Castaways
   By
Dafney Cecil Dewitt
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Copyright 1993, by the author.  All rights reserved.
Any reproduction of this work outside the confines
of the usenet news group, alt.sex.stories, without
the explicit permission of the author is prohibited.
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This is a story for ecology freaks.  It shows
what  might go wrong if environmental ethics
were allowed to creep into our sex lives.

Which do you prefer, paper or plastic?

"The advantage of credit cards over money is
that they can be used over and over again."
 - Anonymous
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When Jennifer Sacks was paged by the vice president
of Retro-Recyclers, Ltd., during the Thanksgiving Party,
she thought he wanted sex.

Jennifer was wrong.  It was strictly business.

"It's over." Bart Fuller told her.
"Just like that?" Jennifer asked with hurt filling her voice.
"Would you rather go down on your knees one last time?"
"You bastard!  Who's replacing me?"
"Donna Lays, my new executive secretary."

Furious at him and angry with herself for thinking her
office affair would last forever, Jennifer turned to leave.
She felt empty inside.  He had consumed the best years
of her life like a cheap bottle of wine, and now he was
dumping her.  He was as cold and efficient in his extra-
marital  affairs as he was in managing his wife's business.

"Wait! Don't leave!" Bart shouted.

With her back to him, Jennifer's heart held a flicker of hope.
Maybe the flame of love would re-ignite in an unexpected
burst of passion.  She turned around.  Bart held out a white
envelope.  With trembling fingers, she tore the it open.  Inside
was a brand new $100 bill.  Jennifer felt her face burn with
shame and anger.

"So this is what you thought of me?"
"Yeah, you were a cheap date," said Bart smiling.

On the verge of tears, Jennifer turned to leave.  She refused
to give the bastard the pleasure of watching her cry.  Giving
her the money, was Bart's way of telling her not to go.  He
wanted to prolong the good-bye.  He wanted to see her suffer.
It was beyond cruel.  He had used her, and now he wanted
to abuse her.  Jennifer refused to let him watch her cry.  Sick
with anger, trembling inside, she fled the room.

In the women's rest room, Jennifer's tears turned to ice. When
she stopped crying, she found herself staring at the recycling
company logo. The bright red decals were on all the rest room
doors, a red triangle with three green arrows pointing in a
counterclockwise direction.  She wondered why the logo
was a triangle and not a circle.  She wondered why the arrows
went in a counter clockwise direction.  She refused to accept
being dumped.  She rebelled at the idea of being treated like
a piece of trash.

Jennifer vowed revenge.

She reigned in her emotions.  A direct approach would not
work.  Kicking her boss, Bart Fuller in the balls would be
extremely satisfying, but would result in her being fired
which she could not afford.  She would have to be indirect.
Maybe, she could apply re-cycling to her sex life.  If moving
forward was impossible, she could go in reverse just like the
arrows on the re-cycling logo.  She could not kick Bart in
the groin, but she might be able to reverse the blow.   Mrs.
Fuller was the major stockholder and true owner of Retro-
Recycler's.  Her husband, Bart was only the acting vice-
president.  His position, money, and status were all gained
through the good graces of his wealthy wife.

Standing behind a large orange pumpkin, Jennifer Sacks
stared with undisguised rancor at Donna Lays, Bart's new
executive secretary.  The true focus of her hatred was
missing from the Thanksgiving Office party.  A few minutes
later, Bart Fuller and his wife Lana walked into the room.
Jennifer did not want to hurt Donna Lays.  She even felt
sympathy for Bart's newest conquest knowing how he
would use and discard her.  She wanted to hurt Bart.  She
wanted to hurt him bad, but she needed a plan.

Jennifer watched as Donna discretely slipped out the door
when Mrs. Fuller appeared.  About five minutes later, Bart's
pager went off.  He feigned irritation, gave apologies to his
wife, and followed Donna Lays like a dog in heat.

Jennifer welcomed Mrs. Fuller.

"Hi, I'm Jennifer.  Your husband's ex-secretary."
"Are you enjoying the party?"
"Yes, I just love the decorations."

Talking with Mrs. Fuller was much easier then Jennifer imagined.
With a sweep of her hand, Mrs. Fuller noted with pride that all
of the paper decorations were created from re-cycled materials.
The huge orange pumpkins, the plates, the cups, and even the
plastic punch bowl were all made from re-cycled products.  Her
eyes gleamed with pride.  She bubbled with undisguised child-like
enthusiasm at the benefits of re-cycling.  Mrs. Fuller described the
business of re-cycling as rescuing castaways.  It sounded romantic.
Castaways.  She could have been talking about rescuing ship-
wrecked passengers from an exotic island.  You had to give the
woman credit.  She had created a multi-million dollar re-cycle
business.  She had built an empire out of garbage, and managed to
make the whole thing sound sexy.

