Authors: Jessa Hawke
The savageness of his kiss is something unlike I have experienced before. He strokes me from the inside with his tongue, skillfully and slowly, kneading my back between his palms as if he could encircle my entire waist in his palms. He leans his body from the waist over mine until the heavy oak table is digging painfully into my back; I don’t care. I am drunk on the power of that kiss and the man behind it, so much so that when he finally breaks away, I almost lose my balance and fall.
When I finally look up, I see that Lee Evans has also arrived and has been watching us from the doorway. I never told him that Mike Hannigan would also be joining us; a lesser man, a man not so sure of himself, would have left a while ago. Instead, Lee just says:
“Didn’t know you were expecting this kind of party, little girl, but I’m down to play if you are.”
Beside me, Mike Hannigan just smiles.
This is it, you know? This is what I love about these men. They’re MEN. Another’s presence does not deter them, it just spurs them on. Can you imagine if I had offered this sort of scenario to little Mikey Kanstafolous? Fuck little Mikey Kanstafolous; he couldn’t handle someone like me anyway, even in his wildest dreams.
Instead, as Lee Evans crosses over to Hannigan and I, it is I who gets to live out my wildest dreams. The two men flank me on either side and begin to kiss my neck. Lee goes for his favorite spot, my breasts, and undoes the bow on my shirt with a single deft pull from his fingers. He slips his hand inside one of the open flaps and scoops my breast up to his mouth. When he begins to lick, and then suck my nipple, it’s all I can do to suppress the groan coming from the back of my throat.
Not to be undone, Mike Hannigan bends down to slip each one of my shoes off, working this thumbs against the arches of my feet; he kneads my ankles and slides his hands, palms down, underneath my skirt. I tremble to discover that I am already wet from their ministrations. In Lee’s hand, my nipple begins to pucker, aching for another suck, another brush of his fingers against its painful peak.
Hannigan lifts me up by the hips and onto the oak table I have been leaning against. I backpedal on my hands and turn until I am in the position I dreamed about, the one where I am on my hands and knees. It’s better, so much better. In my dreams, my heart did not pound so hard, thudding against my bare chest like a bullet in a barrel. My tits swing into points below me, my naked ass brushes the still air in the office. Lee and Mike watch me, their suit pants tight around the crotch, and almost in tandem, they unbuckle their expensive leather belts. With almost simultaneous grins, they slide their pants all the way down to the ground and kick them out of the way.
It is as if they can read my mind. Mike gets behind me, licks his fingers, and transfers the moisture to between my parted legs. I ready myself for him, but nothing prepares me for how his cock splits me open. It is big, throbbing, and thick, and I feel him inside of me so acutely that I gasp aloud, unable to contain myself. I look at him over my shoulder as he smoothly pumps his hips, sliding in and out of me, and he sends me a little wink. He gathers my hair into a ponytail and I can feel my whole head jerk back to his motions. I am in his control, and a part of me relaxes, knowing that I am not the one holding the reins here.
Lee takes in the jerking of my body and the little smile playing around my lips. He grasps my chin in his hand and lowers his lips to mine, just for a moment. I’ve still got that kiss lingering on my mouth when Lee climbs the table and takes to his knees. Now, I am face to face with his ruddy-tipped cock, and I eagerly take it into my mouth. The astonishing thing about being filled at both ends at once is how SATISFYING it is. The two men are pumping into me at varying rhythms, not giving me a chance to rest, increasing my heart rate to the point of bursting, and I am gagging, wet at mouth and pussy all at the same time, wet and wet, and everything is good and good and good.
Lee directs my mouth and enters my throat, sliding in so deep that my gag reflex almost overwhelms me. He does not let me release him and directs me to look up at him; he wants me looking at him as he stuffs my mouth full of himself, he says, and when he sees himself bulging in my throat and increases his rhythm, he comes on me, using the tip of his dick to spread the mess around my lips and throat, satisfied as a pig in a playpen.
Mike Hannigan stops briefly to reposition me until we are facing each other missionary style. I loop one arm around his neck and yell at him to go faster and faster, feeling the top of his pubis grind against my clit as he leans his entire torso over me. When he finally explodes inside of me, it is the ultimate pleasure to watch handsome Hannigan, Esquire, completely lose control of himself within a woman.
And how perfect that that woman is one little Adrian, one little me.
I lick my lips, full of Lee’s semen, and smile.
* * *
BEEP.
“Hey, this is Mikey. Just wanted to let you know I had a good time, let’s do it again!”
BEEP.
“Hey, don’t know where you’ve disappeared to, but I like a future wifey who works hard. Call me back!”
BEEP.
“It’s Mikey, by the way. Your mother said you’re free this weekend. Let’s meet up! Hope you’re not too tired from all that work you’ve been doing.”
BEEP.
THE END
In Lust with the Lawyers
Jane couldn't believe how much opportunity lay before her, and so many choices! She was packing up her place in the small college town of Ames, Iowa. She'd gone to school for business, but like a lot of business majors that meant that she spent all her time drinking with her friends. Not that she didn't learn things about business and grow as a person, but it did strike her as odd that the only paper she'd been required to write was ten pages double spaced. That was it. All of the other measurements of her knowledge had been standardized tests over material contained in dry, academic books about economy and socioeconomic factors that played into something like the idea of a free market. What had most interested her about the entire thing was the free markets, or at least the theory behind it. She had almost transferred to a philosophy.
