I got off the crowded Friday evening commuter train at my stop. It was over a month after I’d been relentlessly fucked by a stranger on this same train (see my story – Ryder Fox rides the train). I’d been standing right beside my husband who was listening to a podcast on his clamshell headphones, unaware of my plight. The stranger had been hung like a horse, for his cock probed deeper into me than anyone had ever gone before. He stretched my tight pussy till I thought he would tear me apart. He merely stood there, allowing the rocking train to pound me onto his huge organ with a harsh tempo. And he made me cum – more than once, so hard that I nearly passed out.
I thought about the encounter several times a day, often retreating to a stall in the ladies’ room where I used the memory to fuel heady masturbation. Every time my husband Trevor fucked me with his modest cock and limited staying power, I had to recall the stranger to make myself cum. I had to fantasize about the stranger’s cock in my pussy, his fingers tweaking my rock-hard nipples, and finally pumping a copious ejaculation of jism deep inside me. The fantasies made me writhe, twist, and cry out. Trevor was delighted with my reactions and gave himself all the credit.
A month after the encounter, what I thought was a memorable fuck turned out to be much more, something that would last a lifetime. Despite being on the pill, I discovered I was pregnant – I was carrying the stranger’s child. I discovered the stranger’s name was Jack Grierson and I had his DNA sample and the results of the paternity test in my purse.
Standing on the platform, I watched the train roll away with mixed feelings. Jack had promised to be on this train. He’d said that he’d fuck me again, whether I wanted it or not. I had thought about it with fear and revulsion all week. I kept telling myself that I didn’t want it, that I never wanted to see him again. But now as I watched the train pull out of the station, I felt an emptiness inside me. I was loath to admit it, but I wanted him to do what he’d promised. I wanted him to drive his huge member into my mouth, to choke me with his thickness. I wanted to taste his pre-cum. I wanted to caress his bloated balls, so full of semen. But I wanted him to restrain his ejaculation, as I was sure he could. Because I wanted him to force his treacly, warm eruption deep into my womb. I recalled that warmth deep inside me from our previous encounter and I wanted it again.
I walked to my car, rucked up my skirt, and felt my panties. They were damp, a clear indication of my anticipation. Once again, I thought of Jack fucking me on the train as I stripped down my panties and pulled them off my ankles over my high heels. I pushed two fingers into my damp pussy and used my thumb to manipulate my clit. A month after the encounter, the memory of his steel-hard cock in me was not as sharp. But it was still enough to help me cum very hard, my sighs rising to groans and then to near screams in a crescendo. I had the windows up to keep the sounds of my wantonness from passersby. I had the engine running with the AC on high to dry my sweat.
*
That evening, I sat across from Trevor in our dining room. He monologued me about his day at work as he always did. This day, I didn’t hear a thing he said, just let the words in one ear and out the other. Halfway through the meal, my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I saw Jack’s name and swiped it open eagerly, hoping for a tryst. I was disappointed, for it was just a v-card with the name ‘Amy McAdams’ on it. My phone buzzed again almost immediately. Trevor continued to talk, and I said “Uh-huh’ absently as I swiped the second text open.
‘Amy is the chief of operations at Amtex Reinsurance’ Jack texted. ‘She’s looking for a client services manager. I’ve given her your name and contacts. She promised to hire you. She’ll call you.’
‘Why would you do that? How do you know I’m any good?’ I texted back.
‘I was playing golf with the CEO of your agency last week. He said you’re his best account executive, and the clients all love you. You’ll be perfect for the job.’
‘Why would I want to leave?’ I texted. ‘I make good money.’
‘Amy will pay you a lot more than you’re making.’
‘How do you know what I make?’ I texted back, my brow knit with irritation.
‘I asked your CEO.’
‘You’re an asshole, Jack!’
‘That’s a nice way to say thank you.’
‘I don’t want you in my life!’
‘You don’t want me to fuck you?’
‘No, I don’t’ I typed. But I looked at the text for a moment and thought about how hard he made me cum. I erased it and replaced it with, ‘I do, but that’s purely physical.’
‘You want me in your mouth and your pussy but not in your life? That’s harsh.’
‘You’re not a nice guy, Jack Grierson.’
‘No, I’m not.’ There was a pause and then a final buzz. ‘Bye. Later.’
I reread our text exchange as we were having our dessert but then felt nauseous. I went to the bathroom and retched. Trevor looked annoyed when I returned to the table.
“That was rude, Ryder,” my husband said in his official banker’s voice. “Just getting up and leaving as I was talking to you.”
“I was nauseous. I had to throw up.”
“Sorry to hear it,” he said, but he didn’t sound it. “Something you ate?”
I deliberated for an instant. I realized that I could well regret what I was about to say. But I reasoned that my husband would soon know anyway.
