I was managing a resort hotel on a small island in the Caribbean, owned by a large international chain. I was 45 at the time, still single, but I had met a beautiful 28-year-old blonde girl, Suzanne, and we were quite in love and intended to marry as soon as possible.
But we had a problem we’d been unable to resolve. The hotel chain barred fraternization between management and employees. Since Suzanne was my secretary, we had to keep the romance secret, at least at work.
Actually, Suzanne functioned more as my administrative assistant than as just a secretary. She increasingly took the initiative in making decisions I guess I should have made, and she farmed out most of her secretarial work to junior staff. She was an assertive young lady, but I have to admit that it was this—as well as her killer body—that attracted me to her.
As manager I was provided with living quarters at the hotel, but Suzanne and I also shared a small beach house nearby, where we passed ourselves off as casual roommates. The hotel chain owned another, much larger property on the other side of the island, and our hope was that eventually one of us could transfer there, and then we would get married.
It all seemed okay until one day out of the blue Mr. Black arrived from the corporate headquarters in Atlanta for a surprise inspection. He was notorious throughout the chain—a flamboyant ladies’ man (tall, darkly handsome, very athletic-looking, in his mid-30s) who approached his job with the tact of a Marine Corps drill instructor, and with profane language to match. He barged into my office that afternoon, sat behind my desk and started barking out orders to me and to Suzanne.
After browbeating me for hours, and leaving me hours’ more work to do, he said, almost as an afterthought, that he would need someone to assist him while he was in town. “That cute little secretary of yours would do just fine,” he suggested. Remembering his reputation with women, I quickly suggested Elise or Connie, but as soon as we came out of my office, he crossed directly to Suzanne’s desk and said that while he was on the island he needed someone to be his factotum.
I didn’t know what a factotum was, and I don’t think Suzanne did either. I told Black that she had a lot of important work to do and again suggested, this time rather desperately, one of the other young ladies.
“What could be more important than whether you pass this inspection?” he asked. I looked at Suzanne and she looked at me. Then she told him she would love to do it.
“Good. Now stand up,” he said to her.
After an awkward moment, Suzanne stood up behind her desk. She was wearing a short print dress that showed off her lovely tanned legs. She tugged self-consciously at the hem of the skirt.
“You have a great body, young lady,” Black said, running his eyes appraisingly up and down her. He reached out, and—rather boldly, I thought—squeezed her upper arm. “Nice tone,” he said. He asked her to turn around.
“Nice buns,” he said.
“I go to the—aah—gym a lot.”
The “aah” came out of Suzanne as Black patted and then squeezed her ass. “I have a terrible time finding a place to work out on the road,” he said. “Perhaps you’ll take me sometime as your guest?”
Suzanne was blushing, but what could I do? Any sign of a relationship between us would be grounds for dismissal.
“Will you take me?” he pressed.
“Of course,” she said.
“Good. This afternoon, then. We’ll have lunch first.”
Black turned to me, all business. He barked out orders laced with profanity. He said to get one of the other girls to take over Suzanne’s work for the next few days, and to have payroll bump Suzanne up to Level 12 (higher than my pay grade!), adding, “Put her in for lots of overtime. I’ll authorize it. And we’ll use her car. Pay her for carfare.”
Then they were gone!
Suzanne didn’t come back to the office until after five. She looked fresh from the shower and was wearing a pair of very short shorts, a halter top and very high-heeled sandals. She looked enormously sexy. I was buried at my desk in mountains of paperwork Black had asked to see.
Suzanne said she guessed I had a couple of days to get it done because she and Black were going to inspect the hotel on the other side of the island. He had told her they’d be gone a few days.
I asked what had happened after they left the office. She tried to avoid the question, but I insisted.
“Okay,” she said, “but you might be sorry you asked.”
When they reached our beach house, she’d felt his eyes ogling her ass as he followed her up the stairs. Her skirt was so short, she thought he might have been able to see up it. “He kept trying to lift the hem as we went up the stairs. I had to run up to get away from him.” She paused. “He said I have a sweet ass.”
