#
Eager Beaver

##
By: Phil Phantom

###
Copyright © 1997 ALL Rights Reserved

The company cafeteria had been re-arranged to serve as a classroom. The long tables sat in rows with the seats placed on one side facing a makeshift rostrum standing before a chalk board.

My husband invited me along to hear the insurance man explain our new medical and benefits plan. The group was mostly couples, but singles were sprinkled throughout with many seats vacant. Half of the expected crowd of one hundred never showed up. They obviously had better things to do on a beautiful Saturday morning, but not my workaholic, ladder-climbing husband.

I was a bit annoyed at being there in the first place when a large, casually-dressed man took the seat beside me when the seat at the end of our row was vacant. Bob, my husband, seemed to recognize the man, but they didn't openly acknowledge each other.

Most of the people came casually dressed, but the man on my left was casual to the extreme. He wore loose shorts (thin and brief), a muscle shirt, and flip flops. He had a large frame, hairy legs with thick arms, a stout, solid man, so he didn't look absurd, just overly comfortable and terribly under-dressed.

I've got nothing against casual, especially for men in decent shape; it was mostly my over-dressed attire that made me feel uncomfortable about sitting beside him. I wore a dress with heels and was feeling ridiculous before Mr. Casual took a seat beside me and made me look like a prom queen at a sand lot rugby game.

To make matters worse, when he took his seat, he moved his chair even closer to mine, invading my personal space. I had to keep my legs together and canted to the right to avoid our legs touching. I would not have had to cant my legs if he hadn't sat with his legs in a sprawl. He sat back in his chair to show off his crotch. With his beefy arms folded over his barrel chest, he looked arrogant and cocky.

I allowed my eyes to dart to his crotch and could then add vulgar to cocky. He could not have been wearing underwear. With my eyes still looking where they shouldn't, he boldly re-arranged himself. I quickly looked to my right and into the accusing eyes of my spouse. I blushed while trying to convey with a look, "I'm sorry, but look how he's displaying himself."

Fortunately, no one could see what I was seeing, as we sat on the far left at the last table in back. In our row, two other couples sat together at the far right end, leaving eight empty chairs between us.

Most of the men took notes as the speaker talked. A cute young girl in her mid-teens--his daughter, we figured--made continuous trips to the ends of each row, passing out material. She was a darling child, budding into her young woman's body, a picture of innocence except for a precocious glint in her sparkling blue eyes.

I was eager to see if my nasty neighbor would hide his obscene lap when she next came by, or her reaction if he didn't. No one expected children to be present. I assumed Mr. Obscenely-brief-shorts didn't or he'd have abandoned the idea of trolling for sluts at this insurance whatever.

As she made her way toward us, stopping at each table to hand out papers, I smugly waited for Mr. Happy-pants to make his hasty retreat with his simian tail tucked between his bare legs. Serves him right--the nerve, and he picked me to troll before first, suggesting that I was the most likely slut in the room. I'll grant you I had the other women beat hands down, but I certainly didn't look like a slut.

A quick glance around, and I counted four that did--three were braless, and one wore short shorts that looked painted on. Between them, they wore enough makeup to paint a mural on a highway billboard. Any one of them would follow Mr. Bulge like a hungry pup, and I sat with a man that was obviously my husband--the nerve of this guy!

And then, Little Miss Muffin was upon us. Her presence at the end of the table gave me an excuse to look left. To my utter amazement, he not only remained in his vulgar sprawl, but openly adjusted himself, played with himself was more like it. He had her complete attention riveted to his lap as she absent-mindedly and slowly counted out seven handouts.

That pervert! I never! I gave him a dirty look which he returned with a dirty-little-boy smile. He would not slide our handouts down, forcing me to reach across for them. His right thigh and my left touched in the process. He, in fact, pressed his leg to mine while he tickled my nipple on the sly. The girl caught this and smiled before leaving. I knew we'd be seeing a lot more of her--the little slut.

With his leg still pressed against mine and my nipple still tingling, I drew the papers over and took one, passing the rest on to my husband. Bob was staring at the man's leg still touching mine. I could not avoid the leg without turning side saddle and sitting uncomfortably. I gave Bob a look that said, "Don't just look. Say something."

I tried to also convey that he tingled my nipple, but I don't know how to make that look. No one ever tingled my nipple before, not in public, anyway.

Bob took the papers, kept one, then got up to deliver the other four to the people at the far end. When he got up, a meaty hand rested hard on my bare thigh between my hem and my knee. I turned to glare at the rude man, but glared into a devilish smile as the hand began massaging its way up my leg, pushing my skirt up as it went.

