Funeral in the City

"Jesus, Sly! What the fuck??"

I was completely taken by surprise. I had rounded the corner of a leafy path on my morning jog when I spotted my agent Sly sitting casually on a bench as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. It isn't. First of all, Sly is never up at this hour, and secondly, I would never associate him with nature, even the tame nature of Central Park. He's much more at home on concrete.

I stopped short, breathing hard from my run.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

He didn't answer immediately. I watched his eyes track up my long legs with professional appraisal. They lingered on my short shorts and my bare flat midriff and then cooly took in my gently heaving breasts, more or less confined in my brief jogging bra. With my abrupt stop my long blonde ponytail, which had been swaying like its namesake with my running, had been carried over my shoulder and now cascaded down over my left breast, accentuating the swelling and moving with my heavy breathing. When his gaze lingered on my bosom and began to become something other than professional, I decided it was time to tap the brakes. I mean, I enjoy being ogled as much as the next girl, but Sly and I have worked pretty hard to keep our relationship professional with only a few minor lapses of judgement.

"I said, what are you doing here?"

Sly was dressed in the tailored suit I had bought with him a few weeks ago as we celebrated the financial success of our one-year anniversary as a partnership. It's the first suit he's ever owned, and, not that the big guy would ever admit it, he gets a kick out of wearing it, even in the park. Makes him feel professional, he says.

Like I said, he's my agent. We sell sex. Well, to be exact, we sell me. Does that surprise you? It would if you'd known me little more than a year ago: a graduating senior (English major, no less) at a high-class upstate college, raised by an upper-crust conservative Connecticut family, ready to take my place working for a prestigious law firm in the city. But then I met Sly on a wild weekend that ended in him blackmailing me into having sex with him and some of his friends. Along the way we both discovered that I was very good at it and that I liked it. Sly's no dummy and had been in the sex business before and recognized a good thing when he saw it. The rest is history, as they say. Hey look, if you find that you've got a talent for playing the piano and you like playing the piano and a professional tells you you're good at it and you find that people will pay good money to listen to you play, what would you do?

Eventually he finished his appraisal and smiled.

"Takin' in the view, that's what," he said with a smug grin. "There's some great tail as comes by here. Ya gotta love the city."

I stood in front of him, my breathing slowly returning to normal. He watched my breasts rise and fall.

"Bullshit. You're here for a reason. You have something in mind for me, don't you. You couldn't call me?"

"Easy, Princess. Take it easy. Siddown and relax for a minute, hunh? Yeah, I could've called, but you been talking about this jogging stuff, so I wanted to see for myself."

In Sly's world, i. e., the rough streets of the city where he pretty much raised himself, nobody he knew would ever consider getting out and running around for fun. Running from the cops, maybe, but for fun? It was a completely alien concept for him, one that was a part of my world, a world he considered silly, privileged, and useless except as a source of money. He's had to overcome a lot of prejudice to reach the point where he not only accepts but even respects me as a person and as an equal partner, not just property like his previous women. 'Princess' is a leftover from his initial mockery, but now it's just a name. I kind of like it.

I sat down on the bench next to him, crossed my legs, and waited.

He was quiet for a while. He leaned back, studiously casual.

"Y'know, Princess, this is kinda nice. We oughta do this more often."

Oh-oh.

Contrary to what he thinks, subtlety is not one of Sly's strengths, so I knew this bit of misdirection was going somewhere. I expected this to be a good one, to get Sly so far out of his groove. And now this roundabout approach.

Sly is amazing as an agent. I'm often surprised by the clients he finds for me. Where he finds them is a mystery to me. I can't picture him travelling in the circles the high-paying ones come from. He claims that it's all via some arcane network of guys telling guys telling guys and eventually they hear about us, or he hears about one of them who's looking for the service we can provide. Whatever. As long as he finds interesting ones and screens them and protects me. That, he does well. Suit or no suit, he's a big, intimidating figure and he lets clients know in no uncertain terms that they'd best treat me with respect, or else. They listen.

He got serious.

"You're gonna accompany a client to a funeral."

My eyebrows disappeared into my hairline. "What?? You gotta be kidding. A funeral? No way. And anyway, why me and what's it got to do with sex?"

He could tell by my tone at the end of the sentence that I had gotten over the initial shock and was curious. Sly knows me all too well.

