Heading For Manhattan
We're leaving Albany behind on the thruway, and the questions start in the rented SUV. "Are you really going to have sex with us?" What a dumb question. Of course I am going to fuck them. That was the deal. We left the parking lot at work in our upstate town with a deal in the bag.
The deal was that I would quit the company and not cause more trouble for my boss if these four selected female co-workers would submit to be my sex slaves in New York for the weekend. If they didn't agree, I would stay and they would be fired. That was the deal. The boss agreed because he is an asshole and just wants me gone. That was all it took: sex. No money. Just sex. Frickity frack. Didn't we explain it to them over and over in the boss's office? How could they forget so soon? Or is the notion of me doing them still unreal? Who cares?
"Who are you going to have sex with first?" That was easy. I had the order all fixed in my fantasies for months. First it would be Nancy, buxom and brunette, ready to grin and shake her very womanly curves, solidly built and pneumatic. For years I've imagined myself lying across her sweaty thighs, naked belly to naked belly, cock firmly in cunt. She works in the boss's office.
Second to be debauched would be Cathy, petite and blonde and also well endowed upstairs. Her broad hips and big backside turned me on, but she has a nasty sarcasm about her that infuriates me and makes me want to do rude things to her naked body. She works in the office next door to mine, and every time I went by her door, I imagined the squelching sound I wanted to hear my cock making in her wet cunt.
Then there was Jacqueline, tall and bleach blonde, long hair and torso, with the most magnificent ass that ever walked down the hall ahead of me. The fantasy just sprang to mind one day: Jacqueline bent over bare ass with my hands on her broad hips and my cock fucking in her dark-haired pussy. She worked in an office downstairs.
The final piece of the plan was the youngest, Brooke, the new girl in the office across the hall from the boss doing liaison work. Yeah, I wanted to liaise with her all right. Medium height, dark shoulder-length hair and dark eyes, she walked with self-assurance and a come-on stare that said, "Come and get me." So I came and got her into my favourite fantasy, the one that was now coming true.
"What will my husband say?" Ha ha! I didn't care. That was up to them. They are all married with good jobs. I don't know their husbands and don't care what they find out after I've had my fun with their wives. Our cover story for this dirty weekend is a professional conference in Manhattan, and we will stick to the story no matter what leaks out later. We even have fake conference passes and printed notes made up to match the real session agendas so we can prove we attended.
I checked with each of them after the boss gave them the bad news that their bodies were the price of their jobs, just to be sure they had decided to accept my kind offer. I didn't want any of them to do a runner or blow a whistle. This weekend they are all off the rag and onto the pill, so fucking is going to be wall to wall. As long as I don't shave their pussies or mark them with a whip, their husbands need never know their cunts are full of my swimmers.
"Can we go shopping?" Of course. That was the part of the deal that sold the girls: a company credit card with a generous spending limit. I couldn't fuck all of them all the time, in spite of a pocketful of ultra strength Viagra, so I promised them a spending spree in Manhattan on Saturday afternoon while my penis recovered its vigour for the evening's festivities.
"What's in the hockey bag?" Ha ha. Not skates or pads, darling. It's camera equipment. They look at each other, not quite comprehending. I explain to their dismay that I want my own libidinous souvenir of my dirty weekend in Manhattan.
They all knew how to use a video camera, right? It's like a penis. You point and shoot. The ones not helping me exercise my penis will help me create a souvenir for myself to last a lifetime of sexual excitement and masturbation pleasure. I didn't tell them that the copies I will sell on certain Web sites will bring a big extra payoff. And if they try to get righteous on me later back home, it's good blackmail material.
"What are we doing Saturday night? Can we go to the theatre?" Did they think I was going to let them off the hook once we've had our private fun in the hotel room? Theatre in Manhattan?
Actually, yes, I have planned some theatre, but very off off Broadway. In fact, my fantasy women are going to put on a show for some very wealthy people, a very exclusive club of horny men. They love fresh cunt and want to put my bevy of ladies at center stage in the club's theatre of exotic sex shows. My reward will be a sizable cash prize, plus my pick of any of the regular females who attend these sex soirees. In addition, I get an exotic, professionally filmed and edited porn flick of my ladies' genitals being jostled by middle-aged bankers.
Of course, I haven't told them I'm pimping them out to the upper crust of Manhattan perverts.
"Do we have to suck you?" Oh ho. They're getting down to it. No, I won't insist on fellatio. Whatever happens after I do them the way I want, well, it will happen. I do forbid sucking while I'm driving. I don't want a state trooper to get in the way of my dirty weekend.
Drive to the hotel. Hassle to find a parking spot. Lucky the club is sending a limo for us on Saturday. Get registered. Japanese clerk remains impassive as four women and one man crowd into an elevator and into one suite on the 17th floor with two king size beds and a bathroom. Mirror strategically placed on the wall opposite the beds. I'd checked out the suites online. Let them "freshen up"—read "pee"—in the bathroom and find spots around the room for their luggage.