“No,” I said. “I did a test. I’m pregnant.”
He sat up straighter as though he had not heard me properly.
“Pregnant? That’s impossible! I’m very careful with the condoms. And I thought you were on the pill.”
“You are careful, and I am on the pill. But even the best birth control fails sometimes.”
“This is crazy, Ryder! I need some time to get my head ’round this!”
He got up, left the dining room, and headed for his study. I followed him, but he shut the door in my face.
I went back to the dining room, began clearing the dinner dishes, and loaded the dishwasher. I was just finishing when my phone rang. The face showed an attractive profile picture with the name ‘Amy McAdams’ under it. I put it to my ear, walked to our bedroom, and shut the door.
“May I speak with Ryder Fox, please?”
“This is she.”
“This is Amy McAdams, I’m the Vice President of Operations at Amtex Reinsurance. Jack Grierson asked me to call you. He said you’re fantastic at working with clients. I’m looking for a client services manager, someone to work with our most important customers, mainly insurance companies and banks, but also some big corporates. I’d like to offer you the job.”
She when on to describe a salary and benefits package that made my jaw drop. It was more than twice what I was making, and the benefits were much better.
“You’d hire me just like that?” I asked, my incredulity showing. “On Jack’s word?”
“Over the years, he’s pointed me to several hires. Every single one has been superb. I trust Jack’s instincts. If he says someone is great at their job, I know that they are.” She paused for a moment, and then went on. “If things don’t work out over the next few months, I can always fire you. I don’t expect that to happen.”
“What are the next steps?”
“You’ll hear from our Human Resources people with the formalities over the next day or two,” said Amy. “I hope you can start next Monday?”
“I have to give a month’s notice to my agency,” I said.
“Don’t worry about that, we’ll buy out your contract with them.” Amy made it all sound so easy. Then she went on. “I’m having a small party for my staff at my beach house this weekend. Come and bring your husband. I can introduce you to several of my managers and a couple of our important clients. It will help you hit the ground running.”
“How do you know I’m married?”
“Jack told me.”
I wondered if Jack had told her he’d fucked me. And how he’s fucked me. And that I was carrying his child.
*
I got a secure email with the job contract the next day and completed all the formalities online. I talked to the Human Resources person at Amy’s company on the phone and she sent me some more documents on a secure link that I signed electronically. The following day, I got an email with my job contract, specifying everything in my salary and benefits package.
When I told Trevor about my new job, he was dismissive and didn’t believe me at first.
“A reinsurance company? Why would they hire you? You know nothing about insurance or finance.”
“It’s client services, Trevor,” I said patiently. “I’m an account executive. I work with clients all day, every day. I sell services and keep my clients happy. Reinsurance is a service.”
“Finance is very specialized, Ryder,” Trevor said in a condescending tone. “Banking and insurance are complex activities, very different from advertising. You’re only twenty-four, a few years out of college. You wouldn’t understand.”
Trevor was ten years older than me, an investment banker, and made over twice what I did. He assumed he was much smarter than me and I sort of accepted that this was true. Even so, I hated when he talked down to me like that.
But now Amy’s job offer meant that I would be making about the same as Trevor, and it gave me newfound confidence.
“Well, I’ve got the contract,” I told him that day at dinner. “I signed it today. I’m going to make about the same as you.”
“They’ve got to be crazy to pay you that much!” he exclaimed.
“Well, they are. And I’m sure I can do the job. Amy’s invited us both to a party at her beach house this weekend. She wants me to meet the other managers and some clients.”
“Well, you can go,” he said. I could see that he was angry. “I’m busy.”
“She specifically asked you to come,” I said. “Come on, Trevor. I’ve always supported your career. I’ve gone with you to all the social functions at your bank. This is the least you can do.”
“Oh, all right,” he said with bad grace. “But I can’t stay long. I’ve got a lot of reports to go over.”
*
I dressed very carefully for Amy’s party. I spent almost an hour, choosing my attire. I started by trying on a peach thong with a white bandeau bra. I stretched and twirled in front of the mirror but wasn’t happy with how I looked. I stripped both off and threw them on the bed. I tried on a pair of black athletic panties with a black bra with subtle silver sequins stitched into the lace. I slipped on a belly button stud and I gave myself a once over in the bathroom mirror. I came out of the bathroom and put on a pair of designer high-heel shoes. Then I examined myself in the mirror again.
Trevor came in while I was primping in front of the mirror. He was already dressed in a dark suit and tie.
“Why are you dressed like that?” he asked. “You look like a hooker.”
“Do I turn you on?” I asked, my tone sharp.
“I’d give you fifty dollars for a blowjob,” he said. “Maybe less because you’re pregnant. You couldn’t swallow my semen last night because your morning sickness made you nauseous.”
“That’s just nasty, Trevor,” I snapped.
