All comments or criticisms welcome: mitchcapslock@yahoo.com
She Knows By Mitchell Capslock
PART ONE
Tom's hand grabbed the back of my head and pushed my mouth deeper onto his rigid cock.
"Oh, fuck. I'm going to cum," he moaned.
The verbal cue was hardly necessary. I could feel his pulsing shaft with my lips and soon the warm, salty flood filled the back of my throat. I held his cock as deep in my throat as I could take it, swallowing his seed as both an act of self-preservation and to give him some final stimulation as his orgasm waned.
I released his softening cock from my mouth and sat back on my heels, giving him room to get up from his office couch.
As he pulled his pants on, he glanced over his shoulder to where I was still kneeling on the floor.
"There's something I need to tell you," he said. "She knows."
If I hadn't been on the floor, I would have collapsed onto it.
"Who? What does she know?" I asked, assuming that I knew the answer.
"Jess. She knows you've been giving me blowjobs in exchange for my legal work," he said.
My head was spinning. My entire life was crashing down around me. If it got around the small town we lived in that I was sucking another man's cock, it would ruin what little business I had left. And it would mean all the legal work Tom had been doing to help me regain access to my children would be wasted.
"Oh, fuck," I said. "How did she find out? Is she mad? Is she going to tell anyone? ... Shit. I am screwed. You are screwed. I'll never ..."
"That's enough," Tom said. "Settle down. Of course she was mad. Furious, in fact. And, she wants to see you. Tomorrow night. At our house."
"Me? What the fuck does she want to see me for?" I asked.
Tom explained that, a few days earlier, Jess had accused him of having an affair. She assumed he was fucking Becky, his 20-year-old secretary, and pestered him with questions. When she threatened to leave him, and tell everyone in town, including the mayor -- who just happens to be Becky's father -- Tom came clean.
I had come to Tom a year ago, after my ex-wife moved our children 200 miles away and started refusing to let them visit me. We'd gotten a quick, quiet divorce 10 months prior, after she caught me stroking myself to some Internet porn. I took the visitation and support schedule she demanded, even though it was far less time with my kids and far more money for her than was necessary. All this, of course, was on the advice of my attorney, a kid fresh out of law school who fee was on par with his experience.
As soon as the divorce was final, she announced she was moving, and that it would be best if I didn't see our kids anymore. Desperate to have some involvement with my children, I went to see Tom, the best lawyer in out town. After reading my divorce papers, he asked why I'd hired such an inexperienced attorney and taken such a bad deal.
The young lawyer was all I could afford, I'd explained. I'm the owner/editor of our town's small, weekly newspaper and generating enough revenue to keep the paper afloat has been a struggle for several years.
"Actually, I don't know how I'll be able to afford you," I told Tom. "But I'm desperate and you are the best attorney in the county."
Tom agreed to take my case, and started asking questions about the circumstances that led to our break up. While many women would be mad to catch their husbands watching Internet porn, he'd never seen it lead to a divorce.
"She didn't like what I was watching," I said.
The expression on Tom's face changed.
"Was it child porn?" he asked. "I don't think I can represent you."
I assured him it was not, but I hesitated to reveal what it was. To properly represent me, Tom said he had to know. That was something my previous lawyer hadn't asked.
"It was two men," I stammered.
"I see," Tom said as he tried to keep any reaction from showing on his face. "Are you gay?"
"I guess I'm more bi," I said. "I had a few encounters with men when I was in high school and college, but none since I got married."
Like a lot of married men, I'd turned to Internet porn when the sex in my marriage dried up. While the straight stuff seemed to work for a time, I found myself drawn more and more to watching men suck and fuck.
Tom asked me a few more questions about my case, and then he broached the subject I knew was coming: his pay.
As the best lawyer in town, Tom commanded a higher rate than anyone else, $300 an hour.
At best, I could afford about 3 hours of his time. He would use more than that just researching my case, I was sure. I told him as much, thanked him for his time, and left.
A few days later, Tom called and asked me to come by his office. When I entered the front door, Becky smiled brightly at me and sent me back to Tom's office.
"Shut the door behind you, and sit down," Tom said. He was sitting at his desk and pointed to a chair opposite it.
"I've been thinking about your case, and I want to help," he said. "What your ex is doing to you isn't right."
I started to explain that, while I appreciated his sympathy, I couldn't afford him.
"Maybe we can work out a deal," he said.
I suggested trading a full-page ad in each week's paper, but Tom shook his head. That wasn't the deal he had in mind.
Tom began by telling me that all marriages aren't perfect, even his own. He said that while he and Jess still loved each other and had sex fairly regularly, she'd lost interest. While she'd never enthusiastically offered oral sex -- it was a birthday and anniversary "treat" -- even that had stopped in recent years.
After our previous meeting, Tom said he couldn't stop thinking about my case. It was then I knew what he was suggesting.
"How will this work?" I asked as I felt my erection begin to rise in my pants. "When do we start?"
"I'll call you when I need you," he said. "No one will disturb us here."
He stood and walked to the leather couch on the far wall of his office. I locked the office door and walked toward him.
He removed his pants and underwear and sat down on the couch. I knelt before him, my heart pounding in my chest. His stiffening cock appeared to be slightly larger and thicker than mine, but I didn't think it would make sucking him off difficult. He pointed to the trash can by the couch.
"You can spit there, if you want," he said.
I didn't bother to tell him that wouldn't be necessary. I leaned in took his cock into my mouth, letting the sensation of having a dick in my mouth for the first time in years wash over me. I began massaging the underside of his dick with my tongue, and Tom quietly moaned his approval.
As I worked his cock with my mouth, I glanced up at him. Tom had his head back and his eyes closed. I wondered if it made it easier to pretend he wasn't letting another man suck his dick.
Worried that we were taking too long, I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock and stroked him in rhythm as I worked him with my mouth. It didn't take long to get results. I felt his abdomen stiffen and his hips bucked.
"Fuck. I'm going to cum," he moaned, and I felt his load fill my mouth. I gulped it down and released his dick from my mouth when I thought he'd finished.
Two minutes later, I was walking back toward my office, hoping no one could imagine what I'd just done. If they'd looked closely, they might have noticed the slight bulge in my pants. As soon as I reached my office, I dropped my pants and stroked myself to an intense orgasm, reliving the last half-hour in my mind.
Since then, Tom had called once or twice a week, and asked me to meet to discuss my "case." Always it was the same, I'd close and lock the door, we'd exchange pleasantries and I'd suck him off. He never offered to touch me in any way. In fact, I never took off a single stitch of clothing. As he was putting his pants back on, Tom would update me on the status of my case as it wound through the courts.
It had been a perfect arrangement. And now it was all over, I was sure. I only hoped I could keep his wife from ruining me and my chances of ever seeing my kids again.
At just past 7 p.m., I knocked on the door at Tom and Jess's house, ready to beg her not to tell anyone about my arrangement with her husband.