Chapter 8

The weekend was filled with household chores but also a visit with friends Jim and Monica hadn’t seen for months. They even took time to go out and window-shop for Christmas gifts, though the aisles in their neighborhood Costco seemed to have more goodies to view than the store windows in their local mall. Jim even took the time to give Monica a foot massage and a little more loving attention than normal that Sunday night. His unexpected tenderness was very welcome, yet as she pulled her husband into a loving embrace, thoughts of Greg never left her mind.

Monday was just a work-day, Greg returning late from his trip back east and with plenty of work to fill Monica’s day. When he walked into the office in the early afternoon, Greg had given Monica a kiss and a feel, but then went straight to his office and stayed there until she had to leave. Disappointing, but sometimes work had to come before pleasure.

More disappointing was that Cole was busy on some jobs of his own, but he did send a quick text, reminding Monica to visit June when she returned home from school. Monday was out, but Monica made sure to watch for June’s arrival that Tuesday afternoon. June came walking down the sidewalk just as Jim was getting into his old truck. The new truck had been ordered but wouldn’t be available for pick up until toward Christmas. Good timing.

As June walked past, Jim gave out a loud hello, followed by Monica walking over to tell the teen she had something to talk with her about. June gave a big shrug and as Jim drove off to work, the two women walked down to June’s house.

They remained polite until June put her book bag down on a kitchen chair and turned to face Monica. “Listen. I know why you’re here. Cole gave me the rundown and said you’d be wanting to talk. Seriously, the man’s clueless. Yeah, all loving and caring and shit, but he’s got the wrong idea. Twisted it all out of shape, so don’t take it too seriously.”

“Cole hasn’t said anything to me yet June. Just pointed at the side of the road and mentioned that something really affected you.”

June rolled her eyes and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, motioning for Monica to do the same. “Jeez. Like I was scarred for life. You must have really softened him up on that cozy day away from me. I bet you didn’t have to hold back on your screams when Cole gave you the big O, way out there at Mr. Greg’s place in the orchards.”

Monica almost blushed, but by this time she had gotten used to June’s caustic comments and went toe to toe with the girl. “Why do you do that June? You can be so mean. I get that you hate me for taking your father away from you, maybe him giving you less attention. Or are you offended by me ignoring my own husband? At first you wanted me to cheat on Jim and spend every day and night with Cole, but now all I get from you is something bordering on hatred.”

June took a breath, seemed to think about what Monica said, but didn’t directly answer her. “You really like Cole, don’t you? And not just for what he does for that fat twat of yours. I bet you like listening to his stories and all his old man ways. Bet your father was a cold hearted guy and Cole’s like a replacement. Maybe you think I’ve got it good, thinking Cole is a soft and kindly dad who sits down and listens to my worries and needs. Actually, yeah, sometimes, but believe it or not, that shit gets old. Just as old as he is, and the way he looks at things is way different from how I see stuff now.”

Monica’s jaw had dropped an inch when June mentioned her cold-hearted father. Not far from the truth. A friend of a few years before had brought up the same idea in trying to understand why Monica had slept with every guy she ever dated. June allowed a few seconds for Monica to think before continuing.

“So, about that thing by the road. Cole is worried that it warped me, but seriously, I’m more interested in the present and future. I can’t take the time to live in the past. You say he didn’t give you any details?”

“No, nothing. Just that he felt sad for you,” replied Monica.

“Well, let me give you a short version of what went down. It was like two years ago, a little more, about the time they were harvesting all the nuts. Cole had driven out to Mr. Greg’s factory for some repair job and I went along because it was a school holiday or something. Good old Mr. Greg even bought me lunch from a taco truck in the parking lot. Food truck’s still there every lunch time I bet.”

Monica nodded but didn’t say anything, waiting for the real story to begin.

“Anyway, we took off a little after that, but halfway home some cop starts flashing his lights and Cole pulls over on the side of the road. Right in the middle of the orchards. Not to point a finger at you Monica, with your blond curls and lily white skin, but we brown types get real nervous when the police start paying attention. It never means anything good. If you look like you belong on the south side of the border, you could be third generation American and best friends with the governor and still start sweating when those lights start flashing your way.”

