Standard disclaimer: This story contains adult language and explicit sexual situations and is NOT intended for minors. If you are a minor or offended by material of a sexual nature, do not continue reading.
Copyright © 1996,1998 by Anne747 (anne@annejet.pair.com) and Rick
No permission given for posting ANYWHERE!
"Your Honor, defense objects to that line of questioning as being inflammatory and irrelevant!" I jumped from my seat and shot my worthy opponent a look that would have turned solid rock into molten lava.
Not that Jamie could ever be accused of being solid rock, but I was sure, given the right circumstances, she could be as hot as molten lava outside the courtroom. She was, without a doubt, one of the best prosecutors I had ever gone up against. She was also, without a doubt, one of the most sensual women I had ever seen. She always dressed very conservatively, as a professional woman must to be taken seriously, but there was a sensuality that burned beneath that professional exterior. It was never overt, but I felt it just the same.
"The prosecution feels this line of questioning is most relevant and, given the circumstances and the facts in this case, the jury deserves to see what kind of a man the defendant is, no matter how inflammatory the evidence may seem." The look she flashed back at me was at once accusatory, hostile, questioning and sensual. The accusatory and hostile parts were professional, having to do with the case. The questioning and sensual parts were all personal and had to do with the note I had secreted into her briefcase as she was talking to reporters on the courthouse steps. It read simply, "The Legal Limit... 8:00? Greg"
The Legal Limit was an out of the way little spot that, by its name, one would assume was frequented by lawyers. Not so. Contrary to what you see on television, lawyers rarely do what everyone expects them to do, so very few would actually go to a place with such an obvious hook trying to attract them. It is, in fact, owned by a group of doctors, notorious in their disdain for anyone of the legal persuasion. (What do you call 500 lawyers at the bottom of the ocean? A good start... What do you call 50 lawyers buried up to their necks in sand? Not enough sand...) They purposefully named the place in such a way so as to keep lawyers out. It was the perfect place for a prosecutor and a defense attorney to meet if they didn't want their bigmouthed colleagues to see them together.
Jamie and I had been on opposite sides of the aisle in many cases. There had been plea bargaining, backroom dealings, clandestine meetings in small courthouse alcoves to discuss how to serve justice and save the taxpayers money at the same time. From time to time, we'd exchanged glances that ran the gamut from threatening to challenging to flirtatious, but it had never gone beyond that. I woke up that morning thinking about her, with a cock as solid as the aforementioned rock, determined to push the envelope.
Nothing was said, and the only indication I got during the morning session was the look. We broke for lunch and went our separate ways, each with our own staff to discuss how we had done so far for the day. As I reached into my briefcase to extract an accumulation of papers, a foreign slip of paper, folded in quarters, fell to the surface of the walnut conference table. My heart started beating just a little more rapidly as I opened it.
Her response read, "Let's make it 9:00. Jamie"
Always arguing with me, I thought with a smile, as I caught her eyes and smiled, a faint nod telling her that I would accept her time. I beat a hasty retreat out of the courtroom before thoughts of us together affected me too much. Sitting in my car, I wondered how I was going to manage to get through the rest of the day. Somehow I did it, but I have to admit it was a blur. I ended up at the bar early, as I knew I would.
Funny, but the lack of clientele had made the bar a wonderful place. You got the feeling that its owners barely survived, struggling to avoid bankruptcy, but not willing to simply give up, and move on. The lighting was dark, and the booths in the back were extremely private. The bar's manager, Frank, gave me a nod hello as I came in.
You gotta say one thing about Frank: best man for the job. My scotch was already in the glass (neat) by the time I got to the bar. I picked up the glass and headed for the back, just wanting to be alone for a while. Just what I needed, I thought... time to sit and brood about Jamie. Since this case had started, I'd been unable to decide if my attraction for her had grown because I knew I couldn't have her.
We'd known each other for a long time, fought many battles against one another. I fought hard to defend my clients, ones that she would happily see locked up forever. I also knew that I'd spent enough time defending guilty clients to harden my attitude about life. Passing the bar had been the high point of my life. God, I'd been so optimistic – save the world, protect the rights of the innocent.
