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.
