Felicity seemed to take everything in easy stride when it came to these assignments, but for Jason, some things still felt new. In theory, there was nothing weird about a woman wearing her husband's suit with the pants pooled down around her ankles. And he'd certainly watched cunnilingus in his day, although he generally preferred performing it. But you didn't see a boner, and a rather nice one, underneath an apron every day. It seemed a Susie Homemaker moment in a bass-ackward sort of way.
"I have an idea." Felicity punched the top of his arms. "Keep them busy. I'll be right back."
"Right...uh, how?"
She didn't answer because she'd already disappeared, carrying the duffel bag they'd brought. A door closed behind her, leaving him in charge.
He turned his attention back to Paula and John. John was doing his best both to feast on his wife while stroking his cock, but he didn't seem to be making a lot of progress. Paula still slumped back against her chair, her eyes closed, but by now, she ought to have progressed from breathing hard to making “I'm-going-to-come” noises.
John stopped eating her and glanced up into his wife's face. "Honey?"
Paula opened her eyes. "It's no use. I can't. I just can't."
Well, shit. Felicity had left him in charge, and things had gone sour already.
"Sure you can, Paula," he said. "John's doing a bang-up job. Just keep going."
"I can't have sex in front of an audience. I can't have sex dressed in the suit I picked up at the cleaner's today."
"Awww, honey," John said, his face falling.
Okay, this wasn't turning out right. If he didn't think of something soon, he would have his first utter failure at his job as sidekick to the Avenger of the Non-Orgasmic. And speaking of Wonderslut, where was she when you needed her?
"Zoot alors." The door Felicity had closed behind her had flung open, and she stood on the threshold. Genius. Pure genius. She'd put on the naughty French maid costume. The crotchless naughty French maid costume. “Let zee orgasms begin.”
Paula groaned. "You don't mean me, I hope."
"But of course. You will achieve, or how they say arrive. I guarantee." Felicity did her magic thingie with her hands, casting the Slutray in Paula's direction. It had the usual effect. Paula flushed a deep red, and she tugged frantically at her, or rather John's, tie and then nearly popped the buttons of his shirt to bare her chest.
"You know, that might not be half bad." Paula struggled for breath, her breasts rising and falling. "John, dear, would you mind? That thing you were doing..."
"You're the husband, non?" Felicity said. "Order him."
"Yes, honey, order me," John fairly chirped.
“Do it,” Paula said, almost forcefully for an order. “I’m the king of this castle, right?”
"Always the master," Jason whispered.
"Watch how it's done, kid," she answered.
"Now then, madame." Felicity flourished her feather duster in John's direction. "Do what your hardworking husband orders, and you'll receive your reward."
"You bet." John eased Paula's thighs apart and pressed his face against her pussy. Soon, Paula was making all the right noises, the rising inflection of her gasps telling the story. John had found her sweet spot, and he was giving it the once over and twice over and on and on and on.
"Want to get in on the fun?" Felicity asked.
"It looks as if they're doing well on their own."
"I only fixed her temporarily. She needs more than a dose of the Slutray, she needs a major attitude adjustment, and you and I are going to give it to her." She shoved the duffel bag into his arms. "Select a costume and get to work."
If the boss wanted him to create some fun, who was he to argue? Besides, Felicity looked as cute as all hell in that costume. If he played his cards right, he might get to sample some of her French booty. Zoot alors, indeed.
He ducked behind the door she'd used and found himself in a combination laundry room and storage area. He sorted through the stuff in the duffel, tossing aside sequins and sashes, feathers and leather. At the bottom, he found ordinary slacks, sneakers, and a polo shirt. That didn't make a lot of sense until his hand landed on a cardboard box. A pizza box. He could play the delivery guy -- the poor schmuck with the large pepperoni in his hands and major wood in his pants.
He slipped out of his Piston unitard and got into his costume. Felicity hadn't packed any shorts, so he'd have to go commando. The denim rubbed against his cock, and that and his imagination soon gave him a pretty nice erection. It'd get better and soon.
He gave the door a few firm knocks. "Pizza."
Felicity opened the door, although it swung toward him rather than away as a front door would. You had to work with what you were given. The show must go on.
"Madame, monsieur," she called over her shoulder. "Zee pizza, she has arrived."
Paula chose that exact moment to let loose with a scream that told anyone who happened to be listening within the zip code that she'd arrived, too. The Slutray would do that for you.
"It looks as if she's already been served," Jason said.
"He," Felicity corrected. "He's the husband. The wife is standing over there."
John, "the wife" was standing next to the kitchen table now, his cock acting like a tent pole under his apron. Paula had returned to her senses and was now the deep, deep pink of embarrassment. Clearly, Wonderslut and the Piston had more to accomplish here, and honestly, his own Mr. Happy wouldn't mind a little work-out.
He held up the pizza box. "Where should I put this?"
Felicity pointed at the outline of his cock behind the denim. "More importantlee, where should you put that, mon ami?"
"I aim to please," he said.
