So I buttoned up my jeans—no free looks for Allen—and kneeled behind him. I reached both hands around the chair and managed to find my way to Allen’s fly. I could feel something hard in there. I unzipped it while Corrie thrust lightly up and down, watching us intensely.
After a bit of fussing with Allen’s fly, out popped the hardest—and tiniest—penis I had ever seen. It couldn’t have been much more than four inches, probably less. But it was really thin too. Thin as a tampon.
“See, Corrie? See what I’ve been trying to work with?”
I could see what Sirenna wanted from me, but I wasn’t ready to humiliate Allen. I was still too worried about his retribution. However, I did stroke him, marveling at how I could handle him with just two fingers.
That was good enough for Sirenna. She seemed extra turned on now, thrusting while staring intently at my hand stroking Allen’s dick.
“Stroke that tiny penis, Corrie. See how fast he cums!”
I was still amazed at the feeling of stroking Allen; it was like stroking a large magic marker. How could he and Jackson even be the same gender?
I felt a wave of compassion for angry, fucked-up Allen. It must be really difficult to strut around, knowing women are attracted to your power, but knowing you can’t possibly please their pussies with your dick, no matter how much office space you acquire. No wonder he was trapped in his fucked-up psychology.
I started jacking Allen with my entire hand, completely hiding his cock.
Allen was bucking in my hand, and I could tell he wasn’t going to last long. I suddenly had this image of Allen letting go and squirting in my face, which is exactly what he did—one quick but intense burst, rocketing from his tiny penis directly into my face. A couple more drips that missed, but the damage was done.
Even Jackson laughed.
“Ugh!” was all I could say, staggering toward the distant bathroom light to get Allen’s yuck off of me.
Sirenna was too far into her own ecstasy now to worry about my mess. Riding Jackson this way, she couldn’t bounce up and down as hard, so she settled on a slower, sensual rhythm. Jackson thrust slowly up as she pushed out, keeping his cock inside her.
By then, I had the cum off me and returned, standing behind Allen as if I was his keeper. It was beautiful to watch Jackson’s penis moving in and out, pulling Sirenna’s pussy lips along with it. So much friction! That was a wonderful sensation, having your lips tugged from such a thick cock. It must feel incredible to her, given Allen was way too tiny to possibly pull her lips inside out.
Lucky girl …. Dammit, Sirenna!
To distract myself, I returned to Allen, whose sticky little penis throbbed and perked to life when I touched it. Sirenna wasn’t going to last long. Those slow, full strokes were getting to her, making her legs tremble and shake. Then she sat down on Jackson and stopped moving.
This had the effect of pushing his cock into her and holding it in place, absorbing her spasms. But it also braced Sirenna so she wouldn’t fall off the bed, which she might have done otherwise. Her eyes were rolling. For a minute, I thought she might drool fluid from her mouth like the girl from The Exorcist. No more screams from Sirenna, just a massive erotic silence as her body exhaled.
And that was too much for Allen as well. Before he could even get fully hard again, his tiny penis squirted. This time I held my hand up but there was no need—only a few drops were left as Allen’s hips bucked helplessly. I felt Allen gripping the chair and thrusting into my hand.
Sirenna seemed like she had been adequately conquered. She lifted herself off Jackson, and her pussy made a series of unflattering exhales. That’s the downside of having a cock like Jackson’s expelled from your pussy—not so ladylike.
Sirenna laughed, and her face reddened. “Your cock … it’s a revelation,” she said to Jackson.
Then came the strangest experience I’ve ever had with another couple. Instead of finishing the scene, instead of chit-chat, I just locked eyes with Jackson and nodded toward the door. He dressed quickly and silently, not even taking the condom off. I zipped up my jeans and adjusted my blouse. My pussy was sopping wet, but that would have to wait. We needed to get out of here.
Sirenna, meanwhile, was splayed on the bed. She seemed like she was barely conscious, or if she was, she didn’t care to say a word.
Allen, meanwhile, had the look of a puppy that had escaped into the yard and run until it was exhausted. He was so defeated, he didn’t even seem to care that his mouth was still covered in tape.