But in the end she'd decided to stay the course and stick it out in the program she was already enrolled. It would have been a huge hassle to switch to something else, and her parents would have given her a hard time. Jane didn't want to have to convince her parents that she wasn't making a huge mistake. They always questioned her. And pushed her in the wrong direction. Like how her mother had pushed her to be a cheerleader when Jane first got to college, telling her that being a busty brunette with an hourglass figure would get her ahead in life, and the place to start was on the football field. Luckily Jane hadn't listen to her mother, because she didn't think she'd have made it through college with the added drinking responsibilities of being on the cheer team. But now that college was over she felt foolish thinking about the past.
Over the course of the last several weeks Jane had heard from friends and drinking buddies all of the nostalgic stories that she didn't want to hear. Jane had loved college as much as the next person but she hated the way that everyone looked back on their experiences with rose colored glasses. No one had anything bad to say, it seems, not even constructive criticism. No one talked about how they maybe had drank too much and missed out on some of the experiences available to people who were sober most of the time, like all of the extra-curricular activities that the college had to offer. No one talked about how they'd rushed into love and been badly burned, so badly burned in fact that it would take about a decade more of drinking to heal and maybe forget the wound, and by that time there would probably be many more wounds. There wasn't even a single person who talked about how maybe they had majored in the wrong thing, that they had made a mistake and they wanted to undo it.
Everyone was happy, except for Jane. Not that she was sad, it was that she was more determined than anything else. She knew, as she packed up her room, that the future would not be easy and she needed to work hard to get ahead of everyone else. That's why a few months prior to graduation she'd had her dad look around town for a job a nice law firm. There wasn't a better place to learn about business than a law firm. All the things she imagined she'd garner from the experience danced through her mind's eye. She thought of herself overhearing people beg for their property and businesses, people trying to swindle other people getting shot down, and of course she figured the law office would have to do a fair amount of helping people as well. What kind of lawyers didn't help people, she thought?
It didn't take Jane long to pack her things; she'd never been one to live with many material possessions, especially at college where people were always getting drunk and throwing up on things, or just straight up stealing things like it didn't matter what they did. She was glad to be moving home from the small college town of Ames. It had seemed especially small the last few months the way everyone was going on and on about how great it was, the same people that had bitched and bitched about not being able to get anything to eat after ten in the evening. Jane was glad that Des Moines wasn't that far away so that her parents hadn't minded hiring a moving company to carry her few things out to their moving truck and set them up at her new spot in Des Moines East Village post haste.
Jane was very excited to be moving to the East Village. It was pretty much all that Des Moines could muster as far as red light district went. There were a few gay bars and places that occasionally boutique selling high end art to people that knew absolutely nothing about anything, but especially nothing about art. Rich people with plenty of money, that was something that certain parts of Des Moines had a bunch of, while the majority of the rest of the small capitol city struggled to look like the recession wasn't dragging it down. But everyone with any sense knew that it was. The city just wasn't what it used to be, although someone in the city council new someone at Forbes magazine who kept putting the small Midwestern town in the top one hundred places to live in an effort to draw more people to work at the two major industries: layering and insurance work—often times the two going hand in hand.
The cracks in the city's nice facade of vibrancy could be seen everywhere. There were more and more homeless as the blue collar jobs slowly trickled out of the town as socioeconomic issues elsewhere lowered the cost for unskilled labor. Places kept closing down, and although the local media kept playing off such closers as the inevitability of life, astute viewers realized that corporate chains at the mall and other places were pushing out the mom and pop diners and shops. No one seemed to really care, though, and that was what was really killing the small town. There weren't that many people in Des Moines, but if any number of them got it in their head that they wanted to change things by organizing politically, they would have made a huge impact. There really wasn't anything that organized people couldn't do, and that was something Jane really respected and what had attracted her to a business degree in the first place. But now she wanted to see the law side of things, and in a place like Des Moines she knew that she would end up seeing a whole lot of stuff that would just make her shake her head.
When she arrived at her new apartment, just blocks from the firm in the East Village, Jane quickly made something to eat. It was great how the moving people had gone ahead and set everything up for her. It had gone just like her father had said it would, something that she hadn't been too sure about. Something hadn't been right about her father in the past few months. It had all started back in the early spring when he'd had a boating accident while showing a few clients around the lake. Jane's father was a land broker and needed to impress some clients in order to get them to part with their money. One of the ways he'd done this in the past was by zipping around Sailorville Lake, just north of Des Moines. The lake wasn't that big, and in all honesty it wasn't even all that great considering the amount of dead trees floating around in it just waiting to tear the bottom out of a boat, but her father knew that it was just what he'd need to get the two clients with him to sign. So he brought his sporting boat up to top speed, something in the triple digits, and then tried to roll off the throttle when he saw that the water was much lower than he thought and he'd be in real danger of doing some harm to himself or his clients if he kept going to so quickly into shallow water.
But by the time the boat's engine let off it was too late. There was no way that he could have known but the water was the lowest it had ever been. Jane's father had just come back into town from doing his damndest to lobby certain congressmen to go his way over a few regulations and hadn't heard any of the news. So when one of the old breakers that very early settlements in Iowa had used when they lived along the shore of the old lake, before the damn beefed it up, he was completely surprised. And although no on died, or even injured, it was something that Jane could tell still bothered her father a great deal. And ever since then he just hadn't been the same. He'd make plans and forget about them, or tell you something was one way and then it turned out to be another. That wasn't the way it used to be. In the past Jane's father had been all about never making mistakes, ever. But now mistakes were all he was.