Monica noticed that for all of June’s cynicism and outward lack of concern, the girl was herself starting to tighten, her voice lowering, her words more staccato, as though June were biting them off and spitting them out. Monica kept her silence and listened.

“So, the cops pull us over. Just a couple of local sheriffs with nothing better to do than hassle a Mexican. The one guy walks up, asks for Cole’s license, looks at me, looks back at his partner, then tells Cole to wait. He walks back and talks to his partner and they both return, one on either side of Cole’s truck. The one on my side says, ‘Roll your window down miss,’ and asks me how I know Cole and if I’m being transported against my will. All bullshit. That’s when he opens the door for me, tells me to get out, says he wants to talk to me in private.”

Monica could see June getting agitated, perspiration breaking out on the girl’s forehead, her hands shaking, her eyes focused on a single point on the far wall. Monica could feel the tension herself, her own heart racing with the knowledge of what she was sure June was about to tell her.

“So my guy pulled me out of the truck, supposedly pats me down but in reality he took his time in feeling me up, like all over. Cole said something but the sheriff on his side just told him to shut his Mexican ass up. My guy then started unbuttoning my shirt, just a long sleeve like boys wear, and with me standing there he just strips me. First my shirt, then he undoes my bra and tosses it all to the side. Gives my chest a feel, telling me to keep my arms down. He just stands there, looking at me and smiling. Then he pushes my pants down to my knees but leaves my panties. He gives a big hoot, says something like ‘Dude. You should see these tits. Perfect ass too.’ Cole gives out a few choice swear words, but the sheriff on his side pounds on the side of the truck and tells him sit still and keep his hands on the steering wheel.”

“You don’t have to tell me any more June. I get the idea.”

“No. I should. I’ve never told anyone before, you know? Who could I tell? Even Cole doesn’t want to hear it. Maybe he thinks its all his fault, or maybe he thinks this has ruined me for life and I’ll never smile again. Just a clueless old man, you know? Well meaning, but he wants to take it all on himself and doesn’t really understand.”

Monica nodded and reached out to take the girl’s hand. “That’s when the guy pushed me down, told me to sit on that narrow step on the side of the truck, the running board, and unzipped his pants. That actually made me feel better, like I finally knew what they wanted and that I’d be able to get through it and go home. Just the standard thing, a guy pulling out his dick and telling me to suck on it. I’d done that a hundred times before so no big deal. Just weird being naked and sitting there out in the open while a sheriff was bucking his crotch into my face. Right out there in the open, just a sheriff questioning some Mexican by the side of the road. Happens all the time. Me and my guy were on the far side of the truck and couldn’t really be seen, so none of the passing cars paid any attention.

“As the guy pushes into my mouth he puts one hand down to play with my tits, another to hold my head and off we go. Not too bad, maybe five minutes before he pulls my head in with both hands and tells me to swallow it. I remember every word. ‘Swallow it you little slut or I’ll put you in detention for a week.’ That was scary, in a way you Anglos just can’t understand, so I sucked and swallowed like I never had before. He liked it. Said I was real good. That’s me. Real good at sucking a guy’s dick.”

Monica had drawn her chair closer to June’s, but the girl was tighter than ever, arms in, knees clasped, and her whole body was shaking. While listening to June’s all too relatable story, Monica had a couple of flashbacks of her own, of a teacher in a supply closet in high school, of a carload of boys who had given her a ride home from a party one evening. It would have been easy to think back and relive her own similar experiences, but after a short silence, June continued with her story.

“So, one guy down, one more to go, right? My guy zips up and his partner comes around to take his turn. But I’d just started on him, using both hands to keep him from pushing his dick too far down my throat, when another car pulls up. Not another sheriff but still local law enforcement. The guy I was sucking on didn’t even pause, no thought of being called out for what he was doing. The third guy walks over, says something, and stands back to wait his turn. Right out there in the open.

