Heather Anderson’s stomach lurched as she blankly stared at her desk. She could taste bile, she felt like she might vomit. Heather had just emptied the contents of a mysterious envelope that was waiting for her, and the afterglow from the previous night and the glint of her political future had both dimmed. Now her mayoral chances had been snuffed out... Probably.

She angrily regretted her transgression. She felt dirty. She felt tricked. She felt cheated. And she was bloody furious.

She was being blackmailed.

As a serious contender in the upcoming mayoral election, she knew the current political waters were dangerous. Politics is a death sport. Only a naturally-intuitive but properly-trained and highly-skilled candidate could successfully navigate those treacherous waters. That’s why so many of their city’s thriving business community were backing her campaign. They wanted access to a known quantity with a friendly face. Her unfriendly face now grimaced as it stared at the rough seas she had strewn across her desk.

An assortment of large, glossy, high-resolution color photographs stared back at her. A brief scan told Heather someone had used a costly bit of kit to get these images. Judging by the ones she’d seen, significant damage control would be required if they fell into the wrong hands. Even so, she didn’t know if she could recover. She felt her political career could actually be over before it even started.

How dramatically things can change in less than twenty-four hours. How an in-the-moment passion could dearly cost her. With antipathy, she re-read the accompanying note.

My Dearest Heather,

Several items of interest have come into my possession. If you wish to keep these from appearing online or distributed to the media, you’ll need to do the right thing. I'll be in touch.

Sincerely,

One of your biggest fans…

"What the fuck..."

The profanity was crude and uncharacteristic. If any of her campaign team, including Trish, had overheard her, there would have been questions asked, and answers expected. The darkness of that scene made her chuckle.

If an exasperated 'fuck' got their knickers in a twist, then it's a good thing, Trish, her campaign manager, had left the delivered envelope on Heather's desk unopened. That would have been a God almighty row and one Heather would have been unprepared for. From the cursory glance she had cast upon the images, Trish would be unhappy, and not just on a professional level. She would demand to know why Heather had behaved so irresponsibly, and as to the with who...

A shiver ran down Heather's spine. She knew from past experiences that Trish's wrath could do a Marine Corps Sergeant-Major proud.

Until that moment, her budding political career didn’t seem like a car wreck waiting to happen. It had been driving quite nicely, safely under the speed limit, and on her side of the road. But last night, she may have floored it, and actually steered into the oncoming traffic.

And her marriage? What about Bob?

That made her chuckle, but again it was dark.

She was using humor to deflect, but it wasn’t working. Feeling less nauseous, she picked up the first photo from the pile on her desk.

It showed her arriving at the Convention Hall with her husband. It was a party. They were invited to the outgoing Mayor's birthday celebration. Heather thought they looked happy, very happy. The memory of what they'd done before leaving for the Alexa Grey's event caused her mouth to twitch mischievously.

The outgoing mayor was celebrating and everyone who was anyone was invited to attend. It was formal. Evening gowns and black tuxedos. No gifts. Only their presence was required.

Having woken up horny, Heather's carnal urges had grown all day and in the garage, before leaving, she decided they needed quenching. Bunching her evening gown around her abdomen, she ordered Bob to take her while she bent herself over the hood of her Audi. They fucked like hormonally charged teenagers, giggling away between moans as he pounded her from behind. The risk of getting caught heightened their pleasure. “I need some cock, Mr. Anderson. Oblige me,” she recalled saying.

Damn. Same position. What a coincidence.

She recalled still being horny when they arrived at the party, despite the garage quickie. It had been good, but it was better for him than it was for her. That's the way the cookie crumbles sometimes, she rationalized. They hadn't the time to make it into something epic, they had to leave for the party. As soon as he ejaculated, the fuck was over, and Heather needed to clean herself.

On the drive to the Convention Hall, Heather’s mind wandered with the thought of maybe playing with her husband at the party. Maybe tease him. Maybe find an empty bathroom or a secluded storeroom or something like that. This time, it would be better for her. She’d demand that and he’d like it. He loved that horny, slutty side of his wife, but tonight, she decided, would be too risky.

