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2004-07-30T07:53:00.000-07:00

"So how does it look?"

In an instant, my mouth had gone dry and pasty; "Wow!" I finally managed
to croak out.

"I've been working out pretty hard and I finally feel good enough about
this to show someone, so you got the duty..." she said as she lowered the
hem of her shirt.

"I am truly honored and touched." (And quiet a bit turned on, I failed
to mention...)

"Well, I gotta run. I'll catch up to you later..." she said as she
turned on her heels and slipped out the door with an impish sparkle in her
eyes.

I worked the rest of the day with that damned image on my mind, half
distracted and lost with the vision of her ohsotan sixpack belly newly
firmed with her exercise program. It's not as if I hadn't seen welltoned
bodies before, being a physical therapist and all; well trained athletes
and workout fanatics were my stock in trade. Yet the image of her smooth
skin was burned into my consciousness, staying with me well after I went
home and occupying my thoughts well into the first few stages of sleep...

The next day dawned warm and slightly humid. I rolled carefully out of
bed, slightly hung over with sleep and sporting my usual halfchub as I
headed for the bathroom to take care of morning business. 30 minutes and a
couple of cups of coffee later, I was headed for the office, running the
list of patients scheduled for me this morning thru my head. I had just
gotten to the office, and was just at the front desk reading the days mail
when the receptionist interrupted my reverie, informing me that there was a
phone call waiting for me on line 1. "A lady," she says with a wink and a
leer. My love life ( or more accurately, lack of love life) was a constant
source of office amusement or gossip. On various occasions, I had been
rumored to be gay, considering life in the seminary, or engaged to some
Eastern European princess or countess or something like that. All false of
course, but certainly more entertaining than the truth.

"Hello, ExtremeSport Physical Therapy, Alex speaking; how can I help
you?"

"Oh, Alex, I'm glad that you're there already."

" What's up, Mary Kay?" At the sound of her mischievous voice, a vision
of her tan, toned belly leapt into my mind's eye.

" I was just curious what you thought of body piercing; I was thinking
of getting my belly button pierced, and I wanted to know if you thought it
was safe?"

"And may I ask what brought this on? And why ask me? Why not your
doctor?" I said to her, knowing that she had been going out with one of the
new ER docs at our hospital.

"Him? I kicked him to the curb a couple of weeks ago; seems all he
cared about was his work and his sailing, and since I don't sail, that put
me pretty far down on his list. Besides, I trust you; I know you wouldn't
let anyone go and stick something in me if you thought it was bad for me."

"Oh, really? How do you know that? And when would I ever think that it
would be ok for anyone to stick something in you?"

"I'm sure you could think of something to stick in me that would be
ok..." she purred in an unexpectedly sexy voice.

Suddenly caught off guard, all I could say was "Ummm..." (witty, eh?).

A burst of her musical laughter soothed my discomfiture. "So is it ok?
Can I go and get this done?"

"I guess so," I said, regaining my composure. "Just be careful about
sterility when they are putting it in, and watch for any signs of
infection. If you run into any problems, give me a call."

"I definitely will; see you soon, Alex."

Unfortunately for me, that was not to be, as the day, then the rest of
the week, followed by the next week, turned ugly and stayed that way, and I
became swamped with patients, paperwork, and personnel problems. I forgot
all about Mary Kay and her beautiful tanned, and probably pierced belly in
the crush of work... that is, I did until...

"Alex!! Line 1!! Been waiting for you!"

"Ok, ok...!!" Another end of the day call that no one can deal with but
me. I cursed the stupid phone. Can't anyone answer questions but me? At
least I was finally getting out from under some of this work... "Hello,
ExtremeSport Physical Therapy; Alex speaking."

"Hi, Alex, it's Mary Kay."

"Hello Mary Kay; thank God it's you. I was dreading another inane call
from a doctor's office or HMO rep. What can I help you with?"

"Remember what we were talking about a couple of weeks ago?"

I quickly sifted through what was left of my brain and found the right
piece of information; "The piercing thing?"

"Yes, that's it... well... um... this is a bit embaressing."

"What is? Is something the matter with it? When did you have it done?
And what did you have done, for that matter?"

"Oh, it's nothing terrible... it's just a little belly button ring. It
just is a little sore and I was wondering if you could take a quick look at
it to make sure it's ok. It's not real red or anything, but I was just
hoping...."

Of course I'll look at it... and maybe a little more too, my mind
screamed; but I managed to rein in my libido for a few seconds and act
nonchalant, "Sure, just stop by the office. Are you in the hospital?"

"No, but I can get there by six o'clock. Will you still be there?"

I checked my watch quickly and thought about the work I still had left
to do; " Ok; just come on in. The staff will be gone by then, but I've got
a ton of paperwork to do. I'll just leave the front door open. Is that
ok?"

"No problem; see you in a couple of hours."

