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 Envy ( For The Wild - wet?  - One ) Part 1

   By Videll Dais

   I didn't like my boss, Mathew Holt.  He was a jumped-up prick who got
where he was today only because it was handed to him on a plate by Mummy
and Daddy.  He'd never had to work a single day of his pathetic life to
attain any of the luxurious trappings that surrounded him.  Daddy Holt had
done all the work building a large, profitable property company and, when
he'd had enough and wanted to retire, he had simply handed the firm over to
little, portly, snot-nosed Mathew, along with a fat bank account, a nine
bed-roomed house, plus swimming pool, tennis courts, stables and fourteen
acres of prime English countryside.  Nothing wrong with that providing a
guy earns it, but Junior Holt never had the slightest idea how to earn
anything.  Top that off with a gorgeous, tall, red-headed wife and two
sweet little daughters and the fucker had just about double of everything
I'd ever wanted.  At forty-five, I'm twelve years older than Mathew Holt.
Been divorced close on twenty years.  Lost my house in the court
settlement. I now live in a rented mobile home on Holt land.  I'm the
foreman of the firm and I'm good at my job.  Damn good.  Anything needs
doing - anything - and I'm the man.  I started out with Daddy Holt soon
after I left the army.  I was there when Mathew was born.  Unlike the son,
I liked Daddy Holt.  He knew how to treat men and, more importantly, knew
how to manage and get the best out of them on the job.  I had a great deal
of respect for him.  Junior, on the other hand, never had a fucking clue
from day one and it always seemed to be me who picked up the pieces, did
all the carrying and nose-wiping and baby-sitting and God knows what else.
Over time, I guess I grew a little resentful of having to put up with so
much crap.  When Junior took over the company I almost left, but I get a
good wage, and at my age where would I go?  Who wants you at forty-five? 
Nobody - that's who.  So I had to bite my tongue, grit my teeth, and get on
with it.  Life goes on.  You cut yourself the best deal you can.  About a
month ago, working a new project, Junior turns up and calls me to one side.
"Hey, Ray," he says, all fake smiles and over-friendly smarm.  "Can I ask
you something?"

   I took a deep, calming breath.  "Morning Mathew.  Fire away." "I need
quite a few repairs done up at the house.  I was wondering if you would
mind carrying them out for me.  Just you ok?  I don't want any of these
other cowboys anywhere near my property." His attitude stank but then, he
never was out to win any popularity contests.  He explained what he wanted
done and had estimated a 2 to 3 week time-line from start to finish. 
Sounded cushy to me.  I agreed to do the work on condition he left me alone
and abided by my decisions.  "Ray, you are the boss on this one.  Do it as
you see fit.  You have the run of the house, ok?" There you go.  Cut the
best deal you can.  The following Monday morning I got up to the house
early.  I took a good look around.  I'd never been inside the building
before and was quite impressed with what I saw.  It had every mod con,
convenience and luxury built-in that anybody could ever want: Jacuzzi, gym
( which Junior never used, or sure ), playrooms for both kids, and more
bathrooms than I felt was really necessary but, hey, if you got it, flaunt
it.  My tour of the house and grounds led me to conclude that Mathew Holt
sure had his little corner of paradise thoroughly mapped and nailed down. I
was coming through the stables when I bumped into Mrs.  Holt grooming a
horse.  I'd previously only ever seen her from a distance and had thought
then how nice she looked, but up close she was stunning: tall, lithesome
without being too thin ( I could see who it was really used the gym ),
nice-sized breasts that were full and firm, and a perfect derriere that
would have had a saint drooling.  She had a thick mane of lustrous auburn
hair that fell in easy waves to below her shoulder blades and her eyes were
a clear, startling green.  Her skin was a flawless milk-white, her
complexion more that of a healthy young teenager than a woman who I guessed
to be around twenty-eight or thirty.  She was dressed in a pink blouse,
tight jeans that looked as if she'd been poured into them, and riding
boots. God, I wanted her.  I introduced myself.  "Mrs.  Holt?  Ray Dean,
company foreman.  As you're probably all ready aware, your husband has
asked me to carry out some repairs on and around the property." "Nice to
meet you, Mr.  Dean." Her long-fingered hand was dwarfed by my own and felt
as warm and delicate as a small bird.  Her smile was wistful and her gaze
slightly timid and indirect.  She appeared to be a very shy, quiet woman;
the complete opposite to her moron of a husband.  I wondered how Junior had
managed to lay himself such an exquisite catch and was filled with
gut-wrenching envy.  Lucky little fucker.  I told Mrs.  Holt that I'd do
the work as quickly as possible and with minimum inconvenience.  She was
more concerned that Easter was around the corner and the kids would be home
from school for a couple of weeks.  "I'll do my best to keep them out of
your way, Mr.  Dean." I told Mrs.  Holt I didn't mind children and not to
worry on my account.  After a few more pleasantries, we bid each other good
day.  She went back to her grooming and I went on to complete my inventory
of what needed doing.  For the rest of the day, though, I couldn't get her
out of my mind.  Junior was around but, true to his word, he stayed well
out of my face.  Later that afternoon, he introduced me to his daughters.