She couldn’t afford being caught. Not now. How ironic, she thought, gripping the glossy picture. Being caught, but with a different man.

Bob Anderson was fifteen years Heather’s senior. He was a successful businessman and proudly, a self-made millionaire. It started with one location which eventually grew to eight and still counting. Everyone needs glass, he used to say. He had a clear vision, he’d also say. Everyone should have visual clarity. That last saying always made him laugh.

Luckily, a successful advertising firm convinced Bob that that was not the best slogan for his company. Bob reluctantly listened and agreed, but he never forgot.

As a young woman, Heather worked for Bob. While in high school, she frequently babysat Bob’s kids from his first marriage. For a young woman, she was incredibly reliable and he grew to depend on her. He entrusted her with his children. Bob was busy at work, building his business and hopefully a better life for his family. His ex-wife also helped with the fledgling company, when she could. However, her primary role was financially supporting the family during the lean years, from a dehumanizing cubicle while working full-time for the city.

Her building permit approval job paid well and helped keep the family finances healthy. Although she was free most evenings and weekends, she was unhappy. She avoided homelife as much as she could, relying heavily on Heather to look after their children. Bob's ex-wife wanted more from life. She wanted something Bob couldn’t provide no matter how hard he tried. She eventually went looking for her utopia somewhere else, leaving Bob with his glass business and Heather to take care of the abandoned family.

Bob had never met anyone like Heather and dependence evolved into love.

Confident, smart, loyal and sassy as fuck, she made him laugh. Heather aroused him in ways he never thought possible. He knew it was wrong, inappropriate, but he became uncontrollably enamored with her. However, he had to wait until she returned from college for her to officially fall in love with him. Then they waited for the divorce to be finalized, choreographed while she was away graduating before they went public with their relationship. It seemed like the right thing; the absolutely best thing to do. It was also an easy transition with the kids, whom she adored, and they adored her. Heather liked the idea of having a family but didn’t want to push out any of her own. This was a wonderful arrangement which worked well for everyone.

Bob doted on his younger wife. Anything she wanted, she got. Anytime. Anywhere. She was his everything. He even offered Heather her first job after graduating from college, but she respectfully declined. She wanted something else, other than just glass, to talk about at dinner. Immediately after college, she found work in human resources with a large accounting firm.

She quickly rose through the ranks, running the HR department in her own manner, eventually only answering directly to and working under one of the firm’s senior partners. Although both men knew one another, Bob swore he had nothing to do with Heather’s hiring or her quick rise in the organization. Heather's talent had achieved that.

Bob was a good salesman and second time around had become a great husband. He loved Heather to bits, as he’d sometimes say, and was her biggest fan. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. Heather recalled Bob actually saying that at the mayoral candidacy announcement party.

Biggest fan?

Shit.

Because they shared the same challenging liberal views in the current politically conservative climate, Bob had offered to bankroll her campaign if the fundraising fell short. He helped pick her campaign manager, which was no easy task, and also served as her campaign’s finance manager. Bob knew everyone who was anyone because anyone and everyone needed glass. This was his second chance. He had a vested interest now. Because Heather wanted it, he wanted it. He wanted to help realize his young wife’s goal of becoming the town's next chief executive officer. This time, he knew he would succeed.

o0o

Heather quite liked the photo. She thought she looked ravishing. Her long dark hair swept over her shoulders and her green, cat-like eyes gleamed with intrigue and excitement. The risqué, but contemporary black evening gown, with plummeting back, purchased specifically for the Mayor’s celebration, clung to her curvy figure more than she realized. The mid-thigh split also proved to be more revealing than she first thought. Her shiny, open-toed black pumps added a few more inches to her height, making her long, lean legs the envy of every woman, and the target of every man. Heather knew she’d need to tone down her attire when she was elected. She didn’t want to be known as the slutty mayor, but that was in the future. Tonight was a party and she was going to enjoy herself.