But I knew Allen would regain his glare soon. For a brief moment, I wondered how I would ever face him at work. I wouldn’t just lose my job; I wouldn’t have much of a career left if he had anything to say about it.
We left the room without saying a word, Sirenna laid out and Allen slumped in his chair, his arms still restrained. Add a bit of blood on Sirenna’s body and it would have been a police scene.
“Fuck, what the hell was that?” I said to Jackson as he opened the car door for me, the gentleman of strange circumstances.
Jackson showed a hint of a smile, but I could tell he was shaken as well.
A few blocks away, I told Jackson to pull over. I unzipped his pants, pulled the condom off his penis and tossed it into a gutter. Not very eco-nice, but I didn’t want that girl’s juices on him.
“This is the last time we are ever doing anything like this!” I told him.
He nodded. At the time, I meant it. I suddenly felt very vanilla. It was as if all the kink, all the deviation had been purged out of my body. We hadn’t done any violence to Allen, but we had done violence to his marriage. They say serial killers want to go from one kill to a bigger and more intense one. But not me. I never wanted to kill like this again.
Speaking of problems, Jackson and I had one on the home front that night. We were both in dire need of sleep, but both of us were too worked up.
“Dammit,” he said, once we were in bed.
“What, honey?” I said, my arms around him.
“My balls ….”
Jackson had told me about blue balls before. I’d given him a big case of them the night we met. I was always fascinated and skeptical about this peculiar male hang-up—it seemed like an excuse to push a girl’s sexual envelope and whine.
He assured me that blue balls were real, and I always humored him. “I don’t want to fuck, but I’ll make you cum,” I said.
And with that, I jacked him off, patiently and almost clinically. On most days he would have needed a more determined approach, but he had been inside Sirenna’s pussy, getting all warmed up, so it was simply a matter of increasing my rhythm, two hands moving up and down his big sticky penis. I slapped a condom on him before he could blow, which comes in handy when your husband spurts a ton of fluid you don’t need on your sheets. Rope after rope filled the tip of the condom. How he cums so much more than a small guy like Allen I’ll never know, but the sight makes me really fucking wet. For a moment I wished that spray had gone against my walls. Another time.
With a happy grunt, Jackson’s business was done. I had a big cum in me too, but I was too preoccupied with the collapse of my professional career to think about that. Unlike Jackson, I don’t get blue balls, exactly. I just get a dull ache that actually pays off if I can let it build for a day or two. Right now, I wasn’t feeling it. I fell asleep with my hand casually holding Jackson’s floppy penis.
“This monster has gotten us into a shitload of trouble, baby,” I said to him. He laughed, which ticked me off. I had a serious point to make, but I fell asleep before I could connect the thoughts.
Chapter 21
I woke up early, with a vague memory of Jackson leaning down in his new overalls and kissing me. I was still in a daze. I surprised myself by sleeping pretty soundly. I guess when you throw your future away, there isn’t much to do but sleep it off.
I must have looked like I would never leave the bed again. Jackson asked if he should stay home with me. I told him no—I wasn’t staying in bed
either. Quick kiss, Jackson revved his truck.
A few glorious snooze alarms later, I dragged my ass out of bed. Time to face this professional Waterloo. Ugh. As I splashed the remnants of last night off my face, I thought, You dumb bitch. Your pussy just got you fired.
I lingered in the shower. Soap across thigh—that felt better. I almost masturbated to get a release from the pent-up night. But then I had a dirty thought: Save that cum for Jackson. Which I did. I knew it would be an epic cum when he finally pulled it out of me.
I thought about not going into work at all. But on my office desk, I had a Polaroid-style picture of Jackson and me, taken on a roller coaster on our third date. Jackson the alpha dog is screaming like a little boy, holding onto me for dear life.
I wanted that picture. Oh, and there was Herman the Plant, which my friend Becca gave me before we had a falling out.
“You’re always killing house plants,” Becca told me before giving me Herman for my desk. “Well, you can’t kill this one.”
