Temptation Island

"Lisa, you are so lucky," he said. "Do you know how many of our co-workers would love to be in your shoes? Probably all of them would love to be where you are right now. As you know, on our level there are four managers and with George retiring at the end of the month, most of the people with even a ghost of a chance are fighting tooth and nail for his position. I'm getting all kinds of people trying to buy me lunch, or do all kinds of things for me."

"Me too," said Al. "They just won't stop."

"Lisa, you've already got my vote," he said. "But one vote out of the top four managers just puts you on the list. That's why Al is here. Al's vote would do a lot towards moving you to the top of that list."

"What is it going to take to get Al's vote?" I asked. "I already save the company money by maintaining the lists of office supplies and buying from the cheapest vendors possible. I make sure we turn off lights whenever possible and recycle as many things as possible."

"We've noticed your contributions," said Al nervously.

"You just need something to get you over the top Lisa," said Ken.

"What could I do?" I thought. I liked the way this was going. The previous evening Jim had left me feeling like I was more of a prostitute than a coworker. Now I was here with two managers discussing strategy and my career. This was what I'd wanted from the beginning.

"I think a blow job, would go a long way with Al," said Ken. Al looked away nervously. I sat there in shock.

"If you don't want to..." said Al nervously.

"No Al," said Ken. "She's just more used to guys who take charge."

"I don't know," said Al. "I don't need any sexual harassment charges and..."

"Al, you didn't pressure her," said Ken. "She's offering to do it for you. You didn't even ask her to. You never even mentioned it. I did. She's probably just nervous about me being here with the two of you while it happens, so I'm going to leave. I'll be back in a half hour or so."

It took all I had not to start crying right then. At least Ken was normal looking. My husband was better looking and in better shape than Ken, but Ken was far better looking than Al. Al looked like Ron Jeremy but without Ron's good looks. The biggest difference between Al and Ron Jeremy was the height. Ron Jeremy cold easily land the role of Honey Boo Boo's mother in a movie, but Al would be too short.

I thought about it as Al warily eyed me. It was only a blow job and it would mean that two of the four managers would be on my side.

I slowly reached for Al's zipper. The hardest part about blowing Al was that I kept losing his dick in my mouth. Al's equipment was the smallest I'd ever seen on a man. I also found out that Al's wife refused to give blow jobs so the one I gave him was his first, EVER. He was very nice about it, but I still felt like a whore.

True to his word, Ken came back in thirty minutes. We went back to my room. "Brush your teeth," he said. As soon as I did that, we left and went to another bungalow. This time the bungalow belonged to Derrick Martin. Derrick was a tall thin black guy. He was the production manager and one of the most important men in the company. When Ken left me with Derrick, I knew what would happen. I sucked Derrick off and then he fucked me. I'd heard that black guys had huge dicks but I'd never seen one. Derrick's dick was like the rest of him. It was pretty long but it was also pretty thin.

Derrick ran his dick the way he ran the production floor. He just kept slamming away until he came. Just before he shot his sperm, he pulled out and shot it all over my face. There was a lot of it and it smelled awful.

Ken came back and took me back to my room. We didn't even speak to each other. I showered and put a robe on. "Get dressed, we're not done yet," he said.

"But I have three out of the four votes," I said.

"Lisa, you don't have the most important one yet," he said. "If you really want George's job, then George being willing to train you for the last few weeks before he leaves would help a lot."

I followed him to George's room. George was eighty years old. Even after taking a Viagra pill and waiting twenty minutes the best I could do for George was to get him a tingle down there. I used a lot of lube and proved my ability as a manager when I managed to get George's nearly flaccid dick into my pussy.

Almost as soon as he was inside of me, his eyes rolled back inside his head and he came. He hadn't pulled out and I hadn't made him wear a condom. I had no fear though that George's eighty year old semen contained enough active sperm cells to impregnate me.

It had taken almost ninety minutes with George so it was nearly dinner time. I ate dinner alone in my room and felt like shit. I hated Ken, but I hated myself more. Led Zeppelin had a song called Stairway to Heaven, I felt like I was on the Stairway to Hell. My journey to damnation had been a series of very small steps from faithful wife to full-fledged whore.

