Adventure of the Incidental Ogle

I reached up and took both her nipples in my thumbs and fingers, gently rolling and pulling on them.

"OH! FUCK! YES!!!" She arched up and clamped down on me and moments later I felt one of the strongest cums from a woman I'd ever experienced. She was pulsing so hard on me it was almost painful. Almost. My balls pulled up and my ass clenched, and I wanted to cum in her so bad...

But one cum for her wasn't Mission Accomplished for me and I fought the intense urge to empty my load in her. It also made me realize I might be being stupid. I wasn't fixed.

"Anne..." I asked as she started to calm down, the aftershocks wreaking havoc with my self-control. "I'm not protected... are you?"

"Mmm, God! That was good..." she murmured, then realized what I'd asked. "Hmm? Oh, yeah... protected. Mirena IUD. And I'm disease free. Or at least, I was until you skewered me. Are you good?"

"Disease free as of six months ago," I told her. "No partners since. And for the record, I didn't skewer you. You impaled yourself."

"Is it important?" she asked, looking at me weirdly.

"To me it is," I nodded. "This is about me helping you pleasure yourself. There's no way we undo all the damage in one glorious sexual romp. But I want you to be in charge. I want all of this to be your choice."

She sat quietly astride me, still gently rocking, as she mulled over my words. I was lightly stroking her sides and hips and ass.

"You're some kind of special, Jack," she finally decided. "Guys don't act like you."

"Some do," I shrugged. "You just haven't met them. Think like one of your SOCOM teammates' attitude was translated to the bedroom."

"Always got your back," she murmured. "Is that what this is, Jack? A mission?"

"Sort of," I admitted. "Not for you, though. This is just a couple of days of fucking your brains out and getting caught up on all the pleasure you've been missing."

"A couple of days?" she asked, and I wasn't sure if it was excitement or trepidation that made her pulse and breathing quicken.

"Well, however long you want," I amended. "Except I have to have the dollhouse finished by next Thursday, and I've got about a half a day's work yet to do on it."

"The dollhouse," she smiled. "You really are building a dollhouse for your granddaughter."

"Yep," I confirmed. "One of my three pleasures... sex, guns..."

"And making things," she finished for me. "When it's done, allow me to buy some furniture to go in it."

"Why?" I asked. Some of the twists and turns of her mind escaped me.

"Because you'll have earned it!" she told me, starting to speed up her grinding again. And her hot, wet cunny hadn't allowed me any down time. I was right back up there with her. She kept saying "oh, fuck!... oh, fuck!... oh, fuck!..." on every bounce until she finally fell off into a stream of moaning and mewling as she approached her peak.

Thank God for being able to last longer. But it wasn't going to be much longer...

She tripped over again and damned near brought me off. I was really struggling to hold back. I figured I'd like her to get off one more time before I did, so I tried something different. I didn't give her much time to come down before I put my hand on her mons and started using my thumb to rub her clit.

That did it. In more ways than one. She went right back up into a crashing cum while I felt myself hitting that Point of No Return.

"Oh, fuck, Jack!" she cried out. "I'm going to fucking..."

"Me, too!" I interjected. "Oh, fuck!..."

"CUM!!!" she announced as she blew over the top and I was right with her. I came so hard, everything in my groin was clamping down and on fire. I spent rope after rope into her hot, wet, cunny and it felt like it went on forever. She, too, kept pulsing and moaning as her pussy massaged me with wave after wave of orgasmic bliss.

I have no idea how long we kept that up, but eventually she collapsed down on top of me, her face into my neck, her hips still rising and falling, fucking me. I dropped one hand to her ass and one across her shoulders and held on as the ecstasy slowly subsided.

She slowed down, too, finally coming to a stop with me still well seated within her.

"Oh, my God, Jack... that was awesome!" she murmured into my neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!"

"You are quite welcome, my Lady," I told her. "Keep the customer satisfied, I always say."

"Customer?" I could hear the challenge in her voice.

"Those who willingly take part of my services," I clarified, with a smile.

"Well, your servicing is just fine, thank you very much," she told me, raising up a bit. Enough so I couldn't resist the temptation to suck one of her nipple rings back into my mouth.

"Oh, FUCK! Jack..." she almost exploded. "Oh, please... don't start right yet... I'm wiped..."

