Literotic asexstories – Making My Point by clinton09
ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18 WITH IDENTITIES DISGUISED; FOR AGES 21 OR ABOVE]
After being rejected and mistreated for work, a young man finds an opportunity for revenge against those who tormented him. The plan involves four attractive older women, known as MILFs. His future had been clearly defined – he planned to transition from a high school football star to the NFL. However, his dreams were shattered when he failed the necessary tests to be drafted. Despite his impressive strength, he was deemed too slow for the league. Not being drafted and receiving no tryout offers left him feeling bitter. But all was not lost, as he had family connections on a private island. He went to them for help, only to be met with resentment and a desire for revenge from his mother’s husband and his three other business partners. These men, who were not popular in high school, wanted to see the young man suffer.
I finally was hired, at minimum wage, as the janitor. I swallowed my pride and took the job. I won’t go into detail, but let’s just say that they went out of their way to make an unpleasant job 1,000 times worse. They even pulled pranks like having my check bounce, just for their amusement. Oh, they made it good later, but in the interim, my other checks turned up with ‘insufficient funds’. They did this once a month.
One of them also set up a fake Facebook account for me; there were extensive photos of me in full janitorial regalia cleaning up one of the messes they intentionally created just for the occasion.
Unknown to the four little demons, I had already started a ‘comeback’ at work. Sick of being on the wrong end of practical jokes and derision, I took it upon myself to ‘get to know’ their secretary.
The four used one secretary, and let me tell you. If the beautiful Jennifer Anniston had had a twin, this secretary would’ve been her. To get that choice job, and to keep it, she wore dresses so short as to be imaginary in length. Her tanned shapely legs were never obscured by stockings; she normally padded around the carpeted office barefoot and beautiful. Like Ms. Anniston, her feet were gorgeous, perfect down to the ruby toenail polish and gold ankle bracelet. Like all the starlets in Hollywood, she sported a blue tattoo on her right ankle.
When this beleaguered janitor made some rueful comments about the tyrannical bosses, Yvonne(the secretary) added a few of her own. A few looks and smiles, and a date was set up. After a two-for-twenty dollar deal at Chili’s and a Jennifer Anniston romantic-comedy (what else?), we ended up at her place in bed.
She was a sexual dynamo, a former gymnast who insisted on perfection in bed. With a quiet crash, the central support of her bed frame broke about midway thru our love session. With the mattress now at floor level, one could still see Yvonne making like Ginger Lynn…or like the piston in the most powerful engine…going up and down with incredible speed and power. Through all of this, she had shrieked in sexual release maybe four or five times.
I had reached the breaking point so when the next big ‘O’ came up for her, I grabbed her little dimpled behind and held tight. My bareback babymaker was forced into her like a sword. I felt tender tissues give way, stroking my sensitive cockhead along the way. It bumped into a knob and then settled into an alcove. I had no idea what it was, but Nature told me to release my seed there.
Still holding her with desperate force, my cock swelled with a purpose, my testes pulling tight against me. My swollen sack was awash in potent seed, the cum almost 94% sperm by medical testing. All of it was unleashed inside Yvonne in a torrent, a virtual hurricane of lust. Blast after blast of thick semi-opaque white liquid filled her up in seconds. Before we could finish a lingering kiss, excess cum was already dripping out, drooling down her Hollywood legs, making a mess.
After that incredible love session, I thought I would be her man, or at least her ‘main man’. Well, as the song went, “she had legs, and she knew how to use them.” I was just another conquest, another ‘notch on her lipstick case.’ All was not lost, though.
With her help, we set up some cameras in the executive washroom. Now Facebook would show our bosses in embarrassing shots, a fitting revenge over what they did to me. Amazingly, they never found out who set up that account or placed those cameras. Those four jokers were humiliated when they saw their nude likenesses splattered across the Wi-Fi universe.
Oh, yes, one other thing. Yvonne used the Pill and had had many evenings like the one that we shared…many. However, with that Pill, none of her evenings had ended like that one. Unknown to her or me, right after 2am and our last round of loving, Yvonne conceived. Given her frequency of such evenings, she never knew who had ‘done the deed’ and left it as a mystery.
One fateful Friday, I was called into the conference room. The four of them (much shorter than my six foot two frame and bald where I had shaggy locks) told me that if I acted as their ‘butler’ for a weekend junket with the wives, I could make an extra $20(!) I’m ashamed to admit that that was enough for me to agree.