“My jaw was really starting to ache as I tried to finish this guy off, but I was up for even doing the third guy if it meant Cole and I could get home. Then the guy pulls his cock out of my mouth, makes me stand up, sits himself down on that narrow little step on the truck, his cock rising straight up, and tells me to sit down. Only, he’d pulled my panties down, my pants too, all the way down to my ankles, and he pulls my naked ass over and has me sit down on his lap. That was harder, a lot harder than just giving head. It took a couple of minutes of adjusting myself to him, but he finally had me pulled back, hands on my tits, cock all the way up inside me, telling the other guys how wet I was and how much I must need it. The others laughed, but the new guy says something about how no way he’d fuck a Mexican girl without a condom. Too afraid of some disease he’d take back to his wife. Didn’t stop him from stepping up and having me suck his dick while I was still impaled on his buddy.

“That took longer. The guy up inside me made me do most of the work, up and down with my legs and hips, and all the while I had to pay attention to the third man. He had two handfuls of my hair and was trying to get me to swallow his balls. That went on for I don’t know how long, up and down on the one guy, trying not to choke on the other. The guy up my twat went first, but the guy in my mouth took his time, even with a lot of hand action on my part.

“You know what it’s like, trying to get some guy to hurry and finish up. The guy who’d just shot a load inside me didn’t seem to care. Just sat there, cock softer but still up inside me, playing with my tits and giving commentary. It was such a relief when that last guy exploded down my throat I didn’t care. Sucked and swallowed like I loved it, thinking only of finally being able to go home. Didn’t know that I still had to suck that second guy off. I bet Cole’s done this to you a hundred times. After he pulled out and stood up, he had the gall to demand I clean him off. Made me lick his dick until he got hard again and I was afraid him and his buddies were going to want to repeat the whole thing, but they finally all took off.”

Monica was about to say something, to pull the girl closer and condemn all men, but June then burst out with something between a laugh and a loud wailing cry. “And you know what they did? The bastard pulled my pants and panties off of me and kept them. Said it would make it easier for the next time. Cole had to drive me home with my shirt draped over my naked lap.”

That’s when June began to cry, her body pulled in on herself, tears falling down onto her crossed arms while she whispered out, “I’ve never told anybody about that before. I’ve never told anybody. I’ve never told anybody.” Over and over again, and all Monica could do is hold the girl tight. When June stopped shivering and was able to sit up and wipe her eyes, Monica asked only a few of the questions that filled her head.

“So, you didn’t file any kind of report. Did it ever happen again? I mean, did you run across those same police again?”

June shook her head. “No. Cole says they’ve honked at him a few times on that same road, but he’s never been stopped again. I just don’t go down that road any more, not with Cole. Well, a few times, but I stay scrunched down on the seat.”

Monica had to ask. “Did you become pregnant?”

June didn’t pause in her answer. “Nah. Cole had me on birth control for like two years already. That was never the problem. It was Cole being eaten up by some kind of guilt, for not being able to stop the assholes from doing whatever the hell they wanted to do to me. Boy did he get drunk that night. For a week maybe. He told me not to tell anyone, and no way I was going to.”

“Why? You should have filed a report. Had all three fired.” Monica knew she was being a hypocrite, not a single one of the men or boys who had pressured her into having sex ever leading to a formal complaint. Still, she felt she had to act like an adult and say what clueless adults all say.

“Bullshit. Wouldn’t have gone anywhere. You have no idea Monica.” This is when June reverted to form, to her old cynical self, almost sneering at Monica as she stood and turned on the well-meaning woman. “I told you my story. You and Cole can be happy now. But what Cole and I go through on a daily basis is way beyond your understanding. Listen, I’m sorry for busting in while you and Cole were fucking the night away. Just me being a bitch. I’ll never do it again. Promise. I’ll even try to be nicer to you, but don’t think that just because I opened up and confessed to you what happened out there means that we’re friends. That bullshit thing with the cops was just one more thing a girl has to go through in life. I thought you’d get that. I think Cole was more affected by it than me. That’s not why I’m a bitch or why I’m always trying to pop that cute little slutty bubble of yours. There’s just stuff, other stuff, you’ll never know. Nothing personal. It’s not about you. The world doesn’t revolve around you Monica. It’s just stuff I have to live with that’s none of your business.”

Monica’s jaw had dropped, her face turning a deep shade of red as June lambasted her. She didn’t know where June’s anger was coming from, so all she could do is accept June’s assurance that it had nothing to do with Monica. If anything, the anger, the seeming contempt thrown at Monica, was easier to deal with than the tears and pain June had released just minutes before.