At ten, Alia was the oldest and a gorgeous pint-sized copy of her mother.
Leanne was just six and, though still a pretty kid, looked more like her
father.  Her eyes were big and blue, but didn't seem to be as focused as
they should be, and her mouth was a little too wide for her small features.
Her hair was long, but lacked the body of Alia's and her mother's and the
colouring was more blonde with just a hint of copper.  "I'm afraid Leanne
is somewhat dense," Junior Holt said, in his usual flat, unsubtle way. 
"We've got her in special needs classes at the moment.  She has all her
faculties.  Just has trouble stringing them together in a way that makes
sense to any of us.  A bit of a disappointment for me and her mother." A
bit?  As Junior lavished all this praise in front of his quietly listening
daughter, it crossed my mind that perhaps he was the very reason she needed
special classes at all.  Leanne looked up at him the whole time he was
speaking as though she were afraid of him, of something.  What a prize
arsehole.  Just for a moment, I felt a real urgent need to walk him out to
the stables and privately beat the shit out of him.  However, in the long
run, how he brought up his children was none of my business.  After the
introduction to the kids was over, I ordered up materials from our
different suppliers for delivery the following morning and that was me just
about wrapped for the day.  Before leaving, I went back in the house one
more time, ostensibly to check on some measurements I'd made earlier but,
in truth, hoping to catch one more glimpse of the desirable Mrs.  Holt.  It
seemed oddly quiet as I made my way upstairs to the loft area.  The house
had two wings, east and west, and the entrance to the loft was at the far
end of the east wing.  I casually strolled down the corridor, my footsteps
silenced by a carpet with pile almost as deep as Leonardo De Vinci's
thinking.  Passing a door that was partially open, I heard a sound that
stopped me in my tracks.  Furtively, I took a peep through the gap in the
door.  I couldn't believe what I saw.  On the far side of the room, Mathew
Holt was standing with his back to me.  In front of him, Mrs.  Holt was
bent almost double over a bench-type A-frame of steel that was about waist
high.  Her hands were tied to O-rings at the base on one side and her
ankles to the same at the base nearest me.  Apart from her pink blouse, she
was naked from the waist down, her shapely buttocks accentuated by the
angle she had been tied in.  Her flaming hair hid her face.  My first
instinct was rage.  I wanted to rush in there and sort that little prick
out, but I held back, breathing hard through my nose, mentally stilling the
pounding in my chest.  I had to find out what in hell was going on here
before deciding upon any course of action.  Junior appeared to be laying
down the law, too quietly at first for me to hear what was being said.  As
he went on, I could see him becoming more agitated and his voice got
louder. "You know the fucking rules, Alison.  You do not fraternise with
the hired help.  Ray Dean is here to work.  If he needs to know or want
anything else, anything at all, he deals only with me.  You have no good
goddamn reason on earth to speak to him about a single fucking thing.  Is
that clearly understood?" "Yes, sir." I barely heard Alison Holt's hesitant
reply, and couldn't believe that what I'd heard was right anyway.  Had she
really called him 'Sir'?  Was this bizarre scene being acted out simply
because I'd stopped to say hello this morning?  I couldn't take my eyes
from her luscious curves.  Her long, taut legs were spread wide and I could
clearly see every intimate detail of her plump, girlish sex.  The lips were
pale and smooth and neatly split, completely devoid of any pubic hair.  I
felt a pang of guilt spying on them, but was completely unable to tear
myself away.  My erection was fierce, almost painful.  "I would've thought,
after all the years we've been together, that you would have learned
something by now," Junior was saying.  As he spoke, he reached out and
leisurely ran his hand over his wife's raised arse.  I watched as he dug
his fingers deep in the fleshy crease and poked briefly at her
tight-looking anus, before running a finger casually down the neat
in-rolled cleft of her sex.  "You've got no fucking excuses whatsoever have
you?" Her reply was indistinguishable.  "That's right.  No fucking
excuses." Junior said, nodding enthusiastically.  Obviously enjoying
himself, he strutted around Alison's bound, helpless form like some
demented little Hitler.  "We both know where this is going, Alison.  It
remains only for us to decide how many you deserve.  What do you think? 
