Tammy's Boss
By Terri

Tammy and I were very happy in the first few months of our marriage. Hers was 
the love I had always looked for. Tammy was such a sweet young girl, a virgin of 
20 when we married. She was flat out gorgeous, but you wouldn't know it to look 
at her in the street. She hid her shapely body and legs in loose, long cut 
dresses, and kept her thick black hair pinned back. She was a lady, a beautiful 
angel. She was a minister's daughter, raised in a deeply Christian household, 
and her strong religious convictions made her very conscious to not dress 
provocatively. I'd come to know over the few months what a spectacular body she 
had. I felt privileged to have seen it all, and to have been the first man to 
feel the inside of her lovely young pussy.

In contrast to her, I was much more adventurous sexually. Certainly no virgin, 
by the time I was her age I had had many women. Sex was the most important thing 
in my life. You might even consider me a sex addict; I spent many hours in strip 
clubs and adult bookstores, enjoying pornography and the pleasures of feeling up 
strippers. In fact, I continued to do this even after we were married, because 
while Tammy was the love of my life, there were feelings and urges that she 
didn't satisfy. There was no way I could tell her about this, she wouldn't 
understand, so it remained a secret I kept from her.

Marriage so far had been a compromise. I brought her along slowly; She was very 
resistant to do anything she considered "kinky", and to her that included 
blowjobs and any kind of ass play. I was crazy enough about her to hold myself 
back. It was tough for me. Birth control was out of the question because of her 
religion, so early in our marriage, before we wanted children; there were long 
periods when I didn't get anything at all. But as tough as it was, I did love 
her, and I even treated it like a tease. Slowly, over the months, she was 
loosening up, and with each new boundary we crossed I felt encouraged. Just 
small things, things like kissing my cock or letting me talk dirty to her while 
we "made love" really got me off, they felt to me like conquests, because she 
was so resistant. And oh, so beautiful. I longed for the future, because I knew 
that someday I'd have her doing anything I wanted. Someday I'd have her kneeling 
before me, and looking up at me, waiting for me to blow my load all over her 
pretty face.

But, you know, woman of a certain age start thinking of babies, and Tammy was 
that age. So after we were married almost a year she decided we'd try for one. 
And it was like a switch was thrown in her head - all of a sudden she craved 
sex. She had no problem doing what I wanted to get started - lots of nights I'd 
come home to find her in the slut-wear she refused to wear for me when we were 
first married. There was a part of me that felt resentful, used, because she 
wasn't doing these things for me, just using my urges to get what she wanted: a 
baby. So there she'd be when I got home from work, all dolled up like a groupie, 
with a bikini top, skimpy cotton dress high enough to show the tops of her 
thigh-highs, and the "fuck me" pumps I loved so much. Yeah, she had the look, 
she knew what I liked and how to tease, but she wouldn't really act the part. I 
wanted to get head; I wanted her eyes looking up at me from down there. That was 
all I thought about, but she just wouldn't do it. It was the same excuse she 
used all along: "In the eyes of God it was unnatural". Still the "nice girl" 
inside. But I knew the real reason - She wasn't about to waste any of my 
precious baby seed that way. So straight sex was all she'd allow. And from my 
end, straight sex 10 or so times a week is more work than I bargained for. I 
wasn't 18 anymore. A few times we'd get started, she'd be under me, egging me 
on, tickling my ass with her long nails, and all of a sudden something would 
happen to me. I'd lose it; my erection would just go soft. I'd be ashamed, but 
she'd say "That's OK."

Months went on, there was no sign of a baby, and I knew she was unhappy.

As if that wasn't enough, money started becoming a problem - I just didn't make 
enough. I was going to school at night, but was stuck in a low paying day job 
until I finished school. Things were real tight. We lived in a small apartment, 
and never had enough money for simple pleasures like vacations. We couldn't even 
afford to go out to dinner when her friends invited us. It seemed like all our 
friends had much more than we did. Some of her girlfriends even had vacation 
homes.

So she was unhappy enough about the money to go out to work. She found a job as 
an office girl. Every day she rode the subway to her job downtown. I felt 
terrible seeing her go to work. She never complained openly, she really was a 
sweet girl, but there were times, especially when she was talking with her 
better off friends that I saw a hint of unhappiness, real jealousy. The man in 
me knew this wasn't right. If we could just hold on for a few years, things 
would be better. I'd make more money after I finished school. She could quit; 
I'd have more time, more energy, and enough money to provide for her. Then maybe 
those baby juices would kick in again. I was determined to stick it out. I still 
loved her.

