About six months ago my bride Amy and I, in the mood for risk taking, left the large consulting firm Andersen Consulting and set up our own business. We agreed that a business partnership as well as a marital one was the way to go. We targeted the human resources management market and concentrated on diversity and harassment training for managers. We set up a home office in this suburban Chicago community, with a handful of clients.

I first laid eyes on my lovely wife at a summer soiree in Lake Forest, Illinois, at a very fancy, lakefront home owned by a high ranking Andersen partner. I had been dating actively but nothing clicked. So I was standing around at this somewhat casual event, chatting with a couple of tax consultants who had just come over from Hewitt. It was while one of them was raving about himself that I was struck - I mean by lightning. I was pulled like a magnet to this late twenty something, tall, very curvy goddess with short blonde hair, big, penetrating brown eyes, and a stunning chest. Her to-die-for large boobs - very round and full - were perky for their size, almost pointing straight out, and impossible to miss even under a loose fitting satin light gray top. She had long, shapely legs which she was showing off with a short navy skirt and lace-up high heels. She was talking to the host and his wife and stood sideways to me. Not only did her chest bowl me over; her rump was very , stuck out saucily in back, and, as I was to learn, swayed luciously when she walked. Real competition for Jennifer Lopez. I worked my way over to her, trembling. I asked for her number, wound up taking her home, and Amy was my wife within three months.

I am more of a knowledge person; she has all the magic and charisma. Amy is vivacious, and a gifted presenter in front of groups. She dresses very fashionably. But in a business setting she somewhat hides the breathtaking curves of her body. Typically her professional wardrobe includes jackets because of her quite ample bust, and to play down her somewhat big, round derriere. She is all business at these presentations.

Having said that, I must add that a few things have happened since we met that have made me think Amy was not always on a professional woman wavelength. I have kept most of my discomfort inside. I was crazy about her and convinced myself that these occasional moments were minor. The thing is that, despite her abhorrence of stereotypes about women, she isn't above some showing off to get what she wants. Like I say, she generally dresses- and conducts herself - to avoid calling attention to her breasts.

Last November I gave her a ride to traffic court for a speeding violation. When her case was called she stood up and, after sitting there for an hour, picked this moment to take off her puffy, loose-fitting winter coat. To my surprise she was wearing a skin tight brown sweater and under it (as she explained later) a push-up brassiere. She had selected painted-on slacks for the occasion. The sound of her high heels resonated in the quieting court room. She had on dazzling ear-rings and she had just applied some glossy lipstick in the parking lot. She walked slowly up the aisle and stepped up before the graying, bespectacled male judge. Her sweater made her look twice as stacked as usual. She used this sexy voice - a voice that was new to me. The judge's handling of the previous thirty defendants we had sat through was quite rushed and bored - and unforgiving if the citation was for a third speeding ticket. But even though she already had two moving violations, he lit up like a fly when Amy stood before him - and he even said to the husky looking man posted in the courtroom to keep order: "Bailiff, can you imagine what we would get done if every defendant who appeared in this courtroom was this sexy?" The bailiff smiled and she smiled at him, arching her back. Keep in mind there was a courtroom full of people, mostly guys, and all eyes front - on Amy.

The judge looked down at her, smiling, and furtively glanced, wide-eyed, at her chest. Then he said, looking again, this time for longer: "Nothing. We'd get nothing done...... Pay the court costs, no fine. You're on probation." The assistant city attorney, a young woman, was puzzled. "Judge, this is her third violation in four months." "It is such a pleasure to have a glamorous young lady like yourself in my courtroom," the judge said to Amy - or rather, Amy's breasts - ignoring the attorney. "And I would love to see you again," the judge continued, "but not for another violation, OK?" Amy stood up real straight and said: "Thank you, your honor," smiling slightly. I could make out her nipples under the sweater after she said it and she had turned and come over to where I was sitting.

"Well I see we're not above female charms to get the job done," I half joked. We left the court house and headed for my car. I was disturbed to see her looking and acting like this in front of another man - any man. "One should always look one's best in court," she said absently, her cheeks red. "Does that include showing off your body, not that that particular, generous part of your anatomy needs to be emphasized?" I chuckled sardonically as we drove out of the parking lot. "It worked," she said smugly, opening her coat and looking down at her chest, "It always works."

