Story of the Week: H&R Cock Block

“Taxes, huh?” Xavier Shawman exclaimed as he opened up his briefcase.

Emily smiled, as if to commiserate. “Yes, taxes! This must be the busiest time of the year for you Mr. Shawman.”

Xavier held his hand up. “Please, call me Xavier. And yes, yes this is the busiest time. But that’s what you get when you become an accountant. Tax season!” Xavier laughed. Emily smiled politely.

“Well, Xavier, I’m glad you could make it. As you know my late husband’s estate was very… complicated.”

Yes, Xavier knew. Every tax man in town was clamoring to help the newly widowed Emily Fausterson. Her husband was rich. Very rich. And after Mr. Stanfeld Fausterson died at an unusually young age in a car wreck, more than accountants were knocking on the beautiful Emily Fausterson’s door. After a proper period of respectful mourning, that is.

Emily sighed and said, “I can still hardly believe Stan is gone. I suppose I’ll always feel like it just happened.”

Xavier nodded. “I know. It’s been a month. It takes some time.”

Emily bowed her head and continued, “I suppose it’s ok to feel like I should move on, right?” She tilted her piercing emerald eyes up at Xavier who tried to hide the blush that was creeping up his neck.

“Yes. Moving on, and time… taking time,” Xavier stammered as he nervously ruffled through pages on her parlor desk.

“It’s all so confusing.”

“I’m sure it is. When my mother died, I just felt so lost,” Xavier offered.

“No I mean, today. You’re here,” Emily gestured towards the stack of papers on her late husband’s desk. “But I also have another accountant who is interested in helping me out. I don’t quite know what to do.”

“Another accountant?”

A voice bellowed from down the hall.

“Why, hello Xavier.”

Xavier turned to find none other than Ron Figgston, the most famous accountant in town and Xavier’s arch rival  both professionally and romantically. The last serious relationship he was having with a woman a few months ago was going just swimmingly until Ron dove in, like a shark following the smell of fresh sweat. She left him for Ron. Then there was the time that Ron romanced Xavier’s sister Shelly… just to prove that he could. She was still picking up the pieces from that one. And then there was the time in grade school during a particularly vicious game of croquet…

“How’s the arm, champ?” Ron scoffed, laughing as he swept by Xavier and smacked his bum limb.

“So you two have met?” Emily inquired.

“Met?” Ron blurted out, “Why we’re practically brothers, right Xavier?” Ron placed a big arm firmly around Xavier’s shoulder.

Xavier felt a hot rush of blood consume his face. But he mustn’t lose his temper. Not yet…

“Right Ron!” Xavier returned the side hug, albeit awkwardly.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you guys getting along!” Emily clasped her hands together and grinned widely. “Because I don’t know what I’m going to do with two accountants. Unless you guys can prove to me that you work well together.”

“No can do amiga,” Ron said, shaking his head. “I’m a one client at a time kind of guy.” He winked at Xavier before continuing. “Looks like you’ll have to choose just one.”

Xavier swallowed, the lump in his throat growing. He must have Emily as a client! And perhaps as… a potential girlfriend. But how?

Emily piped up, “I have an idea. Why don’t you two first kiss and make up?”

Ron grinned at Xavier. “I’m game.”

Xavier nodded and said, “Me too.” As Xavier leaned in to give Ron a hug, he was shocked when Ron instead grabbed his face with his large, burly hands, and planted a soft kiss right on Xavier’s mouth. My God, Xavier thought as Ron’s lips consumed his, he now understood why all the townswomen desired him so. The man knew how to kiss. Xavier leaned his head to the side and let Ron’s mouth devour him, letting his fleshy tongue softly dance with Ron’s, ever so delicately.

“Hrm hrrrm…” Emily cleared her throat. Xavier was shocked to find her laid out on the red upholstered fainting couch, her fingers gently rubbing her love mound. She continued. “That was nice. Very nice. Now Xavier, why don’t you go ahead and let Ron do to your cock what he did with his mouth.”

Xavier was stunned. “Do you mean…”

“Absolutely!” Exclaimed Ron. And before Xavier knew it, Ron was enthusiastically on his knees, pulling Xavier’s pants down.

“Are you ok with that?” Emily asked coyly.

Surprisingly, Xavier was. And with every plunge Ron took on his plenipotentiary instrument, all Xavier could think about was what he could learn from Ron. Because while all of this was happening, Emily was bringing herself closer and closer to climax by just watching them. If that turned her on so much, maybe it was his turn to show her what he could do to Ron.

Xavier pushed Ron off of his rigid flesh, and got on his knees, now at Ron’s level. He grabbed Ron’s head and thrust his tongue deep in his mouth, to Emily’s great delight, before pushing Ron to the ground and unzipping his trousers. Ron gasped excitedly as Xavier wrapped his warm mouth on Ron’s iron-hard tumescence. Watching the two of them was too much to bear – Emily could hold back no longer and with a guttural moan she came hard, her back arched on the crushed velvet. She rolled off the couch and crawled over to the men, both of whom were too about to burst.

“Ron, Xavier, stop. Please.”

Xavier reluctantly pulled his head from Ron’s hardness, a bit of spit sliding down his chin. Ron in turn pulled himself up and demurely removed the finger he has managed to place in his asshole during their frolic.

“You both got me so excited, you made me finish too fast.” Emily sighed dramatically and continued, “And I don’t know who to hire yet, as my head is just in a tizzy.” She pulled herself back up and retired again to the couch, looking away suspensefully.

