A Fucking Investment Ch. 11

Sleep came to me rapidly. She had rolled away from me and lay with her back to me when I woke. It was still fully night. I felt over her body and found her bare of clothing, warm and soft. The slightest pressure on her hips rolled her onto her back. My cock was hard once more. I glanced at the clock. It was after five. Dawn was near. I got between her legs, easily parting them with a hand. When I felt with a hand between them, I felt both heat and dampness. Her pussy bulged and parted for my finger, bubbling still from my use.

When I entered her, she came fully awake. "Oh Mr. Gale! Again?" She sounded delighted.

Encouraged, I pressed the remainder of my cock into her. Her knees lifted and her ass shifted to let me penetrate her fully. The raging passion was gone. I just wanted to be seated once more inside of her, feeling her body mold around me. I was over her, hands planted to each side of her head. I got to my elbows and found her head with my hands. I kissed her, tenderly. She responding by lifting her hips and squeezing with her inner muscles.

I groaned. "Oh god, woman, you do love the cock so well!"

"No, no, no I love the cock so much!" She corrected, a correction my sex object could make without transgression. I lay between her legs, gazing at the blond blur under me. When I kissed her, she shivered. Her lips were ripe with rapture. Her torso lifted her breasts, pressing them against me, twisting to get the friction against her hard nipples. Her hand smoothed down my sides to my ass and she jerked me hard, ramming me down into her.

I suddenly knew what she wanted. I broke with her lips and rolled us over, struggling till I had her astride my hips. She got her knees properly under her and began to ride me. I arched under her as she ground down and hunched down when she rose up. I gripped her ass cheeks, one in each hand. She planted her hands on my chest and bent her head over me, her mane of blond hair draped down over her face like Spanish moss over the limbs of a tree. From that pose she rode me to ecstasy and beyond. The first time she came she sighed and hissed. The second time, seconds later, she cried out, her hips slapping down on me with increased vigor. The third time, I pulled her hard down on my cock while lifting my ass under her and she screamed, throwing her head from side to side, whipping me with her hair. Her tits waggled over me and I wanted to grab one with my teeth but could not manage it. She was lost in orgasm.

The fourth shook her and her hands clinched on my chest, scratching me with her long nails. She went still, tensing and groaning, gasping and panting while her hips pulsed over me. Her back arched. She threw her head back on her neck, facing the sky and nodded with little motions as the pleasure seethed through her. Fluid washed over me, hot and wet. She came again and again, rolling from one to the next, climax after climax convulsing her body. I continued to clasp her body down onto my cock. She writhed, seeking to escape.

"Oh no, no, no more! Please, I can't...oh fuck me!" She growled as a new front swept through her flesh. Her skin burned. She bent over me, her mouth panting but kissing my face before finding my lips. Her hands gripped my shoulders and she tried to rock her hips while she kissed me and her teeth cracked together. She sat up abruptly which rammed her full of cock once more, which in turn fired off another convulsion.

"Oh my god, I can't stop, I can't stop!" She cried, her body shivering with effort. "Don't stop. Never came so much. Oh god, please no more!" Her voice was ragged with passion, pulsing with lust but flagging as the last of the waves of ecstasy crackled through her. "Oh no more!" She rolled to halt, hands planted still on my chest, panting, her tits waving over me.

I realized I could see her, a ghostly presences looming over me, her face scrunched up, tensed and then she bucked violently, her hips lifting high off of mine and then crashing down to grind us together. Her head flipped back in a spray of blond hair. Her torso arched making her breasts strain, stressed into full shape, pointing over me like dual outriggers. She tensed, stilled and quivered, shaking from morrow to skin but moving not a millimeter. She was a paradox of motionless passion, consumed by the last crescendo of ecstasy before it ebbed and faded. When it departed, she collapsed over me.

For a long moment, she did not even breathe. Then she heaved a huge sigh and began to gasp for breath. For minutes she crouched over me, constantly shifting to avoid pressing her whole weight onto my chest, for which I was thankful. My cock was still erect inside of her and from time to time she clinched her pussy on it, squeezing for a moment or two before giving into the exhaustion that ran through her body. Finally, she lifted her hips off of me and with ponderous deliberation, slunk down my legs, dragging her tits over the length of my body. Face to face with my cock, she licked it clean before sucking it fully into her mouth. She sucked my cock with casual intensity, a paradox I know but I think it made sense as she was casually sucking hard but I was enjoying it intensely. When I did not come immediately, she squared herself between my legs, shouldering them wide. She found my asshole with a finger and delicately penetrated me.