Last Fall we went to an outdoor hotel pool on our first training trip together, out in LA. She wore a yellow and blue pattern bikini, quite daringly cut. Over it she was wearing a terrycloth robe. As we showed our room swipe card to the hotel staff guy sitting at a table at the entrance he gestured toward wine we had brought from our room and said: "Sorry, no alcohol in the pool area until five o'clock." I protested, complaining there was no logical reason for such a restriction. "It's the house rule," the 50-ish overweight guy said firmly. "Really?" she said. "It's the rule," he said. She handed me her glass and walked closer to him, saying, "Are you sure we can't?" She kept talking and slowly undid the robe, then let it fall on the ground. "Well, they don't like people to bring...." he stammered, his eyes captivated by the sight of her bust, the bikini top's triangular fabric covering little more than her nipples. She leaned over to pick up the robe, putting a hand on his shoulder as she did so, his face so much closer to her bosom. For an instant I could have sworn she shook her tits deliberately as she did this. "Maybe an exception for me and my husband?" She sat on his table perpendicular to him, so that her tanned hips and thighs covered paperwork he was working on. Then she turned her upper body to face him and leaned toward him. I could not hear what she said, but noticed him smiling as her hand caressed his face. She got up off the table and in we went, with our wine. It was all real casual for her.

I didn't like this at all. "Well, that's one way to convince someone," I said, frowning. "Worked better than yours, stud," she said immediately, as if she had seen my comment coming hours ago and had rehearsed her rebuttal. Starting to read a book she said, "if this outfit looks unacceptable to you I can change out of it." "I am uncomfortable with you using your body to get something," I said. "Would you be uncomfortable with your cock in my mouth later?" she said. This was not her usual way of speaking. "Well, of course not," I said. "Cause I know my wearing this bikini is getting you hard, tit man." Amy's talking dirty was disarming and I dropped the subject - and noticed how stiff I was in the crotch.

She has done this kind of thing to get a table at a restaurant, or to get a seat at a bar, and of course to make an impression on clients or potential clients. And once we were out of cash when we came out of a restaurant and a valet gave her the car back. For a tip, apparently, she snaked her arm around the guy's neck - a very tall, athletic Black guy - and kissed him on the lips. "Will that do?" she said. I stood there perplexed. When we got in the car I complained about it. She smiled, her eyes looking through me, and said: "He grabbed one of my tits." I just stewed as we pulled out. She hit the brakes. "Want to go back and beat him up?" she said, eyebrows arched. "No," I said. "He really did," she said, eyes wider, examining me, "when I French kissed him his big strong hand grabbed my tit." Her voice was deep, almost purring, as she were sexually excited. "No I don't want to beat him up." She laughed: "What would it take, both tits? What if he fucked me in the ba at? Would you just watch and complain?" "Amy," I protested, "just drive." She chuckled and I switched the subject to my ideas for a new seminar product we could sell.

Two weeks ago we were on a state highway in a backed up traffic situation caused by road work. She was driving on this trip, and it was hot. She had on a white blouse that was tied in a knot just above her navel, leaving her middle bare. The traffic impediment was right in front of us, a large bulldozer. If it were to move, we (and the nine million cars behind us) could get going. The two young, construction worker type guys who were in the dozer had gotten out and were walking around, oblivious to the traffic. She caught their attention and both walked over to her window. I got out on my side, stood and leaned on the roof of our car and said to them assertively: "What's the problem? Can someone move that equipment out of the way?" They glared at me and said: "Maybe." I noticed them bending and looking down into my wife's window and talking. I instantly felt an anxiety that would simmer every time she acted overly friendly with men.

I slowly got back in the car and warily sat down, amid laughter. "So is it hot enough for you guys?" she said in that bedroom voice she had employed at traffic court, smiling and appreciating their lack of shirts and muscles glistening with sweat. All I could do was hear them and see their chests and waists a foot away from the window. "Yeah, you?" one said, both of them responding to her affectionate tone. "Oh, yeah, I'm dying here." "Well why don't you unbutton that blouse?" the one said, "that'll cool off your chest." The other jumped in: "And you've got a hell of a lot to cool off...." "But if I cool off my chest, you'll heat up," she grinned. "You got that right," the other said. "Well," Amy said slowly, "my husband is here and I don't think he would appreciate me opening my blouse." They leaned down and stuck their faces in the window and one said, apologetically: "Oh yeah. Right." I looked at them and as they got back up, out of my view. I stared at my wife, l fearing that she would continue with this flirtation.

"But it is hot," she went on, doing a stretch, her arms reaching behind her and resting on the seat, "and will you guys move that thing if I unbutton myself?" I panicked. "Amy," I began. "That sounds like a plan," one of them said, "but is your husband against it?" Amy smiled: "You guys promise to move so we can get going?" "Amy, we can wait..." I said bluntly. She was looking up at them, her mouth now in a broad smile, and she slowly unbuttoned her blouse. She turned to me briefly and said, "did you say something? I'm sorry..." She kept looking at me almost defiantly and pulled her blouse open, displaying a provocative, black French weave bra. She looked down at her chest and then batted her eyes up at them. "That feels so good," she smiled, her trim upper arms pushing her boobs together. The sight of her deep cleavage was arresting. "We'll move it right away," the one said, coughing and elbowing his buddy. But they didn't step back from the car for a few moments, and kept staring. Nobody said anything.