That little issue arranged, I set myself to my work, quickly becoming so
intent on my work that I remember nothing until I heard the soft knock at
my office door, and Mary Kay's soft voice, "Hello... not interrupting, am
I?"

I quickly turned and found myself face to face with her... her
beautiful tanned legs perfectly set off with a pair of sexy white shorts, a
well fitted grey tank top and her 1000watt smile. "So how are you? I
guess you went ahead and got that piercing against my advice..." I joked.

"What?!? You never said that!! You said that it was ok if I made sure
that they kept things sterile and I watched out for infection!"

"Yeah, yeah... I guess I did say that, didn't I, " I conceded. "So
what kind of problems are you having with this? You know, of course, that
I'm not a doctor and I can't prescribe anything for it."

"I know, I know... but I just wanted someone I could trust to check to
see if I need to go to the ER so I don't make a fool of myself."

"Well, I'll take a quick look..."

"Look as long as you want..." I thought I heard her murmur under her
breath."

"What was that?" I said, startled. I looked up from my seat at her
face, now furiously blushing as she stood above me.

"Nothing, nothing," she quickly said.

"Ok, but it sure sounded like you said something important back there,"
I teased.

"Well, maybe I did," she said impishly, as (I guess) she decided that a
good offense was a good defense. "But since you weren't paying attention
to me, I guess you'll just have to wonder about it."

Well, two can play at this game, I thought. "Well, then, let's see what
the problem is. Can't have you coming to this office and thinking that I
didn't take care of you as thoroughly as any other patient. Let's take a
look."

"OK, but no funny stuff... I'm very ticklish."

"Of course, of course; I'll be completely professional," I said with my
fingers crossed.

She stepped up closer to me, while I stayed seated in my chair, and
slowly, deliberately, lifted the hem of her tank top, exposing that oh so
exquisitely tanned and toned abdomen of hers... and there in the center of
it all, her belly button with a small silver ring through the top of it,
set off by a small silver ball with a diamond. But she didn't stop at just
exposing her navel... no, she kept lifting until the hem was almost to the
bottom of her breasts... and she said, "Can you see that ok?"

And I said, "Um, fine.... looks fine. So where does it hurt?"

"On the left side of the ring."

Truth be told, it looked perfect; not a blemish or any sign of
infection, reaction, or irritation. I could have just said so and let it
go at that. But with this perfect abdomen with its sexy little navel ring
in front of you, would you just cover it up? I didn't think so. So I
reached out and very gently began to palpate the skin around the ring.
"Does this hurt? Or this?"

Softly, she murmured, "No, feels fine." Which I knew it did, since I
could see goose bumps forming on her skin, a sure sign of sexual arousal.

I took a chance and glanced up at her face while I was palpating and
found her eyes closed, her tongue gently licking her lips, and her nipples
just starting to show through her shirt. Clearly, she was very turned
on.... clearly, I had done this to her... and just then, I heard it...a
very low, throaty moan which just escaped her lips, probably without her
even realizing. And I knew! I knew that sound; the sound of desire, of
building lust, of sexual need. And I said to her, "So how does this feel?"
as I lowered my head to her belly and took the ring in between my lips,
tasting the salty, metallic taste of the cool ring and her warm flesh.

"Aahhh, " she moaned, as she placed her hands on my head and held it to
her belly. In return, I placed my hands on her hips and allowed my tongue
to gently circle the ring, tickling it slowly before sliding it deep into
her navel. "Oh, that's good," she murmured. "If you keep doing that,
something is going to happen."

I momentarily raised my head and looked up at her. "Like what?"

"Like this." And in one motion, she pulled off her shirt and sports bra,
lowered her face to mine, and kissed me deeply. As our tongues intertwined
and swirled together, I could feel her hand pulling at my polo shirt,
tugging it out of my pants and upward. We broke our soulful kiss briefly
while taking care of that bit of undressing, resuming quickly, enjoying the
taste of lips and face and neck more than I could remember ever with anyone
in the past. Our hands roamed lovingly over each others' torsos, teasing,
pinching, caressing, scratching lightly as our feeling rose to a fever
pitch. "Why did we wait so long to do this?" she breathed.

"Mmmm.... not sure," was my only response, before I lowered my head to
her breast, first lightly circling her nipple with my pointed tongue, then
flicking it gently, before sucking it firmly into my mouth while continuing
my assault with my tongue. This loosed another barrage of soft moans, and
her knees seemed to weaken and wobble a bit as we continued our sexual
dance. Somehow, during the course of this, I found my hand at the button
of her shorts, which I slowly disengaged without any sign of protest from
her. The zipper was extrodinarily loud in my quiet office, as I loosened
her shorts, and slipped them down her long, luscious legs, revealing a pair
of silky black panties.

I paused briefly here, a little unsure of the the territory I was
venturing into. "Do we really want to do this? Are we both ok with this,
Mary Kay?"

She wrapped her arms around my neck, kissed me gently on the lips, and
simply said, "Please. Now."