I placed my left hand on his, but that only gave my left hand a ride up my left thigh. The man was solid muscle. His hand went clear to my panties. While my husband made his delivery, the fingers of that hand firmly and thoroughly felt the crotch of my panties, not to mention everything under them, and I mean, everything. If his hand had soot on it and my panties weren't there, everything between my legs would have been jet black. Even the pink parts would have been black. From my anus to my belly button would be black.

I was shocked speechless--paralyzed--speechless and paralyzed. The nerve! His hand slowly slid back to my knee as Bob made his way back. When Bob took his seat, only then did the hand leave my leg.

Bob saw where the hand had been, because he saw where my skirt remained, and he'd watched the hand leave the scene of the crime. With my left leg laid bare to the crotch, and my right bare to mid thigh, I glared at Bob. I left my skirt where it was to force Bob to act; after all, I didn't put it there.

Meanwhile, the girl came to stand at the rear on our side with a not-so-subtle view of our laps. By the look she gave my lap, she obviously approved my decision to leave the skirt alone.

Bob surprised me by ignoring what happened. He put his nose in the handout. The presence of the girl would have forced me to cover myself, but the nasty gleam in her eye, still there from her earlier trip, told me she'd like my skirt left where it was.

I could say I didn't care what she saw or thought; but the truth was, her being a witness to this man's crude, bold, and rude seduction attempt was turning me on. She struck me as ripe sexual fruit, over-ripe for plucking, about to fall in someone's lucky lap. I had the feeling that he was using me to get to her, and the technique was working. I very quickly grew to support that goal. It was like I was showing her by example how to cooperate with a molester. My attitude took a radical turn at that point.

My husband's inexplicable attempt at ignoring the obvious turned me on even more. Furthermore, Mr. Crotch-grabber was no slouch. Although twice my age, he looked fit and virile. In addition, the man was hung, sporting a full blown erection that pushed the material of his shorts over the waist band, totally exposing the biggest pair of balls I'd ever seen as they hung in the open through the baggy right leg hole of his shorts.

I knew he had big balls before he showed them. To make a play for a man's wife, right in front of the husband, at work, in public, with a child looking on, took balls the likes of which I'd never encountered in my twenty-two tender years.

I secretly love a cocky man if he's clean and can carry it off. Mr. Cool was just such a man. In addition to good looks, he had manicured nails. He wore expensive jewelry to go with an expensive watch. I suspected he normally wore a thousand-dollar suit, and I also suspected he was a big wig in the company, perhaps the owner. I didn't know, but I knew Bob was intimidated by more than his size.

Had he been unkempt, with dirty fingernails, sporting a tattoo, I would have gotten up and sat on my husband's other side. This man was playing a role. Everything pointed to him being the owner, or boss man, or some kind of big wig. Only a muckety muck could be that cool and unconcerned, never looking over his shoulder or seeming to care what anyone thought. Only the big Kahuna would attend a benefits seminar and not take notes or interest in what was being said. Only the big cheese would think he could get away with such brash behavior.

I made a conscious decision to do nothing to discourage him. Any man with my immediate future in the palm of his hand can certainly place the palm of his hand where he damned well pleased. If Bob didn't want me seduced, he'd have to stop it; but if the hand did, indeed, belong to Ed Greyson, I knew Bob wouldn't say a word. That prospect thrilled me to my toes.

My dirty looks stopped after the hand left my knee and Bob remained silent. After a minute, the hand returned and trailed feather-light touches up and down my bare thigh. Bob immersed himself in literature, even as a finger pressed my panties into the wet groove of my sex.

With a finger pressed on my clit, I looked left and smiled. Ed, I'll assume, returned my smile, as did the girl. With my passive acceptance, he managed to move my skirt completely off both legs and exposed my powder blue panties above the mound. My vagina became a cunt at this point, and my cunt insisted I relax my legs. My left pressed against Mr. Casual and my right pressed against Mr. Uptight. My cunt was pleased and poured out enough slut slime to turn my powder blue crotch a darker shade of blue.

The girl had to be called away by her father to get the next set of handouts. When she returned, she saw the man's finger dig it's way under my leg band to rummage in my slimy wetness, exposing most of my shaved left labia lip as it did so. She counted out papers with her big blue eyes fastened to my shameless cunt lip.

Ed casually pushed my panty crotch off my pussy, then stroked my naked pussy for her benefit. We watched his finger toy with my excited clit until the girl's father shouted, "Mandy! Please pay attention."