"Listen, Princess. You know about rich guys, right? Rich guys, they don't gotta do anything they don't wanna do, right? Well, this guy's gotta go to a funeral, and he don't wanna do it. Says he hates funerals. Depresses the crap outa him. But he can't get outa this one, no how. His job's involved. So, he wants you along so's he can use you to take his mind off what he's gotta do. Says he can watch you and think about what you and he'll do afterward so he don't hafta think about the stiff and the whole depressin' scene. Capiche? And he's willin' to pay."

"Jesus, Sly, you do find the weird ones, don't you. Hell, I don't like funerals either. The money better be pretty good."

He told me. It was. I grimaced and said yes.

Besides, the job appealed to my taste for adventure and for the unusual, which I'm certain Sly had already considered before he broached the idea to me.

****

The job clearly called for a black dress with a matching hat and veil. I judged my little black cocktail dress rather too short and too low-cut for the occasion, so I went shopping. I do love shopping on some client's dime; it's like an unlimited expense account. It's a nice perk of my profession.

With some care, a conservative black dress along with black stockings and high heels can be pretty sexy in a subtle way if that's what you're aiming for, and you know where to shop. I do.

****

The client, his name was Carl, was in his mid-forties and quite well dressed. When he picked me up at a mid-town hotel, he explained that the dead guy was a partner in his law firm and that despite his distaste for funerals, Carl, as a senior partner, was required to go. He looked me over carefully and smiled.

"Well, your agent sure wasn't kidding. You'd take any guy's mind off his problems. Look, I want you close to me tonight. I want to be able to look at you and think about what we're going to do once we get out of there. I've booked a hotel room near the funeral parlor, and I intend to take you there afterwards and fuck your brains out. You okay with that?"

I sat back in the seat of the cab and crossed my nylon-clad legs, letting my skirt ride up invitingly.

"Sure. That's what I'm here for. I'm yours for the night, Carl. I want you to spend your time at the funeral thinking about all the things you want to do with me or that you want me to do for you. I'll be looking forward to seeing how creative you can be."

I suppose you've been to a funeral or two, so I needn't go into details. Carl introduced me as his niece who happened to be visiting the city and had kindly offered emotional support in his time of need. If anyone noticed the distinctly 'un-niece-ly' way Carl looked at me from time to time, no-one said anything to him or to me, at least not then. Benefits of being a senior partner, I suppose. There was quite a crowd, all the guys in dark suits and the women in black. Some of the younger women looked damned good in their dresses and heels. I suspect Carl wasn't the only guy there who was not thinking appropriate thoughts about the transience of life. There was the usual conversation about how Larry, the dead guy, was missed, what a good guy he'd been, what a shame for his wife, how natural he looked in the coffin, etc., etc. Of course I overheard snippets of conversation about business, too. These people were professionals and weren't about to let a good opportunity for schmoozing go to waste.

I stayed close to Carl as I was supposed to do, often 'accidentally' brushing against him with a hip or breast and occasionally holding hands with him to keep his mind occupied where we both wanted it occupied. Hell, I even went with him to stand in silence over the casket. Jesus! But I am after all a professional, so I put on the appropriate expression and kept it even though I could feel Carl's 'avuncular' hand on my waist slip down a few inches onto the curve of my behind to very discretely grab a little ass.

Eventually it was over. All the good thoughts had been expressed and condolences offered. The head of the firm offered a brief homily about what a great employee and all-around nice guy the deceased had been and how much we'd all miss his charm and his smile, and then the crowd thinned out. I metaphorically patted myself on the back for having survived. Sly was going to hear about this one.

Carl escorted me to the hotel, which was just a couple of blocks over from the funeral home. He picked up his key at the desk and we rode the elevator up to his floor.

I'll give him this, it was a really nice hotel. The room was quite elegant and nicely furnished. However, Carl didn't give me a lot of time to admire the decor. No sooner had the door latched behind us than I was in his arms, with his hands avidly exploring my body. Actually, it felt good. I needed to get my mind off the funeral too.

I helped him off with his jacket, and I undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He slipped it off. He wasn't wearing an undershirt. He looked surprisingly good stripped to the waist. Not what I'd pictured for a lawyer! Oh, sorry if that sounds a bit prejudiced, but you don't know the guys I work with at my day job at the law firm where I'm a copy editor.