The sensation was electric. I showed her my approval by pressing my ass down at her. She responded by pushing her finger deep into my ass. She sucked my cock hard then, and in moments I erupted. She sucked and sucked and sucked till I was both clean and empty. Oh, and happy.

I felt like a elephant sat on my chest and my head was full of helium. I dared not talk because I had a fear of squeaking.

"You're clean, I am messy." Jennifer chortled. She got out of bed and went into the bath. I never heard or felt her return. I fell into a well of dreamless bliss.

I emerged into a soft golden morning, the sun long risen. I felt like a feather, with a stiff quill in the middle of all that luscious lightness. I rose up erect. Alone and erect. I looked at the clock. Eleven o'clock. I had gotten up and peed sometime after dawn so this hardon was real wood, not veneer. I padded to the kitchen, stark naked. I had a sex object I wanted to use.

Liza McCall sat at the bar sipping a cup of coffee.

Jennifer was cooking something luscious. I could smell the rich aroma of sausage and French toast. She wore a pink apron over a yellow jumper. I strode into the kitchen and turned her away from the stove, pulling her over to the counter before the bar. She gasped and tittered as I lifted up the apron. The jumper had a bib and shorts. I took a serrated knife and cut up one leg of the shorts and over, tearing them open. I cut off her thong panties and then opened her knees.

Jennifer was panting when I moved between her legs. She hitched her ass up onto the counter and grasped my cock. I penetrated her and she grunted, slipped off the counter, filling herself with cock as she slid down onto me. She was sopping wet; perhaps "still sopping wet" is the correct description but whatever her state before I cut off her clothing, she was slick and ready to be penetrated when I penetrated her. She groaned and then leaned forward into me, her clothing a shambles. Her legs lifted and I staggered back, the woman completely supported by her arms around my neck and my cock in her cunt. She hunched at me and I thought I was going to topple over. I twisted and her ankles lifted to the small of my back and locked her into place. My ass found the counter and I grabbed her ass. Her pussy was fire and silk, clinching my hyper-cock, alive with the sensations of taking her.

My orgasm arrived again, quick and brief, a few shots of cum and it was over. Jennifer clung to me, kissing my neck and ear till I patted her ass. "Back to work, Chef Jennifer."

She released her legs and I moved way from the counter so she could stand up on her own two feet. I padded out of the kitchen and on to a shower. Twenty minutes later I returned to the kitchen to a perfect cup of coffee. Liza was still at the bar, sipping from the same cup but, presumably, different coffee. Jennifer was still in shambles. I sat at the bar beside Liza. Jennifer produced a perfect plate of French toast, eggs and sausage, then gave a like plate to Liza.

"Glad you could make it, buster. I am starving and your bitch here wouldn't serve me till after she served the master...breakfast I mean." Liza watched me take a bite. "How is it."

I nodded. "Excellent. Jennifer, go clean up. I need to replace that outfit. I apologize for destroying it."

The blond smiled a private smile and disappeared upstairs.

"Jesus, Gale, you do know how to start the day." Liza muttered. She took a bite. "Gosh, that is good. It is fucked up to be that beautiful and know how to cook." She took another bite. "You have no idea what you did for her just now, doing her like that, with me here, do you?"

After silence and three bites I realized she was really asking. "You mean, did I do that intentionally? Did I consider the impact of doing her like that with you right there?"

"Impact? Right. Not what I meant. I meant on me. The impact on me!"

"Bullshit."

Liza grinned. "Okay, you got me. Bullshit it is. That girl was glowing like a Christmas tree after you sauntered out of here. I think she would have lit up a dark closet. She likes performing like that. I think she really likes the idea of being seen."

"Everybody should like to be watched." I said without thinking. Liza gave me a look but said nothing. "What did I do for her? Besides doing her with an auditor?"

"You mean an audience?"

"I mean what I said. So?"

Liza sobered. "You didn't even acknowledge me. She is your number one girl now."

"I don't have a girl. She is a sex object." I spoke more dourly than I meant to. I am not sure how Liza took it but her reaction was telling. She smiled.

"So I could have..."

"No. She is my sex object." I smacked my lips and turned my head to look at her. "Just like you are. If I want to fuck you at the bank waiting in a teller line, I'll do that. Fines are my cost, though, not yours. Your job is to fuck me when I like." I included no question, leaving the statement dangling between us till Jennifer arrived back in the kitchen, dressed in a tight white stretch pant suit that clasped her big breasts in a fine halter top. She put on an apron.