"Now, monsieur." Felicity went to Paula and knelt before her. "I can serve you as your dear wife has done, or you may indulge yourself with this fine, young man who's brought your pizza."
Paula glanced at the front of Jason's pants out of the corners of her eyes. Though the Slutray might have worn off after that loud orgasm, she still showed a great deal of interest in what she saw. Short or tall, old or young, adventurous or stifled, as Paula obviously was, Jason had to admit that all women took to his Piston like macaroni did to cheese. Felicity always told him it was the combination of hung-like-a-horse, eager-beaver, and gosh-golly innocent good looks. Paula stared for a minute before crossing her arms over her chest. "But, he's a man."
“Well, yeah...that is, mais oui," Felicity answered.
"And I'm supposed to be the husband," Paula said. "How's that supposed to work?"
"Eeez simple." She turned toward John. "Say, do you mind if I drop the accent?"
"Do I still get to lust after you?" John asked.
"If things work out the way I think they will, you'll get to do a lot more than that," Felicity said.
"In that case, you can speak Martian," John said.
"Look, Paula." Felicity put her hands on Paula's knees and looked up in her face, just brimming with empathy and sincerity. She's used exactly that look on Jason more than once. It always worked, even when he saw right through it.
"Look at the three of us," Felicity went on. "All of us are here to make sure you have the best sexual experience of your life."
"We are, honey," John added.
"You two as well?" Paula glanced from Felicity to Jason.
"Exactly," Felicity answered. "That's what we do. It's our mission. Our raison d'être."
"We put the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional,'" Jason tossed in.
Felicity glared at him over her shoulder. Paula and John looked at him as if he had, indeed, started speaking a language from another planet. He just stood there and gave them a gosh-golly smile.
After another few seconds of awkward silence, Felicity returned her attention to Paula. "Your husband loves you very much."
"I do, honey," John added obediently.
"If you loosen up a bit, you can experience something new, something exciting, something je ne sais quoi." Felicity took a breath. "Dammit all. You know what I mean."
"You mean, I should let myself go and really experience life?" Paula asked. "I should get over my inhibitions and let it all hang loose? I should forget all the things my mother told me about sex?"
"Especially that last part," John said.
Paula lifted her chin and threw back her shoulders like a warrior about to enter battle. "I'll do it."
"Okay, husband, tell us exactly what you want," Felicity ordered.
Paula rose and pointed at Jason. "I want him to f-f-f-f-"
"Fuck you," Felicity said. "Say it. 'I want the pizza guy to fuck me.'"
"I want the pizza guy to bend me over the kitchen table and fuck me," Paula declared.
Jason tossed aside the pizza box. "I'm here to deliver."
Paula almost tripped in her haste to get her ankles out of the pants of her husband's suit, but as soon as she'd managed, she leaned over the table and spread her legs. So much for him doing the bending.
With her in that position, he had a clear view of her pussy, and it was truly adorable. Sweet lips all plump and soft and begging for attention. Before his cock burst the front of his slacks, he unzipped them and pulled his member out. When he got to the table, he dropped trou completely, and his pants hung down around his ankles the same way Paula's had a few minutes ago.
She was wet and ready for him, so he slid into her easily and began thrusting in even strokes. No matter how many missions he went on, he never tired of a good, slow fuck. Every woman had her own secrets, and discovering them made her a landscape of delicious mysteries. Paula's muscles gripped him, as though she couldn't get enough, and her breathing went all ragged and loud. A highly aroused woman. She had to have conquered her inhibitions at least a little to allow a stranger to take her in front of her own husband.
He could make it sweeter for her, though, and this position gave him easy access to her on button. He had to stop thrusting for a moment to pull her back toward him and bend to wrap his arm around her waist. His hand encountered her pussy hairs wet enough to soak his fingers, and when he parted the lips, her clit nearly sprang out at him. It was as hard as his cock, and as he stroked it, her muscles clamped down onto him and her hips did a shimmy as if she couldn't hold still. He knew the feeling.
"Hot damn," she said. "That is so fucking good."
"Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah," he said. Not exactly profound, but his brain's areas of higher thought had tuned out about the time he'd realized how wet she'd become. In fact, he'd approached the point of no return and had better make her come first.
"Don't stop," she cried. "I'll die if you stop."
Technically, she'd suffer a small death if he continued, but why in hell was he still thinking in French? His body had taken over, and he shoved himself into her harder. Still, he managed to keep manipulating her clit, rolling and tweaking.
"Yes, yes, yessssssssss!" She screamed as her pussy went wild around his cock. The unmistakable sensations of a woman having a damned fine climax. He didn't have to hold back any longer, so as his own orgasm coiled and broke free, he made the last few massive thrusts and grunted as he came in wave after wave. Holy shit, it was good. Nearly taking the top of his head off. The ecstasy went on for bone-rattling seconds before he nearly collapsed, bending over her body, moaning.
Nice job, if you could get it, and somehow he'd managed.
What have Wonderslut and John been doing while Jason shtupped Paula? Has Jason freed Paula of her inhibitions? Is the meatloaf burning in the oven?
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