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Steve shrieked like a schoolgirl caught with her panties down in the backseat of a car at Lover’s Leap.

“Shit!” exclaimed Bea, snapping her fingers, “I forgot to lock the damn doors!”

Lawrence spun his back to us, clutching his black cap in his twitchy fingers.

“I… um… just came in to ah… verify the situation,” he sputtered, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He glanced over his shoulder, gulped, then looked away again.

“I’ll be in the limo when you’re ready,” he added, throwing the sound over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

“HALT!” yelled Bea, and Lawrence froze mid-step, his right foot in the air.

She sighed a long, expressive sigh.

“If you can keep your mouth shut, we’ll let you stay.”

“WE?!” Steve alarmed, the tea towel back in his lap, tented by his overdosed dicky maximus.

Still harder than a choir boy in a porn shop.

Lawrence appeared relieved and surprised by his good fortune. He shed his black suit jacket, sat on the loveseat, loosened his black tie, and slipped it from his neck. Then he nodded a smile to Steve, who responded with a blank stare.

Bea stepped into the adjoining dining room and waved me over.

“What the hell are you doing, Bea?” I whispered.

“He can’t unsee what he just saw, Shannon,” she answered, “and he’s an employee. I need to include him so he’ll be compelled to keep quiet.” She shrugged. “He’s all yours, if you want him.”

“ME?! NO!” I said, poking her between those tiny titties. “Steve and I are going upstairs. ALONE!”

Bea arched back and away from me.

“All right Shan, calm down for Christ’s sake,” she said, “Just give me a few more minutes with Steve, and you do your best to draw Lawrence into this – my job and both our reputations are at stake.”

Her crazy ideas sound reasonable at the time, but on further reflection, reveal themselves to be total bullshit.

“Now where were we Mr. Smith?” Bea said, as she walked back to him and attempted to position herself between his knees – but they appeared to be super-glued together.

“Close your eyes and try to relax.”

Steve did as commanded, and Bea managed to wedge in and tug the tea towel from his death grip.

I joined Lawrence on the loveseat and offered him a joint in an attempt to compromise him, per Bea’s instruction. Ever since their federal government had legalized it in 2018, it seemed that Canadians had gone reefer mad. And although getting high was not a problem in most cases, I was pretty sure it would still be frowned upon if on the job – especially if that job involved operating heavy machinery – such as a limo.

But Lawrence appeared to be unconcerned for his employment, most likely because the woman who signed his checks was dick diving in the buff. He pinched a fatty from the little metal box and put it to his lips. I lit the end of it – the flame illuminating his face, awash with that kid-in-a-candy-store awe.

“Damn, Ms. Grove,” Lawrence said, huffing a puff of our small town’s finest, “I didn’t know this was the sort of activity Miss Bea was into.”

“Under the circumstances, Lawrence,” I said, taking the joint from him and enjoying a nice long draw, “you can call me Shannon.”

“No mam,” he said, shaking his head, “My grandpa Albert told me never to um… what did he call it?… slip into familiarity… yeah that was it.”

But if familiarity had been the only thing Lawrence would have slipped into that afternoon, his grandfather would have been relieved.

“It’s a crazy situation we’ve found ourselves in,” I said, passing the dwindling doobie back to him. “You wouldn’t say anything to anyone, would you?” I asked through a cloudy exhale, staring at him with doe eyes, and resting my hand on his thigh.

“No mam,” Lawrence said, smiling, and answering my touch with a light one of his own just north of my knee.

I turned my attention to my bestie and my mister. Steve’s earlier expression of horror with the addition of a fourth player had morphed into a purr of pleasure as Bea two-handed his greasy engorged shaft and tickled his heavy ascending pouch with her tongue.

“Oh yeah, mmmmmmmmm, so so good,” Steve moaned, his eyes fixated on her advanced technique, but when the deep-throating commenced, he once again broke ranks and attempted to rake his fingers through her hair.

And imagine my uneasy surprise when she went off script and didn’t admonish him for his felony. Rather, she egged him on.

“That’s it Steve,” Bea moaned, “Fuck my mouth.”

And that unapproved tactical maneuver precipitated a wave of unwelcome adrenaline through me from tip to toe

“Oh man, oh yeah, this is hot,” Lawrence whispered, as he rubbed his swollen package straining against the black gabardine of the uniform trousers.

“Ms. Grove, are you interested in the BBC?” he asked, a shyness in his quiet voice.

“Yes,” I said, barely engaged, absorbed instead by the wild wild web of seduction my best friend was spinning around my sweetheart. “I love that Downton Abbey series.”

Lawrence istanbul escort knitted his brows.

“I don’t know what that is, Ms. Grove,” he said, “BBC means big black cock.”