I laughed a little and signaled for another drink. Life comes crashing in on fantasies fairly quickly. I'd spent a few years as a public defender, but, in the end, I was enticed away by a very prestigious firm. My lifestyle is enviable. I'm at the top of my career. Yet, here I sit in a bar, waiting for a woman I know is dangerous for me. I'm married, she's married, and we're on opposite sides in a highly controversial trial.
I haven't thought much about the consequences of my actions tonight. I suppose I don't really want to. I'm reduced to attempting to keep my attention off this woman who's taken control of my life. I sit in the courtroom and imagine myself touching her... running my hand up the curves of her strong legs, pressing my lips to the back of her neck where a few stray hairs have escaped from the pile on top of her head. My teeth gently capturing an earlobe in my mouth...
I stop my fantasizing, realizing that I've been running the glass of scotch over my lips, enjoying the feel of anything against them. I'd like to claim that I'm in a loveless marriage, or my wife doesn't understand me. I think I could find comfort even in those cliches, but they're not true. I'm in a marriage that could best be described by the word comfortable. My wife is a lawyer at the same firm as me (that's where we met). We're in different areas – I in criminal law, she in mergers and acquisitions. We both work fiendishly long hours, but still find time to have some real fun now and again.
I think that makes this obsession with Jamie all the more difficult to understand. We'd tried cases against one another many times before. Perhaps it was the nature of the case this time that brought some of my feelings to a head. Lawrence Taylor, my client, was accused of killing his wife. The prosecution claimed that intense jealously over his wife's platonic relationship with another man had driven Lawrence to stab her to death one night after she returned home from having dinner with this man. Lawrence claimed that he wasn't at home when she was killed, that he'd simply returned home to find her lifeless body on the floor.
It was actually quite ironic – the case about love, passion, hatred, and deception stirring some of these same feelings in me. My hand was up to order another drink, and perhaps something to eat, when I saw Jamie enter the bar. She turned toward me, her body moving slowly and sensuously. I knew it was too late to deny my feelings for her. I had a feeling we were both here for the same thing.
She smiled as she approached the table, her voice a little husky as she said, "Make it two, Frank, and make mine a double," smiling at the manager. "It's been a hell of a day and I think I have some catching up to do." She slid into the booth next to me, the slit in her skirt parting just enough to give me a flash of a porcelain thigh above her black stockings. She adjusted her skirt slowly, enjoying the effect she had on me.
"I was wondering how long it was going to take you," she said in a low voice, oozing sensuality.
"Whatever do you mean, counselor?" I replied, feigning confusion.
"Oh, cut the shit, Greg. We're both grownups here," she said, pulling a cigarette out of her purse. She tapped it on a gold lighter she also extracted, glanced at Frank as he set our drinks on the small table, lighting the tip of it as he left. "We both know we're married and shouldn't be here, but we also both know you've wanted your cock inside me ever since that party at Judge Bean's house. On top of that, we both know that I've wanted it inside me ever since that same party. God knows I would have had it at the party if that fucking wife of yours hadn't gotten shit-faced and passed out in the fruit plate. Damn, that was lousy timing." She took a deep drag from her cigarette, the smoke circling her eyes. Even through the haze, they blazed like a tigress on the hunt. I wondered if I was going someplace better left unexplored.
"Guilty as charged," I replied, deciding to use the honest approach...somewhat of a stretch for a man in my profession. With that, I took the cigarette from her fingers, sucked a long drag from it and snuffed it into the ashtray. "I don't like it when you smoke. I'd rather have your mouth sucking on something else."
Reaching my hand behind her head, intertwining my fingers in her long red hair, I pulled her toward me and pressed my mouth onto hers. Our lips parted hungrily and we savagely devoured each other's tongue. My hand slid under Jamie's skirt as she parted her thighs, moved past her stocking tops, along her silky skin, and pressed tightly against her soaking panties. Working my fingertips past the elastic, I slid my fingers deeply into her flooded pussy, eliciting a moan from her mouth into mine.
Her fingers deftly found my zipper, slid it down, and reached inside my bulging pants. Grasping my erect cock, she began stroking it, running her thumb over the tip and coating the head with the essence that had collected on the tip. The more she stroked, the more of my fluid she milked from me, dribbling down my shaft, lubricating it for her hand.