"Okay," I agreed, letting go of her tit. "I'm rather done in, too. Just wanted you to know your pleasure is my business."

"Oh, you gave me the business alright," she smiled and her voice was like music, cliché as that is.

We lay there, holding each other and letting our bodies calm down until I eventually fell out of her. She rolled off of me at that point, but stayed tucked up under my arm, her head on my chest.

"I have needed that for a very long time," she told my chest softly. "You have no idea how good that felt."

"Oh, I think I have some idea," I told her. "Not bad for Round One, though, huh?"

"I hope this isn't a title fight," she moaned and I chuckled.

"Not up for fifteen Rounds?" I asked.

"Not tonight," she told me. "I need some recovery time. You stretched the hell out of me and I'm going to feel it when the endorphins wear off.

"Not that I'm complaining," she hurried to add. "You're going to take some getting used to... and I have every intention of doing so."

"I hate to break the mood," I told her, suddenly realizing a problem, "but with all that wine with dinner, I need a bathroom."

"Me, too," she giggled as she struggled to sit up and slide out of bed. "This way..."

I followed her, figuring if she needed the toilet, I could use the shower. It turned out, I needn't have worried. The master bath was enormous, with a walk-in tub, a separate shower, a standard toilet and a urinal, a three-basin vanity, a huge walk-in closet and a bunch of other stuff I'm forgetting. She took the toilet, I took the urinal. When we'd finished, we walked on back to the bed and crawled in, me sitting up against the headboard, her curled up against me, holding me as I held her.

"So when do you have to go home?" she asked as we lay there, lightly petting each other.

"Well, this is Sunday night," I mused. "Maybe Wednesday morning?"

Her very audible sigh of delight was unmistakable.

"Then we have time to do each other over, and over, and over..." she smiled. "I like that. Do I need to have Greta wash your clothes each evening, or are you comfortable hanging around in a robe, provided by your hostess?"

"A robe is fine," I shrugged. "And don't sweat the laundry. I'll throw the clothes in the wash when I get home." She snuggled into me a little more and drifted her hand down to my flaccid cock.

She began playing with it as she asked, "so, if you're a dirty old man pervert, how often can you get this bad boy up?"

"Up, or off?" I asked. To her confused look, I added, "I can get back up within half an hour. It's usually one to two hours between orgasms. I've slowed down a bit from my youth."

"So, how big are you?" she asked and I figured she was being serious.

"Somewhere shy of two-and-a-half hands," I told her, not being serious.

She gave me that C'mon, really? look and waited. "About 9 long," I told her, "I think. And maybe 6 in girth. I guess."

"Jesus, you sure feel bigger than that in my cunt, I'll tell you," she smiled. "I thought I was getting fucked by a horse.

"But that's fine," she hurried on to assure me. "You stretch me just fine, thank you. It'll be fantastic, once I've adjusted to you. Guess I'll have to hit the toy store, for something more your size."

I took a chance and hoped I wasn't offending her. "Aren't your Ladies in Waiting going to wonder, when you come back with a larger strap-on?" I asked.

"Oh, they won't wonder..." she smiled again. "They'll know."

And all this time, she'd kept playing with me and sure enough, I was coming up again.

"Can I have my way with him again?" she asked softly, looking down at my cock.

"You can do whatever you like, my Lady," I told her. "I am at your service..."

"Oh, that sounds so good..." she murmured and instigated losing the rest of the night to pure sexual hedonism.

* * * * *

I figure we got maybe two hours of sleep before being wakened by a servant bringing in a huge tray of breakfast. It all looked good to my groggy eyes, but most importantly, there was a big carafe of coffee. And a very beautiful naked lady next to me in the bed.

She struggled awake, not bothering to try to hide her nudity... or mine, when she got out of bed to head for the bathroom and took half the sheets with her, uncovering me. The servant -- Greta, I learned later -- simply didn't acknowledge anything, going about her business in a very businesslike way.

Good for Anne, I thought as I grabbed a pillow and pulled it over me. She's got competent, professional staff. Who are probably all lesbians.

The allure of breakfast, set out on a small table near the windows, was too much. I looked around and didn't see my clothes, nor the robe she'd mentioned. Then I remembered robes in the closet in the bathroom. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, and deciding against embarrassment, I eased out of bed and headed for the bathroom, first to grab a robe and second to answer Nature's call.