“Oh Bea, OH BABY, OH GOD BABY!”

Steve blurted the same sentiment as Bea’s three misters, as he held her head down and bucked up into her face.

Him calling her baby – it hurt; that’s my name.

“I’m going to cum.” Steve whimpered.

“Oh no you are NOT!” Bea snapped, and she climbed to standing on the couch, yanked his head back by his tufts of sparse gray hair, and jerked her matching pussy along his lips.

And regardless of how pissed off I was at her, I must have been giving off ferocious pheromones, because Lawrence didn’t wait for an invitation to experience his version of the BBC. He unzipped his pants and sprung loose his colossal cockus erectus then presented it to me for my approval.

“Looks good,” I managed to choke out, and with that assurance, he snaked his left hand over my thigh and under the teddy. I hesitated, but only briefly, then I eased my hips forward and spread for him, allowing his long slim fingers to worm their way to my lady bits. And we settled in to watch the exceptionally erotic exhibition taking place just six feet from us.

“How’s that 62-year old pussy taste, Stevo,” Bea asked as she ground it down and around his face and fingers.

“Mmmmmmmmm yummmmmm,” Steve slurped, “like fine wine.”

“That’s it now,” she said, lifting her left knee onto the back of the couch, smothering him, and Steve palmed her ass to hold her steady.

“Oh yeah, that’s it… oh fuck yeah right there, do me just like that Steve.”

“Listen to that dirty mouth on Miss Bea,” said Lawrence, shaking his head as he played himself with his right hand, and me with the pluck of the fingers on his left, “She is some naughty bookkeeper.”

“Don’t call her that; she’ll be pissed,” I said. “She’s an accountant.”

“Thanks for the tip, Ms. Grove,” Lawrence said, “Last thing I want to do is get on Miss Bea’s bad side.”

He turned and looked at me thoughtfully.

“Would you like to sit on my lap by chance?” he added.

“Why yes,” I said, somewhat deflated with the unforeseen fork in the road Bea had detoured us down, and grateful for the opportunity to turn my back on it. I allowed Lawrence to lift me into a straddle, and my warm wet slit rested against his splendid span of espresso brown.

“May I?” Lawrence asked, and he stretched the delicate lace bodice of the teddy down and up under my hefty breasts. He pressed them together tight and gently sucked my nipples with his luscious lips. It discharged an intense electric impulse that traveled through my core and into my happy valley, where it went to ground, tasering my clit, provoking me to twerk along his shaft. He didn’t attempt to enter me, though, and that was a good thing, because I was on a hair trigger, and I wanted to wait for Steve. I could hear the two of them tossing and turning on the nearby couch. Bea was teasing him, taunting him, tempting him, and I wondered if Steve felt as uncertain about the direction this afternoon had taken as I did.

And very shortly thereafter, I had my answer.

“Shannon!” he hollered.

I turned and there was Bea, flat on her back, with one leg on the back of the couch, and one on the floor. Steve was kneeling between her legs, his scepter as smooth and hard and shiny as a rink that had just been Zambonied. He had a sort of pained expression on his face, and I thought maybe the double dose of Cialis was the cause, but it wasn’t. He was looking to me for permission to bonk my best friend, and we both knew if that happened, the chance of us consummating our long distance lust affair was slim to none.

But before I could decide how to respond, Lawrence made the executive decision to mirror their circumstance, sweeping me up into his muscular arms, spinning me around, and lowering me gently onto my back, my head now resting 90 degrees and only two feet from Bea’s. He rose to his knees between my legs and rushed to unbutton and remove his starched white oxford shirt, then tugged his trousers down over his slim hips.

And then the four of us, frozen with indecision, waited for someone to make a move. It was the perfect ‘swapportunity’ and I hoped Steve would take initiative but…

SMACK!

Bea slapped his face then laughed at his gasp. He reacted swiftly, grabbing her wrists and pinning them over her head.

“What are you waiting for?” she said, gazing up at him, her voice now sultry and siren. “Come on Steve, do me; you know you want to.”

It was so frickin’ hot.

And so, when Steve looked down at me with those inquiring eyes, I smiled and nodded, giving him that permission, and he fixed his stare on Bea then stuffed her with his concrete monument.

“Oh yeah, that’s it, big fella,” she purred, as he groaned in and out of her, “Show me what you got.”

“Alright then Ms. Grove,” said Lawrence, shrugging, “Let’s escort istanbul you and me do this.” He looped his arms under my legs, lifted my hips, and dragged me along the loveseat towards his Gynormasaurus Rex, “and don’t worry,” he added when he saw the concern in my eyes, “I’m going to drive your Miss Daisy nice and easy unless you instruct me otherwise.”