She had been working a few months when she started acting out about it. She'd be 
silent, almost sullen when she came home, saying little about what went on. She 
worked for some company downtown - all I knew was its name, and that she spent 
her day doing some kind of clerical work. I could sense a change in her. She 
wasn't after me for sex anymore. She started being angry with me all the time. 
She'd come home from work and not even talk to me, and I felt miserable. I felt 
like a failure.

For a week or so I consoled myself by spending more time in the strip clubs 
after work. The girls there weren't so demanding, just a quick buck and they 
shook their ass for me. But after having the promise of her, the hope that she 
would turn into some dark angel in bed, these diversions didn't satisfy anymore.

So one day I confronted her. "What's with you? Ever since you started this job 
you've changed. I told you it would only be till I finished school, but you're 
acting like you're mad about it!"

She just ran into the bedroom, tears in her eyes and closed the door. "Fuck 
her!" I thought. I got my coat on and went out, out to the local titty bar. I 
hadn't cheated on Tammy at all since we'd been married, unless you count feeling 
up strippers and sluts in these clubs. My hands worked overtime that night, and 
a lot of the money that Tammy earned wound up laced through g-strings.

She was sitting up in bed when I got home. She said she was sorry, but her 
unhappiness these past few weeks had nothing to do with me. She wasn't mad about 
working; she just hated the place she was in. What she told me next changed my 
mood completely.

"There's this boss there, and he's always hitting on me. I have to go into his 
office, and he's always putting his hands on me, touching my bottom." She was 
starting to sob as she said this, a tear falling in a slow roll down her 
beautiful cheek. "He says things to me, dirty things." My heart started beating 
faster. Someone was going to get his ass kicked.

"What's his name?"

"Tuck." What kind of name was that, I thought.

"Well, Tammy, tomorrow I'm going to work with you. And I can guarantee you this 
Tuck asshole isn't ever going to bother you again." I wanted her to know I'd 
take care of this for her; I wanted her to feel safe, protected. I didn't tell 
her that I hadn't been in a fight since grammar school. This guy Tuck was 
probably some old office guy, grown pudgy and soft around the middle. I told her 
I'd make this guy sorry he ever messed with her. I showed her my fist, and said, 
"This guy will be one sorry motherfucker!"

She just stared wide-eyed at me.

When we got into the elevator the next morning, she pressed floor 45. I noticed 
that the company had floors 39-45 in the building, and I pondered the meaning of 
her working on the top floor. I guessed that this Tuck was some bigwig in the 
company. I figured the guy was some old business fart; I'd make short work of 
him.

The offices on the 45th floor seemed very prosperous indeed. Very plush and 
dignified, our footsteps were silent in the thick carpeting. The receptionist 
was an extraordinarily beautiful woman, a polished Nordic beauty, wearing a thin 
silk blouse. I could see a hint of protruding nipples, and I felt myself stir.

Tammy asked for Tuck, and we were asked to wait for a few minutes. While we were 
waiting on the couch, I amused myself by checking out the people in the office 
as they walked through the corridor. Almost everyone was female, and they were 
all knockouts, young woman in their early 20's, impeccably dressed and 
attractively made up. Even their voices were sexy. I wondered if the company was 
some sort of modeling agency. I was about to ask Tammy when a tall, shapely 
oriental woman told us the Mr. Tucker would see us now.

As we walked through the hall to his office, I got myself ready. I was going to 
surprise the prick, get right in his face. Just one word from him and I'd throw 
his sorry ass right through the fuckin' window.

The Asian girl opened the door, and for a moment, I just took in the 
surroundings. Mr. Tucker's office was the size of our apartment. It was a corner 
office with two floor-to-ceiling, windows that looked out on the harbor. There 
was a sitting area with a couch and two easy chairs on the right as you walked 
in, a rich mahogany bar on the left, and a long expanse of thick red carpeting 
before Tuck's desk.

