Mayoral Candidate Heather Anderson sat at her desk looking through a series of glossy eight by twelve black and white photos of her being fucked by Sean McCarthy, her political opponent.

What the hell had possessed her to give in to his seduction at last night's party?

When she arrived this morning, the photographs on her desk were accompanied by a note stating that she would be publicly exposed unless she did 'the right thing.' If that occurred, all chances of being elected mayor would disappear.

Despite that threat, the pictures were enough to cause her pussy to twitch with need.

Yes, Sean was a giant fucking asshole. Still, Heather was now trapped in a haze, that netherworld purgatory between edge and orgasm. Her mind silently raced with conflicting thoughts of her salacious rendezvous with him. Still, it remained stuck on autopilot as her hand coaxed her surging climax to the surface. She watched, mesmerized, as her smartphone slowly fidgeted on her office desk while her hand did the same thing between her thighs.

She gazed at her device as it slowly twisted to the left with each ringing vibration. Heather continued rubbing around her clit in the same direction, treating her pussy like a familiar remote control in a darkened room, fingers pressing buttons and willing the phone to spin completely around. It seemed the faster her digits navigated, the more both her head and her phone turned. It was like a dance.

Oddly, the gently turning phone now reminded her of the revolving restaurant where she and her husband had celebrated their last anniversary. Another year survived together, they'd laughed. It was also the night that they'd decided that she would run for mayor. That she should absolutely go for it. The shiny touch screen reminded her of the polished floor where she and Bob slow danced, just like the one she and Sean had danced on last night. Hers and Bob's giddiness barely got them in the front door before they'd lunged at one another.

Damn it. Why am I thinking about that now?

Sean and I couldn't get out of the car fast enough last night either. Focus.

After the fourth ring, the phone stopped moving, and it now teetered on the edge of the desk. One or two more rings and it would have gone over. Heather needed one or two more rings too. But now, that moment and her concentration were lost. Her screen displayed one missed call, and her phone buzzed again. It was a text message from the same number. Call Me!

With Heather's hand nearly cramped in a claw-like state and her fingers, wrist, and forearm burning like hell, she'd lost her concentration. Too much on her mind. Too many distractions. Heather pulled her hand away from the searing heat between her thighs and grabbed her phone before it plunged to its death on the tile floor.

"Fuck!" Heather yelled in frustration. There's nothing worse than a spoiled orgasm. Well, not at this moment.

Swollen and wickedly drenched, edged to her limit but denied, she was left numb and frustrated. She sat up, angrily grabbed the top of her desk, and pulled in her chair so that her legs were now under the surface. She grumbled as she then stacked the photos. Just as she placed the manila envelope on top of the picture pile, she heard a hesitant voice.

"Heather? Is everything okay?"

"Trish?" Heather gasped. "Shit. You scared me."

Heather felt a cold chill blow across her nude lower body. The draft probably came from Trish opening her office door. Heather started trembling, and goosebumps formed on her arms and exposed, but hidden from view, nakedness.

"What are you doing here? How long have you been standing there?"

"Just got here. I forgot my purse. I heard you yell. Are you alright?"

Trish then noticed the small pile under the envelope that she had earlier placed on Heather's desk.

"Oh good, I see you got the envelope. Are you okay? Is there anything you need my help with?"

They both then looked at Heather's phone. It was ringing again. But this time, it wasn't Sean.

"No, I'm good. I just got a paper cut. Right between my fucking fingers. It stings like hell."

To act the part, Heather pinched and held the webbing between her index and middle fingers. Her phone was now on its third ring when Trish suggested that Heather answer it. Always the campaign taskmaster, thinking it could be a speaking invitation to an event of potential supporters or another much-needed donation. Both to her as campaign manager were very worthy reasons to answer.

Trish was chosen to manage the campaign and keep Heather on point. She hadn't been vetted as closely as Bob would have liked, but he trusted his wife's judgment. The women had been schoolmates and friends for years. However, Heather knew that Trish was the right person for the job.

This time, it was Bob calling.

"Right," Heather smiled at the phone as she picked it up. "It's Bob. He's probably wondering if I've eaten dinner yet. Thanks, Trish. See you in the morning."

Heather quickly answered the phone and asked Bob to wait for a moment. Trish remained standing in the doorway, now curiously staring at the pile under the envelope. Heather sensed that if she didn't encourage Trish to leave, her next question would be about what was on her desk.

"Is there anything else, Trish?"

Trish looked up and smiled. "No. It can wait until morning. Get home. Be with your husband. You don't know how many free nights you'll have once you're the mayor. I'll lock the front door on the way out."