Monica took a step forward, put out a hand, but June stepped back. “Not now Monica. I told you I’d be nicer, but not now, okay? I need a little quiet time, so, if you don’t mind...”

Monica left, going back home to sit in her dark little house and wonder about all the other lives on the block she knew nothing about. Just hers and Mrs. Flynn’s and June’s lives would fill a book. Imagine all the other untold stories out there. She thought of opening a bottle of wine, then remembered that she had purposely not bought any alcohol on her last shopping trip.

As she turned to making herself a salad with a few pieces of grilled chicken, other thoughts began rising up in her head. Monica realized she had far more questions to ask of June and even Cole now that she had listened to June’s traumatic tale. She had come back with more questions, more troubling thoughts about the small family she was now so intimately connected with. Yet when Cole strode up to the porch an hour later and took Monica into his arms, she pushed her fears and worries away. As June said, it was none of her business, but Cole and his warmth and tenderness and lustful needs certainly were, and Monica happily gave herself over to filling herself with his love.

Wednesday arrived and while at her desk Greg’s rough and selfish side showed itself again. As soon as he walked in the door Greg had requested that Monica put on a pair of his special panties. She hadn’t worn anything underneath her dress that morning, so it was easy to pull on the sexy bit of lingerie for her boss’s viewing pleasure. Yet once inside his office he had Monica remove her dress, leered at her as she walked almost naked around the room, and then leaned her over his desk, ripped the panties down the middle and forced himself upon her.

Monica was wet and in need herself, even excited by Greg’s lustful intent as he growled out how much he had missed her. That’s what turned the otherwise crude and short and selfish forceful fuck by some prick of a boss into a sexual act that came to be a part of their long term relationship. Not so much the forced unleashing of his sexual needs in what otherwise would have been a good reason to walk out and never return. What was special this time was that Greg talked to her.

No, not like Cole. No soft phrases or poetic license concerning the softness of Monica’s breasts or how delicious or how beautiful. Sure, Cole often referred to her as a slut, but only in the nicest of ways. Now Greg had bent Monica over his desk, lifting her ass up and pounding into her, long hard strokes of his cock holding back nothing as his body sought to violate and own her. Yet through the all too short five-minute rampage inside of her, Greg filled Monica’s ears and imagination with words, filled with feeling and heartfelt intent. With every thrust into her came a condemnation, and every pull back of his cock a declaration of lust. Just a short and violent fuck on the boss’s desk, and yet it became the focal point of their future relationship.

All the rest of the day, every time Greg pulled her into a rough embrace long into the next year, Monica would have an intense return of memory of what Greg had done.

As he turned her around and slapped her ass, Monica had pushed back, saying, “Knock it off Greg.”

Greg forced her down, face down onto the desk, bare tits pressing into some folders of work as Greg began a painful spanking of Monica. For a full minute he had held her down, crushing her into the desk while slapping her panty clad ass and screaming his feelings out as he never had before. “Damn it Monica. You don’t get it. You slut. You fucking whore. You don’t understand a thing. You think its just sex? You slut. You slut. I’ll give you sex.”

That’s when the fuck began, the simple ass-up doggie style fuck secretaries all around the world have been forced to endure for a century. But as Greg pushed himself into Monica, lifting her hips up and pounding into her thankfully wet twat, he continued to talk, to grunt out his feelings, a word or phrase with every thrust.

“Cole. Does Cole do it like this? Jim. Your husband. Your fucking husband. You sleep with him. You always leave me. Every day. Fuck me. Leave me. Walk out and fuck Cole. Who else do you fuck Monica? How many men? I can’t sleep thinking about it. Every day. All night. We fuck and you walk out. You sleep with Cole. Your damned husband. What about me? Fuck you. Just another fuck. A fast fuck. And you leave. Fuck you Monica. I hate you. You. Fucking. Whore. Fuck.”