We began kissing each other again, slowly and gently at first, but with
building passion and energy, our hands roaming all over each others bodies
with lustful abandon, stripping off the last vestiges of our clothing, and
with it, any inhibitions we might have had. I found the center of her
passion wet and radiating the heat of our lust, as she found me also,
throbbing and firm, my turgid member ready and willing.

Suddenly she stopped, and with her eyes flashing and an impish smile on
her lips, she lead me toward the couch in my office (a couch that I have
spend more than a few lonely nights on, building my business, but ignoring
my life... but I digress). Taking advantage of this situation, I took an
extra step as she came to a halt, pressing the front of my body against the
back of hers, feeling the warmth of her skin steep into mine, and kissing
her neck as I ran my hands lightly up her belly, barely touching the skin
as I slowly approached her breasts from their undersides. I could feel the
goose bumps forming again on her otherwise perfectly smooth skin as I
slowly circled her nipples with my fingertips, noting their exquisite
firmness as I began to slowly kiss my way down the middle of her back
toward her flawlessly formed ass. As my tiny little kisses began to
approach the small of her back, I allowed my hands to drift downward again,
exploring her flanks, hips, and that oh so beautiful sixpack belly that
started all this, the trail of kisses leading to the top of curve of her
buttocks.

The air was filled by her scent, the scent of her desire... and the
scent of my desire too. I began to kiss her ass, little wet kisses with
just a hint of tongue all over her ohsoperfect butt. And with each, she
reacted with a sigh, a tremor, a quivering moan. She slowly bent over and
placed her arms on the arm of the couch, shuffling slightly to spread her
legs a little (for me, I rejoiced!!).

Such as sensitive backside, I thought... did I dare? This was so far
beyond anything that I had ever imagined with her; why not? I extended my
tongue and beginning at the base of her spine, I dragged it downward into
the crack until it reached her little rosebud.

"Oh, God!!" she said, "Ummmm!! Ohhhh!! Yessss!!"

What next, I thought. There was a faint but delicate muskiness around
it, but not altogether unpleasant, and combined with the scent of her
juices, pretty erotic. I ran my tongue around her anus slowly and
experimentally a few times, eliciting even more of a reaction.

"Ooohhh! Please!"

In for a penny, in for a pound; I formed my tongue into as firm a tool
as I could and pushed forward into her. She went wild. "Oh, God! Oh,
Alex, please!!"

Her knees buckled, and she rolled to her side, ending up on the seat of
the couch with her legs splayed erotically to the sides, her dark, well
trimmed hair beckoning me closer, her eyes half lidded in pleasure. I
crawled to her on my hands and knees, her erotic scent growing stronger as
I approached her womanhood, and I buried my tongue deep within the folds of
her soft, wet, pink flesh in one quick movement, tasting of her desire from
the source. Her abdomen spasmed as she suddenly drew her legs up and
pulled me deeper into her, her heels at the top of my back and her hand
pulling at the roots of my hair.

I licked upwards and found her clitoris, savoring the firmness of it for
a few seconds on the tip of my tongue, before sucking it deep in between my
lips. This set off a new set of sounds and movements from her, indicating
her approach to climax. I began to concentrate on her clit, flicking it
with my tongue, then closing my lips around it to stimulate it even more.
It seemed to work, since she began huffing and puffing and moaning and
groaning; then everything seemed to just stop. She went rigid, locking her
thighs around my head, and a beautiful vibration began in her very center
as she crossed the threshold of control and stayed there for about 30
seconds.

You would think that with all this attention being paid to Mary Kay's
pleasure, that my own arousal had faded, yet nothing could be farther from
the truth. I was throbbing like a big bass drum, harder than Chinese
arithmetic, and more turned on than I could ever remember. There is
absolutely nothing that turns me on more than the passion and pleasure of a
beautiful woman. Her passion becomes my passion, and it's just that
simple.

She rolled slightly to the side, and I pulled myself up next to her and
held her in my arms, my hardness intruding slightly between us. I kissed
her gently and slowly, enjoying the sensations of her coming back down to
earth, her arms languidly wrapped around me. As I continued to kiss her, I
felt her lips come back to life and her breathing change, picking up the
pace of our sexual congress, and her hips began to rock into me. I was
just starting to roll her over onto her back when she said, "No, wait..."
and I paused, a bit quizzical as to her intent. "Let me do that," she
said.

"Huh?" ever the witty conversationalist, said I.

"I want to get on top; it's my turn." And with that she was lying on top
of me... then sitting up and sliding back till I could feel her heat and
her wetness over my cock, her fine, well trimmed hairs tickling me as she
began to rock over me, then grasping me gently as she fit me inside of her.