"Thanks, Trish. Thanks for everything. We couldn't do this without you. See you tomorrow."

Trish then turned, and Heather waited until she heard the front door's deadbolt click shut. But before she spoke to Bob, a text message popped up on her phone's screen. It was from Sean.

We need to talk. It's urgent. Call me ASAP!

This urgency was not coincidental. It couldn't be. Heather gathered herself before she spoke to her husband.

"Hi. Sorry that I'm still at the office. Did you eat?"

"I did. There's food waiting here for you too if you want, but that's not why I called," Bob said, but Heather recognized his tone. This was not about dinner. It was a booty call. "Hurry home. I want to continue what we started in the garage yesterday."

"You are one horny old devil, Mr. Anderson," Heather playfully growled into her phone. She knew that the unrelieved sexual tension in her was building again and that she would arrive home aroused and extremely horny, again.

"What do you want to do to me, Mr. Anderson?"

"I've got a kitchen granite countertop that's calling your name."

"Go on."

"I'm going to strip you and bend your naked body over so your nipples harden against the cold stone."

"And… "

"I'll then stick my hard cock up your ass and fuck that tight little hole of yours, just the way you like it."

"Sounds deliciously interesting," Heather chuckled. "What about the kids?"

"Long day for them too. They're sleeping. Kids are not going to be a problem," Bob replied and then returned to the details of his dreamed evening. "Knowing you, by the time you get home, your panties will be soaked. I'll stuff them in your mouth to keep you quiet. How quiet is up to you."

"Babe, I'll leave shortly. I've got to make one more call."

oOo

Heather smiled as the image of her husband faded from the screen when she ended the call. Bob could undoubtedly push the right buttons when he wanted to. But, tonight, she really needed him to know which ones. It sounded like he did. With a dirty grin, she then returned to her recollection of their anniversary night.

Heather's first orgasm was in the foyer while standing with her back forced against the front door when she and Bob arrived home. They were still fully clothed, but her dark purple lace panties dangled from the black pump on her left foot. Bob held up her leg and pounded the hell out of her red wine-tipsy body. She welcomed his passionate ascent while watching her panties sway with each thrust, wondering if they'd eventually fall off. She was dazed then, too, hypnotized by the pendulum movement of her underwear. It was a glorious fucking.

Bob had repeatedly slammed her arched back against the wooden door, sometimes lifting her other foot off of the ground as he pushed up and deep inside her. As Heather's trembles grew, her whimpers and moans became screams, and she completely forgot that the kids were home. The couple had been so careful and quiet up to that point. But during her muscle-weakening orgasm, they'd heard the worrying creak of the squeaky treads and the pitter-patter of feet coming down the stairs. Heather had to stagger and stumble like one does with a foot that had fallen asleep to the main floor bathroom as Bob raced to the base of the stairs to intercept the kids. Thank goodness for his stylishly baggy Italian dress pants.

After comforting the children back to bed, Bob took Heather even harder in the bathroom. While running the bathtub water, he gripped her fleshy ass and screwed her while she sat on the vanity. After Heather came again, and then almost again, she teased then finished off Bob with her teeth, tongue, and mouth. Scraping. Biting. Licking. Then swallowing him whole. Finally, they celebrated their nocturnal lavatory romp by decorating her face with icing.

oOo

Just like Sean had done last night.

Damn it.

Last night was a fucking to remember. As was her anniversary. A woman never forgets those sexual hallmarks. Never. Ever. Like the time she hooked up for the first time with a girl in high school. They jokingly said that there was no need to wait until college. That was ages ago.

So was the threesome in college with those two lean and lanky Dutch boys who claimed they didn't speak English. It started at an international student mixer and then moved to their dorm. Without being able to discuss what they were going to do, they just did. Everything. Heather allowed them to take her in any way they wanted. She had welcomed and enjoyed every filthy second of it. Then, there was last night with Sean.

Damn you, Sean, you fucking asshole.

Before getting home, Heather quickly dialed Sean. He answered after the first ring.

"Heather, someone is following me. They… they took pictures of me… of us… outside."

"You arrogant prick. Why is it always about you? Did you think maybe someone was following me?"

"I'm serious. This is no joke."

"Do you hear me laughing, Sean?"

"No," he paused. "What are you saying?"

Heather quickly debated whether she was going to tell Sean about her delivery. They could be the same pictures. Probably were, but she first needed to find out.

"Sean, calm down. Describe the pictures."

"They're of us. Dancing. Fucking. Outside. On your car."