“I call ‘em as I see ‘em,” he said, turning to leave. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.” He stopped by the bedroom door and looked back at me over his shoulder. “I know they want you to service their clients, but I don’t think they want you to go down on your knees and suck their cocks.”
“You bastard!” I called after him.
I knew he heard me, but he kept walking and didn’t respond.
I paced around the bedroom and looked at myself again. Maybe the belly button stud is too much, I thought. And the bra does look like something a hooker would wear. And neither of them goes with the athletic panties. I took off the stud, the bra, and panties and threw them on the bed by the peach thong and white bandeau bra. I touched my pussy lightly and felt my gold pussy ring. No one will see it, I thought. I left it on.
Naked except for my high-heel shoes, I rummaged in my lingerie drawer. I eventually settled on a black silk thong with sexy lace edging. I paired it with a white silk bra with black seams around the cups, a cute black bow at the bridge, and black shoulder straps. I slowly and languorously pulled the thong over my slippers and up my long legs. I watched myself in the full-length mirror as I did so. I snugged it into place and patted my pussy. My pussy ring made a small indentation in the thong, but it wasn’t obvious.
Then I hooked on the bra and plumped my breasts till they were comfortable in the cups. The silk was translucent, and my nipples were faintly visible, so I decided against wearing nipple rings. Finally, I pulled on a pair of black stockings with lace tops and a thin black garter belt. I slipped the garter ties under the hip straps of my thong and snapped the garter clips onto the stocking tops. There! I thought, looking at myself in the mirror. Much better. I’m pregnant, but I still look sexy.
I went through a series of dresses, deciding that I needed a well-cut one to appear serious to these finance types. I eventually chose my most expensive one. It was a designer dress with very plain lines, but it hugged my figure well and was very comfortable. It had no shoulders and showed the shoulder straps of my bra, but they were black and went well. The bosom was high, so even though it clung to my breasts, it didn’t show any cleavage. The main problem was that it was rather short. The hem was a bit higher than my stocking tops. However, I didn’t want to wear pantyhose, so I tugged at the hem and found I could cover my stockings. I liked the dress well enough that I thought this was a price worth paying.
Finally, I tied on a black silk-and-lace ribbon choker with a small tight bow.
“Whoa,” said Trevor when I came down the steps. “When I said you look like a hooker, I didn’t expect you to fully dress the part!”
“It’s a designer dress, Trevor,” I said angrily, as I tugged the hem to cover my stocking tops. “I’ve worn it to functions at your bank. You’ve never said anything about it before.”
“Well, those stockings …,” he began.
“You don’t like stockings?”
I was pleased to see he didn’t have a response.
*
Amy’s beach house was large, almost a mansion, in the most expensive neighborhood on the shore, and right on the beach. I was very impressed, but it just made Trevor sour.
“Must be a company house,” he said.
The front door was open, but the glass storm door was closed. I rapped on it and an attractive woman with dark blonde hair and light blue eyes answered it. She looked older than me, but her body was hard, and her face was unlined with a thin aristocratic nose. She was tall enough on her espadrilles to look me in the eye. She had big sunglasses in her hair and wore a very short, thin wraparound halter-top summer dress. The dress was tight enough on her narrow waist to show the swell of her belly and the fabric stretched to outline her belly button as well as the lines of her panties on her round hips. It was clear that she wore a thong. The dress clung to her small breasts clearly outlining her nipples and making it clear that she was not wearing a bra. Her breasts were very firm and jounced pleasingly as she walked toward the door.
I put out my hand to shake, but she enveloped me in a firm hug. I was surprised by how intimate it was for she rubbed her breasts on mine, causing my nipples to perk up.
“Ryder Fox, welcome,” she said. “I’m Amy McAdams.” Then she whispered in my ear. “You’re a fox, just like Jack described. I like that you’ve come VBS!”
“VBS?” I asked when she released me from the hug.
“Visible bra straps. Very sexy.”
She let her fingers trace my black bra straps from my bodice to my shoulder, slowly and sensually. It made me draw my breath sharply.
“Oh,” I said, but it sounded like “Oooh!”
“You’re tall, you look like an athlete. Are you?”
“I was a jumper in college,” I said. “I made varsity in the high jump and pole vault.”
“Yes, your long legs go on forever. When did you graduate?”
“Three years ago. I’m twenty-four.” I put my hand on Trevor’s arm. “And this is my husband, Trevor.”
She shook Trevor’s hand formally.
“I’m an investment banker,” said Trevor. “I work at Morgan Hamilton. We do a lot of work with reinsurance. I’m sure you’ll have a lot more to talk about with me than Ryder. She works in advertising and knows nothing about finance.”
I was shocked at how blatantly my husband was disparaging me with my new boss. I had not realized how much Trevor was upset about my new salary parity with him. Especially as I was so much younger and less…