Stop burbling, woman.  Speak up." Though her voice sounded frail, a little
tearful maybe, I distinctly heard Alison's reply this time.  "Six, sir."
"Six?  You must be joking," Junior said, undoing his slacks.  Standing in
just a shirt and his boxers, he slid the leather belt from its loops and
threw the trousers onto a green chaise lounge.  Holding the belt at both
ends, he flexed it several times making the leather crack loudly.  "I was
thinking more like a fucking dozen.  After all, we have to take into
account a couple of over-riding factors.  One: You don't listen to me. 
Two: You interpret my rules as you see fit rather than by the book.  In
short, you've let me down again.  Not only that, you've let yourself down
also.  This has to be a fucking punishment, Alison.  I have to make a point
this time, a statement you won't easily forget.  How do you feel about a
dozen?" Alison made a sniffling noise, then quite clearly replied, "Yes,
sir.  A dozen seems fair." "I'm so glad we can agree on some fucking
thing," Junior said, standing behind and slightly to the left of his wife,
his...victim.  With his right hand, he raised the belt high and, quicker
than the eye could follow, slashed it down across the firm, milky globes of
Alison's bare bottom.  I flinched as the blow made loud, stinging contact
with her flawless flesh.  It was like a gunshot.  Alison emitted a low
groaning sound.  Avidly, I watched as two more blows quickly followed the
first.  Alison cried out, but not loudly.  Her legs and thighs began to
tremble which, in turn, made the taut cheeks of her superb bottom quiver
most fetchingly.  Junior went to the chaise lounge, put down the belt and
picked up a white silk scarf and what appeared to be a pair of woman's or
girl's panties.  He then leaned over Alison, took a handful of her auburn
mane and pulled her head up.  She moaned in protest as her husband roughly
stuffed the panties in her mouth and then used the silk scarf to both gag
and blind her.  When he was satisfied the gag and blindfold were properly
in place, he let her head drop back down.  Then he retrieved the belt. 
Watching all this had engorged my cock with hot, pounding blood, swiftly
brought it to a swollen, rigid mast of demanding lust.  I had no choice but
to free it from the tight confines of my jeans.  I unzipped and sighed with
relief as the bulbous, purple head sprang forth with all the zest and
eagerness of Jack from his box.  Jesus, it felt good.  I clasped the fat,
unbending stalk in my hand and gently wanked it as I returned my eye to the
action beyond the door.  "Just in case you've lost count, Alison, that's
six," Mathew 'Junior' Holt said, a gleeful timbre to his voice.  "I'm going
downstairs for a while to check the girls are ok and get them something to
eat.  You will remain here, as you are, until I return to finish your
punishment.  I don't know how long I'll be.  If you take my advice - and,
stupid bitch as you are, you probably won't - you'll use the time to
reflect on how you might avoid getting yourself into such predicaments as
this in the future." So taken by surprise was I at his game plan, Junior
almost caught me peeping.  I just managed to scuttle across the corridor
and duck through another door ( empty bathroom as luck would have it )
before he saw me.  My bone-hard erection quickly dwindled.  I watched until
he disappeared from view before returning to my spying spot.  On his way
out, Junior had securely closed the door.  I muttered a curse beneath my
breath then, as quietly as I could, tried the handle.  It opened.  Without
a sound, I slipped into the room and shut the door behind me.  There still,
in all her beautiful, helpless, bound glory, was Alison Holt.  What a
golden opportunity.  I crossed the room and stood where Junior had been
standing whilst wielding his belt.  The vision before me was one of
exquisite loveliness, an erotic ideal that I had never before contemplated
or encountered.  When I first entered the room I had no clear goal or
intent in mind, but seeing Alison bound, gagged, blindfolded, bereft of all
modesty and spread so invitingly helpless before me, left me with only one
possible path to follow.  My cock instantly throbbed back to a full, aching