"Anything else? Do you know who took them?"

"No."

"No? Someone sent you these pictures but didn't leave you a note saying who they were or why they sent them?"

"Correct."

Heather didn't anticipate that. She thought for another moment but then decided to tell Sean she too received the same photographs. She also read him the note.

"Fuck me," Sean gasped. "This is not good. Someone is trying to blackmail you. But why would they include a note for you and not for me?"

"It's not always about you, Sean, you narcissistic prick. I thought we already covered that," Heather taunted, giving Sean another taste of her trademark sass. Sean went silent for a moment, but she could hear him shuffling through the pictures. She had not yet viewed all of them, so she did while she waited for Sean to speak.

"Did you tell Trish?"

"Fuck, no. She'd kill me..."

"She'd kill both of us," he interjected.

"Did you tell Fast Eddie?"

"No, but I need to. I have to. I promised. He specifically told me that if I wanted him to be my campaign manager, I had to come to him immediately if I was in any trouble."

"Clearly, he knows you," Heather mocked. "You're the epitome of fucking trouble. Good thing you're fast-talking buddy is your lawyer. Funny how that works."

"Yeah, I know. We've been through a lot. He said that he would bolt if I didn't tell him everything. But, Heather, I've got to tell Eddie. I can't lose him."

As stressful as the situation was, Heather relished the thought of a panicking Sean. But something still did not fit.

"Sean, why the hell are you running for mayor? You don't want to be mayor. You don't want to help the citizens of our town. What the fuck?"

"I have my reasons. After I win, it will become clear."

"Good God. Can you be any more annoying?"

Heather laughed as soon as the words left her lips. They both did. This annoyance was a theme, and it wasn't even close to the level he was capable of. He'd been annoying his entire life. His parents even joked about it. At just about every birthday party, they'd say that the doctor who gave him his first spanking said his cry annoyed the hospital staff. His mother even said Sean was annoying in her womb, constantly waking her in the middle of the night by sitting on or kicking her bladder. The poor lady was a sleep-deprived wreck even before she gave birth.

Wreck. Car wreck. Shit.

"Sean, I've got to go. Let's get together tomorrow morning and discuss this. Maybe we can fix this before it's too late. Maybe I can also convince you to drop out of the race."

"I agree to the first part, but the second part is not going to happen."

"Sean, there is still a little over a month before the civic election nominations close. So there could still be others interested in the job."

"I bet there is. Shit."

"It's possible. Fuck. Anything's possible. I let you fuck me. Hell freezing over could be next."

"Oh, come on. I was good. Quite probably the best you've ever had."

"You're such a schmuck, you know that?" Heather shot back. "I regretted it the very moment we…."

Heather then saw the picture, possibly the most scandalous of the bunch.

"Holy shit!" she yelled again. Heather remembered the last time she yelled and looked up, fully expecting Trish to be standing in her doorway. She was relieved when Trish didn't materialize.

"What's wrong, well, besides the obvious?"

"I just saw the picture of us when you were…."

Sean laughed. "That might be the best picture of them all. It's definitely my favorite."

"How close do you think the guy was?" Heather wondered aloud. "The picture shows everything. I didn't even see a flash."

"Whoever it had some expensive gear. Maybe that high-tech spy shit that doesn't need to flash at night."

"Sean, I've got to go. I'll come by your office before eight. And Sean, don't tell Eddie until after we talk. Can you wait until then?"

"Sure. Another few hours won't matter. It's late. Fast Eddie is probably living up to his name right now anyway. So I shouldn't bother him. It can wait until morning. Besides, I've got a serious date with some hand lotion and an envelope filled with hot photos."

"You are such a fucking asshole!" Heather screamed and hung up. She quickly sifted through the photos to see if there were any other surprises. There weren't. So, she put the pictures in the envelope and then hid them under the spare tire in the trunk of her car.

oOo

On the drive home, Heather's mind raced again. Her husband was absolutely right; she was the epitome of horniness, but he wouldn't know entirely how or why. The combination of the images, anxiety, fury, and a ruined orgasm, was a decadent recipe that fueled her needs. She was an overflowing pot of boiling water. Now behind the wheel, she was a runaway train with a clear destination.

When Heather got out of her car, her panties were soaked and uncomfortably clung to her sex. They'd never had the chance to fully dry from the earlier ministrations of her pussy. They had been sticking all night. She went straight to the kitchen and met an equally horny, albeit patiently waiting Bob. He immediately proceeded to remove her clothing and rip off her knickers.