Our moans were muffled by our mouths locked together. Our breathing intense and rapid as our hands and fingers flew against each other, my fingers in her cunt, my thumb pressing against her clit, her hand stroking me faster and faster, sliding over my glans, across my head and back down again. We were literally possessed by our pent up passion and exploded in a mutually manipulated orgasm. I brought my hand, covered with Jamie's sweet climax, to my mouth, tasting her. Jamie had caught my come in hers and did the same.
"I always knew you would taste this good," I said, staring into her green eyes.
"Come with me," she replied, taking my hand and pulling me from the booth.
Something in the back of my mind told me what we were about to do was take a step that couldn't be undone. I must admit I didn't give a damn. The two of us left together – not really a bright thing to do – but I don't think either of us were thinking clearly. Kissing outside the bar, I realized that we were in a hell of a mess. It's not like I could take her home to my place and introduce her to my wife.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the neon sign of a cheap motel. You know the kind – where nobody asks you to sign the register, you pay in cash, and nobody asks how many nights you'll be staying. If they were to ask anything, I suppose, it would be how many hours. The two of us entered the dingy lobby, where I paid for a room, in cash. Mrs. Smith and I walked up the central staircase, of what had probably once been a nice hotel, to our room.
We barely got through the door before our mouths met, hands touching one another. I felt like my blood was on fire. Jamie's hands pulled my clothing from my body with record speed. My hands went to touch her, but she pushed me away. She backed away from me and began slowly pulling off her clothing. Finally, she stood there in just her garters, stockings, panties, and bra. She slid her panties off so I could see her shaved slit, sliding a finger into her wetness just to show me how wet she still was.
"Oh, lover," she crooned as she lay on the bed. "I can't wait to feel your hard cock sliding into my wet pussy. I want you to fuck me hard, really hard." And then, as she turned over, she continued, "Or perhaps you want to fuck me in the ass. Oh, yes, I can hardly wait to feel you driving that big cock of yours into my asshole."
I stood there stunned for a moment. I mean, here was this very proper woman I knew, telling me in graphic detail exactly what she wanted me to do to her. There was no question that my cock was rock hard by now. I approached her and, I have to admit, there was no thought of foreplay in my mind.
I spread her legs and roughly slid my cock into her pussy. Her cries were of ecstasy, not of pain, as she urged me on, telling me to fuck her harder. I wet a finger and slid it into her asshole, working it around until I could add a second one. I felt her body shudder and a climax take her while I was fucking her ass with three fingers. I couldn't hold off much longer, so I pulled my cock, dripping with come, from her cunt, and pressed it hard against her asshole.
I looked down at her as I slid my cock into her ass. Her wild red hair had loosened, was curled along her back and hanging down over her face. I reached out to touch it, making sure it wasn't alive because, for the briefest of moments, in the pale light of the motel room, it seemed to move on its own.
As my cock slid faster and faster in and out of her ass, I couldn't really hold off much longer. I slid my hand beneath her, rubbing her clit, so that we could come together. We did, the two of us crying out in pleasure at the same time. She fell to the bed, her arms no longer able to hold herself after her orgasm. My cock slid out of her, and I lay down beside her, gathering her into my arms.
We kissed for what seemed like ages, murmuring soft words, ones that said nothing, but said a lot as well. Finally she turned to me, speaking softly, "You know, Greg, your wife and my husband have been sleeping together for the past year, don't you?"
I couldn't believe what she had just said. My Helen, and her husband Joe...it just didn't seem possible. I told her that I just didn't believe it. She smiled and grabbed her briefcase, pulling a number of 8 x 10 pictures out of it. My God, there was my wife, blindfolded and bound to the bed, while Joe was pressing something into her cunt. I wondered how much she knew about what was being done to her, but, in the next picture, Helen was fucking Joe with a strap-on cock. The funny thing is that she had never been so adventuresome with me. It was a struggle to get her to take my cock into her mouth, and God forbid I would want to fuck her in the ass. I have to admit I was more angry about the fact that the pictures portrayed her doing things that she had refused to do in our bed.
"You know those twice a month meetings out of town, Greg?" Jamie prompted. When I nodded, she continued, "Well, the two of them spend a couple of days up at our cabin, fucking their brains out. I've decided that it's time it stopped."
"Divorce?" I asked her.
"No," she laughed. "I had something different in mind. Did I not hear something about your wife being independently wealthy? I always wondered why she bothered working."
"Well, Helen saw the money destroy her family, and decided that she would spend only part of it. The rest will go to charity upon her death, unless I outlive her...." I stopped speaking as I saw Jamie nodding her head slightly.