Anne was just finishing up and the two of us ended up walking out to breakfast together in the provided robes. The morning was glorious and I felt incredible, sitting to breakfast and looking out over the woods and beach and lake. We'd only gotten through Round Four last night, but it was more than enough to leave me sated. And her, which was the important thing.

We were discussing what we might want to do with the day, besides fucking our brains out, when Greta showed up again, this time with a letter for Anne. She took it and opened it as Greta left, scanning the contents in silence. She read through it twice more, each time looking more worried.

"What's going on?" My curiosity wouldn't leave it alone. "You look worried."

"Do you know Lester Porkus?" she asked without looking up.

"You mean 'Pig' Porkus, the crime boss?" I asked. She nodded.

"Well, he's into extortion and blackmail," I went on. "Mostly protection rackets. Dabbles in gambling. Allegedly into money laundering for the bigger boys. Hasn't ever been caught with his hand in the till. Why?"

"Apparently, Lawrence and he were business partners and he is now suggesting a terrible accident might happen if he does not receive the two million dollars worth of diamonds that Lawrence was supposedly acquiring for him. According to the letter, the money was paid upfront and the product never received. The tone of the letter suggests he thinks I've got them."

"Do you?" I asked, thinking I knew the answer.

"No. I didn't know anything about this... transaction... of Lawrence's." Kind of what I figured.

"So what do you want to do?"

"Eliminate the threat?" she looked up at me with a suggestive half-smile. "Before my place burns to the ground."

"Other than that," I probed. "Something that doesn't involve 'Pig' reaching room temperature."

"Find the diamonds and give them to him?" she proposed. "But I wouldn't know where to start looking for them."

"Then I think we just figured out how we're going to spend the time we're not fucking our brains out." I was already trying to think of ways to find the missing diamonds, or money if the diamonds hadn't been acquired. And it involved a bunch of snooping and calling in favors from old friends.

"How about you start by answering Pig's letter?" I asked. "Tell him you didn't know about it but are willing to try to find them. Ask him how the money was advanced to Lawrence, so we have a place to start. Tell him you'll get back to him inside two weeks with whatever you can find out. That should placate him long enough for us to figure out what the hell Lawrence did with the money."

She looked at me kind of funny. "Just a 45-year job, huh? And you're retired..."

"Pretty much," I smiled. "Would you like to fuck before, or after, I start making phone calls?"

"Both?" she smiled and we both chuckled.

"Can I get a nap, first?" I asked. "After breakfast? And more coffee? I seem to be slowing down in my old age."

"Slowing down, my ass," she told me. "I haven't been fucked like that, ever. But yes, I think we'd both benefit from a bit more sleep. Then I'll write Porkus while you make your calls."

"No, wait..." she corrected herself before I could. "Then we'll fuck, then I'll write Porkus while you make your calls, then we'll fuck again."

"Sounds like a plan," I smiled as I poured us each another cup of coffee.

* * * * *

Anne was wonderfully insatiable.

Okay, well, not exactly insatiable, but certainly very ready, willing and able most of the time. And part instigator, too. The word "voracious" came to mind. But honestly... none of my balling buddies since Julie died were as good as Anne. Not that they were bad -- they weren't. But Anne had a sixth sense about how to make me feel good that was beyond normal. It took me a while to figure out what she liked the most, but she was quite cooperative in teaching me.

I was really, really getting hooked by this woman, and I saw absolutely nothing wrong with it.

We got our nap, then our fucking, then her writing Pig and me making calls, then our fucking, then a late lunch, then fucking, then a stroll on her beach, then fucking, then dinner... you get the idea.

On our stroll, I asked why, if she had such a wonderful private beach, did she choose to lay out on the rocky point by the public beach?

"Attention," she told me. "I'm part exhibitionist. Or maybe I was trolling for a husband..."

That brought me up short. The look on my face must have been priceless, because she couldn't help laughing at it.

"What?" was my rather artless response while I wrapped my mind around the idea. "Well, if you were trolling," I admitted, figuring now was as good a time as any, "then you got me, hook, line and sinker. Even if I am in the wrong age category. You're a pretty amazing woman, Anne, and I like you very, very much."