And now it's show time!
We're leaving Albany behind on the thruway, and the questions start in the rented SUV. "Are you really going to have sex with us?" What a dumb question. Of course I am going to fuck them. That was the deal. We left the parking lot at work in our upstate town with a deal in the bag.
The deal was that I would quit the company and not cause more trouble for my boss if these four selected female co-workers would submit to be my sex slaves in New York for the weekend. If they didn't agree, I would stay and they would be fired. That was the deal. The boss agreed because he is an asshole and just wants me gone. That was all it took: sex. No money. Just sex. Frickity frack. Didn't we explain it to them over and over in the boss's office? How could they forget so soon? Or is the notion of me doing them still unreal? Who cares?
"Who are you going to have sex with first?" That was easy. I had the order all fixed in my fantasies for months. First it would be Nancy, buxom and brunette, ready to grin and shake her very womanly curves, solidly built and pneumatic. For years I've imagined myself lying across her sweaty thighs, naked belly to naked belly, cock firmly in cunt. She works in the boss's office.
Second to be debauched would be Cathy, petite and blonde and also well endowed upstairs. Her broad hips and big backside turned me on, but she has a nasty sarcasm about her that infuriates me and makes me want to do rude things to her naked body. She works in the office next door to mine, and every time I went by her door, I imagined the squelching sound I wanted to hear my cock making in her wet cunt.
Then there was Jacqueline, tall and bleach blonde, long hair and torso, with the most magnificent ass that ever walked down the hall ahead of me. The fantasy just sprang to mind one day: Jacqueline bent over bare ass with my hands on her broad hips and my cock fucking in her dark-haired pussy. She worked in an office downstairs.
The final piece of the plan was the youngest, Brooke, the new girl in the office across the hall from the boss doing liaison work. Yeah, I wanted to liaise with her all right. Medium height, dark shoulder-length hair and dark eyes, she walked with self-assurance and a come-on stare that said, "Come and get me." So I came and got her into my favourite fantasy, the one that was now coming true.
"What will my husband say?" Ha ha! I didn't care. That was up to them. They are all married with good jobs. I don't know their husbands and don't care what they find out after I've had my fun with their wives. Our cover story for this dirty weekend is a professional conference in Manhattan, and we will stick to the story no matter what leaks out later. We even have fake conference passes and printed notes made up to match the real session agendas so we can prove we attended.
I checked with each of them after the boss gave them the bad news that their bodies were the price of their jobs, just to be sure they had decided to accept my kind offer. I didn't want any of them to do a runner or blow a whistle. This weekend they are all off the rag and onto the pill, so fucking is going to be wall to wall. As long as I don't shave their pussies or mark them with a whip, their husbands need never know their cunts are full of my swimmers.
"Can we go shopping?" Of course. That was the part of the deal that sold the girls: a company credit card with a generous spending limit. I couldn't fuck all of them all the time, in spite of a pocketful of ultra strength Viagra, so I promised them a spending spree in Manhattan on Saturday afternoon while my penis recovered its vigour for the evening's festivities.
"What's in the hockey bag?" Ha ha. Not skates or pads, darling. It's camera equipment. They look at each other, not quite comprehending. I explain to their dismay that I want my own libidinous souvenir of my dirty weekend in Manhattan.
They all knew how to use a video camera, right? It's like a penis. You point and shoot. The ones not helping me exercise my penis will help me create a souvenir for myself to last a lifetime of sexual excitement and masturbation pleasure. I didn't tell them that the copies I will sell on certain Web sites will bring a big extra payoff. And if they try to get righteous on me later back home, it's good blackmail material.
"What are we doing Saturday night? Can we go to the theatre?" Did they think I was going to let them off the hook once we've had our private fun in the hotel room? Theatre in Manhattan?
Actually, yes, I have planned some theatre, but very off off Broadway. In fact, my fantasy women are going to put on a show for some very wealthy people, a very exclusive club of horny men. They love fresh cunt and want to put my bevy of ladies at center stage in the club's theatre of exotic sex shows. My reward will be a sizable cash prize, plus my pick of any of the regular females who attend these sex soirees. In addition, I get an exotic, professionally filmed and edited porn flick of my ladies' genitals being jostled by middle-aged bankers.
Of course, I haven't told them I'm pimping them out to the upper crust of Manhattan perverts.
"Do we have to suck you?" Oh ho. They're getting down to it. No, I won't insist on fellatio. Whatever happens after I do them the way I want, well, it will happen. I do forbid sucking while I'm driving. I don't want a state trooper to get in the way of my dirty weekend.
Drive to the hotel. Hassle to find a parking spot. Lucky the club is sending a limo for us on Saturday. Get registered. Japanese clerk remains impassive as four women and one man crowd into an elevator and into one suite on the 17th floor with two king size beds and a bathroom. Mirror strategically placed on the wall opposite the beds. I'd checked out the suites online. Let them "freshen up"—read "pee"—in the bathroom and find spots around the room for their luggage.
And now it's show time!