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” I heard Steve growl at Bea, and I looked over and saw him grip her chin and force his thumb into her mouth as he gave her pussy a pounding.

And true to form, she bit him.

He howled, then there was a tussle and they landed on the floor right next to me. He forced her to her knees in front of the couch and pinned her hands behind her back.

“Godamnit!!” Bea shrieked when he grabbed her gray bob and jerked her head with it.

Lawrence was about to lower himself onto me but hesitated.

“You OK, Miss Bea?” he asked her.

“She’s fine!” Steve grunted as he thrust his cock into Bea’s gray lady from behind, “aren’t you Miss Bea!” and he yanked her hair down right, forcing her face up towards Lawrence.

“Yeah I’m fine,” Bea grumbled through her clenched jaw, trying to extricate herself from Steve’s stranglehold. “But as soon as I get to my feet, I’m going to kick this geezer’s ass three ways to Sunday.”

“Ready for me Ms. Grove?” Lawrence asked, then gently, he nudged his bulbous black leather tip against my eager entrance, and pressed in, nice and easy, just as he had promised. I hadn’t taken another man for over 40 years, and if anyone would have told me my second shillelagh would be a big black one attached to a chauffeur barely old enough to buy beer, I would have laughed out loud.

“Ahhhh, Ms. Grove,” Lawrence said, as he buried his handsome unlined face in my blonde curls. “You’re going to have to relax that vice grip you got on Larry’s love pump, so I can get this last three inches in.”

“Why don’t we watch Miss Bea and Mr. Smith for some inspiration,” I suggested, more interested in what was going on beside me, than what was going on inside me.

Lawrence and I rolled our heads cheek-to-cheek to watch the tough-love tunneling Steve was putting to Bea – grunting, grinding up into her, knocking her face forward into the leather seat with every rough thrust.

And it was then I saw a different Steve than the one I had grown to know and feel deep affection for. As sweet and tender as he could be, and typically was, evidently, when he was pushed too far, he took the bull by the horns, and he’d had enough of Bea’s bull. Watching him enjoy the hell out of giving her the end of his sword of steel, FUCK, it made me wet, and it made me want him more than ever.

“Mmmmmm, that’s it,” Lawrence said, “You’re softening up nice now for Larry, Ms. Grove. I’m almost there, right up against that rooftop. How’s that feel?”

“It feels good, Lawrence,” I assured him, my eyes still on my mister, but Steve was lost in the balling of my best friend, a commingling of his desire for revenge and for that pewter pussy.

“Kiss me,” I said.

“My pleasure,” Lawrence answered, filling my mouth – his tongue just as muscular and monstrous and satisfying as his shaft.

“I want to cum at the same time,” I moaned, and Lawrence smiled and nodded, “as Steve,” I finished, and he furrowed his brow.

“With Mr. Smith?”

“That’s right,” I said, “You need to get me there.”

“Alright then, brace yourself,” he said, and that’s all the warning I got before Lawrence rammed his ramburglar into me and I cried out, “OH… OH… OH… DAMN!!!”

And Steve alarmed and stopped his primal impaling of Bea to watch his chauffeur cockjam the woman he’d waited a year to make love to.

“What about me you old fucker?!” Bea huffed, slapping at Steve’s legs behind her, “Or are you going to disappoint me just like you disappointed Shannon?”

SMACK! SMACK!

Steve slapped Bea’s ass cheeks hard.

“GODAMNIT! Make me CUM!” she demanded.

“You are one fine lady with one tight pink pussy, Ms. Grove,” Lawrence murmured in my ear as he drove me right up to the edge of orgasm. “Now how do you like my version of the BBC?”

“Mmmmmmm perfect, Lawrence,” I said, with a chuckle, then I exhaled and relaxed, wrapping my legs high around his back and welcoming him deeper. The new angle of insertion facilitated an exceptionally intense g-spot stimulation, and I struggled to manage my pleasure.

Steve had Bea on her feet, spread-eagled with her palms against the back of the couch. The lavender oil was in his hand and he was drizzling it down her back where it disappeared into the deep crevasse separating her Himalayan haunches.

“Give it to me good, Steve,” Bea said, breathless, writhing against his glistening fingers, “don’t hold back.”

Then out of nowhere, my glass butt plug appeared, and I realized I had left it in the limo and Steve must have brought it with him. He was tracing it up and down Bea’s crack. When Lawrence noticed I had istanbul escort bayan cooled to his caress, he looked up to see what had garnered my attention.

“Damn!” he exclaimed, “Looks like Mr. Smith is going starfishing!”

“Wait WHAT?!!!” Bea said, turning to look behind her, “Don’t you dare!”