Jennifer envied Mrs. Fuller's romantic visions, but she had her own
agenda.  She wanted Mr. Fuller's dick in a wringer, and she wanted
to be there to twist the crank.  With hopes of catching Bart in
'flagrante delicto', Jennifer made her move.

"I have something to show you." Jennifer told Mrs. Fuller guiding
her out the door.
"Is it the new quarterly statement?"
"No, it's a surprise."

Mrs. Fuller followed Jennifer toward her husband's office.  Jennifer,
pretending politeness, allowed Mrs. Fuller to enter first.

"My God!"  Mrs. Fuller shouted,  "I had no idea!"

Jennifer hurried into the office to see it with her own eyes, but
what she saw was not what she expected.  A huge paper turkey
hung from the ceiling.

"How wonderful!" exclaimed Mrs. Fuller clapping her hands
together.

Hiding her disappointment, Jennifer locked the door behind her,
and confronted Mrs. Fuller in a serious confidential voice.

"Mrs. Fuller . . ."
"Call me Lana."
"Lana, I have something to confess."
"I know."
"You do?"
"Yes."
"About your husband, Bart . . ."
"What about Bart?"
"He likes women."
"So do I."

Jennifer's eyes met Mrs. Fuller's in a moment of truth.

"Bart uses you as his excuse."
"Excuse for what?"
"For fooling around."

Mrs. Fuller's face darkened.  She attempted to conceal her
anger about her husband using her as an excuse for having
office affairs.

"Bart and I both like the same things."
"He wasn't lying then?"
"No.  Well, maybe, just a little."

Mrs. Fuller gave Jennifer's hand a light squeeze encouraging
her to continue the conversation, but winced to let Jennifer
know the truth hurt.

"I wanted you to know the truth."
"What truth?"
"I turned him down?"
"My husband?"
"Yes."
"He wanted you?"

Jennifer's heart pounded.  Could she do it?  Probably not.
It would destroy Bart Fuller, if she could win his wife's
heart.  Would she do it?  Maybe.  Hate pushed her forward.

"Yes, but I didn't want him."
"What do you want?"
"You."
"Me?"

Mrs. Fuller gave Jennifer a tight coy smile.  She was clearly
enjoying this verbal duel.  She sat down on the top of her
husband's desk letting her legs drift apart.

"Why would you want me?"
"Well, your attractive . . ."
"Yes."
". . . and intelligent"
"Yes."
". . . and I think you like me."

Mrs. Fuller reached out and touched Jennifer's hair.

"You're very pretty."
"Yes, but what about Bart?"
"He's smearing my reputation isn't he?"
"Yes."
"Bart is having office affairs isn't he?"
"Yes, he is."

Mrs. Fuller's hands fell to Jennifer's neck and gently caressed
her shoulders while applying steady downward pressure.

"Would you like to help me teach Bart a lesson?"
"Yes.  Oh, yes."
"Lift my dress."
"Mrs. Fuller . . ."
"Call me Lana."
"What about Bart?"

With her right hand, Mrs. Fuller pressed on the back of
Jennifer's head forcing her to kneel.

"We'll both take care of Bart."

This was just enough encouragement for Jennifer to slide
Lana's dress up over her thighs.  The eager hands behind
her head pulled her mouth toward Mrs. Fuller's open thighs.

As Lana Fuller pushed Jennifer's head into her moist aching
pussy, she felt Jennifer flinch.  Lana smiled.   She stopped
pushing.  She savored the moment.

Mrs. Lana Fuller liked her women straight with just a dash
of hesitation.  Jennifer's reluctance was an aphrodisiac for
Lana.  She was wet with anticipation.  Let Jennifer make
the move.  All Lana did was wait.  There was nothing quite
as raw as two women having sex.  It was even raunchier
when one of the women was not a lesbian.

"Lick me" she commanded.

She heard Jennifer attempt a muffled reply.   At the first
light touch of Jennifer's tongue, Lana thrust her hips forward
to increase the friction.  Perfect.  Just perfect.

What really topped it off, was that nothing would be wasted.
Lana would use Jennifer until she was all used up.  Mrs. Fuller
needed to give her husband an extra month with Donna Lays.
This would be his reward for knowing exactly how to re-cycle.

"Lick me" she ordered.
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Author Note:  If you liked this story, please look for other
stories by Dafney Dewitt posted to Alt.Sex.Stories.

                   Donna's Humiliation
                   Bad Touching
                   Ginsu Memories
                   Morning Kisses
                   Midnight Intruder
                   Jazzercise
                   Double Bang
                   Bosnian Babes In Rapeland
                   Spare Change
                   A Long Walk
                   Disrobing Mother
                   Homeward Bound
                   Just A Bad Day
                   Insurance Exam
                   A Call For Help
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