"Seconds?"

I took seconds and Liza waved off.

"What are you doing here, Mrs. McCall?"

"Don't call me that." She said snidely.

"I'll call you whenever and whatever I..." I caught myself before I finished. "What should I call you? And why shouldn't I address you as I wish to?"

Liza's head was bowed over the plate. She looked up at Jennifer then over at me. "That was his name."

"But you haven't changed it." I pointed out.

She did not address my point but returned to the original question. "I..." The doorbell rang.

I did not move. It rang again.

Jennifer stopped what she was doing. "Mr. Gale, the doorbell..." it screeched, validating her observation, "...do you want me to answer it?"

I thought a moment and nodded, "See who it is."

She stopped, hesitating. "Should I let them in?"

The chime screeched again. I gestured towards the door and Jennifer drifted out of sight around the corner.

The next thing I heard was a loud rattling purr. "Where is he! What are you doing here."

"In the kitchen." I heard Jennifer say quietly, barely audible. Next, I heard the clack clack clack of high heels on the foyer floor, then nothing as she crossed the living room carpet, then the same clack clack clack on the kitchen floor. I turned to see who belonged to the voice and the high heels. I found a short, black woman standing arms akimbo, hands on her impressive hips. Jennifer stood behind her, a worried expression on her face, not looking at the woman. Clearly, she was hovering. "Coffee, if you please, Mrs. Simpson." I said softly. I extended my hand to the black woman. "Joshua Gale. What can I do for you?"

The black woman regarded my hand for a moment and then her eyes rose to mine. She took several loud steps and smiled a little as she extended her hand, took light hold of the tips of my fingers and wagged my hand once before letting it drop like a shit-smeared butter knife.

"Aurora Hines." She said with a little sniff.

"Mrs. Hines, pleased to meet you. Would you care to sit down? Breakfast? Coffee? Tea?" I recognized her from her dossier but I maintained a studied fiction that I was meeting these women the first time. It was common for me to do this, research business partners and associates and need to hide the depth of my knowledge of their personal life so this came easy for me. The dossier was one thing, meeting them in the flesh was another; meeting their flesh that I meant to possess in the flesh had far greater thrills than simple business encounters. Aurora Hines was no different.

"I would not. I came to tell you that you are not welcome in Holdingsfield and, as a representative of the Board of Directors of Holdingsfield Limited, I am here to ask that you cease and desist immediately."

"Cease and desist what?" I asked. I felt oddly uneasy, finding my hands fidgeting without any sense of what I should do with them.

"Cease and desist whatever it is you think you are about in our neighborhood or we shall certainly invoke legal means to force you to do so."

"Uh huh. Is that all?" I asked.

Her chin lifted just a little. Aurora Hines was diminutive only in height. Her assets and attitude made her seem, well, larger than her frame implied. Her ass, which I had not yet inspected but would at some length as she left, was the perfect shape for an ass intended to command attention. From the front, it flared her hips but had a distinct and profound arch. She had tits, great big huge tits that made her seem utterly misshapen with a lithe little waist and big, huge green eyes. To my eyes, she appeared to be perfectly formed for sex. Her frame screamed "fuck me". Her attitude, however, screamed, "fuck you!" I took my time inspecting her. The silence stretched as I mentally undressed her.

I looked past that to her appearance, preferring shallow inspection over deep insight. Her black hair was straightened and curled and cascaded down to the middle of her back. Today, she favored a turtle neck, salt and pepper sweater with speckles of yellow, orange and green in it and a long black skirt that covered her legs, and boots that made her seem taller—clearly her conscious intent. She was quite short. The high-heeled boots helped.

"Mr. Grail, we all know what you are doing. You are taking advantage of our unfortunate circumstances and victimizing these women." She ostentatiously regarded Jennifer; like she had discovered a jack ass in a dress shop. She waved. "Like Mrs. Simpson there. She, has she moved in here? What has become of her husband? I declare that if you have hurt that young man...!"

I laughed. Mrs. Hines was no older than Jeff Simpson was. My laugh halted Aurora's speech and she waited for me to speak, when I did not she pursed her lips and nodded.

"If you will agree to meet with me later this week, perhaps you can explain to me exactly what you intend to do with Holdingsfield."