As most things do, it started with a dream. I had a dream to be an important woman. When I saw my chance, my head was filled with beer commercials and slogans from sportswear companies. They always say, "Just do it," or, "Go for it," or, "No fear." And we've all been told for as long as I can remember that a quitter never wins and a winner never quits. So I reached out for my dream and found myself in the midst of a competition. It was also a competition that on paper, I couldn't have won. There were lots of people who had higher or just better degrees than I did. There were people with more technical knowledge than I had. All I've proved was that I was willing to give away a bigger piece of my soul.

So at this point, maybe I'd get that promotion after all, but would it actually be worth it? It had been one tiny step on my descent into hell that had begun that journey. Ken and I had been friends and I'd taken one tiny wrong step. I gave him a blow job. I'd thought that it would go no further. I'd thought that act would put me over the top. It had escalated to me letting him fuck me. That had evolved into my being pretty much his sex toy, but now he was whoring me out to his peers.

After dinner, I decided I'd call Jeff. I just needed to hear the sound of his voice. I needed to talk to my kids. I needed something to make me feel human and loved again. It didn't happen. After dinner Ken and the other three all came to my room for the main event. They took turns fucking me and having me blow them until we ran out of condoms and they ran out of steam. At one point, I'd screamed in pain when Ken forced his dick halfway into my ass. I immediately pulled away from him and slapped the shit out of him.

"Lisa, I thought you'd like to see what double penetration was like," he smiled. "Come on this is a team building exercise. You're the only female manager so you're going to need to prove you can take one for the team."

After they left, I curled up in a ball on the floor. The sheets and even the mattress were so full of cum that it smelled awful. All of the men, even though they wore condoms, had elected to pull out, take off the condoms and shoot on me rather than risk any chance of a pregnancy. Like me they were all married and happily, with the exception of George. I wondered then why they'd risk their careers and their marriages. It wasn't like I was some sex goddess. Shit, the only man I knew who loved me was my own husband Jeff.

I'm not some tall, blond, Swedish bombshell. I'm a short, small breasted brunette with glasses and a fat ass. I have a gut from bearing my husband two children and flabby legs. It just didn't make sense. None of these men had the hots for me. And they all seemed to love their wives.

As we waited to board the boat the next morning, I heard a few of them talking.

"I can't believe she let us do that to her," said Al. "Ken, you almost fucked her ass. Does your wife let you do that?"

"Hell no," said Ken. "My wife isn't a whore. Are you crazy? I'm lucky to get a half assed blow job on my birthday. All Patti gives me is plain vanilla sex. That's why when Lisa just walked in and sucked my dick that day last month, I knew that we had something going. Think about it. We can have regular manager's meetings and fuck her as much as we want. And I guarantee you, before the month is out, not only me but all of us will have fucked her ass. This weekend was just about loosening her up. Shit, the bitch went way further than we ever expected. She never said no, except for me sticking my dick up her ass. And I'll bet you with a little patience and some lube, I'll be up in her guts before the week is out."

"And the best part," began Derrick. "Is that by promoting her to manager, we don't have to worry about some of those smart assed, young, recent college grads coming in and making us look bad. We promote the one person in the whole company who isn't smart enough to actually threaten any of our jobs."

"Plus, we get to fuck her as much as we want," said Ken. "All of the nasty things that your wife won't let you do to her, you can do to Lisa. It not only makes the company better, it makes our marriages better. We don't have to keep making our wives angry at us by pestering them for things they don't want to do."

"But what about her marriage?" asked Al.

"Shit, that's on her," spat Ken. "Remember, she started all of this. She came to me. I did not ask her for that blow job. And she could have always said, "no," at any time. She obviously doesn't love her husband. Either that or the poor bastard just isn't getting the job done. Maybe he's one of those guys who are just too nice to give the slut the treatment she wants. Didn't you hear the way she was moaning and howling last night? She loved it..."