I could have assured him that she was. Every head turned our way, but that had no effect on my seducer. He had his right arm resting on the back of my chair with his left in my lap. Everyone could see that much, and I could see them speculating about what was going on below the table. My blush only confirmed what they were thinking, but my cunt insisted I sit still and let Bob handle it.

Bob handled it by taking the new handout to the four people who looked around him to see if the hand in my crotch was actually finger-fucking me. The hand continued finger-fucking me, and they continued jockeying for a view as my embarrassed husband made his way back. Again, my steaming cunt insisted I let Bob handle it while the boss handled it.

Bob handled it by trying to block their view when he retook his seat. He effectively spoiled their view, but Mandy's view, when she returned with another handout, was excellent. Her gaze, alone, told the many faces peering back where the main event was going on. Her father seemed to know and called her forward. She dropped off the brochures and reluctantly went to stand at his side.

Mandy's daddy tried ineffectively to regain control, but few people paid much attention to his boring lecture. When he turned to the blackboard, most heads turned back to us. Bob buried his red face deeper in paper as the boss man buried fingers deeper in my hot cunt.

The boss had my cunt dancing to his tune. I felt shameless. Everyone knew, some saw, and very little speculation was still going on. I saw husbands whispering to wives, wives smiling knowingly, four sluts going shucks, and single men wishing they were in his place.

I was now glad I'd taken the time to look my best. I knew I looked great, sexy, even sultry. With my skirt in my lap, no pantyhose, and my cunt in the open, I felt positively slutty. I silently congratulated my bold decision to let the chips fall where they may. I knew Bob would be pissed, hurt, angry, and humiliated when we got home, but he could have stopped it.

He should have stopped things at the first indecent touch. He missed a window of opportunity, because I'm sure the man gave him that option and would have behaved himself had he been rebuked. Bob remained silent too long. The damage was done, and I sensed that the man was not going to be discouraged by dirty looks or hurt feelings after getting his fingers wet and discovering what a cute and tight pussy I have between my sexy legs. I think he put the girl out of his mind and decided I was the choicest choice.

As Ed worked the panties off my hips, Bob did, in fact, give him a dirty look which was ignored. Actually, it was more a concerned look, a pleading look, a pouting look. He gave me the dirty look when I raised my ass from the seat, but that was ignored as well. The panties wouldn't come off unless I raised up, and they had to come off. My cunt insisted.

My bold seducer was not content to simply push them down my legs to fall to my ankles. Noooo, he had to take the fuckers off and bent low to reach with both hands, lifting each foot to free them--

WITH EVERYONE IN THE FUCKING PLACE LOOKING AT US!

Was that enough? Noooooo! He placed my wet panties on the table for all to see, and they all saw. Poor Bob whispered while staring into my lap under the paper he held, "For God's sake, Jenny, stop this."

My cunt, if it could speak, would have said, "Fuck you. If you want it stopped, you stop it." I sat back and allowed my left leg to be placed over the man's thighs. He also pushed my dress to my middle. Mandy returned with more paper and smiled her approval, now seeing pink parts. The four people to our right also smiled their approval when Bob had to get up. They were seeing a woman, naked from the waist down, showing her pink parts to an excited teenybopper and a dirty old man.

Since Ed had me naked from the waist down and was showing off my pink parts to his little cutie pie, I decided that turn-about was fair play and exposed his rampant cock. I took that meaty love engine in my hand and had room for two more hands. I pumped on that magnificent fuck stick with my cunt screaming for me to sit on his lap.

I tried to tell my dumb cunt that I couldn't do that unless he placed me on his lap. When Bob returned, the Boss placed me on his lap. I went easily, but he was guiding me. Bob sat and buried his face in his hands as his boss buried his rod in one soupy receptive and happy cunt. That big rod slid in me like a hot poker going into a tub of warm lard. Every eye watched me slowly settle, but Mandy actually watched the dick slide in. She pretended to drop something, then pretended to pick it up so she'd have an excuse to get her head low for that perfect viewing angle.

He didn't fuck me. He simply impaled me on his cock, then soaked in my sweltering pussy. I relaxed in his embrace, slumped against his chest with my legs outside his legs, his hands cupping my breasts, stuck like a bug. My repose suggested total surrender--the kind of look a stuck bug gets.

He could have fucked me. He could have stripped me naked, laid me on the table, and fucked me to his heart's content. I was putty. He was making a point or showing off. I didn't care which. I got the point, and I was impressed. So was Mandy.