I put my hand on her shoulder and convinced her to button herself up. "Show's over," the one guy said to the other as they moved the dozer, but not before they smiled long and hard at my wife. I was so disturbed by it I couldn't speak. But she reached her hand into my lap and jacked me off while we drove, saying: "You have to eat my pussy, like now. Wanna go down on me?" Her hand felt so wonderful on my dick that I would have done anything. We found a dead end country road and got in the back seat. She seemed feverish about cunnilingus and practically climaxed within a minute after I buried my face in her groin. What was she so turned on about? I felt strange about that afternoon for several days.

In fact these occasions should have made me hate her, and want to leave her, but that feeling lasted a day or two. For the long term, they seemed to plunge me into an enslaved obsession with her - and a daily apprehension about when - no longer if - she would do this again. Her exhibiting that extraordinary body with other men drove me crazy. I hoped that these were bumps on the road in an otherwise fantastic relationship, and I chalked her flirtatiousness up to some personality quirk. We were focusing on our business, which we hoped would be going gangbusters before long.

One of our clients had us doing occasional classes in front of mostly human resources managers. Most of the trainees were females, with a few older guys. The pay was OK but the work was not steady. Then last month a new client asked us if we wanted to handle something different. Instead of the usual crowd of HR and personnel types or middle managers, this national company was anxious to train low level supervisors. This client had had a spate of discrimination and sexual harassment complaints and hired us to do a two day session with their construction supervisors. Our first assignment was with a dozen or so construction site supervisors out in San Diego. We were enthusiastic - this was going to pay well. We would get much more of this work if the managers liked us. But there was a catch: three of the alleged perpetrators were in the group we were going to train. "These guys are total animals," the client told us. "Apparently if they see a woman they want to do, they d ." That bothered me, but Amy welcomed the challenge.

With the other groups we had done diversity for a day and a half and saved the harassment for the second afternoon. For harassment Amy and I had a set outline we followed: the usual discussion about what the law said harassment was, what policies the company had in place, how to handle potential complaints about harassment, and then role plays. She and I did several role plays: I acted the male boss or co-worker part and she was the female subordinate. Then we did the "how-to" of handling harassment complaints at the supervisory level. I wrote up a standard agenda for the San Diego training.

We got there the night before and, at the client's insistence, actually met the three accused perpetrators over drinks at the hotel. They didn't seem all that bad, or intimidating: Darnell was a tall, powerful looking African-American, very friendly and articulate; Bob was a blonde man in his early twenties, a frequenter of a health club, judging from his physique; and Red was a southern boy, deep voiced, and although somewhat intimidating, he seemed kind. He never smiled and stared at us with bright green eyes. They were rugged, plain talking, outdoors guys who made you gab more to fill in the space because they only said what was necessary.

They seemed to be expecting two dullards and were obviously impressed with my wife - she really is a knockout - and became increasingly animated as we chatted at the hotel bar. It was clear from what they said that most of the trainees resented this program and at the same time were paranoid about getting sued personally. So these three kind of walked on egg shells with us initially, cautious about what we were going to present them for the next two days. Darnell finally said: "I know we have charges against us for harassment, but none of these girls can say they were harassed. They were horny and hot. They were enthusiastic about getting laid. Then they whined about harassment." The other two agreed.

Amy had on denim shorts and a sleeveless white blouse. I noticed how frequently the three men stole looks at my wife's chest and, when she went to the restroom, her rump. She was so busty she could never hide it, but it was really something as we sat there. Her blouse always seemed to be tucked in, and her shorts were tight on her hips. The guys not only checked her out openly but gave each other knowing glances when they did so. A top-heavy woman in a tank top walked by and Darnell looked at Bob and Red and smiled. "Did you see that tank top, gentlemen?" Red smiled: "Healthy girl." Bob nodded toward my wife's chest and said, "but not as healthy as Amy." "Obviously," I laughed, wanting to develop rapport with these people, but instantly worried after I said it that I was helping something along here that I did not want. Bob laughed at me and said: "Your wife has gotta be a charter member of the F Cup Club."

I was very uncomfortable with this indirect but obvious reference to my wife's breasts. There was silence for a second. I was expecting Amy to react. When I frowned and raised my eyebrows, Darnell said to me: "Bob tells it like it is. Pardon his candor." Amy laughed: "A girl always appreciates a compliment. And my husband can't act too indignant when he just told you I was obviously healthy. Anyway, just don't forget to compliment me when this seminar is over and you send in your evaluations to corporate." I said teasingly: "Compliment me too." Talking over me, Bob said: "That lady's tank top was stretched to the damn limit but it would never, ever fit on you, Amy." He rested his elbows on the table, leaned forward and stared, his chin sitting on his palms. Red emptied his Sam Adams and laughed: "Uh never. No fuckin' way."