"Well, you know, Greg, the roads from the cabin get fairly slippery at this time of year. It would be a shame if their car went off the road, wouldn't it?" Her arms slid around my body, caressing me as she spoke.
I couldn't decide exactly what to say in response. I also couldn't believe that my body was responding to her soft touches. I asked a question I wasn't sure I wanted answered. "Do you have anything else on them, other than these pictures?"
"Yes," she said, without hesitation, "a video tape."
"How..."
"I hired a very thorough private investigator," she answered, before I had a chance to finish the question. "A guy that works for us from time to time... a real sleaze bag, but he enjoys his work… too much, sometimes, I think," she continued with a wry smile.
"How daring are you feeling?" she asked, finally.
"Very," I answered, unable to resist the challenge in her eye. "Why?"
"I've got the tape at home, if you want to see it. Joe is there, but if he's true to form, he's had enough to drink to keep him asleep until morning."
We arrived at her house, a massive Colonial only about half a mile from my own, some 30 minutes later. The windows were dark and, as we boldly walked through the front door, I pressed her against the wall, my mouth covering hers, our tongues doing the Tango.
"Wait here," she said, breaking away at last, leaving me in the living room as she climbed the stairs. She returned a few minutes later in a silk kimono that accentuated her red hair and large breasts, carrying a video cassette in her left hand and a shoe box in her right. I was about to ask about the box, but decided better of it. I figured it would all become clear, in due course.
Leading me toward the back of the house, we entered what could only be described as a private theater. Calling it an entertainment center would not be doing it justice at all. It contained a massive 72" screen, complete with surround-sound speakers lining the walls. It was acoustically insulated and had everything from plush recliners and velvet bean bags to every size pillow imaginable for lounging.
After fixing each of us a Scotch, neat, Jamie inserted the cassette into the player. The screen automatically turned on, the lights dimmed and we positioned ourselves on adjacent pillows to watch what was about to appear.
Whoever had taken this was no amateur... and he wasn't shooting from outside looking through a window, either! He had to have been in the room with them, or at least his camera was. It opened with Joe and Helen lying on the bed, Joe's hands and feet bound to the four bedposts. Helen was straddling Joe's face, her cunt plunging up and down on his tongue, rubbing her wet pussy over his nose and face, while his cock was buried inside her mouth, her nose in his pubic hair. The sound quality was incredible, as well, the intake of her breath as she inhaled his scent clearly distinguishable. I couldn't believe how hard I suddenly got watching this video of my wife sucking another man's cock. Joe's face was glistening with her juices and both of them were moaning with unbridled lust.
Jamie's hand reached over to my jeans, unsnapping them, lowering my zipper and freeing my turgid shaft. "I've watched this before, and it gets me so fucking hot... unfortunately, all I've had is my hand and my toys to relieve myself... until now," she said as her mouth engulfed my rod. Her kimono slid open as her leg crossed over me, her pussy only a few inches from my mouth. Her breasts caressed my stomach as she slid her sensual mouth up and down my cock.
My hands reached under the material of her kimono, cupping her ass and bringing her down to me. Her scent and flavor were wonderful... everything I had imagined and more. As her husband and my wife were sucking each other on screen, we were doing the same to each other.
It was obvious that Jamie had seen this before. Indeed, it was obvious that she had seen this many times before, because she kept perfect time with the action on the screen, simultaneously saying, along with Helen, "Oh, yes, baby... I want to taste you... I want you to pump your hot load down my throat so I can swallow all of you..." As I heard Joe's moans of approval and pleasure, they brought my climax as well. Reaching orgasm at the same time, I heard the sound of both Helen and Jamie swallowing, gulping, to keep up with our contractions, not missing one drop between them. Joe and I continued licking and sucking each other's wives, their cunts rubbing our faces in perfect rhythm, until they reached a simultaneous orgasm as well.
Helen released Joe from his restraints and pulled a shoe box, identical to the one Jamie had brought from upstairs, from the night stand. As Jamie slid the box over to me, she said, "Can you believe that bitch... she even used my toys when she was with him."