"You were great tonight," he said. "I was impressed. But what I've been waiting for is to see you the way I've been imagining you all night. Naked and in bed. C'mere."

I stepped close to him and reached my mouth up for a kiss. He responded passionately, and I felt his fingers fumble on the zipper of my black dress. In a second it was off and lying around my high-heeled feet on the floor. He stepped back for a moment to take in the sights. His gaze swept up from my high-heeled feet, along my dark-stockinged legs, passed over my panties, lingered on my barely confined breasts in my black lace bra, briefly touched on my face and hair and then returned to my breasts. I can take a hint. I reached behind my back and undid my bra, letting it slowly fall forward and off, my arms pressing my breasts from the sides, enhancing my cleavage. His eyes remained riveted on my breasts. I took him by the hand and led him over to the large and plush bed.

I sat down facing him and languorously took off my heels and rolled down my dark stockings, making sure to stretch and caress each leg as I did. His eyes followed my every move. Now clad only in panties I addressed myself to Carl and the growing bulge in his pants.

I smiled up at him and then undid his belt, followed by his waist button, and unzipped his fly. I eased his pants down and helped him step out of them along with his tasseled loafers.

That bulge that I had admired before now tented his shorts in an impressive way. Carefully, I grasped the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down, lifting the elastic over his erect cock. Wow. He was very well endowed! His large cock, unsupported now, jutted out at a jaunty angle on a level with my eyes. My lips automatically pouted, and I felt an irresistible urge to kiss that great instrument, but I couldn't help but wonder that if I encouraged him, how much of that marvelous organ I could take in my mouth.

Carl settled the issue. He cupped my chin and advanced on me.

"You sweet, sexy doll," he said, "I'm gonna fuck that lovely mouth of yours. I've been watching it all night long, looking at your soft red lips, thinking how great it'd be to bury my cock in it. Now I'm gonna find out. Open up, baby, here comes Pappa." At that he used his fingers to spread a coating of lubricating pre-cum over the tip of his cock.

Gathering my courage, I licked my lips and parted them seductively. He advanced and his cock pushed into me, easily spreading my lips, sliding on the lubrication of his pre-cum and my saliva. I opened wider and that big cockhead passed over my teeth and slid along my tongue. With the head safely through, I closed my lips on the shaft. Yes, it was a bit of a stretch, but I got my lips around his lovely penis. Once several inches were inside my mouth, weighing pleasantly heavily on my tongue, all warm and pulsing with life, it actually felt pretty good. I moaned a little to encourage him. This was looking good!

He began to stroke me then, his cock moving in and out a few inches at a time, sliding easily back and forth on the lubricated cushion of my tongue, with the head never leaving my mouth. I loved the wet sounds we were making.

I was really getting into this now, my own head moving in rhythm with his pelvis. My cheeks puffed out and hollowed. I could feel the big vein on the underside of his cock pulsing on my lower lip and tongue. He put his hands on either side of my head to steady me. He sighed with pleasure as he stroked.

"Oh god, you feel so good," he said, almost dreamily.

He gasped as I sucked him and massaged him with my tongue. Now that I had the measure of him and knew I was okay I could concentrate on my skill set to bring him to a climax.

It didn't take long, even though he tried to prolong it by slowing down and occasionally stopping in my mouth. But I could tell by the tension in his hands that he was inexorably moving toward the inevitable end. Soon his breathing became erratic, and his in and out probing of my mouth became less smooth. I could feel that great big cock swell and harden and get heavier as blood flowed into it. I sucked on him hard and swirled my tongue around his cockhead and probed into the slit at the tip. My breasts swelled and my pussy moistened as I anticipated the onset of his orgasm and his sweet sperm spurting into my welcoming mouth.

Abruptly he tensed up and stopped pumping me. I could feel his testicles rising up as they got ready to deliver his load. Then he let out a loud groan and came into me.

Oh my god, it wasn't any typical little spurt followed by progressively larger ones. Instead, he let loose with amazing force and volume from the onset. It was like a firehose turning on and off. My eyes, which had been closed, popped open in awe tinged just a bit with fear. His powerful stream forced its way down my throat, and I had all I could do to keep from gagging. Once he really got going, he launched thick stream after thick stream of hot semen into the recesses of my mouth. I swallowed desperately, trying to keep from drowning in his amazing load.