The next photo showed her adversary in the upcoming election, Sean McCarthy. He was embracing Alexa Grey, the retiring mayor and the lady of the evening. She was standing next to an indifferent Bob. Heather looked at the men in the photo and smirked. Except for money, they couldn't be more different if they tried. Even how they got their money was a polar opposite.

Both were wealthy, but while Bob was a well-respected humanitarian and a philanthropist who donated to local charities, good causes, and worthy foundations, Sean in comparison was a philanderer who inherited and some would argue, probably mismanaged his fortune. It was also rumored that he had squandered most of it away, spending a lot of it on Vegas hookers and cocaine. Who knew the truth? Regardless, it was a very dark time for Sean when his parents passed away. They never saw the truck coming.

Sean certainly wasn’t the Bruce Wayne-type, darkly combating evil and injustice. Some felt that he could, at times, be simultaneously both evil and unjust. People blamed his parent’s untimely deaths on his behavior, claiming that he was an unguided youth lashing out. And now, a man who had never grown up. She remembered that even in high school, he already had a reputation for being a kinky womanizer. He was trouble. He was to be avoided. She also remembered how the high school, including their entire graduating class, turned out for the funeral.

Sean epitomized the term playboy. Good times, fast cars, and faster women were the only things that seemingly mattered to him. He lived life in the fast lane, seemingly on a collision course with destruction, and didn't care who he took with him.

He was young and harsh compared to her husband's mature and mild. Brash and arrogant to Bob’s decent and prudent. While her hubby was now a safely-planned, extended vacation, Mr. McCarthy was a wild, dangerous weekend in Mexico. Although happily married, Heather couldn't deny Sean's animal attraction. He was still a bad boy. He was still trouble. Unfortunately, women seem irresistibly attracted to bad boys and Heather was no exception. The hell of it was, Sean knew it as well.

Studying the next photo, Heather’s stomach lurched again, like she had just descended a ten-story fall on a rollercoaster. Her muscles clenched trying to hold in her breakfast.

She was walking towards the ballroom with Sean. His hand was resting on the small of her back, with the tips of his fingers inside the opening of her dress. Heather remembered the tingling caused by his inappropriately intimate gesture. She was still horny. He was a possible cure. It was a bitter opportunistic pill that she wanted to swallow.

Heather’s head began to hurt. Her left temple now throbbed, one throb for every racing heartbeat. She grabbed a couple of aspirin from the drawer of her desk and washed them back with a shot of Irish Whisky, which she also stored in her desk. Many had come to toast to her campaign and pending success. She eventually just kept the bottle and a few glasses in the bottom drawer.

After wrestling with the lid and then chasing the pills, Heather wondered why she hadn't employed the time-honored excuse the previous night. She could’ve lied. She could’ve had a headache. She didn’t even think of it. Most probably because her head didn’t hurt, but her body ached.

Plus, she was out of her fucking mind.

With dread, Heather pulled another photo from the stack and sighed. She was dancing with Sean. They were waltzing. She tried to remember the song but couldn’t. She allowed herself to reminisce at their image. His lean, hard, black tuxedo-clad body pressed tightly against hers as he led her around the room with the ease and grace of a dancing professional. She recalled feeling his eyes removing her gown the entire time.

Sean’s fingers continued to explore the shape of her hips and the curve of her back, triggering more tingling feelings of the same. Although she knew Sean was an outrageous flirt, and she had always tolerated it, Heather kept him and his intentions at arm's length. Stay close to your friends but closer to your enemies, Bob would remind her. Plus, she didn’t want to make a scene. They had previously agreed that they’d keep the next campaign decent and civil. Not like the last one.

Alexa’s victory had left the community with a black eye. It had been ugly, damned ugly. It had been a bloodbath. Lives were ruined and relationships destroyed. Heather and Sean agreed that they’d behave like adults and not fling shit every chance they got. So tonight, they could dance and no one would be the wiser, or suspect anything. After all, it was supposed to be an innocent birthday party.

Heather wasn’t sure if it was the champagne talking, or if he was confiding or bragging, but while dancing, Sean disclosed that he had sex with Alexa. Despite not trusting him, Heather listened. She imagined. She learned. But she wasn’t as shocked as upon reflection, she thought she should’ve been. She also wondered if this was something she should mention to Bob or Trish.

