar was proper and demure enough to help her in her plan. It was the longest dress she owned now, one left over from high school days, and yet it still exposed a fairly daring expanse of shapely, sun-browned leg well above the knee, and its slim figure-hugging design did little to hide the lush contours of her body, the high-set, swelling breasts and firm, circular buttocks that accentuated her tiny girlish waist to such good advantage. Well, so what if she did look a little daring, she rationalized, it could not hurt her chances for the job – though, God knows, it had not been doing her much good in her own home.

  At the thought of her dismal home-life with Henry, her bright, ambitious husband, the slight, satisfied smile that had begun to play across her perfectly-formed lips faded away and her high, clear brow wrinkled with anxiety. In the six months since her marriage to Henry, the beautiful strawberry blonde had been forced to arrive at the conclusion that something was basically wrong with their relationship, something serious, and until last night, she had been unable to put her finger on precisely what it was. Now she knew and the realization had spurred her on to the desperate action she was taking today. She would get a job and show Henry once and for all, that she too had a mind, a mind probably ju
st as good as his, and that she was perfectly capable of making some decisions concerning their marriage – even if she did occasionally make a mistake.

  The mere memory of what had happened after dinner last night made Kathy's heart race furiously and she felt the blood rushing to her pretty face at the humiliating recollection of her own husband's cold, objective lecture about her "irresponsible conduct"… as though she were some sort of capricious school child who needed to be rapped across her knuckles for naughtiness. All she had done was take advantage of a "once-in-a-lifetime sale" on needed household goods in a local department store, considering very carefully before she had bought the bathroom scale and… well, an electric blender. They were things they should have and no doubt would have bought sooner or later anyway, but Henry had acted as though her decision had driven them to the verge of total bankruptcy. The whole thing was almost too silly to take seriously. After all, Henry made more than enough money to live on – and, really, who needed a bank account anyway after less than a year of marriage? Seriously, who did, she fumed to herself, thinking with resentment of her husband's cautiousness.

  "Why do you always have to be such a grouch?"

  Kathy started at the sound of her own voice and, realizing that she had spoken her thoughts aloud, looked furtively around the waiting room, afraid that the receptionist or someone else might have overheard her voiced complaint. But the reception area was still deserted except for the busy blonde at the desk, who was working the switchboard and writing out messages, oblivious, it seemed, to Kathy's presence in the room. Her embarrassment quickly waned and was replaced by defiance again. What if someone had heard her, she angrily asked herself. Perhaps, somehow someone might have figured out who she was talking about and told Henry what she had said about him.