That was the gist of it, Greg grunting and growling out more words and meaning than he had in any hour-long session of sex he had subjected her too. When he pressed her hips into the desk and began a last minute pounding into her ass, Monica was less aware of Greg’s sexual need than of what he was saying to her. There was a pause in the violence as Greg ground his crotch and balls into her, then him collapsing on her back as he resumed short hard thrusts that maintained his place deep inside of her. The climax was a forceful one, not unusual for this man, but Monica opened her eyes and gasped as she felt his seed quickly fill her. That’s when she saw Greg’s face resting next to hers, his eyes closed, and tears forming at his eyes.

Monica reached up to stroke his thick black hair, whispering out a simple “Greg.” For his part, Greg ground his hips tighter into her ass, obviously still overwhelmed by his ongoing orgasm inside of her. After another minute he rose up, pulling Monica up with him only to lay them down as a couple on the soft plush rug by his desk.

They were still coupled, Greg’s cock softer but still embedded inside of Monica as they lay together for another minute. Then Greg spoke again, though this time in more complete sentences. “You think this is easy? You think I’m happy doing this, fucking you like this? I couldn’t sleep all week. I haven’t been able to sleep for a month. You don’t get it Monica. I want to fuck you. Every day, every minute. Even now. But there’s work. Always work. And Cole. Every day you go back to Cole and it drives me crazy thinking that you’re allowed to sleep with him and sleep with your husband but never with me. Do you get how this drives me crazy?”

Greg finally softened enough for him to pull out from within Monica, then arranged their prone bodies on the rug so that they could face each other. Monica brought one hand up to caress his face and nodded, bending her head in to kiss his cheek, silently urging him on.

“I know I’m a selfish bastard, but its because I want more of you. I can never get enough of you. And yet every day you go home to someone else, and I hate it. Do you understand? Can you understand?” Monica nodded, again leaned in to give Greg a kiss and whispered, “I think so.”

As Greg’s hand stroked Monica’s ass, then down to play within her thighs, she wondered if there would be more to the morning, hoping the front door to the complex of offices was locked. Instead Greg let out a great sigh and began to sit up. Monica knew what it was and said it first. “Meeting? Client? Supplier? Manager?”

“Yes. Another damn meeting. Accountant this time. Downtown. Wish I could drive you home, maybe buy you lunch. Sorry.” As he came up to his knees, Greg paused and then spoke with more passion. “Sorry. I hate having to say I’m sorry. I’m always sorry. Do you get it Monica? Don’t you understand?”

Greg had paused as he spoke, remaining on his knees, his cock not fully softened yet hanging down, pulsing with his heartbeat. Monica looked up into his face, saw the pain Greg only alluded to, and reached out to hold and then caress his throbbing manhood. “Then stop saying you’re sorry. You’ll never have to say you’re sorry to me ever again. I trust you Greg. Selfish male bastard boss that you are. I think I understand, and I trust you, so no more apologies.”

With that said, she leaned in and kissed the sticky and cum slathered cock that had started to harden with her touch. Monica took the leading tip into her mouth and began a simple lick and suck and swallow, cleaning off the thick emissions that had collected within the penile sheath.

Monica was touched when Greg reached down with a hand to stroke her hair, saying “You don’t have to Monica.” Without a pause, Monica pulled her head back just long enough to say, “You can’t go to a meeting with your dick covered in cum. I don’t know how men do it, walking around with these things waving back and forth. Let me clean it up a bit.”

Greg moaned as she leaned in, taking the almost fully hardened length into her mouth and continuing with her ministrations. Greg lightly placed his two hands on her head, stroking her hair and asking one last thing. “Monica. One last thing. I need to see you again. Friday. At the house. All day. You can stay all day with me, right? But could you do something for me? You’ll think I’m silly, but I have to ask.”

Monica had a dozen deviant things running through her mind, but she was completely overwhelmed by what Greg told her. “If you come to the house on Friday, can you do something for me? Can you not have sex with Cole? Even your husband. Could you hold off until then?”

Monica paused in her oral labors, then leaning back to look up and attempt an answer. “But, um, I guess, but...”

“It’s me Monica. I know I can’t tell you not to have sex with your husband, or even with Cole, but...”

“Say it Greg. What?”

“I want to eat you. I want to nibble on that thumb sized clit of yours and taste you and only you. You’re delicious and I want to stick my face between your legs every time I see you, but, you understand...”