Heather didn’t understand why she allowed it, but her body’s ache intensified while listening to the devilish details of Sean’s conquest. He seemingly relished the opportunity to tell her. It was almost like he was rubbing it in her face. He had bedded an older woman. He administered his tale like an aphrodisiac. He spoke carefully, using words like pussy and cock and hard and fucking and cum. His aphrodisiac was working. As they gracefully spun on the dance floor, all Heather could think about was having sex with Sean, and how good it could be.

She arrived at the party already in the mood. She wondered if he’d take her hard. Would he be rough? Would he slap her ass as he fucked her from behind? Would he want her behind? He probably would, she thought, to all of it, and she thought she’d probably like it.

Heather felt her wetness begin to pool and the crotch of her panties cling to her body. Each spin on the dance floor brought cool air between her legs, reminding her how warm and wet she was. Each time she felt the draft, her nipples seemed to harden a little more. Each time Heather felt Sean’s hand move, she ignored it. Then she felt Sean’s adventurous hand slip from the side of her hip to the edge of her ass, and alarm bells went off inside her head, as his fingers inched closer to her anal crevice. As his fingers advanced, Heather looked over Sean’s shoulder and saw Alexa being entertained by Bob. And the Mayor was practically sitting on her husband’s lap, entertaining him.

Where the hell was Jerry?

Interesting. Heather quickly scanned the room but couldn’t see him. For a woman who was leaving politics to spend more time with her family, she had a funny way of publicly displaying her renewed marital commitment to Jerry. Her party behavior was probably related to the reason she and Jerry had temporarily separated shortly after Alexa announced that she would not be seeking re-election. Again, interesting. Heather returned her steely gaze at Sean, the suspicions and disbelief clearly visible.

He interpreted her non-verbal challenge as being for his story, and not his aggressive libido. It was actually for both.

"It's true," he maintained, "All of it. Do you want to hear another secret?"

He smirked at Heather, thinking his story was distracting her from his roaming hand. For the time being, she still ignored his probing fingers and nodded that she wanted to know more. It could possibly be political dynamite.

"Although I'm not one to circulate malicious gossip,” he paused, waiting for Heather's sarcastic response, “I have to say our current mayor has quite cunningly convinced the voting public into believing she is a good little girl. She's always claimed she’s a victim of the demanding circumstances that go with public life while remaining a dedicated mother and loyal spouse. But in fact, my fair lady, she's an insatiable, horny fucking slut."

Heather gasped at his accusation, not expecting those sort of words at this kind of a function. Sure, she’d heard some stories, but that sort of thing was more for the gossip mongers, and Heather avoided those sort of people at all costs. She turned to see if anyone was taking a too close an interest in their scandalous conversation before she spoke.

"Seriously, Sean. You’d have me believe that the two of you really had sex?" Heather whispered the last two words.

"Of course not, Mrs. Anderson,” Sean mischievously grinned, then pulled Heather close. “I've never had sexual relations with that woman," he whispered in her ear as he clearly mocked the claim of a former occupant of the White House.

Heather felt the corner of her mouth smile as Sean arrogantly chuckled. She could tell that he was not in the slightest offended by what had transpired a few Presidents ago. In fact, he probably admired it.

As they continued to move to the music, Sean’s musky-scented cheek brushed against Heather’s lips, causing shivers to shoot down her spine. The electrical charge stopped once it reached her loins and caused her to tingle again between her legs. By now, Sean had her body humming like a tuning fork. He was unapologetically explicit, and she liked it a lot more than she wanted to.

His seduction was obvious, but he also augmented his advances by playing a slow, subtle game. The looks. The whispers. The dancing. Listening in wonder to Sean's naughty words, the smell of his cologne on her lips, and his exploring fingertips, touching her derriere, caused Heather to vividly imagine fucking Sean. Just as he’d probably hoped, she thought. That’s probably how he did it. The thought, like the action, would be irresponsible, unethical, and immoral, but at the same time, she suspected it would also be a profoundly enjoyable experience. She wasn’t mayor yet.