He was standing there, and at the first sight of him all my plans of kicking his 
sorry ass through the window evaporated. I'd need to try something different. 
Tuck was a huge man, at least 6'4", and he probably weighed about 250 pounds. He 
was in his late thirties, and there was an athletic grace to his movements as he 
rose from behind his big desk and sauntered over to us. No way I'd last two 
seconds in a fight with him. He shook my hand: "Tammy's told me all about you." 
He looked down at me, and gave enough of a squeeze in his grip to make me 
grimace. Somehow he knew what I was there for.

I couldn't talk, couldn't get the words out of my throat. He looked at me, with 
the light of a smirk in his eyes. 

"What's on your mind?" he said with a bit of a challenge. There was something 
disorientating about him. In addition to his physical bulk, there was an air of 
settled power and prosperity about him. His was dressed in a custom tailored 
pinstripe suit, a silk tie that probably itself cost my weeks wages. He had lots 
of expensive jewelry: A solid gold watch, several large rings, and his tie clasp 
had a 3 or 4 carat diamond stud. He exuded power and confidence.

Guessing how he made it here, I had an image of him beating some drug dealer to 
death in a dark alley, winning his first piece of turf on his climb to the top. 
But there was another image that fit also, because I had to admit the man had an 
air of intelligence, a winning combination of ballsy wit and a cat-like 
alertness. He could have made it here with his brains too, dealing on the 
trading floor of an exchange.

I had to say something. Both he and Tammy were staring at me. I started to look 
at Tammy, but I couldn't meet those beautiful green eyes that stared back at me. 
I knew she remembered how big and tough I'd sounded last night, how I ran my 
mouth about what I would do to Tuck. I realized she looked at me the same way 
last night and I realized she hadn't give me even a hint of what Tuck was like. 
I didn't like the feeling that gave me; She knew what I was getting myself into, 
and she let it happen.

"Well, Tammy, guess I'll just get back to work while your.  'man' here gets 
himself together." He gave Tammy a quick wink he turned and started back to his 
desk. As he sat down he laughed: "Guess a cat's got his tongue!" He leaned back 
in his leather chair and studied me. Sizing me up with a cool hard stare. I 
couldn't hold his gaze; I had to look past him at the boats in the harbor behind 
him. The ball was in my court, and I felt helpless.

He pressed a button and said, "Bring in some refreshments for my guests, 
please." Still leaning back, the silence held the charge in the air.

"Tammy tells me you kids are trying to have a child." He was starting, he knew 
he had an opening and would work on the wound. "Kids," even though he was no 
more than a few years older than either of us. I had the sick sense of where he 
was going. "But it's been months now, and I don't see any change in her lovely 
figure."

"But then again, it might take. many years..." He was grinning from ear to ear, 
flashing his big white teeth, "...Considering what you have to work with!" He 
eased back in his chair, letting fly with a big, booming laugh.

Finally, I forced some words out, "y-you know, y-you c-can't harass w-w-women 
that work for you!" I was gulping for air as I fought to get the words out.

"Lighten up, man." He was so cool, calm, "You know, I can do whatever I want. 
The law says I can't 'harass', well, let me tell you, the law applies to certain 
people in certain situations differently. There are guys like me, and there are 
losers like you." There was a flash in his eyes. "The simple fact is, I can pick 
up this phone and be talking to the Governor of our great state in about two 
minutes. Do you honestly think you are going to tell me about the law?"

He started back in: "What was that word, 'harass?' Well, that generally implies 
'unwelcome advances,' but let me tell you, High-speed, your woman has needs. 
She's been giving off all kinds of signals, if you know what I mean." He fell 
into an insolent, easy tone, I could feel the blood rise in my cheeks as I 
watched his smile start again - "But no, you wouldn't know, emasculated little 
wuss like you."

The door opened, and one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen walked in. 
She walked like she was on a runway, with a smooth rocking motion to show the 
form of her legs and the lift of her high heels. She was carrying a tray of 
drinks, and when she turned to set them on the low credenza, she bent low, and I 
saw even more of her smooth, sexy legs. My eyes were locked on her, there was a 
certain charge in the air, and even though I was sick with fear I felt desire 
stir, knowing that the feel of her against my body would comfort me. But she was 
his, I knew it. I watched her leave the same way she'd come in. When I looked 
back at Tuck, he was staring at me. I knew he never even glanced at her the 
whole time, even though the show was for him. He didn't need to, because his 
dick probably knew every sweet fold and crevice of her body. He was staring hard 
at me. A line had been crossed.