Bob said: "Amy, you should know that the three of us are in the 4-F club." I laughed nervously, trying to regain control. "I got the F Cup club, but what's 4-F? Something to do with construction?" Red looked hard into my wife's eyes and said, slowly: "Find 'em......feel 'em.......fuck 'em........ forget 'em!" The three laughed, and so did my wife. "My God!," she cried, "at least you're honest." "4-F club members go crazy over F cup clubbers," Bob said, "right Red?"

I spoke up. "Maybe we should keep this on a business level." Another pause, then Red said, his eyes on my wife's top: "Well then, ask your wife why she's tucked her blouse in about ten times since we sat down with y'all." He looked over at me with a challenging, direct look in his eyes. She just smiled, so I was relieved when the drink was over and she and I retired to our room for the night. "Three complete babes. My my," she said, as we walked to the elevator. "What was that about tucking in your blouse?" I asked. "It kept coming out," she said. "it's a problem for girls in the F Cup Club."

"You know," she said thoughtfully, as we began to undress for bed, "we should spend most of our time on sexual harassment for this program." "What do you mean?" I asked, "the client wanted equal emphasis on both topics." "Trust me," she said, an odd eagerness in her voice, "we should absolutely get into it tomorrow afternoon. Right after lunch" I was surprised. "You mean diversity only gets a morning? We would have to redesign the whole course." "I can take the lead on it, if you want" she said, seeming impatient with my reluctance. I asked her how we would fill the time and she said not to worry. "This is our shot with this new client, in case you forgot," she said, looking at me unsmiling, unblinking. Her eyes were powerful when she stared like that, real serious and determined.

The conference room made available to us was more like a large living room, arranged so that the twelve trainees sat comfortably in four large couches arranged with two end to end and one flanking them on each side. For the fourth side of the rectangle of this lay out we had a long table running parallel with the two couches running end to end, with a flip chart and a desk and chair set up to the right of the desk for our role plays. There was a bar, a terrace in this third floor suite overlooking a golf course, and AV equipment.

I had gotten there early the first morning to set up and Amy joined me later, saying she wanted to look her best. By the time she showed up the couches were filled with the supervisors, and they were engaged in buzzing, laughter, and chit-chat. She walked in wearing a long, navy dress that hugged her fanny and legs very snugly. She walked carefully and in little steps because the dress was so snug - inappropriately so, it struck me. She wore a red jacket, its lower half buttoned - up to a point directly beneath her bustline.  Rather than downplay her breasts, she apparently was wearing a bra that lifted and pushed them against the jacket so that their round massiveness dominated her figure. Her boobs dramatically pushed the top of her jacket outwards. I was worried that she might relax at some point later and take her jacket off - it worried me a lot. She had on high heels that laced up above her ankles, more make-up than usual, more jewelry than usual, and a strong cologne t was unfamiliar. She was a man killer, and within two minutes of her arrival no one was talking. She walked over to Darnell and immediately gave a warm hello, and we got started late because she took her time learning the names of each of the twelve men.

I was surprised at how hurriedly she wanted me to get through diversity training. My eleventh hour appeal to take it into the afternoon went nowhere. I did almost all the talking in the morning and a few of the fellows seemed to fall asleep, literally. Those that were awake kept looking at Amy. She frequently sat on the arm of one of the couches and, to my chagrin, called me on a couple of points and interrupted me, telling me to drop large sections of our outline. The tone of her voice and her grimacing were scary and knocked me off balance. After a few of these instances, that were beginning to embarrass me, she turned to the men and said: "I gotta keep him in line." They laughed; I cringed.

Our mid morning break was strange. Since I had done 95% of the speaking I had expected at least one question. When none of the twelve came up to me I went to them to connect with them and chat. But almost immediately those that did not dash off for a bathroom break or cigarette break clustered around my wife, who was still sitting on the arm of one of the couches. Disappointed, I went to use a stall in the men's room down the hall and listened, unnervingly, to one of the attendees say to another as they stood at two of the four occupied urinals: "This guy is kind of a weasel, right?" The other said: "He's terrible. But his wife sure has a chest. Holy Christ!" I thought of the others at the urinals and in the stalls, and who could obviously hear this. They both started chuckling lewdly, and their voices became loud. "Wish she'd take that jacket off, that top button is carrying quite a load" one said, laughing. "Maybe she'll show those fuckin' watermelons as part of the s r," the other said. Then I heard a voice from one of the other stalls: "You guys talkin' about the girl speaker?" One of the urinal guys said: "Chester, is that you?" "Yeah, and if we stay on this topic I'll be jackin' off in here. She's got the biggest set of tits I've ever seen, and she knows it." They all laughed again, the two first guys leaving, and continuing on with comments about my wife that I could not hear clearly.

During the second half of the morning Amy sat with the lap top in the corner and prepared something, then went to the business services desk of the hotel to get some handouts copied. I continued, boring them to tears apparently.