I wanted to walk over to them at that moment, just to shut them up. But I couldn't. I had to wipe away my tears first. Everything they'd said had hurt me. I knew that you had to be ruthless and self-serving to succeed in business sometimes, but I had never expected anything like this.

They were right. I had howled and moaned when they'd used me the night before. But it was from pain. It's really strange when you think about exactly how much sperm ended up on me and the furniture in that room and then realize that I didn't have even a single orgasm. So the whole thing about Jeff not being able to give me what I needed was simply ridiculous.

The thing about me not loving my husband was so ludicrous that I never even considered it. The rest was just hurtful. They made it apparent that they all thought of me as just an idiot. My only value to the company was my inferiority and my stupidity. And maybe they were right. After all, I let a group of fat, over the hill, middle managers, who were afraid of losing their jobs to younger, smarter, employees pick me to replace a retiring co-worker. And I did it because not only am I stupid, but I'll also give them all the pussy they want and do things their wives won't.

I walked by them and immediately went up to the top level on the boat. As I walked up the stairs, I heard them still talking about me.

"Hey, do any of you guys want to go into that little cabin in the back and fuck her on the boat?" asked Ken.

"Shit, I'm still tired from last night," said Al. "I got more pussy last night than I have since I got married."

"And the best thing about it," said Derrick, "Is that the bitch doesn't complain. With my wife, every time she gives me some, I have to practically kiss her ass for the next few days."

"What about the fucking Holidays," laughed Ken. "You know when you go out and spend a couple of grand on a God damned diamond bracelet and they just give you the same worn out pussy they always give you and act like you're supposed to be glad to get it..."

It was a long trip home. On the trip home, I also found out some things about the island from listening to them. It turned out that the island, la Isla Tentacion, was Spanish for Temptation Island. The island catered to affairs and trysts. A lot of rich people and corporate execs who wanted to cheat on their wives or husbands went there. That was pretty much what the island was set up for. That's why there were very few activities available on the island. There was no swimming or snorkeling or water-ski lessons. Most of the activity took place in the rooms. It was like a huge BYOW brothel. BYOW stood for Bring Your Own Whore.

When I met Jeff and my kids at the airport, I wanted to hug them until they popped. I thought about making the vow that my husband was going to be the luckiest man on earth. Jeff would never be like those poor bastards I'd spent the weekend with. As I considered it, I realized that Jeff already wasn't. Jeff had never had to beg me for sex. Jeff also already got any kind of sex he wanted from me. I gave him blow jobs often and I actually loved sucking his dick. I sometimes did it for hours at a time just because I love him so much.

Jeff and I had also gone through a phase when I gave him anal sex regularly. But after a while he simply didn't want it as much as he loved burying his dick in my pussy from different positions. Every once in a while, he still got my ass, and I loved it. But Jeff did it with love and consideration for me. He didn't just ram his dick up in me without thinking about whether or not it would hurt me.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe it wasn't that their wives didn't enjoy sex. Maybe it was just that their wives didn't enjoy sex with THEM. I know that I hadn't. And between sleeping, the flight and the boat ride home, I'd had almost 18 hours to recover from the gangbang the night before. What I wanted was a nice hot bath in my own tub, followed by a session with my own personal husband/massage therapist and then to have him slowly and lovingly make love to me with kissing me and making me feel loved.

As soon as I got the manager's position and had it confirmed, I could start my revenge on those bastards for what they'd done to me. This manager's position was going to be my springboard to upper management and once I was a step above them, I'd fire them all and replace them with some of those same younger people they were so God damned afraid of.

By mid-week I should pretty much have the job. I might have to perform a service or two for them during that time to make sure that none of them backed out of the deal. But from the second I had that job locked in; none of those bastards or any other man except for my husband would ever touch me again.

* * * * * *

Jeff Bennett

I'd just gotten to work and settled in at my desk when the phone rang.

"Hello," I said absent mindedly into it. At that moment, I was so busy looking for a depreciation calculation chart on my computer, that the phone call didn't really matter.

"Mr. Bennett, my name is Claire Higgans and I need a few moments of your time to discuss a personal matter."