As soon as Bob bent her over the kitchen island, Heather embraced her inner cum slut. It was something she'd always knew she was, so she never tried to deny it. What was the point? However, she just didn't want to be known as the slutty mayor. Thank goodness Bob was more open-minded than most men she knew. That's probably why she'd married him, even though she had thought that she would never marry. She felt that there were too many opportunities. Marriage usually tends to limit those.

After Bob used some readily available vegetable lubricant from the pantry to lubricate her ass driving two fingers vigorously in and out of her tight passage. Heather gasped and reached across the island to grab the edge of the countertop. Just as she had done across the Audi's hood. It was déjà vu. Just everything seemed to be a repeat of last night with Sean. It felt like the two men collaborated, planning both evenings, but she knew better.

As Bob said he would, he quickly took his wife's ass. The feel of his cock invading her was sublime. Each push inside compressed her thighs and pelvis into the cabinets. Heather was once again in heaven.

As Bob found his slow rhythm, Heather knew he would draw this out as long as possible. She could cum fast and frequent, but if carefully prolonged, he could keep her on edge for a long time. She'd eventually erupt and almost pass out when she climaxed. She got the impression Bob was in a mood to see what she'd do. He had no idea that her head was already spinning and that she'd been on edge for over an hour. She really needed to cum now.

Bob reached around, pulled Heather's hips away from the cabinet, and found her clit. "Oh fuck," Heather panted as he used some of the vegetable oil to coat her swollen nub. He then grabbed Heather's lace underwear, which he had placed on the countertop next to her.

"No talking." He balled up the wet and heavily scented fabric and pushed it into her open mouth.

As Bob's body rocked hers, Heather surrendered to the sensation of her stretched rectum. It was full and intense, and it was a bloody brilliant vision. She imagined what his cock looked like sliding in and out of her body. The head of it pressing deep against her insides while his balls swayed back and forth with each thrust. It was another hypnotic, pendulum motion that Heather easily got lost in. But Bob brought Heather back to the moment. He began rhythmically tapping her clit while he thrust hard on every fourth tapped beat.

One. Two. Three. Four.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Bob slowly increased the force of his tapping and the power of his thrust as he felt his orgasm approach. Again, he was careful not to cum before Heather, definitely not this time, but continued with this drum-beat rhythm.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Thrust.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Thrust.

Never missing a beat, each tap caused Heather's body to tingle more. The harder he tapped, the deeper she felt the electricity. It felt like tingling tendrils were searching, traveling inside, and trying to grasp her orgasm and bring it to the surface. Bob kept tapping while monitoring his wife's body. He was trying to time their orgasms. He knew hers was almost there. His was now at the edge of his eruption.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Thrust.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Thrust.

Just as Heather inhaled and held her breath, Bob grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. The shock widened her eyes momentarily, but that was enough time.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Thrust.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Thrust.

As her body tensed, then shook, and Bob groaned as he coated her insides, she saw it. Bob would later tell her that it was waiting when he got home. On the kitchen table across from where they fucked, was another large envelope addressed to her.

******************************************************************************

As this series was written by several authors, here are the links to all the chapters.

Dirty Tricks, Chapter 1 by Andrea Detroit. https://www.lushstories.com/stories/hardcore/dirty-tricks-chapter-1.aspx

Dirty Tricks, Chapter 2 by ChrisM . his chapter

Dirty Tricks, Chapter 3 by writingvixen. https://www.lushstories.com/stories/hardcore/dirty-tricks-chapter-3.aspx

Dirty Tricks, Chapter 4 by WannabeWordsmith. https://www.lushstories.com/stories/hardcore/dirty-tricks-chapter-4.aspx

Dirty Tricks, Chapter 5 by Milik_the_Red. https://www.lushstories.com/stories/hardcore/dirty-tricks-chapter-5.aspx

Dirty Tricks, Chapter 6 by Darkside. https://www.lushstories.com/stories/hardcore/dirty-tricks-chapter-6.aspx

Dirty Tricks, Chapter 7 by Andrea Detroit. https://www.lushstories.com/stories/hardcore/dirty-tricks-chapter7.aspx

Dirty Tricks, Chapter 8 by ChrisM. https://www.lushstories.com/stories/hardcore/dirty-tricks-chapter-8.aspx

Dirty Tricks, Chapter 9 by JefferyB. https://www.lushstories.com/stories/hardcore/dirty-tricks-chapter-9.aspx

No More Dirty Tricks, Chapter 10 by ChrisM & Ping. https://www.lushstories.com/stories/hardcore/-dirty-tricks-the-last-chapter-no.aspx