After the morning session concluded Amy and I took a lunch with Darnell, Bob and Red. Red suddenly began to be talkative, so much so that I could not confront her about the way she acted toward me in the morning session. It also prevented me from hearing the quiet banter back and forth between my wife and Darnell and Bob. I did notice that she had two martinis at lunch, a first. I worried how that looked.

At one o'clock sharp Amy began the harassment section. The room fell abruptly to a hush - a tense one - the instant she returned to the room from lunch. Normally she did a fifteen minute intro and I did the nuts and bolts on the law of harassment to try to scare them into complying with it. She stood in the center of the space in front of the couches and went into the seductive voice. "Gentlemen," she said, "I know how after lunch an audience tends to go into siesta-land. But this is too important a topic so I'm going to do this." She ever so slowly unbuttoned her jacket, giving them a wonderful view of the upper half of her body, and held the jacket out for me to take from her, as if I were her valet. Her sleeveless dress above the waist was in fact a skin tight tank top that had an Audrey Hepburn neck, and the look was a blonde Hepburn with a pair of huge boobs. They were really out there - very, very sizable. My eyes followed the line of their jutting out, then familiar, but still amazing, continued jutting out as my eyes traveled down her chest. I was stunned to see her bare midriff. This was unprecedented. Her skin looked fantastic, her color was Bay Watch quality, and her curled bangs sat perfectly on her brow.

The effect on these guys was stupendous. There were raised eyebrows. Buzzing and snickers. Fidgety legs and intense, unblinking stares. She sat up straight on the seminar table in front and put her hands behind her. With a slit giving the material badly needed slack, the dress hiked up above her knees as she crossed her legs. With a slight smile she looked around at their faces. "For the next two days we're going to be taking a hard look at sex in the workplace, and I need you to keep your eyes on me."

The tension she had just created was like an E string. One of them called out: "Hey, no problem! This beats the shit out of this morning's presentation!" The group broke into dam-bursting laughter, and she smiled, the leg crossed over the other subtly, nervously rocking up and down.

Next to her was a pitcher with ice water and several glasses. As it became quiet again she turned to me and said officiously, "Could I have some water?" I felt like saying, "You can't reach the pitcher a foot to your left?" but not wanting to display annoyance in front of the group I reached to another pitcher nearer me and poured her a glass. I felt the tension return as I walked over to her. She continued to look at the men and merely held out a hand to take the water. Not even a glance at me and no thank you.

For the next hour and a half Amy went on about the law of sexual harassment. It was uncanny how attentive the men were. "The conduct has to be unwelcome," she said several times. Then she passed out questionnaires that were a surprise to me. "Please be as candid as possible when you answer these. You don't have to put your name down. The information you give will be helpful to tomorrow's session." She had me pass out the forms and pencils.

While they filled out the questionnaire, begrudgingly, I tried to talk to her. "What is this handout?" She said nothing and gave me a two page document that asked these and related questions:

"2.When you encounter an attractive woman in the workplace, do you feel like (check as applicable): __ smiling at her? __ touching her arm or shoulder? __ looking her over? __ asking her out? __ hugging her? __ kissing her? __ touching her breasts? __ touching her buttocks? __ having her give you oral sex? __ giving her oral sex? __ having intercourse with her? __ having anal intercourse? __ having a gang bang with her? __ participating in a "double penetration"?

3. When was the last time, in a work-related setting, you encountered an attractive woman that aroused you sexually? (check as applicable)

__ a year ago __ a month ago __ a week ago __ yesterday __ today

4. When you felt this arousal, did you do any of the things in listed in number 2? If yes, describe what you did.

5. If the answer is no, describe what you wanted to do to this woman.

6. Check what it was about this woman that aroused you sexually: __ Blonde hair __ dark hair __ red hair __ small breasts __ average breasts __ large breasts __ very large breasts __ long legs __ small butt __ round, curvy butt __ sexy voice __ flashy dresser __ OTHER: "Amy," I protested, "I don't understand this. The only work-related contact they could have had with a woman 'today' would have been with you!" "Trust me," she said, a serious look on her face, "now would you collect the answers and do a breakdown for me?" I felt like I was her lackey as I began to do what she asked me to do.

As she resumed talking about harassment in the workplace I swallowed hard as I read the responses. None were signed. As to the question of what they felt like doing to a woman they found attractive, each one checked all the entries and some wrote words to the effect: "everything". And to my dismay each guy checked "today" when answering number 3. To number 4 they each wrote something like "not yet" or "I'm hopin'!" One wrote: "Ready when you are." To number 5 I saw answers like "everything" or "as much as you can take". I was beginning to get anxious. So it was no surprise, but still unsettling, to read each response to number 6 and find them identical: "blonde hair... very large breasts.....round, curvy butt...... long legs....... flashy dresser....... sexy voice."