That seemed like a retreat from her previous arch proclamation. So I advanced. "And why would I do that?" I asked, it was a real question and I was curious to see what she would answer. Since it belied her threat to halt whatever I was doing, I could deduce this was not a well-planned foray. Something as yet unseen had propelled her here.

Mrs. Simpson, however, deflected that moment, bringing me a cup of coffee. She extended the cup—I had yet to let her know I preferred tea—and I took it. "Would you care for a cup, Mrs. Hines?" I asked.

The woman shook her head, scowling.

I made a gesture at Jennifer, waving away the coffee. She set it down and moved over beside me on my stool and tucked under my arm. I clasped a hand on her flared hip and looked at Mrs. Hines. When the black woman neither spoke nor moved but stared fiercely at that hand possessively clutching Jennifer against me, I move the hand more fully on to the white clad ass. I squeezed Jennifer's full ass cheek and she wiggled in response. Mrs. Hines appeared to take the pose personally and was affronted by it. I said, "Jennifer, tell Mrs. Hines what you are doing here, in my house."

The blond woman smiled happily as my hand caressed her hip, side, and flank. "I am a sex object. I am here to be used sexually. I enjoy being used and Jeff asked if Mr. Gale would use me since, ah, he does not enjoy that sort of thing, Jeff I mean. Jeff insisted that I live here as part of our agreement."

"Agreement?" Mrs. Hines snapped. "What agreement?"

"I am traded sexually to Mr. Gale in exchange for his cash that will alleviate our current financial straits."

I expected something different but Mrs. Hines eyes got wide and she licked her lips once before she managed to speak.

Her voice came out an octave higher. "Traded sexually? Financial straits?"

Jennifer nodded and was going to speak more but I squeezed her against my hip and she immediately went silent, understanding me implicitly, which I appreciated. We were beginning to understand each other.

"I own this woman." I said. "It is a fair trade, voluntarily entered into by both parties. Perhaps you would like to trade something for her services?" I was playing a hunch, something implied in her dossier that I could not quite recall; so a hunch. In the crook of my arm, Jennifer went still and silent, holding her breath then breathing shallowly when she needed air. The moment stretched.

At first, the black woman stared but not at me. Her eyes were on Jennifer and not her face. Jennifer apparently sensed it and rolled her body around mine, pressing her tits against my arm while she twisted her head around to regard the black woman with a sort of ungainly pride. Her pose spoke mockery and safety, much like a lion cub would look at a jackal that had been chasing it, from between the paws of her father. My hand splayed over the arch of Jennifer's fine ass, pressing fingers into the firm flesh. My hunch felt validated.

Mrs. Hines eyes twitched about and she licked her thick, dark lips. I waited, noting the rich scarlet purple lipstick, the thick purple eye shadow, the equally thick eye lashes, butterflied out to enormous lengths. My inspection of her eyes was interrupted by those eyes finding mine. She realized I was tracking her inspection of Mrs. Simpson. Those eyes widened a bit and the artful chin lifted and she pursed her lips, which only made her appear more sexual, posing with that sensuous aspect protruding through her facade of defiance. What I saw was a woman who loved sex but was enduring sexual frustration. I winked at her while licking my own lips, like I had barbecue sauce them.

"I...I...you will not get away with this, Mr. Gale. I swear by...by...by all those things you white people swear by! You will not do this to us!" She fairly spluttered, so great was her indignation. It was curiously sudden but delayed, like she only lately remembered her indignation and drew it back from whence it had receded to now be expressed instead of the lust I saw clearly in her big eyes.

Mrs. Hines left us then, stamping on her little boots with as much roused chagrin as someone of her stature could manage, rather like an offended munchkin. The erotic little black woman turned her ass to me and click-clacked out of my kitchen, across the rug in the living room and then rattled out the foyer to the world beyond. Each step bumped her ass back and forth as though she could feel my eyes and the wishes of my hands on her ass. My cock was quite hard. I grasped Jennifer's hand and moved it up my thigh till she encountered my erection. She gripped it enthusiastically. By then, Aurora Hines was gone. She had showed me her ass and I had inspected it thoroughly, which no doubt would have been an added offense. Her only alternative would have been to back out of my house but then I would have stared at her wondrous tits, appearing wondrously huge on her small frame, swaying under the tight but thick sweater that could not hide or disguise them. She left the door open as she departed. I got up, went to the open door and stared as she clacked down my drive. Her long, black skirt whipped back and forth, at the mercy of her profound hips.