So that is how it all went down. On their private little island, the four couples were partying in the redwood clubhouse. There was Esther, Constance, Chessie, and Sue (my mom.) Each one of them were ‘trophy wives’, MILF’s who worked hard to marry well.
All of those women had perfect hairdo’s (three bottle blonde, one bottle henna), big boobs (three had ‘help’ while my beautiful mother was ‘all her’ in those blouses ready to burst open), fantastic legs, etc. The women being isolated and together at all times now shared identical cycles.
They also shared the same dilemma: wanting to have babies, but having a ‘problem’. In each of their cases, the ‘problem’ was a very fertile womb (theirs) matched up (by marriage) to a boyish-sized unit with a low sperm count (measured in thousands or even hundreds in one test result.)
I didn’t realize it, but for years whenever any one of those hot wives entered a room, I would get hard…rock hard. Whenever my mother would enter a room, my steel hard ten inch cock would unleash gobs of pre-cum. They were walking ‘wet dreams’ and unconsciously, I was building up a desire to have them.
Even at the mildest gathering like Thanksgiving, I fantasized about bending the women over the huge oak dinner table, servicing them until they were begging me to not stop, ‘never stop’. Right there, my fantasy continued, I’d fertilize each and every woman, right in front of their nasty, puny husbands. It was a forlorn hope, dream or fantasy that had no chance in reality.
The weekend went as you might expect. I had to run errands, take humiliation, tend tables, do dishes, etc. I was threatened with being fired over the slightest error. The four little punks were having a real field day. It was no surprise that I had to clean up while my beloved alma mater was playing on national TV. Then the storm came.
The big redwood building we were in had an atrium between two large family rooms. In one room, the men were watching football. In the room across the atrium, the women were playing bridge. I was in the main section (near the men), washing all the dishes.
The storm was upon us without any warning. The ‘twister’ walloped our little building. What it really did was collapse the side where the women were.
We heard calls for help almost instantly. I came out of the kitchen to see a strange display: on one side were women covered with boards, beams, and ceiling tiles, calling for help. On the other side (our side) were their four wimp husbands, standing idly by as if mesmerized into in-action.
I tried to rally the men but they stood in a group, cowering. Well, SOMEONE had to do something, so I started clearing a path thru the fallen atrium to the other side. The women watched in rapt attention as their ‘hero’ made his way thru a labyrinth of building material.
Later, contractors determined that I had lifted four and five hundred pound supports while I cleared the way. One by one, I carried those women in their (now) tattered clothing to the big sectional couch on the other (men’s) side of the building where it was dry.
My gorgeous mother was the last one. As I carried each one to safety, they lay limply in my arms like the gorgeous Heather Locklear in the ending to ‘Return of the Swamp Thing 2′, with beautiful legs draped over one of my arms and their beautiful face on the other arm.
A strange paradigm shift had occurred. By my heroism and their wimpy husbands’ total uselessness, the four women now regarded me as the MAN, the ONLY man, in that building.
Now the four elegant MILF’s were stretched out across the wide expanse of the huge sectional sofa. Regaining their composure, Esther spoke for the group:
Esther: “Well, Jim, it appears that we came out here with only ONE man and not five. I think I speak for all of us when I say we’re sorry we were silent as those four bald eunuchs made you do all of those demeaning little tasks. To make it up to YOU, OUR HERO, we’d like to know what we can do: a favor. Anything…”
I was stunned. I mean, up to that moment, the women had gone along with the parade of abuse. Now, seeing I was a ‘super man’ (compared to their pallid little gnome husbands) they realized that I and ONLY I was worthy of them. Well, there was ONLY one way to accept their offer AND get payback for all the months of crap I’d taken from those wimps.
Me: “Mom, are you and your friends on the Pill? Do you ever discuss those kinds of things between you?”
Mom: “If you must know, we all use diaphragms.”
Me: “Great; that means we don’t have to worry about lingering effects. Ladies, please remove diaphragms and give them to your little hubbies for safekeeping.”
To my surprise, they actually obeyed. In dead silence, the women bent forward and removed something from inside them. Esther set the precedent by angrily throwing the metal device at her wimpy husband. She even plunked him on the forehead. The other three followed.
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