Like all females, I'm biologically hard-wired to be impressed by a man's load, but this was almost too much. I hung on to his hips for dear life as he emptied his sperm-laden balls through that massive pulsating cock into my mouth and down my throat, pulse after pulse, almost in a continuous stream at times. It took all my professional skills to keep up with him. My mouth was full of his taste, my nose was full of his excited male smell, and my stomach was warm with the growing weight of his semen. Very sexy, once I grew accustomed to his performance.

Eventually, though, he ran out of supplies. His wildly pulsating cock slowed, and the force and volume of subsequent ejaculations diminished, and eventually his exhausted instrument lay still, resting peacefully on my semen-coated tongue, gently extruding his last few drops into the viscid pearly pool in my mouth.

"Jesus, Vicki," he said between breaths, "That was simply amazing. I can't believe you took it all! It was so sexy, so satisfying. God, I could have gone on forever."

I let him rest in my mouth for a few minutes as his breathing slowed. I needed the time myself to get over the stress of dealing with his remarkable discharge and allow myself to accept what I had accomplished in coping with it. I was suffused with pleasure, pleased with myself and allowing myself to simply enjoy the feeling of his cock in my mouth and the pool of semen in my belly. Damn, that had been good!

Eventually he slowly and reluctantly withdrew. His cock slipped from my lips and slowly drooped between his legs. A lingering shiny strand of his cum linked it to my lips for a moment before it parted, half of it falling over my chin and onto my breasts. I looked up at him, smiled through semen-coated lips, and made a show of swallowing the last of his load.

"So, was it all you had imagined?" I said. "Did I manage to take your mind off your problems?"

He looked down at me, sitting naked on the bed before him, my lips glistening with his sperm, my legs slightly spread, a few drops of escaped semen wetting my breasts.

"God in heaven, Vicki, you are unbelievable. What an incredible body. Just soft enough and rounded in all the right places. Absolutely perfectly made for fucking." He hesitated for a moment, his eyes sweeping over my body, coming to rest on the dark shadow between my legs. His eyes narrowed. I knew that look.

"Well then," I said, smiling, "let's not waste it."

"Lie back," he commanded. "Let's get those panties off. We're not done yet. Seems I just can't get enough of your wonderful body."

Fine by me. I wasn't going to complain about another session with that big cock of his. I wondered how much he had left in the tank after our last encounter, but I figured I was about to find out. I love a good mystery. I inched up on the bed and lay back. I helped him pull my damp panties down and over my feet. I spread my legs seductively and reached up with my arms to invite him in. I watched his cock stiffen again. It looked particularly good to me, glistening in the light, still coated with my saliva and his semen.

He climbed up on the bed with his knees between my spread legs. He braced himself with his hands on my breasts. He leaned forward and I felt the warm tip of his cock press against my labia. I moaned a bit to encourage him. Between his own sperm, my saliva, and my wet vagina, he slid effortlessly into me. His big cock stretched me delightfully.

He continued to press down on me, slowly forcing his way into me until our pelvises met. He gave a heartfelt sigh of pleasure and began slowly to pump me. Oh lord, it felt good. My hips began undulating as they rose up to meet his downward thrusts. My pussy lips were stretched tightly around his thick shaft, tightly enough that the contoured surface of his cock rubbed my sensitive clit. I felt that marvelous fire ignite in my loins and begin to spread.

No stopping now. But I needed him to cum in me to maximize the experience for both of us, so I massaged him with my perineal muscles and pulled his head down and kissed him deeply.

That did it. He groaned, and I felt his cock inside me begin to pulse and throb, and in seconds I felt his warm sperm shoot into me. Okay, it wasn't the spectacular discharge of before, but it was good enough to set me off.

I moaned aloud and came, hard, my thighs quivering. I shook all over. He kept cumming in me and I kept gasping and moaning and thrashing about, holding on to him like a drowning person with a life preserver. I wanted it never to end.

Finally, it was over. I felt the last spurt inside me. Totally spent, I lay bonelessly on the bed while his cock leaked out the last drops deep inside me. He gave a deep sigh and collapsed onto me, just managing to keep his weight off me with his elbows on the bed.

At last, he rolled off me and we lay side by side, panting from our exertions, blissfully happy.

"Oh my god," he finally managed to get out, "That was beyond spectacular. How am I ever going to get back to reality."

"You and me both," I said. "I'm gonna have a smile on my face for days."

Sometimes I can't believe they pay me for this!