"It is a great country, isn't it?" He was toying with me now, enjoying the upper 
hand, the way a cat plays with a cornered mouse. "A guy can really make 
something of himself here. All you need is a set of balls, but then again, I 
guess you wouldn't know about that, either."

He rose and walked over to us, and stood over me. As I was sitting low in the 
sofa, he seemed like a giant glowering down at me. 

"C'mon, get up. What are you waiting for, boy? An invitation? Your lady, here, 
if you aren't careful, she'll be thinking you don't care about her. C'mon, get 
up and make me stop hitting on her!"

Tammy was watching me, watching with the same stare she had been wearing ever 
since we entered the office. All last night she had been quiet, letting me build 
myself up, talk big, even though she knew what I was getting myself into. A word 
from her would have made me hesitate, but no, she let me go on, let me talk 
myself into it. And then I knew what that look was. She was lying low, waiting, 
and ready for the winner.

"Spineless little punk, I'm gonna throw you outta my office." He reached down 
with his big hands and pulled me up off the couch by the collar. My heart was 
beating like a rabbit and I was fighting for breath. My feet were lifted off the 
floor, and he must have done this with one hand, because the other hand was 
drawn back in a fist. I could see the flash of his gold rings on thick wide 
knuckles. I couldn't look away because the rings had sharp points, jagged razor-
like edges, designed to tear up the face of a victim. I felt like I would throw 
up, and I began to feel dizzy with the stress and fear.

Tammy went up to him, put her hands on his big shoulders, and said, "Please 
don't hurt him." That's what I was reduced to. He threw me down on the couch 
like a sack of shit. My pants were wet. Tammy looked at the wet spot on my pants 
and I saw a momentary look of disgust, of revulsion, on her face. With a look 
like that, I knew she was gone. 

Tuck looked at Tammy, then looked down at me and said, "and you think you're 
going to tell me what I can and can't do?"

He walked over to her, and said softly, "Why are you wasting your time with this 
loser?" She had no answer. "You need a man to take care of you, protect you, not 
the other way around." He walked slowly, easily over to his desk, completely 
unconcerned that he was turning his back on me. He opened a desk drawer, and 
took out a long dark box, and then came up to her and said, "Here. This is for 
you." As she opened it, he was standing behind her, caressing her shoulders. I 
could see that his big hands had long, sensual fingers. 

She opened the box, and her mouth opened in a small "Oh," as she saw his gift. I 
could see the jewels in the necklace and a look of joy in her bright eyes. He 
drew it from her hand, and then, slowly, moved behind her, and with smooth, 
languorous, almost reverent movements draw it tight around her neck. "A fine 
lady needs to wear fine jewels."

It didn't matter that he probably had a drawer full of these things, ready to 
charm whatever piece of ass walked into his office. What mattered was that it 
probably cost two years of my pay, and she had never had anything so nice 
before, something to show her friends, a symbol of a man's devotion. As he 
closed it around her, he kissed her on the neck. She wasn't drawing away, just 
looking off into some distant, inner landscape. He kept planting small kisses 
all along the side of her neck. When he put his lips into her ear, and started 
whispering to her, she rested her head back against his shoulder.

She broke into a bright smile as she heard his whispers. One of her hands was 
absently feeling the necklace on her neck, and she reached back with the other 
hand and caressed the side of his face. The bitch!

It was as though I wasn't there anymore. He was moving on her like an expert, 
kissing her neck, and as he moved from her neck up her ear, her head tilted 
back, showing her pleasure. Then all of a sudden he reached into her dress and 
started squeezing her breasts. Biting softly on her ears, whispering. 

I could make out a few phrases: 

"...Make you feel real good..."

"...Deep inside..."

As he slid his hands down towards her crotch, "...feel that fine, soft pussy..." 
When his hands got there, she closed her eyes, and bit her lower lip. "...Want a 
real man to give you a baby?" her chest heaved.

She turned toward him and put both arms over his big shoulders. She stood high 
on her toes. She was whispering back to him now, and while she nuzzled her face 
against his cheek he was pawing her ass. She drew back and started to undo his 
tie. She turned and looked me straight in the eye. So bold, so hot she was. The 
smirk was gone; here was a woman who had found what she needed. For months I was 
trying to get her like this, trying to break through her reserve, and even 
though her creamy pussy didn't want me; the sight of her like this got me hot. 
His silk tie made a whistling sound as she pulled it off. When she undid all the 
buttons of his shirt, and spread it open to expose his torso, I could see the 
excitement on her beautiful face. His body was spectacular, all lean, tight 
muscle, chiseled like polished granite.