As my mind reeled with these questionnaires before me I drifted back to her presentation. "........Now I want to show you the difference between welcome and unwelcome," Amy said. She and I had done this role play several times. I got up from where I was in the back and approached the desk we had set up in the center of the room, surrounded by the couches in which the guys sat. Amy sat down as if it were a secretarial work station and said to them: "OK, here I am working as an administrative assistant in an office situation," she said. Her posture very straight. I came over and played the part of the admiring boss. "You look very pretty today," I said, standing next to her. "Thank you," she said distantly, "what can I do for you?" "You can join me for dinner tonight," I said, putting my hand on the lovely, tender skin of her shoulder. Usually she would smile nervously and say, "Sorry, I couldn't." This time she said, "Join YOU for dinner? What gives you the idea I would hang out with you, you faggot?"

A couple of the guys reacted. "Whoa, feisty," one of them said. I was taken quite aback and stepped aside, trying to conceal my shock. I regrouped and got ready to do a presentation that the male role hadn't engaged in harassment. But she jumped in. "That's 'unwelcome'" Then very smoothly, Amy said: "OK, now I need a volunteer for the next example. We're going to demonstrate 'welcome'" Although everyone said "me, me", Amy pointed at a guy at one of the couches and one of them came up, acting as the boss. This made me nervous. "Say what he said," she instructed him, referring to my comments. "You look very pretty today," he said, a short, gruff Southern boy. She turned in her chair and this time began running her hands through her hair. "What about me is so pretty?" she asked, departing from the script and arching her back. He looked confused for a moment, then said: "Everything." "Everything, huh," she purred. "Be more specific," she said quietly. "You've got an unbelievable body," he said, relaxing a little, getting into his part. The guys were completely paying attention. She stood up - not part of the role play - and stepped right in front of him. He stepped back a little. He was staring at her breasts. "Can you - uh - join me for dinner?" he said, nervous again. His voice broke and everyone laughed. "Sure," she said, and kissed him on the lips for what seemed like a minute. Everyone applauded. "That was welcome," she giggled, patting him on the behind as he sat down. He stared back at her with a faint, predatory smile on his face.

Meanwhile I noticed the guys circulating a piece of paper with handprinted text on it and at the bottom each guy would sign his name, after chuckling about something, then pass it to the next person.

I walked over to my wife, whose face was beet red, and a little wet from perspiration. "Are you all right? Let's stop early today and see them tomorrow morning," I said. She said nothing and just sat there, her eyes practically locked into those of the guy whom she had just kissed, a bear of a Hispanic looking man with NFL-class shoulders and biceps. I repeated my suggestion more firmly and she said, still looking his way: "Sure thing." I announced that we were finishing early today and would start a half hour earlier tomorrow. Amy seemed to be in a trance. The men were slow to leave. Darnell, Red and Bob came up to us, and I shuddered. I was terrified they were going to ask us out to dinner and drinks, and that she was going to wear next to nothing for the occasion. Things were spinning out of kilter, yet I was sensing a sexual excitement inwardly that grew with the erotic power that my wife was exerting on these virile cave men.

Amy stood up. Darnell came over to her with a piece of paper. "Here's a questionnaire for YOU," he smiled. "You have given us a valuable insight into sexual harassment, Amy." He stood very close to her, his deep voice soft and resonant. "Did I hold your attention?" she said, her voice at the level of pillow talk after the act of intercourse. "It was a delightful presentation," Darnell said, "we were spellbound." Red was less discreet, his eyes fixed on her breasts. "What are you gonna wear under the jacket tomorrow?" Bob said nothing, but sat in the chair she had occupied, and stared at her ass, his head moving at angles whenever she turned. Once she glanced down at him and patted his head affectionately, despite the obvious inappropriate nature of his attention to her bottom. Then Amy read the paper Darnell had handed her, grinning and saying: "Oh, you boys are very very naughty. My husband is right here, too."

I couldn't stand it and told her I was going to take a quick restroom break. She handed me the "questionnaire" and said: "Do these guys have dirty minds or what?" It said:

"WE NEED THIS INFORMATION:

YOUR TITS (Circle which applies):

CUP: D DD DDD E EE F HHHHH

BUST: 40 42 44 46 48 50 Wendy Whoppers Territory

Nipple diameter: 2" 3" 4" 5" 6" WHAT IT WOULD TAKE TO SEE YOUR TITS (check one)?

$100 $200 $1,000 $5,000 more seminar projects HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN AN EXHIBITIONIST?" I looked at Darnell and said: "Apologize. I demand that you and whoever else wrote this insulting, chauvinistic piece of crap apologize to my wife." He smiled, rather patronizingly, I thought. "Hold on, pardner. We meant nothing by it. After the questionnaire Amy gave us, we just thought -----" I was too emotional to stand for any excuses. "This insulting 'questionnaire' exploits and degrades my wife's body," I raised my voice, "and it mocks everything this seminar is about." The guy who had done the role play with her came over. "Not really," he said, "maybe you're just feeling left out because you were unwelcome and I was welcome." He laughed and the others chuckled, and, to my surprise, Amy smiled.