Steve nodded, appearing to acquiesce. He pressed his palm against her back and she yielded and spread-eagled once again, then he squeezed her inner thigh and lifted her left leg onto the couch.

“I’m going to make you cum like you’ve never cum before,” he said, as his copious cock disappeared from view, well-buried inside of her.

“Then SHUT UP AND DO IT!” she ordered.

“Fucking hot!” groaned Lawrence, as he watched them go at it. He looped my legs over his shoulders and jam-packed me so deep, I thought I could taste him.

Steve and Lawrence synced their thrusts and man oh man I wanted to let go, but not without Steve, but he was holding off, determined to wield his power over bossy Bea. But when she groaned out a long “Ohhhhh fuuuccccckkkk” and her head fell forward, I knew Steve was going to win the battle of wills, and he did. Before she knew what was happening, he had tickled Bea’s bumhole open and slipped the crystal plug into her.

“Oh my GOD!” she gasped, “I’m going to cum!”

“Who’s making you cum, Miss Bea?” Steve chuckled as he held her tight up against him and twisted the plug in and out of her.

Lawrence went wild with the visual, amping the speed and ferocity of his flex into my hungry cave, and desperate to avoid tumbling into climax, I switched my focus to the final Stanley Cup playoff game between the Lightning and the Canadiens.

“Oh shit, OH FUCK!” Bea cried.

“A mister who?” Steve asked her once again, grabbing her silver mane and tugging on it.

“YOU!”

“Say my name when you cum.” Steve demanded. “Say ‘Fuck me Mr. Smith!'”

“Oh my God, Ms. Grove, I’m gonna cum,” said Lawrence, his lips pursed, his breathing erratic.

“No no no!” I pleaded, “Not yet!” and Lawrence exhaled a disappointment and reached between us to squeeze himself off. He winced.

“That’s it, that’s it, don’t stop!” Bea panted, arching her back and thrusting her greasy booty against Steve’s profound poking.

The slap slap slapping of skin against skin and the scent of sex and sweat wafting our way – it was intoxicating. And watching Steve own her – holy crap – I was so turned on and so jealous. It should have been ME on the other end of that. How the hell did I let this happen? DAMNIT!

“Harder! Come ON!” Bea bellowed, and Steve dug his meaty fingers into her hips and took her to task.

“Oh God YES! I want it! I need it!” Bea pleaded.

“Say IT!” he demanded, looping his arm under her left leg and lifting it higher, and pressing her head and chest down towards the seat. “SAY IT!!!”

“FUCK ME MR. SMITH!” Bea pleaded, “FUCK ME!!!” and Steve reached around to scrub her clit with his right hand, and pinched her tiny titties with his left.

And then it was all over but the shouting.

The air filled with her euphoric squealing and she exploded, then her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the floor. Steve twisted the anal plug free and she groaned a final exhale. He took a seat at the end of the couch, and manspread, his right knee just inches from my forehead.

“My turn,” he said to her, cuffing her neck and coaxing her to him.

I waited for the inevitable backlash, but it never came. Bea was docile and compliant as she crawled between Steve’s legs and buried his cock deep in her mouth.

“That’s a good bookkeeper,” said Steve, pressing on Bea’s head, as he flexed himself down her throat, prompting her to gag and suck in air. “Do that thing with your thumbs,” he added.

And Bea began to work him behind his balls as she continued to bob for his Bob Dole, really putting her weight into it, just like a real tantric masseuse… or a well-paid prostitute for that matter.

And inspired once again by his coworker’s commitment to her art, Lawrence returned to his mission.

“All right Ms. Grove,” he murmured in my ear, his hands working under me to manhandle my ass and pull me up into his grind, “This train’s about to leave the station. Can you do it? Can you?”

“Not yet,” I whispered, “Not yet.”

“Shannon,” Steve groaned out between labored breaths, “take my hand,” and I reached overhead and he interlaced his fingers with mine and squeezed. It was surprising and sweet, and I guessed he knew that once again, our reunion would fall short of our original intention.

“ALMOST THERE!” Lawrence cried out, then bit his lip as he pumped his fat footlong into me, and the three of us, on a collision course with climax, began the final countdown.

“Here it comes. Here it COMES!!” Steve huffed and puffed with anticipation as Bea fast-fisted his rod, bulging his tip in and out of her cheeks, and stopping to dart at it with her tongue. He clamped my hand hard, and I could feel the Cialis-induced energy flowing from him, up my arm, and radiating warmth through my body. The room heavied with sexual tension, accompanied by uneven breathing, moans and groans, and profanity.

And then it happened: an intense grip and swell of sublime, followed by a seizured release that fractured us, one after the other after the other.

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