mast of rigid, needy gristle.  My zipper was still undone.  I didn't know
how long I had, but one thing was for certain, I had no intentions of
wasting a minute.  "Mmm!" Alison moaned into the gag as I ran both my hands
lovingly up her legs and trembling thighs.  She felt so soft, her skin so
warm and smooth and, except for the half-dozen livid welts across her
round, arched buttocks, so unblemished.  I knelt close behind her and
breathed deeply of her scent.  She smelled clean, fresh, like a new spring
morning.  Without thinking, I closed my eyes and fastened my mouth over the
plump cushion of her girlish cunt lips.  My tongue eased between her labia,
dipped feverishly into the soft, pink insides of her cleft, lapped the
length of the bulging lips and ferreted in the wrinkled indentation of her
anus before slowly returning to the erect little nub of her clit.  If
there's one thing that I adore, it's licking cunt, especially cunt as
perfect as Alison's.  It was my way of paying homage to the beauty of the
female form.  Alison tried to raise her head, uttered some quiet mutterings
then sank back into complete submission.  "Mmm!  Mmm!" She whimpered with
each long stroke of my tongue.  I remained silent, concentrating solely on
slowly caressing shapely calf, firm thigh, that delicious arse and anywhere
else I could reach, whilst I licked and sucked and licked some more.  At
first, she was very tense, her muscles tight and cramped so I knew I had
some work to do.  Paying homage can take quite a while.  Eventually, I was
rewarded.  "Mmm!" Alison began to twitch.  The spasms rippled her thighs
and seemed to spread on up through her raised buttocks, hips and belly.  I
watched her crinkled anus rapidly opening and closing.  All the tension I'd
sensed in her earlier dissipated on the end of my tongue.  Her muscles
became loose and her cunt gaped deliciously, the juices glittering wetly in
the last of the afternoon light.  I stood up.  My cock was causing me
serious discomfort, throbbing with urgent need and drooling pre-cum.  I
could wait no longer.  I undone my jeans and pushed them along with my
underwear to my ankles.  I gently placed my hands on Alison's immobilised
hips.  She was at a perfect height for me.  All I had to do was lean
forwards.  My cock jumped with pleasure as it touched her soft, pouting,
dilated cunt lips.  I nudged forward a little further and watched intently
as the fat, bulbous helmet effortlessly pushed wide her moist labia and
slipped inside her.  Rocking my hips, I slowly gave her an inch at a time.
A moment later my swollen balls slapped against her bald pudenda and I was
as deep as it was possible to go in any cunt sheath.  "Mmm!" I groaned.  So
did Alison.  And this time it wasn't with any muffled protests.  I remained
still for a while, buried in her soft core, soaking up the sheer exquisite
sensations that coursed through me.  I've fucked some women in my time, but
none of them had gripped my cock to such velveteen perfection.  Alison's
moist innards rippled along my entire length.  I withdrew my cock to the
rim of the throbbing helmet, saw and felt her inner labia stretching and
clinging to the thick girth, rimmed her for a bit longer then slowly fed
the full length back in again.  God, I was in paradise.  What made it
doubly pleasurable was the fact that it wasn't even my paradise.  I was
poaching in Junior's private forest of delights.  I was raping his wife. 
Fired up to the point of no return, I began to fuck Alison with all the
brutal sincerity I could muster, repeatedly pumping my length to the bottom
of her wet cunt and out again.  When I came, I buried my cock deep and felt
the hot spurts of cum splash her twitching cervix.  It was possibly the
finest orgasm I'd ever experienced.  I stayed buried in Alison's cloying
innards until my cock went soft and slipped from her.  I tucked the beast
away and adjusted my clothing.  Before leaving her, I had to pay homage to
her beauty one more time.  I kissed Alison's curvaceous buttocks, licked up
the sweaty crease to her anus, gave it some tongue then quietly left the
room and made my way to the loft to complete my measurements.



   To be continued...



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