The voice on the phone wasn't familiar and her no nonsense tone forced me to stop looking for the file and sit up straight in my seat. I mentally went over everything I'd ever done to see if I could figure out what the call was about before answering.

"Ms. Higgans, I'm not sure I remember you. So you'll have to refresh my memory on whatever personal matter we have to discuss," I said.

"Ooh, very straight and to the point," she said. "That's exactly the way engineers work. Get right to the problem. No small talk, no flirting, no bullshit, just dive right in. I like that. Mr. Bennett we haven't actually met," she said, which only confused me more.

"Do you know Patti Daniels?" she asked.

"Nope," I said, although I have to admit that the name was somewhat familiar.

"She's married to Ken Daniels. He works with your wife," she said.

"Okay, I remember her now," I said. "But Patti and I have never really spoken much. We did have dinner a couple of times along with our spouses but Patti and I didn't really talk much. To tell you the truth, I remember her as being really pretty, but if she was standing in front of me, I don't think I could pick her out of a lineup. So I..."

"You don't see what the two of you have in common, correct?" she asked.

"Exactly," I said.

"Mr. Bennett, you and Ms. Daniels have quite a bit in common, but I'd really rather not discuss the details over the phone," she said. "Could you meet us at my office for a lunch meeting?"

"I don't think that's possible," I said. "I already left work early on Friday to drive my wife to the airport. I need to buckle down today and take care of business."

"That's why I suggested a lunch time meeting," she said. "Trust me Mr. Bennett, you really want to be at this meeting. "

"Give me your address, " I said reluctantly. "And I'll be there at noon. " She read off an address and I jotted it down on a pad on my desk.

"Mr. Bennett, you might want to tell your assistant or your coworkers that you possibly won't be back until tomorrow," she said. "I'm pretty sure that once you've seen what we have to talk about you won't be in the mood to work anymore today." Then with a cheerful goodbye, she hung up the phone.

11:45 found me whipping through slower traffic on the freeway. The muscular grunt of my Mustang's exhaust system let slower cars know that I was around. I hated driving on the freeway during the lunch rush. It always seemed like no one knew where they were going. And God damn it but older drivers are just the worst. There's always some two hundred year old man, who can barely see above the steering wheel, driving seventeen mph in the fast lane and wondering why everyone around him is blowing their horn.

I got to the address I'd been given with five minutes to spare. The building was a nicely designed office tower on a fairly busy street. I went in and asked the woman at the information desk about the office number I'd been supplied.

Following her directions I took an elevator to the fifth floor and found the office right away. The sign painted into the large glass office double doors simply read Client Services. I realized that a name like that could refer to a plethora of functions.

The receptionist who sat at the desk filing her nails smiled at me as soon as I stepped inside the double doors. She leaned forward so I got a glimpse of enormous breasts stuffed inside of a pale yellow silk blouse. She had very light blond hair and was tanned far too deeply for the tan to have occurred naturally. If she'd stayed in the sun for that length of time, she'd be burned to a crisp and her skin would have the consistency of leather and a lot of melanoma lesions.

But instead, her skin was darker than her hair and although it had the glow of youth, the color was that shade known as "Whorange." It's a skin color reserved for women who spend too much time at tanning salons and getting plastic surgery done in the hope of securing a rich husband.

She smiled at me even more as I approached the desk and showed me her too white teeth. It was all I could do not to laugh in her face.

When I told her who I was, she stood up to escort me back to the office I was going to and I got yet another shock. She had to be at least six foot six in her five inch stiletto heels. She had huge breasts that were obviously fake, a tiny waist and absolutely no ass. Thin thighs and tiny legs completed the picture. The woman was the absolute least sexy thing I could imagine. She was built like a spike.

The funny thing about it was that if you took all of the supposed attributes that men like, she had them all, but she had them to an extreme and it actually made her less attractive. In her case, the whole was clearly less than the sum of the parts. Each individual part, the big boobs, the tiny waist, the small trim ass and sculptured legs would have been a strong point on a lot of women. But when you put them all together on her, you somehow came up with something awful.