The more Heather thought about Sean screwing Alexa, the more she thought about Sean doing it with her, and the slick secretions continued to coat the top of her thighs. Despite her best efforts to disguise her arousal, Sean noticed it. He was too good at this game.

Heather felt his hardness, as he intended she should when he pressed his body into hers. She saw him grin when her hardened nipples poked through her dress as they rubbed against his tuxedo’s lapel. And the way they danced was electric. With no hint of shame, he then whispered to Heather that he had wanted to fuck her. Right here. Right now. Tonight. Seeing his hungry expression, Heather wondered if his song and dance had been part of a pre-planned evening.

"Supposing you were something on my to-do list, Mr. McCarthy,” Heather teased, “How do you suggest we continue?"

Sean, like Bob, always admired Heather's sass. Her statement was a prime example of it. And for Sean, a sassy woman always made the chase more interesting. He now knew he had won, she knew he had won, and he decided to be magnanimous in victory, so he didn't gloat. Knowing she wanted him made him grow. His cock thickened and his impatience grew. He liked fucking and he wanted to fuck her.

"Don't be evasive, Heather, it doesn't become you," Sean bantered while further testing her resolve. "You know you want to. I know you want to. So, why don't we find someplace more secluded?"

Heather nodded, quickly accepting his invitation. Their lust had crested to a nearly unmanageable level. She recognized it in his eyes because it mirrored her own. His arrogance, which had always repulsed her, now enticed her. In one dance, he had become a delicious craving. Driven by nothing more than carnal desire, Heather's decision was easily made. As soon as the music ended, she thanked Sean for the dance, as one usually would. She then excused herself, as one also would, under these unique circumstances.

"Pardon me, Sean, she winked. “I need to powder my nose."

Stepping away, she knew that he’d be watching the ass that he had been fondling. Embarrassingly, while walking to the bathroom, Heather’s slippery thighs easily slid against one another, unintentionally amplifying the sway of her hips. She needed to quickly address that dripping matter before others noticed, and it was too late. Moments later, she reappeared, placing in his hand, something soft, warm, and soaking wet.

Closing his fist, she gave him a determined stare. "I’m going to my car. Don't disappoint me."

o0o

Heather caught herself lost in thought and returned to the matter at hand. The goddamned pictures. Although the next couple of photos lacked the same quality as the first few, probably due to the evening lighting, the registration plate on her Audi station wagon was easily recognizable. Even though the windows were after-market tinted on her husband’s insistence, and the moon was hidden behind the clouds, she felt the photographer knew who was inside the car and what was going on. That’s why the prick was there.

"Thank Christ for those windows," whispered Heather. She then chuckled to herself that she had just referred to her husband as her savior. But Heather knew that the feeling of salvation that she currently felt would be short-lived. However, what was brewing between her legs was a slow burn.

o0o

After closing the car door, Sean reached into his pocket, retrieved the pair of lace panties, and brandished them in Heather’s face. While he playfully inquired if they belonged to her, mimicking the powdering of her nose, Heather inhaled her scent and grinned. "That's for me to know,” she replied impishly while parting her thighs suggestively. “And for you to find out." Sean sat still and stared at Heather in disbelief.

He watched as she further drew out the sexual tension, slowly bunching the dress up around her abdomen, the invitation needing no explanation. He moved his hand to her exposed thigh, patiently resting it there for a moment. Heather smiled, giving him the green light to advance, so he did, moving his fingers to the smooth, slippery crease between her legs. As expected, it was hot, wet and bare. Every obstacle to her decency had been removed.

Heather watched his eyebrows rise when he caressed her warm, spongy folds. She had jumped with his first touch. She shuddered when his fingers traced the length of her fair sex and then moaned when he gently grazed her swollen clit. She needed to adjust herself on the slippery leather driver’s seat as his fingers continued their exploration. She kept sliding forward and it became somewhat annoying. When his fingertip rimmed her slippery, back entrance, Heather bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from screaming. She did not want to attract any unwanted attention in the parking lot.