“And what did you say?”
“I don’t know. I think I just said thank you.”
In the house Black made himself at home, prowling from room to room. He said he was glad to see that Suzanne was such a neat housekeeper, that some of the girls he knew looked beautiful and sexy but when you got to their houses they lived like pigs. Sometimes he even found dirty underwear under the bed.
“Nice girls our Mr. Black sees,” I said.
“I told him he didn’t need to worry about that with me because I never wear underwear anyway.”
“You said that? What did he say?”
She said he didn’t say anything, because he already knew. In the ride over in her Mini Cooper he kept trying to get his hand up her skirt. I said she was lucky to be able to fend him off on those narrow winding roads in the little car. She blushed. “Well, not totally,” she said.
Before my mind could totally get around the implication, Suzanne hurried on with the story. In the doorway of our bedroom is a chinning bar. I never use it, but she does pull-ups regularly. When Black saw it, he ripped off his shirt and started chinning. He did about 25, then flexed and told her to feel his biceps and pecs. “He really did look good,” Suzanne said.
I asked her what happened then.
“Well,” she said, looking anxious, “he told me to take off my clothes—that is, my skirt and blouse.”
“What did you say?”
Her eyes dropped to the floor. “I just took them off.”
“Just like that?”
“I hope you’re not mad. I mean, we’ve been to the nude beach and you didn’t seem to mind. I just want us to get a good mark on the inspection.”
“So you were naked?”
“Well, I had my bra on at first. Then he had me take that off. I was going to take off my shoes, but he said to leave them on. Then he had me fix us lunch.”
“What happened then?” I asked.
“Are you really sure you want to know?”
I said I did, but it was more of a groan than a statement.
“Okay, I hope you can handle this.” She said he sat there watching her and rubbing his crotch. “Like this,” she said, reaching into my lap and rolling my dick through my pants.
She said it started to make her horny, knowing he was watching her every move, and no matter how modest she tried to be, every time she stretched up or bent over she was giving him a show. “I have to tell you, I was starting to get into it, with him sitting there bare-chested and kind of jerking off while I sashayed naked around the kitchen, spreading myself open more and more.”
“Oh, Suzanne,” I croaked. It was painful to hear, but my cock was rock-hard!
“Does this bother you too much, honey?” she said. “Do you want me to stop?” I didn’t know if she meant stop talking or stop playing with my cock. I shook my head to both.
“Anyway, after we ate and I cleaned up a little, he said, well, he said to come open his pants and take out his dick.” As she was telling this, she increased the speed of her manipulations of my crotch. Her hand grew stronger, her touch firmer.
“So what happened?”
“It was the biggest dick I’d ever seen, and so hard, honey, I didn’t think a man his age could get his dick that hard. It was like a college boy’s.
He’s not that much younger than you, right?” As she said this, she squeezed my obviously inferior dick.
“You don’t mean to say you really did it?” I said. “You took out his dick?”
“Yeah, and I sucked it like he told me to do. He knew just what he wanted.” With me she’d always been reluctant to perform oral sex.
“And I sucked his balls. He told me just how he wanted that too, sucking each one in and out of my mouth, then both together. He liked it, and it was okay for me too. I was surprised that I kind of liked doing it. So I did that for a while, and then, well, he pushed my head down further. I hadn’t done that since college, and that was with a girl. I wasn’t sure that I was doing it right at first, I mean with him. But I guess I was, because he went wild.”
My mind was whirling. On top of that I was on the edge of orgasm. I said, “What are you talking about?”
“You know, down there. I, um, licked him.”
“Oh God,” I groaned.
“I don’t know what came over me then. But it was fun.”
I moaned again—as I was shooting off in my pants. Suzanne could tell from the spasm and the wet spot in the front of my pants. “Well, now you see what you’ve gone and done to yourself!” she snapped. She stood up and fastened the front of her shorts. How had they become unbuttoned? I wanted to ask, but I had more important questions.