I felt her lips pass by my head, the slow and delicious feeling of warm
envelopment as she pushed down around me. I thought I could hold out
initially, but it seemed as if I could feel every ripple, every ridge of
her walls pushing me toward the edge. I tried to shift my attention to her
pleasure to delay mine, caressing her lovely breasts, brushing her nipples
with a feathery touch from my open palms, causing her to shiver so
delightfully. But then I made the mistake of looking at her eyes... her
beautiful liquid eyes, and found them locked onto mine, drawing me deeper
into her ... carrying me forward in her pleasure and in mine. I knew I
was in trouble...

"Ahhh," I heard myself say, as she raised herself up till I was just
barely inside her, then taking me back deep inside. "Oohhh." This was
going way too fast.... And so I said... "Wait."

"Aaww," she said plaintively.

"Trust me," and with that, I rolled her over, never losing contact with
her, so that now I was on top and in control of the sensations. In this
position, I thought I could last longer. I stroked and paused, and
stroked, and paused some more, keeping myself under control and making the
sensations last for both of us, savoring the smooth, warm tightness as I
tried to merge with her body. I could feel her excitement ebb and flow,
rising to a plateau, then pausing, and rising again, and as I felt her rise
toward her climax, and feeling the incipient shivering of her very core,
feeling every little delicious contraction within her, I let myself go over
the top with her. As my rhythm broke, and my hips began to jerk
spasmodically, I finally lunged forward with a primal cry, to bury myself
as deeply into Mary Kay as possible, trying in some small way to become a
part of her. My spasms rose up from my very toes, seeming to expand within
her, our copious juices mingling together as we cried out together in a
passionate embrace, enjoying for that brief time the sensations of two
becoming one in a brilliant flash of light.

I'n not sure how long we lay there, gathering our strength, and I would
have liked to have been able to say that we did it four more times that
night, but the truth is that following that extraordinary evening, we were
both exhausted and perhaps a bit embarrassed, or at least, taken aback by
the rapidity and intensity of the evening's activities. We did share a
shower, in the office locker room, and though pleasantly and frequently
interrupted by kisses, whispers, pinches, and caresses, no further overtly
sexual acts were committed before we parted ways. And as it turned out,
there were more activities to tell... another time...

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2004-07-28T13:48:00.000-07:00

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2004-07-25T11:52:00.000-07:00

Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Takin' it to the Banks
Part: 2 of 6
Universe: Second Best
Summary: A woman's libido is reawakened by her daughter's antics, and
desperation finds an outlet.

Keywords: voy

Keywords for full story: MF mf 1st oral

Takin' it to the Banks

Chapter 2

While all this sounds idyllic, unfortunately, it wasn't, and the
reasons all revolved around Ed. Fidelity wasn't in Ed's vocabulary. From the
first, although he was careful not to rub her nose in it, Marion was not his
only girlfriend - she was his fall-back position. Ed was big on variety, and,
frankly, many times his silver tongue got him things his less than impressive
equipment wouldn't support his hanging onto. When Marion moved in, all it
meant to Ed was that he no longer had to worry about supply - it DIDN'T mean
that the supply was limited to Marion! Similarly, marriage was an exercise in
economics; they married in November so Ed could get the tax break without
supporting Marion for a full year. Of course, he never SAID that, not in so
many words - Ed wasn't stupid when it came to social interaction.

Pregnancy and motherhood slowed Marion down. For her, the joys of
motherhood displaced some of her sexual heat, and even treated some of it -
Twyla giving suck was every bit as satisfying as Ed doing it (maybe more so)
and Marion sized up to midway between an A and a B cup while Twyla was
nursing, although she lost most of it after. Sex was good, but no longer
exciting, and sandwiched between bouts of parental responsibility - and Ed
wasn't always there...

Parental responsibility didn't sit well with Ed - in fact, it scared
him to death! Soon after Twyla was born, he took to drifting out the door,
evenings, and coming home drunk and smelling of someone else's perfume. A
year in, he lost his job over his alcoholism, and soon after he found a new
one, he announced that he was moving out to be with some blonde he'd met at
work.

Why Marion put up with this, God only knew - but she did, merely
turning her attention to Twyla. When Ed's paramour dumped him after a week,
Marion took him back, and Ed settled down for a bit. But he never quit going
out, and the evidence of his infidelity continued to mount. Over the next two
years, Marion learned not to count on Ed for anything, including income; he
was in and out of jobs and in and out of other women's beds on a regular
basis. Finally, when Twyla was three, Ed announced for the second time in
ninety days that he'd found a new love and he was leaving, and Marion told him
not to come back - and meant it, this time. During the divorce proceedings,
Big Felicia came to see Marion and give her emotional support, and ended up
relating a number of things Marion hadn't been aware of about that first night
and subsequent visitations, for instance:

Ed had staggered up that first night at about four-thirty, while
Marion was sound asleep, and gone to the bathroom. Whether by accident or
design (Felicia figured he'd keyed in on the sound) he entered Felicia's room
through her connecting door, catching her consoling herself with her favorite
vibrator. Felicia had been in no condition to resist him; the big reason that
Ed was so drained later was that he'd left a load in Felicia at that point.
That also explained Felicia's reactions in the bathroom; after finding him
there, she'd decided during the wait to get seconds, only to discover Marion
there.