Darnell looked at Amy tenderly and said: "So Amy, are you going to fill it out?" I reacted instantly: "No, are you going to apologize?" Amy said: "Well, my husband is obviously unhappy with your questions, and they are rather personal." She reached around and petted Bob on the head as he sat, his head propped up by his left arm, his eyes fastened on my wife's derriere. She laughed slightly as she regarded his stare - his head was now within inches of her buttocks. She squirmed and raised one buttock and said with a laugh: "Looking for something?" Bob smiled up at her: "Oh, I've found it."

"This is very offensive," I persisted, letting my hand, holding their "questionnaire", fall to my side in exasperation.. My wife turned back and, while looking at Red, said to me in that bossy tone: "It's just a joke. Put it with the other questionnaires, pack up the laptop and our stuff, and meet me upstairs in a little while." She seamlessly changed back to an affectionate voice with Darnell and her other new admirers.

I hurried to get out of there, humiliated, and slipped into a stall in the men's room and heard someone at the urinal say: "we have a $20 pool going on her tits, you in?" Another voice, laughing, said: "great idea. What's the pool?" "Closest one to her bra size takes all." "I bet you she flashes us tomorrow, right in front of Mr. Milquetoast," the other chuckled. "I'd bet against you, but I think she's gonna flash us. So let's bet about when." "I say within the first hour." "Twenty bucks says she shows us her tits within the first half hour." "You're on. I guess we're all hot to see her knockers. And her big ass." "Yeah, when she bent over a couple times this afternoon you could make out her ass cheeks. She sure loves to dress in a tight whore outfit. Right in front of her pussy husband." "Yeah, fuckin' A!"

Listening to this kind of talk about my wife was more than I could stand. I went upstairs to our room and shortly thereafter Amy walked in. She was all smiles. "They love us! We're a big hit!" She took off her shoes and danced around the room. I sat on the bed, beside myself with anger, anxiety and apprehension. She seemed oblivious to it. "You were a different woman today," I protested. She said nothing and walked over to me in her modest bra and underpants. She straddled my lap and shoved her breasts in my face. "Look, you know I can be a showoff. You know it gets me what I want. You know we NEED this presentation to get the business going. So this is no time to get hyper. These guys are just joking around. They're construction hunks." She took her bra off and mashed her breasts against my head, rubbing them slowly back and forth against my face.

She spoke quietly. "Darnell, you need to know, is as close to the VP of Human Resources as my tits are to your pouting face. He said if we make these two days worth his while we're in." I felt the overwhelming pleasure of the touch of her flesh and tried to fight it, cursing my loss of control over the situation I was in. She shook her tits and pushed me down on the bed, and continued, "so stop the peevish husband routine and let's keep our eyes on the prize." I began to speak. "Amy, I really have a problem with you --" but she cut me off, raising her voice assertively, with a trace of scolding in it. "Stop being so sensitive. Are you going to stop whining?" I said nothing, filled with the mixed emotions of anger and frustration on the one hand, but lust for her body on the other. "Are you going to stop whining?" she repeated. Finally I said, "yes." She stood and peeled off her panties, then straddled my face backwards, her wonderful cheeks wiggling and bewitching thigh stockings still on her mile long legs. She turned to look back at me and gasped: "Now, eat my cunt." She mashed her crotch into my face, saying: "God do I need this." Her vagina was soaking wet, and for twenty minutes I found myself smothered, my tongue in pain from her insistence that I pleasure her clitoris. She reached for my dick and jacked me off summarily, but even with the routine, almost rushed approach I came more intensely than I had ever remembered.

She washed up and made herself up again. I was fascinated by the sight of her applying make up, particularly lipstick, and she knew it. Some women giggle nervously or are indifferent to this attention. I was discovering that my bride gloried in all kinds of male attention and with make-up made it more dramatic. Then we went downstairs to dinner, Amy wearing a tank top and tight jeans. She looked like a hooker. As we sat in the undistinguished Hunan Buffet Amy's eyes kept surveying the place. "Looking for someone?" I asked, annoyed. "Let's say I'm a people watcher," she smiled. Halfway through she looked past my shoulder as I was talking and I turned to see what she was seeing. I turned around and asked: "Now what?" "Thought I saw Bob and Red," she said. "Guess not," she said, a trace of disappointment in her voice. I trembled.

About five minutes later Darnell, Bob and Red came up behind her and gestured to me with their fingers at their lips. Then Darnell's large hands suddenly closed over my wife's eyes, his brawny arms resting on the back of her chair. "Guess who?" he said in his deep, mellow voice. She reached around to grab his arms and said to me: "Honey, protect me. I am being molested by a muscle man." He took his hands away from her eyes and she turned back and cocked her head up as he leaned over and kissed her on the lips. Their mouths mashed together for a few seconds. He turned to me and smiled: "Hi folks!"