Bob was impressed when he saw the man's hands reach under my bunched dress to slide up my bare torso to my tits. He unhooked my bra and took my titties in his hands. I sat with my bare midriff showing above the table top. They were all looking, and I'm sure they caught glimpses of bare breast flesh being molded in manly hands. I languished on a huge cock and let my breasts show off.

Boss had me squirming on his cock, and I squirmed so good, I made him cum. Feeling this man's sperm flood my womb with fifty sets of eyes watching made me moan. I came when he brought my turgid nipples out and rolled them in his fingers to amuse the lookie loos. When I cum, I have to move, there's just no two ways about it.

In my zeal to rapidly and repeatedly move my pussy from the bottom of his cock to the tip, I may have inadvertently exposed my feminine niche to a few dozen people. A few dozen faces had expressions that seemed to suggest they'd seen flashes of a very sexy pussy with a big dick in it a few dozen times in a few dozen seconds. I didn't notice any faces until I stopped.

After I came, I relaxed in decadent wonder, settled back to his groin and sprawled with my naked tits pointing up at the ceiling, letting my fertile womb soak up adulterous seed.

Yes, I said fertile, as in ovulating fertile, as in "If you want sex between now and Thursday, dear, you'll have to put on a rubber" fertile. Which is the very words I'd told Bob this morning when he first saw me in the dress and wanted to muss my hair, my pubic hair, what little I have.

Bob glanced frequently to the sperm cells oozing from my stuffed beaver, a mess I was now showing off to my agitated spouse. Mandy eyed the mess, ignoring her father's attempt to get her to return. Giving up in frustration, and not a little pissed at his helper, he said, "I think this would be a good time to take a break. Take fifteen minutes."

Boss man lifted me free of his cock, then got up and left. I pulled my dress into place as the grinning people filed past. Bob waited until everyone left, then turned to me and said, "Jenny, how could you?"

I looked to Bob and innocently said, "How could I what?"

"That was shameless, vulgar. You looked like a slut and acted like a bitch in heat. Do you realize that every person in this room got a good long look at your cunt. I have never been so humiliated in my life."

I remained unaffected by these inflammatory words. I smoothed my skirt and said, "Sorry. Who was that man, anyway?"

He said. "My boss, the owner, Ed Greyson."

"Well, then I guess I made a good impression. Why are you upset?" Bob just stared with his mouth open. I prompted a response by saying, "Well, didn't I?"

"You did, but couldn't you have been more discrete? Couldn't you have gotten up and gone somewhere or at least kept it below the god damn table top."

"I could have, but he raised up. Besides, I might not have impressed him if I had. He obviously likes to show off."

"He does. You could at least put your panties back on."

"He might come back."

"At least, put them away."

"He might not approve. They are no longer panties; They're his trophy. If he returns, I'll ask him if I can put them in my purse for safekeeping. Will that do?"

"Suit yourself. You obviously enjoy being slutty. I wouldn't want to spoil your fun, but while you're sitting there leaking that man's semen, may I remind you that you're married and ovulating."

"Do you want me to leak faster?"

"Isn't there something you can do besides sit there and get pregnant?"

"I could douche with a spermicide. Do you have spermicide and a douche bag on you?"

"Damnit, Jenny! How can you crack jokes? You just committed adultery in public for Christ's sake. You just put on the most shameless exhibition I have ever seen in my life, and you think it's funny. You think this is a fucking riot. You're sitting here with another man's sperm leaking out of your cunt, and you're just happier than a pig in a tub full of shit."

"I'll take that as a no. I guess I'll just sit here and get pregnant."

Mandy eased into the chair that the Boss vacated. I turned. We exchanged smiles. She said, "Wow, that was so cool what you did. You blew everyone away, especially my dad. He asked what I saw, and I told him exactly what I saw."

"I'm glad you liked the show. Are you a virgin?"

"Yes, but I don't want to stay that way any longer. That sure looked good. He's so big. Didn't it hurt?"

"No, but you should try something smaller. My husband has a penis that would be perfect for you. Bob, Mandy; Mandy, meet Bob."

Mandy looked past me to smile at Bob, looked to his lap, then back to me to say, "Can I see it?"

I looked to Bob. Bob looked confused but intrigued. I said, "Sure," then reached to unzip him. Bob tensed, looked around, but permitted me to expose him while still staring anxiously around the room. With his six-inch cock out and in my grasp, I offered it to Mandy's eager eyes, then relinquished it to her eager fingers. She stroked his cock, saying, "Wow! It's so hard, but soft, too. I like it. Can we? Do you mind?"

"Sure, be my guest. Hop on."