Blackmail had been good for Ed; he started showing up at the dorm when
he knew Marion wasn't there, and knocking a piece off Felicia before she
showed up - then they would go to the common room and pretend mere
acquaintance until she did. When Marion moved in with him, it just made
boffing Felicia a little less detectable...

A judge's description of the things the law could do to deadbeat dads
did more for Ed than anything Marion ever said - although, frankly, the
divorce was the closest Marion ever came to coming into conflict with him;
she'd been a doormat from Day One, which had suited Ed's self-centered
preferences just fine. Child support rolled in regularly, but the amounts
were wildly variant, depending on Ed's current states of employment and
romantic involvement.

So Marion continued to work. Her unfinished college education pinned
some doors closed, but Marion was more suited to manual labor, anyway,
emotionally. She was intelligent, but would never have been an intellectual;
practical matters were her forte. She tried waitressing, but the hours were
always ugly and she wanted to be there for Twyla whenever possible.
Eventually, she stumbled upon a janitorial service, and it seemed well suited
to her needs. It was scut work, but for that reason, the salary was a bit
more than the minimum wage, rather than being pegged there. The hours allowed
the kind of split shift that had Marion going to work after putting Twyla on
the bus to school, home for a few hours starting a bit before Twyla got home
from school, out for four more hours in the evening, and home for bedtime.

The service usually ran annual contracts and operated as teams that
concentrated upon one or two buildings. Marion was a team player - if it
needed doing, she would do it. Other team members came and went (there was
always a new kid to train), but Marion became a fixture; when the management
occasionally purged the staff to keep salaries and benefit costs down,
somehow, Marion always made the cut - she was just too good at what she did.
Yet she avoided management responsibility, refusing the raises involved,
stating that she just wasn't comfortable in positions of leadership over more
than three or four people. The reality was, however, that she had kept two or
three of her supervisors in the saddle by doing everything but taking the
credit; when the owner had put his son into the rotation to get his feet wet
before taking on more administrative responsibilities, he'd insisted that
Marion baby-sit him. The son survived - learning planning and supervision from
a mistress of the art - grew, and moved on, forever grateful to his diminutive
straw boss.

Marion went on-shift at nine a.m. and broke for 'lunch' - a four hour
break - at one. She returned at five and worked until nine, five days a week.
When she needed extra money, there was always a weekend job with the 'special'
team - but she tried to avoid that, it interfered with her quality time with
Twyla. Over the years, the long days had removed the temptation to go hunting
for a replacement for Ed - the search was just too tiring. Besides, as she
got older, the rogues' gallery of losers grew and the available quality
specimens dwindled to nothing - it just wasn't worth it to expose herself to
the agony. Ed had given her a good eye for losers, and she recognized that
the majority of ANY bar's population after you reached twenty five or so was
just that. Over time, she admitted that the effort was wasted, and gave up,
hoping instead for some kind of lightning strike. Sex became something she
did for herself, in the quiet of her room at night, using her hands or a toy
while reading an erotic novel or watching a porn flick collected during one of
her embarrassed trips to the local Sex Shoppe. And time marched on...

Twyla reached sixteen, and Marion, saddened, watched her going through
the same misery that had afflicted her at that age. But Twyla had a couple of
things going for her, one of which was the fact that Ed's side of the family
had graced her with a bit more to work with than Marion had ever had,
including a fine set of 34C breasts. When puberty had begun reshaping her
body, however, Twyla had taken to wearing clothing that obscured her body in
fear that she would lose her few male friends, who invariably thought of her
as 'one of the guys'; she was her own worst enemy.

When Marion insisted that for her Senior Prom, she really, really
needed to turn out in a dress, a sea change occurred. Twyla's date, a
childhood friend who had accepted her last minute offer out of desperation
after any number of other attempts had failed, got the shock of his life when
he discovered his 'good buddy' Twyla really WAS a girl, and was packing tits
to prove it! And that was only the first such shock for him - events at the
Prom led Twyla to take action to ensure that he understood that the new Twyla
was VERY interested in HIM, and HIM ALONE!

In fact, Twyla ensured that she had Mickey LaRue's full attention by
making him a present of those heretofore undiscovered breasts, and once they
had reached a meeting of the minds, she gifted the boy with her virginity, to
his complete delight! And THAT was when Marion's began! No, it had
nothing to do with Mickey, per se - he was a wonderful boy, and at their
current rate, he would make a fine son-in-law. But on another level, it was
very much about Mickey, for he was male - very, very male! - and he was having
regular sex with Marion's daughter!