He took her hand and pushed it down in his pants, and I could see the interest 
on her face as she felt his big tool. I could see her hand moving inside his 
pants. I was stunned now, in shock from a sort of sensory overload. A part of me 
was trying to estimate how big his prick was, by inspecting the range of motion 
of her hands, and a part of me wanted to commit murder. She reached her other 
hand down, and opened his belt, and then got down on her knees to pull his pants 
down.

The man had reason to be proud. It wasn't even fully erect yet, but it was 
already much larger than any other dick I've seen, and very wide. My wife was 
kneeling now, just a foot or so from it, and I involuntarily wondered how much 
of it she could take.

"Suck my cock, baby," he whispered, and slowly, slowly she brought her lips 
closer to it. When she finally touched it, and started to draw the length of it 
inside her mouth, I felt an electric surge move through my body. The push of 
that big, thick Johnson into her mouth was hot stuff to watch. My cock surged 
against my wet pants, as I saw her lips stretching, watching her resist the 
impulse to gag as she took as much as she could in her throat.

She never did that for me. For months I was bringing her along slowly, 
respectfully, being careful not to sully her with my carnal needs. I knew now 
that I was a fool - what she really wanted was a man to take her without asking. 
She was going down eagerly, working like a coke whore on the biggest, meanest 
guy I had ever seen. He was getting the treatment, the silky lip, the soft 
tongue, the careful slow suck that is the wet dream of every man. Every few 
minutes she would slide him out of her mouth, and then lower her face so she 
could tickle first one ball, then the other, with her long, wet tongue. When she 
would do this I would hear him murmur, "You are one fine, sweet bitch." Then she 
would slide him back into her mouth, and then stare directly at me. My cock was 
burning, and my mind was spinning.

Once he drew her up, and then whispered something in her ear. I saw her nod, and 
he walked back over to me.

"Get your ass off my couch!" I got up sheepishly; my beautiful wife took her 
skirt and panties off and lay back on the couch, lifting her legs high and wide, 
exposing her wonderful cunt to us. But no, it wasn't to us, it was to him. He 
undressed, slowly, savoring his conquest, enjoying the opportunity for some more 
insults. "Here, hold these," handing me his pants and shirt.

I just stood there, unable to move, but not really wanting to anymore either. I 
wanted to watch it happen, I wanted to see him do Tammy. My excitement showed, 
Tuck noticed my hard cock inside my wet pants. "Tammy, get a load of that little 
thing there, all ready for action!" They both laughed, and as I stood there, 
holding his clothes, as he climbed on top of her.

I could see her face beneath his hard back and shoulders. She was all red, her 
lips were flushed with passion, and she stared up at him as she reached for his 
big thick cock and positioned it at her moist gate. He pushed the tip in, and he 
said, "C'mon girl, put your legs up over my shoulders."

>From my position I could see his ball sack and the long fat prick pushing down 
into her.

The air was electric. He started pushing in, and her face jumped, I could almost 
feel the sharp pain, "No, Tuck, go slow, you're hurting me!!!"

"Guess you ain't used to real meat, bitch. Man, you're tight as a teenager, you 
haven't really been broken in yet!"

He wasn't stopping; he continued to drive in, slowly, even though she was crying 
out in pain. It seemed like he was being deliberately slow, enjoying the feel of 
breaking her wide open. It seemed like an eternity, watching the length of his 
Johnson plunge into her, spreading her out underneath him, settling his body 
full on her wide open ass.

Finally, he was all the way in, and he stopped a moment and gave her a gentle 
kiss on her forehead. "There now, it only hurts because you aren't used to me, 
but you'll be OK, you're mine now."

She just looked over at me, glassy eyed. He held her tight by her shoulders; she 
was pinned under him as he started pumping. She was helpless, but it really 
didn't matter, because I could see she was over the edge, that sweet spot where 
the pain turns into surrender.

"Oh, Tuck!" Now she was digging it, enjoying the stab of his love tool deep down 
inside. Her mouth was pressed against his hard shoulder; she was giving him 
little love bites. "Oh, God, that feels good! Fuck, that big cock feels so 
good!!"