“Well,” Offered Xavier, “If you need us to come back say, tomorrow,” he glanced at Ron who nodded and continued, “I’d be… willing to show you what I’ve got.”

“And I,” Ron offered intently, “Can clear my calendar. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“May the best man win,” Xavier said, extending a hand to Ron.

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes, to find out who that is. Years, even. It might take that long.”

Emily shifted in her seat as she watched Ron and Xavier’s mutual gaze between them go on for about a minute before she interrupted the silence.

“You have until April 15th. I mean, that’s tax day so…” her voice trailed off.

Ron shot his hand up towards her, eyes still fixed on Xavier.

“Well then we may have to meet extra early tomorrow,” Ron offered. Xavier nodded.

Emily nodded too, but was pretty sure she wasn’t a part of their moment. No matter. She was still excited for tomorrow. Plus, there’s always TurboTax™.

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Story of the Week: The State of Their Union

“How the fuck am I supposed to bang all this out now,” Sylvia hissed as she threw a heap of papers onto her already cluttered desk.

She was alone, as usual, and was told to “figure it out” by her speech writing partner Hank, before he and the Senator’s aides went out for an extended lunch at Applebees. Writing the Senator’s response for tonight’s State of the Union address was daunting enough, let alone in English and Spanish, but by herself? Granted, her Spanish was decent – she had studied for several years in college back in Ohio and even spent a semester in Barcelona during her sophomore year, so she considered herself to be proficient enough. But what with the Pope resigning and North Korea’s nuclear weapons test, there was just too much to talk about. She needed some help. She needed a…

“I hear thomeone thay thomethingth about the banging…”

Sylvia’s heart jumped out of her chest when she heard the deep voice with a familiar Castilian accent. She slowly turned around, clutching at the pearls around her neck. It couldn’t be…

“Well hello, Thylvia.”

“Pablo.”

“It hath been tho long.”

Pablo. Pablo was the young busboy she had met when she was studying in Spain. They fell for each other immediately and, despite the slight age difference (she was 20, he 15), and social status (she rich, he poor), nothing mattered but the lessons he taught her in the ways of love. She remembered the last time she saw him, after she had skipped class to make love to him behind Gaudi’s La Sagrada Familia Basilica, how he looked into her eyes, placed his rough hand on her sweaty face and said, “Thome day, I will find you. Do not wait for me – your body needth to be pleathed by otherth. But jutht know, I will find you. And we will make love onth again.”

And now there he was. Pablo – looking absolutely dapper in a custom tailored suit; the knot on the tie creased to perfection. His hair was shorter and carefully slicked into place, a slight stubble on his soft dark face. And oh, those piercing green eyes.

“Pablo!” Sylvia could barely contain herself as she rushed into his open arms. “You’re back!”

“Thylvia. Yeth. I am only here for a few hourth. We mutht leave after the President thpeakths. But I must have a prethiouth moment with you.”

“What are you doing here?”

Pablo pointed to a pass clipped to his chest. Sylvia studied it – he was a high level chief of staff to a Spanish diplomat. That would explain why he only had a few hours. And oh, she would make it count.

Pablo gently pushed her golden hair from her face and leaned into her soft yielding lips when Sylvia suddenly pulled back.

“The speech!”

“The thpeech can go fuck itthelf, for no thpeech can fuck you like I can.”

Sylvia melted into Pablo’s arms and took his mouth voraciously with her lips. A warm, throbbing sensation rushed down to her loins and she remembered that no other lover had made her ache this way since Pablo.

Pablo smiled and gently lay Sylvia on the couch. She began to unbutton her top when he put a finger to her mouth.

“No. You will do nothing.”

Pablo stepped back and pulled his suit coat off. She could see his broad shoulder muscles barely restrained by his perfectly fitted shirt. And he made her watch, teasing her as he stripped all the way down to nothing. Sylvia could barely contain herself and placed her hand on her wet love mound, but Pablo stopped her.

“No. I will do everything.”

He knelt over her and kissed her everywhere, inching her clothes off bit by bit until she too was naked. Sylvia was about to explode as he lowered his head between her legs and did what he did best. After only a minute, Sylvia came so hard she saw stars on the inside of her clenched eyelids, trying her best not to scream with feral abandon. Pablo was now on top of her. She was so wet… she wanted him, all of him inside her. But he made her wait.

He traced his mouth along her earlobe, down to the nape of her neck and to her shoulders, kissing her tenderly. Sylvia ran her hands along his soft, strong back, aching for him to put all of his weight on her, and melt into her body. Finally Pablo pushed himself up for a moment and gazed into Sylvia’s chestnut eyes.

“I am going to make love to you now.”

“Oh, Pablo!”

Sylvia arched her back and squealed as Pablo grabbed her hips roughly and bore down into her, thrusting with his gigantic manhood. She could feel herself about to come again as Pablo’s rhythm got faster, and with a sudden, harsh groan, his magnificent body shuddered – releasing himself into her.

They lay there in silence. The sun was beginning to set in the evening sky. Pablo finally broke the silence.

“I have to be going. But I will be back again one day.”

“Pablo, I love you.”

“I love you, Thylvia.”

Hours had passed and Sylvia sat at her desk, playing back the afternoon in her head. She had somehow managed to finish the speech, although she had absolutely no idea if it was good or not. No matter. Because from now on, when she heard the words “immigration”, “drone strikes”, “North Korea” or “Bipartisan”, she would think of Pablo.