Did Marion disapprove? Absolutely not! In fact, she had helped to
engineer their initial assignation, that Prom night, when she'd discovered her
daughter, naked, basically molesting him on the couch! (See Second Best,
Chapter 110). But she'd gotten an eyeful, then and later, when they had
actually consummated the union, and it had set loose demons that Marion had
thought were successfully penned. A quick excursion to check on the pair had
left her witness to Twyla's defloration, an exercise in voyeurism that still
embarrassed her. Once she'd been drawn in, she just couldn't leave, and had
masturbated to two orgasms while watching the pair explore each other for the
first time, scared to death she would be discovered.

Since that time, however, sex was never far from Marion's thoughts -
especially when Mickey was around. And for the last month, he'd been around
constantly, whenever humanly possible. He and Twyla were virtually joined at
the hip! If it had been ONLY sexual, she'd have gone on the warpath - but the
pair managed this uncanny mix of the mundane and the erotic. One minute, they
would be playing chess, or be absorbed in working a calculus problem - the
next, Twyla would be gasping in pleasure while Mickey nibbled her neck and
fondled her breasts! Given the fact that she'd given verbal approval for
their first bout, Marion couldn't very well forbid the pair to have sex.
She'd gotten Twyla out to the doctor for decent birth control, and if
anything, dispensing with rubbers made the pair more active. And THAT left
Marion constantly in turmoil, imagining what they were up to - when she
couldn't actually hear it!

Twyla didn't help. She left the door to her room open, a constant
temptation that Marion was prone to succumb to. What Marion didn't know was
that it was deliberate; Twyla had detected her that first night, and had
surmised what she was doing in reaction. She'd decided that it was probably
good for her; while she hadn't mentioned it to Mickey, about a week in he had
delivered a significant glance while NOT closing the door at the start of one
of their assignations. Marion went to some effort NOT to wander past,
ESPECIALLY when there was a high probability of sexual activity - but it had
happened twice - and once presented with a scene, Marion had discovered that
she was unable to leave - and unable to keep from touching herself.

Marion's libido had roared to life, and dealing with it had become
obsession. With the example of the youngsters' joy before her, she became
absolutely miserable. Sex was top of the heap - she'd worn out a vibrator,
and was making weekly embarrassed forays to the sex shop for movies and toys -
but there was a lot more to it: intimacy, touch, sharing - private
communication - Marion's physical, mental and emotional needs had surged to
the fore. Twyla had once been a help; parental concerns had kept Marion
distracted. Now she was a symbol of what Marion was missing, and it was
killing her. Obsessive distraction was with her constantly, even at work...

Marion's current team leader was named Dominic Somethingorother - it
was a Hawaiian name that nobody could seem to get their tongue around. The
team was all female, and management referred to them as Dom's Harem, even on
more or less official documents. Dom thought it was funny, and in whispered
conversations among the harem it was apparent that if he wanted, he could have
any of them, but Dom had a big, comfortable, mumu-clad wife at home, and no
apparent interest in any of the women, with the possible exception of Fat
Maria, who he spent an ungodly amount of time with - largely because she spoke
some fractured variant of South American Spanish that even the Puerto Rican
girls couldn't decipher, and he had to teach her English one word at a time.
As a result, Maria followed Dom like a shadow, following hand signals more
often than not, an extensible right arm. Scuttlebutt was that she offered
herself to him daily; once, when someone mentioned it to her, she responded
with something that appeared to be pained agreement - but of course the
language barrier kept anyone from being sure just what had been said and
understood by either party.

Marion would have liked to have captured Dom's interest, but it had
been clear from the start that she wasn't even close to being his type.
Still, he valued her work and was pleasant to her, so he was featured in an
occasional fantasy. But there was any number of other males in the building,
employees of the company occupying the building - and she didn't actually work
with them... Most of these were admittedly 'suits' - executives, intent on
their own pursuits, many of whom were at least Marion's age and fat and
apparently happily ensconced in a relationship; the few roving eyes in this
group unfortunately were attached to the least palatable of the candidates.
Uniformly, they treated the janitorial staff as furniture. But there WERE a
few exceptions, oddly clustered around the IT department: a couple of young,
eager (and buff!) tech support types at the Help Desk, the Mad Dog Biker type
with the red ponytail and five-o'clock shadow who was the network
administrator, and that sad, older fellow, Mr. Morgenthaler...

Aaron Morgenthaler had three standard expressions, a sincere, but
otherwise poker face, mild irritation, and haunted sadness. The first two, he
had adopted when it fell to him at a young age to lead a group of generally
older troops into battle; both were calculated to reflect maturity and inspire
confidence. The two stood him in good stead later, in the business world,
too, and had become habit. He had a wicked, wild grin that he deployed on the
odd occasion, but most people weren't privileged to see it; a simple smile
tended to disappear into his beard, undetected. Now, at forty, he had no need
to appear artificially mature - his greying beard and receding hairline did
the job for him. Age had also somewhat thickened his body - although he
wasn't fat - blurring the gangly lines and ropy structure that had
characterized his youth. In fact, Aaron's basic body type was much like
Marion's, and his inability to display huge masses of muscle had cut into his
social life as much as Marion's lack of girlish padding.