"Tammy, you are one sweet bitch! So nice and tight!"

Oh, I loved the sight of her, watching the way she gasped with every thrust, 
watching her being carried to the edge, hissing her pleasure like a wild animal. 
She was looking up at him, and I could see her cheeks were wet. They were tears 
of pleasure.

Tuck stopped for a moment, Just when she was ready, just at that moment when he 
knew she was right there, almost ready to explode inside, he stopped thrusting 
and looked at her. He knew just what to do, how to use this moment, this ache he 
aroused in her.

He looked into her crying eyes, and brought his face down within an inch of her, 
and gave her the sweetest, gentle little kiss on her lips, and whispered, "You 
like this, baby?"

"Y-y-y-yes," softly, like a prayer.

And he answered with a soft wet kiss. "You'll be my girl from now on? My 
property?"

"Y-y-y-yes," loving what she heard.

"You'll be my bitch?"

"Y-y-yes, I do, I want that."

I thought I'd burst from passion, I felt like I was witness to some dark, sinful 
intimacy. I loved it too, feeling a vicarious pleasure at the treatment the man 
was getting from her, watching the smooth way he played her. I started to rub 
myself as I listened, forgetting the humiliation, caught up in the sparks that 
flew between them.

"I like my bitches to always be there, in case my dick gets hard, and I need 
some sweet pussy."

"Oh, Jesus, I want to be the one you come to, oh, Christ, Tuck, I love feeling 
your big dick inside me!" He was hearing what he wanted, and he started moving 
again, slowly pulling and pushing that big thing inside her.

"I'm gonna shoot inside you, fill you full of me!"

"Oh, Tuck, I want your baby, oh you mean bastard, pump it deep inside me, I want 
your baby!!" She was coming; I saw a big smile of satisfaction on his face as 
she let loose. I came at the same time she did, loving the sight of the big man 
in action.

That was a long time ago. He now comes over to our house regularly. My job is to 
keep his son quiet, because Tuck gets pissed off if his cries disturb their 
lovemaking, and all I have to do is feel my dentures with my tongue to remind me 
of what he's like when he gets upset.

When he calls and says he's coming, I help Tammy get ready for him. I brush her 
hair, and help her put on the jewelry he's bought for her. I now give expert 
pedicures. I make sure dinner is almost ready when he arrives, the table is set, 
and the crystal is polished. When he arrives, I meet him at the door, wearing an 
apron.

When I bring them their drinks in the living room, she's already wrapped in his 
big arms. My abuse is now part of their foreplay, he loves to tease me and she 
loves to watch him do it. It is usually a long drawn out scene, he starts 
slowly, talking about how silly I look, and criticizing the way I keep "his" 
house. He'll ask Tammy if I've made any moves on her since he was there last. 
And even though I wouldn't dare, she always lies. She turns to him and whispers 
in his ear about some indiscretion I've committed. Whispers while she's looking 
right at me, and I see a little smug smile on her face. Tuck will smile too, 
almost laugh, he knows it's a lie, but it's his cue to get physical.

He gets up and grabs me, holding me with one hand while he bitch-slaps me with 
the other. He'll slap me until I cry, Tammy laying there all happy inside, her 
juices flowing at the sight of her man in action.

All night long I sit with his son, hovering nearby in case he wakes. But 
sometimes, when he's in a deep sleep, I slip away, and walk towards "our" 
bedroom. I wait outside and listen carefully, and some sick instinct in me makes 
me stroke myself as I listen to them. I can hear her deep breathing, and I 
imagine the scene in my mind, the bulk of him on top of her, and the shudder of 
pleasure on her face as the big man drives into her. She's not religious at all 
anymore; it seems all she wants is that big dick pushing into her, stretching 
the soft skin on her insides, filling her with his precious seed.

I love the mornings best of all. When I wheel their breakfast in, more often 
than not they're still at it. As I push the bedroom door open I can see her red 
nails on his ass, urging him deeper into her. Her hands urging him in, even 
through she screams like she's in pain. "Oh Christ, Tuck no!" He loves that, 
loves to feel like his woman can't take him. I know their games, I've heard 
every shout and gasp of their lovemaking, and I'm rock hard as I listen and pour 
their coffee.

Tuck has promised that one day soon he'll kill me. I know better than to beg.