Mandy giggled and said, "We can't do it here. My dad would kill me. I wish I could, though. Where do you live?"

I wrote down our address. She watched, still pumping Bob's dick, then said, "Hey, that's three blocks from my house. I baby-sit. Could you hire me just for show?"

"Yes. We want you to sit for us tonight, in fact. Don't we, dear?"

"Uh, yes. Yes we do."

I said, "We'll pay your standard rate."

She beamed and said, "Cool. It'll be like fucking for money."

I said, "It will be. We have no kids." I indicated the cock in her hand and said, "You'll be baby-sitting that baby."

"Cool. I'm a good baby-sitter."

I said, "Who gives a fuck. You'd better be a good cock-sitter."

"Wow, this is so cool. I will be. I'll do anything for money, anything at all. I'll be just like a whore. You'll see."

I said, "Right now, we'd like to see the merchandise."

"What! In here?"

"Yes. I showed mine. He's showing his. Now, show us what you have."

While looking around, seeing six in the room and a crowd just outside the double door ten feet behind us, she said, "I can't show you in here. If my dad saw me do that, he'd ... he'd ground me for life ... He'd ground me if he saw me sitting with you guys."

She was still pumping Bob's cock, now excited as hell, thinking it over, wondering if she dared, still looking around, so I said, "Show us what you've got, or we won't hire you."

"God, you're going to get me in so much trouble." She looked around again, then said, "Okay, I'll do it. Keep a good lookout."

We weren't looking out, we were looking at her lap as she pulled the skirt up and hooked the waist band of her panties, looking around as we looked at her light-brown pubic patch. I suppose she thought that was showing her pussy. We liked what we saw, but I set her straight, saying, "That's nice hair, but we want to see your pussy, the hole in particular. That is what you're selling, isn't it. The panties will have to be removed completely."

"Oh God! [Quick look] Okay, pull them off! Hurry!"

She raised, I reached, but I didn't hurry. Oh, man, what a fine piece of ass I was unveiling at my leisure, putting her in a fierce sweat. With the panties halfway down her thighs, she cries, "Oh, please hurry! People are looking at us."

Now to her knees, "Don't worry about people, just keep looking for your father. He's the only one that can ground you."

Now working them free of her feet, she moans, "Oh god, oh shit ... please hurry!"

I now had her panties in my hand and half a dozen people were staring at us from the doorway with two more looking back from the front, and now she had to show her pussy to us. She could have done so without being obvious had she not looked at her own pussy while she showed it to us, or splaying her legs so wide, or using both hands to pull her lips apart, or had Bob and I not reached for it to confirm her virginity.

We took our time. That was the prettiest little pussy we ever saw, the slipperiest we ever felt, and the tightest we ever fingered, and she dared not look around because she knew everyone who had not gone outdoors for a smoke was now in the room with us and all eyes were on the cute little girl who was showing her pussy.

I must say, the girl knew how to show her pussy, and she put the dozen or so who had gotten close enough to see out of her mind, or we assumed so when she said, "Well, is it worth seventy-five cents an hour?" And then she noticed all the people who thought that was very reasonable. That was one relieved little girl when we pulled our hands back. Her skirt came down in a flash.

She was very relieved until I said, "Now, show us your tits."

"MY TITS! I can't show my tits. I can't show you without showing everyone."

"It's okay. Your father's not here. He must be a smoker, but you'd better hurry."

"Oh fuck. I've gone this far. Here goes."

She unbuttoned her blouse to her belly button, then pulled the cups up. Nice tits. She was right. She couldn't show us without showing everyone. They all seemed to agree. She had nice tits. I never saw tits blush before. I had her by a nipple and Bob had the other when we heard, "MANDY!"

"Oh fuck."

Cups came down, buttons got buttoned--every other one, anyway. Mandy left to see what her Daddy wanted. He seemed rather upset about something. She got fired or grounded, maybe both. She had to go wait in the car. I turned to Bob and said, "Happy?"

"We'll see. I sure hope he'll let her baby-sit while grounded. I'm not angry anymore."

"That's good, because I'm going to be fucking your boss whenever he snaps his fingers."

"I gathered that, and so did everyone else. I understand he does a great deal of snapping when he gets himself a new whore."

"Well, he has a new one with a keen ear for snapping fingers."

"In that case, we definitely need a good sitter."

"Yes, and a baby-sitter at that. He just knocked me up."

"Damn! I forgot about that. I'd better get a fucking raise out of this."

"I'll see what I can do."

Return to the main story

Copyright © 1997, Phil Phantom, ALL Rights Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author.

This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.