The fact that Marion thought of him as sad meant that Aaron had
slipped up. Sadness usually marked his features either during or after a
perusal of the feminine form - usually after, at the workplace - for Aaron was
every bit as obsessed with sex as Marion, and had been for a good deal longer!
The current work rules designed to prevent sexual harent had robbed Aaron
of what might have been a primary source of relationships - women who had been
exposed to him for long enough for him to have made an impression. Aaron's
job demanded large amounts of his time - sometimes twelve, fourteen, even
sixteen hours a day - and combined with his innate shyness and his advancing
age, totally robbed him of any chance at a relationship started OUTSIDE work.
So Aaron was reduced to window-shopping - poker-faced examinations of some
display of feminine pulchritude that he only released the real background
expression of sadness and longing for after he turned away... Aaron's sex
life currently consisted of the occasional lucky discovery of a hooker on the
seamy side of town, (followed by two weeks of anxiety while he awaited
symptoms of STDs), regular trips to strip bars, (where he could give his
sadness free reign while paying ridiculous prices for an occasional cuddle
with a dancer), and frequent liaisons with his right hand, supported by visual
or written erotica. From conversations with colleagues, he'd surmised that
even the married ones weren't necessarily getting what they wanted, when they
wanted it, so Aaron didn't feel particularly abnormal in his needs - but
happiness wasn't much to be found in his life, only some satisfaction with his
work and his hobbies (which, revolving around computers as they did, were
usually indistinguishable from actual work to outsiders), and the occasional
moment of peace.

IT is a service industry; the primary difference between what a
support technician does and what a janitor does from at least one perspective
is that a tech does for others what they cannot do while a janitor does what
they merely do not wish to. With that thought process in mind, Aaron was
always courteous to the janitorial staff, opening doors for their carts,
greeting them in the hallways, and generally treating them like human beings
instead of mobile furniture. This had the side effect of getting him more
thorough support, but it wasn't the reason for it. He'd even attempted a
couple of short greetings to Fat Maria, which had been met with embarrassed
grins of incomprehension and had resulted in an uncommonly thorough cleaning
of his cube while Fat Maria tried to decide whether he was interested in her
or not... Fact was, Aaron might have been tempted if they could have
communicated at all - he'd seen the look on Maria's face as she trailed Dom,
and knew a kindred soul. She wasn't his type, but it would have given both of
them a port away from the storm... Aaron had examined Marion on a number of
occasions, and although she generally fell outside the opposite bound of his
tastes from Fat Maria, he approved of her, finding something indefinably
pleasant in her features, musculature, and calm, businesslike approach to her
work - although, as usual, he was careful NOT to let said approval show on his
face. Still, offered an opportunity to be pleasant to her or offer some
courtesy, he took it.

On this particular Monday morning, Marion arrived at work thoroughly
jangled and distracted; the kids had been particularly acrobatic and noisy on
Sunday evening, and Marion, over-stimulated, had tried hard to exhaust herself
with a vibrator and the viewing of a pretty torrid double-penetration flick in
which the female participants were fairly thoroughly exploited. She'd been
drifting in that direction lately, but suspected that it was merely a feature
of her desperation. Her pussy was a little sore from some over-enthusiastic
banging and her clit felt like it was the size of her pinky and was buzzing on
it's own without the assistance of a vibrator; if the company had allowed her
to come to work in a dress or skirt, she'd have passed on panties. As it was,
her over-sensitive clit rubbed the gusset of her panties and her black stretch
pants as she moved, maintaining her level of agitation. Dom, who had noticed
that she was increasingly distracted over the past weeks, tried to pry the
reason out of her, but she passed the whole thing off.

Aaron tossed the empty paper cup that had held his tea in the trash
and went back to his analysis of an intermittent interface issue that had been
popping up periodically over the last month. The nature of the beast made it
a bear to get his head around, so he decided to take a break, jumping out to
his web-mail account and perusing the collection of spam that had arrived
since nine a.m. A relatively innocuous looking message led to a seriously hot
website featuring videos of women theoretically collected off the street and
somehow talked into sex, and Aaron nervously pulled up a couple of hot
trailers - God knows what would happen if he got caught looking at this stuff
in his cube! He posted a little mirror, designed to sit on your monitor and
keep people from sneaking up on you while your attention was on your work, up
on his cube wall, oriented on the door to the room in an effort not to get
caught by one of the females a couple of cubes down, especially, but also to
warn of other males with an axe to grind. Five minutes later, he was
thoroughly aroused, but the tea had hit his bladder, so he struggled up to go
to the Men's Room.

