The big boss called me the next morning at five a.m.

Relax, dear readers. You did not skip a page or two. You did not forget anything. This is not the sequel to another unnamed story for which a call at five a.m. might mean something. The word 'next' simply has to do with events that occurred the previous afternoon, about which you shall read shortly.

"Be on the Atlanta to LaGuardia flight at 8:30. Lou and his limousine will be there in ten minutes. He can print your boarding pass in the limo."

"But it's a two hour drive to Atlanta and I have to pack."

"Forget packing. We'll buy all the clothing you need when you get here, my pretty woman, just like the movie. Just be sure to bring those panties without the crotch, the ones we bought in Chicago. Or was it Las Vegas? Atlantic City maybe? Fuck it, it doesn't matter."

"What happened, Charlie?"

He told me.

You cannot believe how much I wish that I had been there to see it and hear it for myself. He has only told me about it that one time, but whenever I think about it I embellish the story with more details, and I love it more every time.

"We were at that hotel in New York, you know, the one that we use whenever we get there, that small but expensive place."

I laughed at his use of that code expression he had come up with to describe my pussy.

"My pussy may be small, Lover, but it's not expensive. For you it's free anytime; it always has been. It's just that the rest of me is what's expensive. I have good taste and I need to be pampered."

In truth, my snatch is not small. It's had so much action in the past that if I let it go, it'd be wide open enough to drive a Mack truck through. But when I first learned how to fuck – thank you, Daddy Scumbag – he told me that he liked it better when I clamped my vaginal walls as tight as I could on his cock, and I've gotten into the habit.

"Anyway, as you know," he continued, "the hotel insists that its desk personnel try to know all of the regulars by name. So the clerk says 'Good afternoon, Mr. Gordon' and then he turns to my wife and says 'Good afternoon, Mrs... ' and then there's a very pregnant pause before he says 'Mrs. Gordon'. Because, of course, he was expecting to see your face there."

"Well, the bitch has always been wondering why I spent so much time on the road, and she kind of expected that I had someone else with me, and that was the last straw. So she winds up and slaps me as hard as she could, and turns around and walks out of the hotel. She grabs a night flight back to Atlanta, gets a limo down to Columbus and I'm not welcome in the house anymore."

"Well," I said, "my prick of a husband has already moved in with that cunt from the Shipping Department so I'm sure I can find some room for you in my bed."

Mr. Gordon, Charlie, my Lover, owns the company. He's 43, with a wife and two teen-age daughters. Plus one full-time Lover, me, Cindy. I'm 23, one of his three private secretaries. The other two are frumpy old biddies. They know about Charlie and I fucking but they don't care; their salaries are high enough to pay for silence. I married the prick when I was 18 but within six months we were simply sharing a household, each of us with plenty of fuck-mates. He knew about Charlie, I knew about the cunt in Shipping, and our only togetherness was filing a joint tax return to get a bigger refund.

I started to work for Charlie just after I finished high school. At first, it was simply as one of the stenos in the pool. The graduation to private secretary came right after he started sticking it to me. The expensive part of the code was because I always insisted on up-scale motels or hotels and classy jewelry, handbags and those kinds of presents to keep me happy. It wasn't as though I was putting out for valuable gifts but simply that I had been taught to enjoy being treated like a lady.

We were in love. At least I was; I could never be sure about Charlie but he did claim that he loved me. He decided not to cut the trip short after that to-do with the bitch, but to spend it with me there instead. He had no meetings scheduled in New York; it had just been a vacation with the nag to see a few Broadway shows. It was the same when he and I went up there but at least then he made a pretense of having to see some customers.

To me that scene at the hotel had been like a dream come true. I'd always been daydreaming that someday he'd leave her for me, but I knew that if I busted his balls about it, it'd be over for us.

When he hung up, I pissed, brushed my teeth and threw on a pair of sweats. The panties went into my purse. I didn't bother with underwear. In fifteen minutes I was at the curb. Lou was there with his limo.