And it was true. I had forgotten to water Herman for weeks at a time. Herman could happily endure my travel schedule and somehow stay green. Anyhow, I wanted that plant, too. And I didn’t trust Allen to send it all home to me in a thoughtful care package.
I drove to work in brooding silence. I half-expected a box of stuff to be waiting for me at security.
“Hi, Jameson,” I said.
Our main door guy, Jameson, always gave me an extra stare as I walked up. Jameson was a nearly retired, jovial black man. He had a naturally flirty style and an easy confidence I liked. For some reason, I didn’t mind him looking.
“Heya, Corrie!” Harold said. “How’s my main squeeze today?”
“You mean your other squeeze,” I scolded, in mock disapproval. “How is the old bird, anyway?” I was referring to his wife, Betty.
He cracked a smile from ear to ear.
“Jameson, did anyone … leave anything for me?”
He rummaged behind the front counter.
“Nothing I can see, Corrie! But if you want to squeeze on back here and look for yourself ….” Jameson liked to press his luck.
I walked past him to the elevators, giving a big ol’ hip swish on the way. Since this was probably my last time up, he might as well have something to remember me by.
“Okay, now!” Jameson called out, registering his approval.
On my way to the 11th floor, two of my co-workers filed into the elevator. They seemed to look at me a bit curiously, but maybe I was imagining things.
I passed our floor’s receptionist, Yvette, on the way to my office. Yvette was on the phone and waved, not giving me a second thought. Hmm ….
That was when I looked over my left shoulder and noticed Allen’s office—no lights on. That was odd.
Allen was a notoriously early riser. The latest he had ever showed up at the office was 6 a.m., as far as anyone knew. His secretary Gretchen had only beat him once. It was a running disagreement between them if he had indeed arrived at 6:01.
And here it was, 8:30. I unlocked my office. Nothing unusual. The sun was slamming in the windows.
I was still puttering around, checking to see if Herman was ready for a change in locale, when I heard my door creak open. My heart skipped, and then I almost fell over. Standing in front of me was Sirenna, in a brassy two-piece red suit. It was the first time I had ever seen her at the office. Next to her was Allen, but he seemed, well, a bit off. For the first time I could remember, he didn’t have a tie on. His suit even looked disheveled.
Allen always had a cocky and defiant look—even last night he had looked more angry than submissive. But something had changed.
“All the way in, Allen.” Sirenna motioned to him like he was a dog in obedience training. He shuffled into the room, and she closed the door behind him. “Allen has something to say to you, Corrie.”
A long, awkward silence ensued. I was too numb from shock, I think, to say anything.
“You’re … not fired.” Allen said to me, before looking up. I thought I saw a flash of defiance, but then he was back to being sheepish.
“And what else, Allen?” Arms crossed, Sirenna was tapping her foot with impatience.
“I’ve put you in for a regional manager role,” Allen said.
I had to sit down; this was a bit much.
“And …?” Sirenna prompted.
“It’s kind of … a custom role,” Allen stammered, looking more at the ground than at me. “It’s the consulting director part of my job. They’ll be hiring a controller to handle the finance part. You’ll still run your analytics group half-time.”
“But …” I said, wondering what the hell was going on.
“Allen has put in his two weeks’ notice,” Sirenna said. “We’re moving to Los Angeles.”
She was beaming. I couldn’t help but think of Mad Men, when what’s-her-name moved west to pursue her acting career. But Don Draper hadn’t gone with her ….
“I’m going to pursue my acting career!” Sirenna said proudly. Bingo. “And maybe some modeling.”
A moment of quiet while the absurdity of all this soaked in. I was glad I was sitting down, or I might have fallen over.
“And Allen won’t be pressing charges against you or Jackson,” Sirenna said sweetly. I felt her eyes gently scolding me, but not hating.
Sirenna looked … different. Always a sensual woman, she was radiant now. With a swift movement she locked my door and closed the blinds. It was as it I was watching a movie of my life unfold, or maybe a reality show.