It was hard to concentrate as she drove to The Point, a nearby, decommissioned coastguard outpost. It was also their town’s historic, teenage make-out place. Looking at the photos, Heather tried, but couldn't remember the drive there. However, she wouldn't forget how Sean teased and tormented her along the way. When they arrived, and with her seat fully reclined, Heather came hard, with Sean's mouth on her clit, and his fingers expertly stroking her insides.

Slouching in her office chair, Heather felt flushed, her cheeks rosy red and hot to the touch. She had unwittingly assumed a similar position that she had in her car, leaning back as far as she could in the soft leather. She was aroused. Her pussy felt on fire and it needed relief. She couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, when a man had played with her so skillfully, and definitely not while she was driving. Nor could she ever recall cumming so hard either, not with a man, not with a woman and especially not by herself. Reflecting on her shameless behavior, she anxiously picked up the next photo but restrained herself from touching anything else.

Temporarily ignoring the how and why she was in possession of these photos, she stared at the next obscene image. She was somehow perversely enjoying it. She found the idea of someone watching her suck a man’s cock very arousing. But the fact that it wasn’t her husband was extremely concerning.

Why the hell didn’t we stay in the car?

After Heather recovered from her massive orgasm, she suggestively mentioned, "There's more room in the back."

"We’re alone up here," Sean growled while his hand was still working between her slick thighs. “It’s a lovely night and there’s more room outside.”

With the heat of the night and the steamy build-up on the windows in her car, Heather opened her door and stepped out. As soon as Sean met her on her side of the car, she lunged at him, kissing him hard with her tongue probing deep into his mouth. She remembered how hungry she was for him and how good he tasted.

After a few moments of wild, teenager-like necking, with the biting of necks and nibbling on earlobes, it was followed by a round of clutching and grabbing of various body parts. Sean then suggested that Heather remove her gown. She understood why. She quickly lifted it over her head, and then tossed it in the back. While they continued to kiss, he unsnapped her bra, freeing her soft, shapely breasts, and the bra joined her dress on the Italian leather. Heather now stood against her political nemesis, a man she’d known since they were kids, completely naked except for her black pumps. She definitely looked the part now, knowing Sean liked his women slutty, the sluttier, the better.

With the waterfront as their backdrop, Sean pressed on Heather’s shoulders and lowered her to the ground. With her feet planted firmly apart and her ass resting on her heels, she eagerly unzipped Sean’s pants and pulled out his throbbing cock. The hidden beast that had continually pressed into her abdomen on the dance floor was now released, and Heather's eyes sparkled hungrily. She opened her succulent lips and enveloped the swollen glans. Used to hearing her trade political barbs, albeit civilized ones nowadays, Sean looked on approvingly at the mouth much better suited to this current activity.

"Hmmm,” Heather murmured, “I've been looking forward to this.”

She continued to hum as she flicked her tongue around the engorged dome-like shape of his helmet. She then repeatedly licked the length of his shaft while one hand gripped his cock and the other caressed his balls, before showing him her expertise and devouring each one. Heather swallowed his heavy testicles, taking turns sucking each one into her mouth while she masturbated him with an easy, relaxed stroke.

Hearing him moan and groan from her effort encouraged her even more. She loved it when a man vocalized his pleasure. Her body felt the same way. Heather felt the first drop of many more to follow, land on the opened-toe portion of her shoes. Her pussy was literally dripping with anticipation. Moments later, Heather opened her mouth and gorged herself Sean’s rock hard cock.

o0o

Heather studied the images of her giving head. With grudging reluctance, she acknowledged the photographer's skill and timing. Bastard must have been hiding in the bushes. She didn’t remember seeing any lights when driving to The Point, but in fairness to her, she was distracted.

The photos were actually quite spectacular. With the water as their backdrop, their near-silhouetted figures were next to her car. In one of them, Sean had his arms stretched out towards the car, the Audi supporting his weight, the only other contact points, her hands resting on his thighs and her mouth clamped around his erection.