Monica took a last lick of Greg’s cock, rock hard and leaking with a large drop of pre-cum, but her mind was on Greg. She had to smile. Perhaps for the first time ever, the man was blushing.

“You don’t like the idea of sticking your tongue where you might fight some other man’s cum, is that it?”

“I know it’s silly, even selfish, but it’s just something that gets to me.”

Monica stood up and leaned back against the desk, one hand out to touch Greg’s arm. “No, not silly. Hypocritical, given what women are expected to suck on and swallow almost every day, but I understand. You know I do clean myself every day, right? It’s not like...”

“I know. It’s silly, but I like to know I’m only tasting you.”

They stood close, eyes gazing eyes, their smiles saying more than any Shakespearean soliloquy, and again Greg filled Monica’s head with a new set of thoughts. “So, you sleep with Cole sometimes. He’s mentioned that you’re sometimes able to stay the night, or perhaps him at your house. Depends on your husband’s work schedule. But you sometimes sleep with him.”

Monica took a deep inward breath but was unsure of how to answer, so she just nodded and said, “Yes, sometimes.”

“I’m envious. I would give anything to go to sleep with you some night, to see you lying there next to me, naked under the sheets, and then to wake with you in my arms with the morning light. You will never know how much I desire that.”

Those last sentences took Monica’s breath away, and before she could say anything more, Greg had pulled up his pants and straightened his clothing. He leaned over to give a soft kiss to Monica’s cheek before pulling on his coat and walking toward the door. Then he turned and said, “So, Friday, at the house. About eight.”

“I’ll bring breakfast. Fit for a king. I promise.” Greg gave a big smile of understanding and left.

Monica remained standing by the desk for a full minute, trying to take in everything Greg had so passionately unleashed. There was a lot to think about, but on the whole Monica had to smile. It was the most human, the most vulnerable she had ever seen her boss. She couldn’t say for certain what it meant for their future or their rather illicit relationship, but it still made her smile. Then she heard voices outside, was reminded that she was standing naked in Greg’s office with only a torn pair of lacey panties hanging on one ankle. She quickly pulled on her crumpled dress, but looking back at the desk she saw where a large puddle of Greg’s cream had dripped out of her and down to the rug. Monica sighed and turned for the bathroom, both to clean herself up and get some cleaning supplies.

Friday came and a little after eight that morning Monica found herself parked in front of Greg’s house. She hadn’t seen Cole the day before, but Jim had been in a romantic mood and had actually chosen some bedroom time with Monica rather than play a video game before work. Monica felt guilty for not so much refusing her husband’s advances as redirecting them into her mouth. Monica was left frustrated but knew that Greg would have an antidote for her come the next morning.

Now here she was in front of Greg’s place, just a week after her dalliance here with Cole. Even after visiting so many times, she had to admire the home. It was a nice place, with a stone fronting and double front doors, two stories and a chimney, and all surrounded by an orchard. Pretty nice, but what really counted was what Greg was expecting of her once she walked through those doors. More of what she had been treated to on Wednesday? She hoped not, and yet if it would help the man talk to her a little more, she’d be willing to put up with a hundred fast and furious fucks, though hopefully with longer interludes in the bedroom.

Greg walked out to greet her. “Monica. I’ve been waiting. You know you’re late. By fifteen minutes, which means I get to keep you here for another hour. Maybe until midnight. You don’t mind, do you?”

Monica didn’t bother explaining Jim’s work schedule, just smiling and walking in as Greg closed the door. Greg pulled her in with one arm around her waist, his hand lowering to push in on her ass. Monica could only smile at the place she had been put by the men in her life. Jim insisting she keep the job for the great paycheck, unknowingly trading her body for just enough money to buy him a better truck. His wife for a truck, her virtue for a better grade of steak for his friends. Even Cole, her romantic lover just down the street, was the one who found her the position, and ever since he had complained that her work was getting in the way of his own selfish needs. What a hypocrite. Cole probably knew exactly what Greg intended to do with Monica from day one. Monica dropped her purse on the chair she had first fucked Greg in, and perhaps twice again since, and told Greg to unzip her dress.