"I'm glad you said that," she answered, and to my confused look, she explained, "I'm glad you said like and not love. Love you can grow into and it can last forever, but like is how you tolerate someone day to day. It's what makes it possible to be together. And I like you, too, Jack. Very, very much.

"Do I dare ask what phone calls you made?"

I thought about that for a minute. One of my buddies was an ex-SEAL and a CIA operative, and he knew a hell of a lot about following the money. And clandestine diamond smuggling operations. I explained my problem and he told me to call him after Anne's letter got a reply. We'd figure out which way to go from there. He told me he might have to call one of his buddies in the FBI, if it turned out to be domestic.

What I decided to tell Anne was, "you can ask, but I'd rather you waited until Pig answers your letter and we have a starting place. My end of it is going to depend greatly on his end of it. And you might want to beef up your security, against 'accidents'..."

"I already have," she told me, then looked around the beach. "Damn! Wish I'd thought to bring a blanket. Fucking here would get sand in places only a proctologist could love." I nodded towards the water.

"Want to get wet?" I asked, giving her my best lecherous smile. She was out of her clothes in three seconds flat, running into the waves.

"What are you waiting for?" she called back to me. "An engraved invitation?"

I laughed as I stripped off and chased after her. She was a damned good swimmer and she dragged out letting me chase her until she caught me. We didn't really try to fuck in the water, but it was great for mauling each other, relieved of our weight and being pushed around by the waves. The kissing and petting was hot and heavy, and it kept an edge on an otherwise perfect day.

* * * * *

The next afternoon, after a morning of lazy fucking and walking the beach naked, and energetic fucking and lunch naked, and... well, actually the FedEx arrived during lunch.

"It's from Mr. Porkus," she told me as she opened it.

"That didn't take long," I nodded, surprised. "What's he say?"

"He'll take me up on my offer," she told me. "And there's some money transfer info in here. A Cayman Islands bank... or wait, Colombia? And Algeria... and South Africa. Weird. Somebody moved a lot of cash around. And a note -- 'the clock is ticking'. Gee, how melodramatic."

"Can you scan me a copy?" I asked. "I need to send it to a friend."

"A friend?" Skeptical would be a good characterization.

"Yeah, a friend," I iterated. "He's good at chasing money trails."

"Not a problem," she nodded and called for Greta. I passed the information on to my buddy and went back to pleasing Anne any which way I could. I really was going to have to go finish that dollhouse soon.

* * * * *

It only took Chuck a week to get back to me. Enough time that Kerry got her dollhouse, furnished in large part by Anne. The time not spent on the dollhouse was spent on each other, and not all of it was sex. A pretty good portion, yes, but not all of it. We went out to dinner a few times, feeding the local rumor mill, and went into the city one night to catch a play. We spent time sailing her Shark 24 and shooting trap at her gun club. We spent a day cruising around on my hog, and damn! she looked good on my pillion. Even in full leathers and a full-face helmet. I didn't know women could get custom-tailored leathers that looked sprayed on and yet stayed functional. I guess you can, with enough cash.

We also spent time talking. Just talking. About our pasts, our hopes and dreams, our expectations and sometimes about nothing at all. Or nothing important, anyway.

Chuck's response changed the game. Pig's money had gone from Columbia to a Cayman Islands bank. Lawrence had picked up the money there and taken it to Algeria. At the same time, it appeared a package presumed to be raw -- read stolen -- diamonds had left South Africa on its way to Algeria. Lawrence had left Algeria and gone back to the Cayman Islands, then home. He didn't declare anything over $10,000 and wasn't flagged going through Customs. So my best guess was, the diamonds were still in the bank, waiting for Lawrence to figure out how to retrieve them and smuggle them past Customs.

Which gave me an idea. A way to remove Pig as a threat and have the Justice Department owe me one. I asked Anne to go through Lawrence's finances and see if she could find anything related to a Cayman Islands account, particularly a lockbox account. It took her awhile, but she did. She came up with a bank name, a box number and a key.

"But I'm not on the signature card," she pointed out to me.

"So we commit a little fraud," I told her. "You write a letter from Asshole to the bank adding you, as his wife, to the account. We'll 'add' his signature. Date it to before he died. We take that and your marriage license, and a big purse, to the bank. You tell them it's the first chance you've had to get to the bank to update the account. You have the key, they let you in, we clean out the lockbox and we leave."