As Helen and I both opened the box together, I looked inside. I had tried to get Helen to experiment with toys, but would only get looks of disdain in return. Inside there were an assortment of vibrators, life-like dildos, benwah balls, lotions, gels and other fascinating goodies. The mailing label was still attached to one: Adriana's Avenue of Adventure/Sensuous You. This sounds like a place I may have to check into sometime.
Just then, the door of the theater opened. Joe, looking dumbstruck at my come still on Jamie's lips, and Jamie's still on my face, began to say, "What the fuck is going....." He was silenced by the image of Helen on screen as she had Joe turn over and bound him once more to the bed. The restraints were slightly looser, giving him a little more room to move on the bed.
She then had him kneel, her words lost as she leaned over him, whispering in his ear. You could see him shaking his head emphatically 'no.' Her hands stroked slowly over his body, fingers pinching his nipples. Her hands slid between his legs, stroking his cock briefly. She played with him long enough, just until he was hard. At that point, she left him and went and sat in the chair beside the bed.
I couldn't believe the tone of my wife's voice as she spoke to him.
"Sorry, Joe, but if you won't play my way, you won't play at all."
I could see Joe's discomfort as he watched her spread her legs, fingers sliding slowly into her own cunt. It didn't take long for her to remove them, soaking wet with her own juices. She grabbed a vibrator from the box, spreading some lube on it, then sliding it deep into herself. Helen lost all interest in Joe as she masturbated, but I could see him on the bed straining against his bonds.
Helen cried out, her orgasm taking over. Her pace never slowed as she continued fucking herself with the vibrator. Just above her cries, I could hear Joe's voice.
"Alright, you can do it, Helen."
Amazingly, Helen stopped, almost immediately. A very nasty looking smile came over her face, matching her tone as she said "Oh, but now I want to hear you ask me to do it, Joe. Tell me what you want me to do to you."
"Helen," he said, his voice just catching slightly in his throat. "I want you to fuck me, Helen. I want you to slide your big hot cock into my ass."
I was shocked at his voice, and to admit it, I couldn't wait to see it. I remembered the pictures of Helen fucking him with a strap-on and I wondered if that was what I was about to see. I was a little surprised at the scene that followed. Helen blindfolded Joe, then left the room. When she returned, it was with another man.
"Turn it off!" Joe's enraged voice cut through the room. "You've proved your point, Jamie. What do you want?"
"Why darling, I just love to watch you. You seem much more animated with her than you've ever been with me. I'd just like to know what she has that I don't."
"She loves me. That's what. With her, I don't have worry about her laughing at me."
"Well, in that case, why don't you go to her?" Jamie snarled. I could hear the gasp from Joe as she pulled a gun out from under one of the cushions. "Greg, honey, get dressed."
I got dressed slowly, wondering exactly what was going to happen. A gun didn't seem like the most obvious way to create an 'accidental' death. When I was dressed, I moved closer to Jamie, not sure what part I was playing in this. She handed me the gun, telling me to take Joe up to the cabin, and she would follow shortly with Helen.
I think, but I wouldn't swear to it, that I protested a little. But Jamie is, if nothing else, a very persuasive woman. I pushed Joe out of the house and into his car, sitting beside him, keeping the gun trained on him. He did try to speak to me a couple of times, but, in the end, I told him it wouldn't make a difference.
Too many things passed through my mind as we made our way up the winding roads to the cabin. I knew that too many minor things could betray us. Even having defended a number of murderers myself, I knew that even the slightest guilt would see me convicted. No woman was worth that. Having made my decision, I opened my mouth to speak.
"Joe, I don't think I can...."
What I didn't realize was that I was never going to get the chance to finish my sentence. The freeze/thaw conditions had created a patch of ice on one of the most dangerous curves up the private drive to the cabin.
Nothing Joe could do made a difference. As the car slid over the embankment, I remember thinking that I couldn't decide who I would miss more, Helen... or Jamie.
* * * *
The phone rang shrilly in the viewing room. The woman muted the sound and picked it up.
"Hello"
"Mrs. Devlin?"
"Yes," the husky voice answered. The conversation is unimportant. We know what the person on the other end of the phone is saying. Tears rolled down her face, and by the time the call was over, she seemed a broken woman.
The transformation took place almost as soon as the phone was put down. A smile broke and her hand stroked the head of the woman whose mouth was exploring her pussy. "That was the police, Helen. It's over."
"Oh, Jamie, I'm so glad we're free of them both. I told you it would work!"