There was enough moonlight, albeit hidden behind the clouds, to see Heather’s lips wrapped around Sean’s fat cock. The camera’s iris must have been wide open because the pictures captured both of their expressions. His was immense satisfaction and hers was sheer focused determination. She was going to make Sean cum.

One photo showed the bulbous tip of Sean's cock resting on her tongue while another one depicted her face pressed into his groin, the massive slab of meat nowhere to be seen. A hand appeared to be resting on the back of her head, holding it in position while her warm throat easily accommodated his throbbing flesh. Bob always called her 'his dirty little cocksucker,' and now Sean was finding out how dirty Heather could be.

Heather was surprised. The photographer got a picture of Sean cumming. It was a great, high-speed shot, catching a single, unbroken stream of cum traveling from the tip of his penis to the underside of her nose, with some splash back across her closed mouth. Heather smiled, remembering the surprised gasp escaping Sean's mouth when she forced a finger into his right ass, just before he shot his load.

Sean's sperm had decorated her face like icing on a hot cross bun. It was hard to tell in the next photo, but she could see his spunk dripping off of her nose and chin. A damn good thing she took off her dress, or she’d have to lie, and claim she had spilled creamy cucumber dip on it.

Heather didn't need a photograph to remember what happened next. She had run her tongue over the spongy dome of his spent cock, licking and swallowing all of Sean’s salty goodness. It was thick and creamy, just as she somehow expected it would be. She unconsciously licked her lips, her imagination savoring the flavor of his spunk. Her hand moved to her thigh, and the office chair started to squeak. She didn’t realize she was sensually gyrating her hips. The next photo elicited a short grunt of appreciation, her dark humor resurging.

The bastard photographer had caught her cleaning the mess Sean had made on her face. She was smiling innocently at the man looking down at her, while her finger moved delicately across her spunk encrusted lips. The next photo showed her grinning mischievously as she savored Sean's warm sperm. Her expression fooled no one. The sheer wantonness of the charade was explicit and priceless, but she knew there would be a cost.

Heather looked at the stack of remaining photos. Each one, she suspected was equally graphic and incriminating. Whoever it was that had done this had done a real number on her. She'd love to get her hands on the tricky little bastard who'd followed her and had taken the photographs. She then shuddered, wondering how long this had been going on.

My God!

What else had he taken pictures of?

Feeling more violated than angry, Heather tossed the latest photo on the viewed pile and picked up the next one. The photographer apparently had moved positions because she and Sean had done so too.

Heather was bent over the front of her car, just as she had been with her husband before the party, only this time she was naked, except for her pumps. Sean’s butt cheeks were clenched, and Heather had stretched toward the windshield, clutching onto the edge of the hood. Her mouth and eyes were wide open, and she could almost hear herself screaming. She remembered how cold the metal felt against her sweaty belly and breasts.

With one forceful push, Sean had thrust his reinvigorated cock into her aching, begging cunt. She remembered feeling like a depraved porn queen, and the picture confirmed that. Only porn stars and whores had pictures of themselves taken like this.

Heather couldn’t take it any longer. She held the photo with her left hand as her right hand went to work between her legs. She began frigging herself into an overzealous frenzy.

“Fucking… Sean… you… asshole!” she grunted as she rubbed herself senseless.

Trying to focus on both the photograph and her memory of last evening, Heather felt her approaching orgasm nearing quickly. One, then two fingers went to work while her glossy eyes tried to focus her blurred vision on the man in the picture standing behind her. The picture was violently shaking as she rubbed harder and faster. So close. So close.

Almost there.

Almost…

Heather jumped when her phone rang and bounced on the desk. She was going to ignore it, and finish herself, but on the second vibrating ring, she saw that it was Sean.

“Fucking Asshole!”

o0o

Author’s Note: This is the first chapter of a multiple chapter story. Ping and I have collaborated on this chapter, and he is writing the second chapter at this moment. We are looking for other authors to join us in this little adventure, so if you feel like you would like to contribute to this story, then contact either one of us for more details. Chapter Two will be submitted shortly. Thank you for reading! Stay tuned…