One of the duties that generally fell to Marion was cleanup of the
third floor Men's Room. Twice a day, at eleven thirty a.m. and again at about
six p.m., she would roll her cart up to the door, knock, announce herself,
wait for the occupants to clear out, and, blocking the door open, proceed to
clean and restock. Men were messy sometimes, but in Marion's experience, it
usually wasn't deliberate. Sometimes the Ladies' Room, however, looked like
someone had deliberately tried to stop up the toilets, and detritus from
various health and beauty products could cover the surfaces around the sinks.
She rolled her cart up to the door and knocked, calling "Cleaning team -
anyone there?"

Aaron bellied up to the urinal and fought to release his swollen cock
from the confines of his briefs, then stood there, willing the stiff beast to
settle down a bit so he could switch the plumbing connection to his bladder.
Just as he was getting set, there was a knock and a soft contralto announced,
"Cleaning team - anyone there?"

"Damn," Aaron grunted, then "Just a sec..." But he was concentrating
on what he was doing, and somewhat irritated that the cleaning team had showed
up AGAIN! For some reason, his bladder was almost always full at about six
p.m., and he would invariably find the place blocked off, so he was carrying a
bit of heat over it. Distraction caused him to be less than loud...

Marion turned and started digging in her cleaning cart. The guys
tended to be loud and quick to respond, so she knew the coast was clear...
She threw open the door and backed her cart into the Men's Room, turned, and
gazed into the startled eyes of Mr. Morgenthaler as he half turned from the
urinal, exposing the biggest cock she'd ever seen!

Aaron was neither surprised nor particularly alerted when the door
opened behind him, but the sound of the cart banging over the threshold was
surprising. He turned, surprised, just in time to see little Marion look up
and discover him, toilet brush in hand. Marion's eyes dropped from his to his
waist, and widened significantly - but didn't leave. She just stood there,
frozen, eyes glued to his swollen member... Aaron swallowed, cleared his
throat, and murmured, "Guess I wasn't loud enough..."

Marion was dimly aware that her fixation wasn't polite, but she
couldn't tear her eyes away. "Um, sorry - I guess I wasn't paying enough
attention..."

Aaron was at a loss. The woman was just standing there - and his cock
was getting harder under her gaze! Finally, he turned back toward the urinal,
fig leafing himself. Once his cock was out of sight, the spell was broken,
and Marion could move again. "Uh, sorry - I�ll go back out..."

Marion started to manhandle the cart, but Aaron stopped her. "Leave
it," he admonished. "No need to lug it back and forth. I'll... try to
hurry." But his mind was ringing with 'God knows how I'll get this thing
down, now!'

Marion nodded, unseen, and staggered out, to stand in the hallway,
staring blindly down into the open atrium. Gentle Mr. Morgenthaler was HUGE!
The cock he'd revealed to her was as big as Mickey's, but thicker! Her mind
reprocessed the image over and over, unable to believe that a REAL cock could
be that size, despite half a hundred porn videos. She pulled off her rubber
gloves and scrubbed at her face, but the picture just kept coming back - and
her clit was going nuts! She ground herself against the railing,
unconsciously - fortunately, no one came along...

It took Aaron a couple of minutes to get control, and another couple
to drain his bladder. He staggered out, and sidled past Marion, whispering,
"Sorry!" in his embarrent, and getting an equally embarrassed, "Me, too!"
in reply. The pair didn't look at one another.

Marion entered the Men's Room, set up her placard announcing that the
floors were wet, then stood for a good five minutes, leaning against a stall
and shaking. Finally, she collected herself and began to work, but she kept
drifting... The cleaning took almost twice as long as usual, and she almost
wasn't out of the Ladies' Room in time for the noon rush.

Aaron sat in his cube, staring at his monitor, his mind totally gone.
Marion had just stood there, staring at his penis! Christ, it wasn't THAT
small! In fact, it was probably almost eight inches! She'd acted like he was
deformed, or something! Why did she just stare like that? Did it mean - no,
surely not! But the idea that she might have been interested in him - it -
was attractive; certainly, it was more pleasant to contemplate than the
alternatives... He shuffled out to go to lunch without having accomplished a
thing at one fifteen - fifteen minutes after Marion had dazedly departed for
her extended 'lunch break'.

Marion came home and sat, denying herself a masturbation session
because Twyla (and probably Mickey) would be home soon, and once she got
started, she didn't see HOW she was going to stop! She ate and cleaned up the
kitchen, moving on autopilot, even after the kids got home. Suddenly, Mickey
receded into the background - the importance the young people's relationship
shrank to something more normal, rather than the constant nagging reminder
that she was alone that it had been. Twyla noticed her mother's distraction,
but was unable to draw her out - an admission that Marion had been ogling some
guy's cock just wasn't in the offing.

The second half of Marion's workday went relatively smoothly, which
was good, because she was only about eighty percent there. Aaron absented
himself a bit after six without seeing her again, something that he was of two
minds about. He wanted to see her - but he was incredibly embarrassed about
the incident, and didn't see how he could actually manage to occupy the same
space with her. Ultimately, though, each of them starred in the other's
fantasies that night, and both of them enjoyed those fantasies immensely.