"Your boy friend's gonna make a rich man out of me. First I had to pick up his wife in Atlanta in the middle of the night and drive her down here. Boy, she is so pissed off at Charlie; I think she's ready to rip him a new asshole. And now I'm back here at this ridiculous hour to take you back to the same airport. I guess he doesn't like to sleep alone, does he?"

He didn't expect an answer. I covered myself with the blanket he always keeps in the back seat and closed my eyes, my fingers busy inside my sweat suit.

When my cab from the airport got to the hotel, Charlie was standing outside next to the doorman, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet like a kid on Christmas morning.

"I'm horny as a rabbit. Did you bring those panties?"

"I stuck them in my purse when I left the house. I put them on in the limo. Lou peeked; I didn't mind."

"Of course not. Lou has good taste."

"Thank you for that. He also has great discretion. Your wife gave him the whole story when he picked her up at the airport. He didn't say a word about us. At least he says that he didn't."

"I'm sure that he didn't. He makes too much money from my company."

The elevator whisked us up to the suite.

"Are you hungry?" he asked me. He was being polite. The only thing I wanted for lunch was cock washed down with cum, and that's what I told him.

"Jeez, you're a real wild sex fiend," he said.

"You knew that the day you hired me," I countered.

Without another word, we were on the bed, me wearing nothing but those whore panties and Charlie wearing even less. He straddled my face, his cock lying across my mouth, his purple crown hitting my nose. I took the hot meat in hand but instead of pushing it down so that I could mouth it, I pulled it upwards until the oozing slit was at my eyes. That way, I was able to gum the sac containing his cock's two little assistants. I had done that the very first day, on the casting couch. His wife apparently never did that for him, and it quickly became a regular part of our love-making. Back then, of course, it hadn't been love-making; it had been pure unadulterated raw fucking.

Most men enjoy having their nuts sucked. I think it gives them a sense of power, just like a blow job. 'It's good to be king.' Especially when she's on her knees. But Charlie made it his fetish. I didn't mind, because I felt the power myself, his little nuts squirming away from me at the slightest touch, terrified at the pain they would suffer if I simply exerted just a little more effort. And besides, I love that musky aroma when I'm way down in his groin.

I stroked his cock as I sucked on his balls. Then it was time for another of his rituals. Where oh where, I wondered, had he learned these things?

"Close your eyes, Cindy."

He relaxed whatever muscle it is that controls his bladder and he just let go. His piss blasted out, spraying my closed eyes, my forehead, rinsing my hair, running down my cheeks, my ears, even a little to my mouth. But this was something that Charlie did only when we were in a hotel – that includes motel – bed or in a bathtub or shower. Perpetually horny though he was – is – he knew better than to get urine on his desk or couch or carpeting, nor in a car or limousine. We'd fucked and sucked often enough in Lou's limo, to and from the airport, and given Lou quite a show, but he wouldn't have been happy cleaning up his back seat after every ride.

I should have been annoyed – I almost typed 'pissed off' – by having my face and hair washed in the yellow liquid so often, but he didn't mind when I returned the favor to Charlie as I sat on his face, and he swallowed every drop - almost.

His cock was in my mouth for the last few drops and I began to suck. I licked his crown and along the bottom of his shaft. But then he shifted, raising his ass so that his cock was directly pointed south, into my mouth. He began something different; he began to fuck my face. And it wasn't long before his NNGGH, NNGGH, NNGGH, grunting and spurting his cream into my gullet. I rolled it around inside my cheeks and swallowed.

"That was very fast for you, Charlie. What happened?"

"When my wife left yesterday, I was so hot for you but I decided not to take care of myself and to wait for you instead."

He went down on me, his tongue snaking through the open panties onto my clit. He took his time, for I can cum just by looking at my handsome lover, smelling his body, thinking about him. Instead of sucking on my little appendage, he just kissed it, lightly, the way I kiss the droplet of pre-cum off of the multi-purpose slit on the tip of his crown. His tongue went inside me, plunging into my wet warmth, soaking up my juices as fast as I produced them.