“Suzanne, tell me,” I said, “what happened after that?”
“The same thing that just happened to you,” she said, laughing.
”Suzanne, please don’t be annoyed,” I said, “but I have to ask you. Did he come, you know, in your mouth, or what?”
She bewildered me by saying, “That’s kind of a personal question. Anyway, maybe I’m making it all up.” She went on to say that he came in her mouth, more than she could swallow, and it gushed out over her face and chin.
“It was embarrassing, kneeling in front of him—so fucking handsome, with his come all over my face. But it tasted sweet. I guess it’s those health foods he eats.”
The phone rang. It was Black telling Suzanne he was ready, to meet him out front for the trip around the island. “I’ll see you in a few days,” she said to me as she hung up.
“But Suzanne, what happened next?” She seemed puzzled. “You know, after the blowjob.”
“Oh,” she said, halfway out the door. “After the blowjob we went to the gym.”
“You didn’t screw him?” I asked her.
“Did you want me to?” she said, coming back into the office.
“Of course not. Why would I?”
“It might get you a better grade on the inspection,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Do you want to screw him?” I asked.
“Well, we’ll be staying in the same room for the next few days,” she said, “so the subject seems pretty likely to come up. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
I was horrified and excited. “That means you don’t mind fucking him.”
She considered this, then finally said, “I guess.” She moved to the door again. “I’ll just see how it goes.” And she was out the door.
Four days later Suzanne returned, exhausted. I had planned a romantic reunion evening, but she said she was “simply too fucked out.” I didn’t know if she meant that literally or as a figure of speech, and I didn’t try to find out. Black was going back to Atlanta that afternoon, and I was excited at the prospect of things returning to normal.
But that was not to be. Before Black left, the three of us had a meeting in my office. The gist of it was that it wasn’t my office anymore and Suzanne wasn’t my secretary anymore. She was now my boss, although technically I was training her as manager.
Black said that Suzanne was top-management material, and that after a short stint at managing the hotel she would move on to a bigger job at corporate headquarters. Perhaps I would get my job back then. Until then I could be her assistant. She would find things for me to do.
Black left for Atlanta, and Suzanne quickly took control. She was certainly capable of doing the job. The truth is, she practically had been already.
Things went smoothly. Everyone seemed to like her more than they did me. Soon I was relegated to going out for her lunch and taking her Mini Cooper to the car wash. She even had me going home to the beach house during the day to clean and do the laundry. I didn’t question any of this because I thought it was only temporary, although I wondered what would happen to our relationship if she got a job at corporate headquarters. Strangely, I found her new assertiveness exciting.
About a month after that she had to go to Atlanta. I knew she would be meeting Black, but I didn’t want to confront her about it. I figured if she wanted to go and have sex with him, there wasn’t much I could do about it. The fact is, we’d only had sex a half-dozen times since she was promoted. While I found it as arousing as ever, I sensed that she found it boring.
When she went to Atlanta that first time—I say “first time” because it became at least a once-a-month routine—she appointed another woman to act as manager of the hotel. I thought it was odd that I wasn’t left in charge, but Suzanne said it would be confusing to the staff to put me back in charge after having been demoted. Strangely, it was the first time I realized that I had in fact been demoted.
This went on for about six months, until one day Suzanne said that Black was coming back to the island for a week. They had decided that instead of him staying at the hotel, he would stay at the beach house with her. She said she wanted me to sleep in the guest room while he was there. I asked her why, and she said Black thought we were just roommates.
“Well, where is he going to sleep?” I asked.
“With me, of course,” she said. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Before I could answer, she continued, “If you have a problem, you can stay at the hotel. That might be better if you’re going to get all jealous.
We may be walking around in our underwear, or making out.” Sheepishly, I said I would stay.