“Corrie, I want to show you something,” she said. She pushed Allen up against the desk.
“Take your clothes off, Allen!” she said. He didn’t move, so she repeated, “You heard me, Allen, take them off!”
There was absolutely no way Allen, this aggressive alpha dog motherfucker, was going to take off his clothes in front of two women, including his subordinate.
You could have knocked me off my chair. With a little bow of obedience, Allen started unbuttoning his dress shirt. Impatient, Sirenna helped him with his jacket, then tossed them both aside.
“The pants, Allen, the pants!”
It was odd, almost creepy, but Allen continued, as if under hypnosis.
“I’ve got your shoes,” Sirenna said, quickly pulling Allen’s brown loafers off until only his black socks remained.
By then, Allen was in his boxers. And I must admit, for the first time, I started to become aware that this scene was not just about his humiliation and my shock. I was starting to get turned on.
“The boxers too, Allen!” Sirenna said forcefully. It happened as if in slow motion. And suddenly there was Allen, standing up against my desk, looking wiry, white, a bit hairy, and … naked. Except for the black socks.
Allen was covering his genital region, an automatic reaction you’d expect of anyone finding themselves naked in a forced/new situation.
Sirenna wasn’t having any of that. “Allen, move your hands away! Don’t make me do it for you.”
Allen looked hesitant, but then I saw a new look in his eyes, a look that I am struggling to describe to you now, but it was as if a part of him wanted this to happen.
I was actually feeling bad for Allen, but when he moved his hands, I couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t just me; Sirenna laughed also. Jutting out from his pubic hair was a tiny little penis. It was inside of something—what was it?
“This is what Allen has been trying to fuck me with, Corrie!” Sirenna said. I was still in shock, worried to cross further lines with someone who in theory still had some level of power over me.
Sirenna seemed to notice my hesitancy.
“Corrie, I can assure you, nothing bad is going to happen to you. Tell Allen what you really think.”
“What is … on his dick?” I asked hesitantly, still testing the waters.
Sirenna stood next to him and reached down, stroking his tiny penis while Allen exhaled. “It’s one of Jackson’s condoms! You
left one at my place, so I decided to see if it would fit. It looks like a little kid in a fat man’s raincoat!”
I smiled; it was kind of true. Allen’s little dick was almost lost inside this huge rubber, which looked more like a small plastic bag.
“I had to actually tape it on him so his dick wouldn’t fall out on the way here,” Sirenna said mockingly. It was true. Allen’s condom was attached to the base of his cock with duct tape. Ouch, that was going to sting later.
“Can you believe he tried to cheat on me with this?” Sirenna said, stroking and pointing his little penis at me.
That reminded me … Allen had cheated on Sirenna. He had made my life miserable here. And I was hardly the only one.
“Your husband’s cock is about ten times bigger than this. He made me cum so fucking hard! Imagine what this little thing can do for me. Nothing, Allen! Nothing!” She looked at him fiercely.
She was right about that. Jackson told me later, Sirenna had the deepest and widest vagina he had ever fucked. It was the only time he could ever recall “feeling a loose pussy.”
“Allen and I have had a little talk,” Sirenna said, stroking him with two fingers while she laughed. “A little tiny talk.”
I can’t lie; I laughed too.
“We’re going to stay married, but now that I know how good sex can be, I’m going to be getting taken care of by other men. Isn’t that right, Allen?”
“Yes,” he said, not even hesitating anymore. I wish I had seen this before spending time with Brad. I had nothing on Sirenna in terms of taking charge of a short-dicked man.
“Oh, but there’s more,” Sirenna said. “Allen has an apology for you.” She took her hand way. He looked at her desperately. “Oh, you don’t want me to stop, do you?” He shook his head. “Then tell her!” Sirenna said.
“I’m sorry … I put you down and made your life hell here,” Allen said.
Never had I known a man to completely renounce himself like this. Maybe Allen was under some weird spell, but he did look sincere. He had trouble looking me in the eye, but hey, I’ll take a bizarre groveling apology over nothing.
My Husband's Adventures Page 15