“I bet,” she said. “And you can sneak off into the guest room and—” She made a masturbatory gesture with her fist.
I should have stayed at the hotel. It was a humiliating week, but one in which I was also in constant state of sexual arousal. The two of them were so openly sexual that on several occasions I resorted to exactly what Suzanne had said. Often while we watched TV in the evening, or even right at the dinner table, they got so hot groping each other that Black would have his hand in her pants or she would have hers in his.
Every night, late into the night, and sometimes again in the middle of the night, I heard the marathon fuck sessions in the master bedroom.
They didn’t make any attempt to conceal what they were doing. And why should they? As far as Black was concerned, Suzanne and I were just roommates. If he found out differently, I knew it would be me that got fired.
One afternoon that week I caught them in the act. I had been out jogging and came home to find Black on top of Suzanne on the living room couch. His pants and underwear were down around his ankles and her skirt was hiked up around her waist. When they saw me come in, they paused and glanced my way, then without a word resumed fucking, just ignoring me. I was almost hypnotized watching their bronzed, athletic bodies intertwined and writhing there on the couch.
They fucked to a noisy groaning climax, and I ducked quickly into the shower. I was masturbating furiously and on the verge of climax when Suzanne pulled back the shower curtain. “I hate to interrupt your fun,” she said sarcastically. “Paul and I have to shower and get back to the hotel.”
I stumbled out of the shower, mumbling apologies. “I’m sorry I walked in on you like that.”
“Try to be more careful,” she snapped. “We could be fucking anytime.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was nude, and her blonde bush was matted with Black’s come. It was streaking her upper thighs. She noticed me looking and noticed as well that my cock was getting hard. “Look at your cock,” she said.
“It’s just that you look so beautiful,” I said, “and—” My voice trailed away.
“And what?” she said.
“Well, you looked so sexy there, on the couch.” This came out in a croak.
“You mean while we were fucking? While I was getting fucked? While Paul was fucking me?” My cock was now rock-hard. “He fucks me a lot, you know.”
“I know,” I said. “I hear you at night.”
“Oh, you do?” she said. “Do you jerk off while you listen?” I was growing red-faced and didn’t know what to say. “You do, don’t you?” she said. “I think I kind of like that. Are you going to jerk off more now?”
“No,” I said. “Or yes. Oh fuck, I don’t know.”
She looked like she was getting ready to say something, but Black barged into the tiny bathroom, still naked, muscles bulging, and erect again. Magnificently erect, I had to admit. While I backed out of the room, the two of them stepped in the shower.
After that things were never the same. Before returning to Atlanta, Black officially made Suzanne the hotel manager, and also had her inform me that I was out of a job. She said she had asked around and found a job for me as a front-desk clerk at a seedy hotel in a poor part of town.
Gradually it became impossible for me to maintain an erection with Suzanne. I walked around with a perpetual hard-on—until I got in the saddle. When she let me, I went down on her for hours at a time (literally!).
Suzanne tried to be helpful, saying, “It’s okay if you’re not as big and as hard as Paul. Just do the best you can.” But nothing seemed help. Once, after another bust, I was sulking in the living room watching late-night TV, waiting to go to my midnight shift at the seedy hotel, and I heard Suzanne talking and laughing softly in the bedroom. I guess she thought I had already left. I listened at the door. She was telling Black about me losing my erection when I tried to put it in her. There was a breathless quality in her voice.
I eased the door open and saw her naked in the center of the bed cradling the phone in the crook of her neck and servicing herself with a gigantic vibrator. I should have barged in and told her off, but that’s not what I did. I had a hard-on, and I slipped it out and masturbated there in the shadow while I listened to my “fiancée” on the phone.
In an amazingly short time Suzanne did get the promotion and moved to Atlanta, saying, “We should keep in touch.” That’s how she ended our engagement. I heard she was living with Black and was in line for a promotion that would make her his boss. I get some comfort out of that. Not much, but some.
—Name and address withheld