They pulled up chairs - much to my chagrin - and acted very friendly. Red had a beer and raised it in a toast, putting his arm around me. "To the luckiest guy in the world," he yelled. "Here here," Bob said. "You're looking fantastic Amy," he then said, and from then on I was Mr. Invisible. "You must have hundreds of admirers," Red, who was sitting close to her left, said. "Thank you, sir," Amy said, her eyes sparkling at him, "are you my biggest admirer?" The talk was replaced by stares between her and them for a moment. Then she sat up straight and placed her hands on the back of her neck. "So how do you guys like my new tank top?" "Outstanding," Darnell said, who was sitting to her right. "You - or should I say they - really fill it," Bob whistled, shaking his head. He looked at me and snickered: "Your dick must be hard all day long." Red and Darnell laughed. Red added: "I know mine would be." "That's not funny at all," I said, "you're insulting my wife." Darnell jumped in: "That's Red's way of saying you have a beautiful bride." "And that I want to fuck her," Red said. Bob laughed again.

Things got more surrealistic when Amy joined in the laughter and said: "I guess that's another way of complimenting a lady." She was still posing with her hands - her incredible-looking tits were drawing stairs now from men from throughout the restaurant - and she said to me: "I have a feeling Bob and Darnell are paying the same compliment to your wife, honey." She looked at Darnell, then at Bob. They just laughed suggestively. "So any time I'm feeling a little down I can call you guys and get your - uh - compliments?" she said, at long last dropping her arms and running her hands lightly along Red's and Darnell's arms, then dropping her hands out of view. They laughed again. "How do you like my tank top, honey?" Amy said to me with excessive interest, "you haven't said anything about it all evening." "It's great," I said, smiling slightly. "Do you think it's too tight on me?" she went on. "Well," I started to say, knowing that it of course was. She interrupted me, " difficult to shop when you're an F Cup Club gal. Something you 4F Club members wouldn't understand." She raised a glass and toasted: "To the 4F Club," and downed her drink. She looked down at her tits and said: "Speaking of how I look in this, darling, I get the distinct feeling these hunks want to - uh - compliment me." She looked at them, and almost purring said: "Right? You guys want to compliment me?" She was now on her fifth beer.

Bob said: "Oh yeah, Amy, I would love to compliment your brains out." "Stop it right there -----" I said. Red leapt in, "Come over here and sit in my lap and I'll compliment your extra large tits and that delicious ass of yours while we compliment all night long." I stood up. "Gentlemen, my wife has heard enough. We'll see you tomorrow morning." After a tense moment Amy pointed at my shorts and said: "Dear, you're complimenting me too." I looked at her, confused, then looked down at the bulge an erection was making in my crotch. Darnell smiled: "Amy, you're surrounded." They all began laughing and I sat down, completely shown up by my wife and these jerks.

"I think my husband objects to this frivolity," Amy said, with exaggerated solemnity, "so you better head off like he said." "Not before you kiss us good night," Bob said. "Is that OK, boss?" Amy said to me. "Well, all right," I said, anxious to get them away from us. She puckered up and bent her head toward Darnell. "Wait, not here," he said, "over there." He pointed to the door to the hotel pool, where there was a sign explaining that the pool area was closed for maintenance. The room was dark. "You're going to kiss each of us good night in there, and then we're going to kiss you back." Amy looked over toward the pool room and giggled: "Cool!"

"How about right here," I objected. "Hey," Red said, "you don't want everyone seeing your wife kiss us. That would embarrass you - and her." They all stood up. "I'm serious," I said, "let's have our goodbyes right here." "Oh honey," my wife said dismissively, as Darnell put his arm around her, "you're almost making a scene." I followed them out of the restaurant, amid stares, and down the hall to the entrance to the pool room. I was panicking, afraid of what would happen next.

The large "nautatorium" was mostly dark, with an occasional floor light here and there. As we entered, ignoring the CLOSED sign, Amy, walking in front of all of us, posed in the doorway and stuck out her butt, bending slightly. "Who wants to carry me across the threshold?" Darnell chuckled: "Now right down there is where I want to kiss you goodnight." As he stepped up directly behind her, her ass rubbing against his groin, she said: "Oooooh, I like that idea." Red barked at her: "Just get your tits in there." "And that ass too," Bob said.

It was a standard hotel pool facility with chaise lounges, some tables and chairs, but with no water in the pool. No sooner had we all gotten inside the room and begun walking to the side of the pool - - when a voice startled us. "Excuse me, the pool is closed for repairs." I had been nearest to the door and had noticed at the same time my wife in the shadows, and there was movement as if she were removing something. I turned and there stood a young man, could not have been more than 19, in a blazer and with a walkie talkie. "Sorry," he said. "We're just relaxing," Darnell said, "and we're guests. It's all right." The young security guy didn't blink. "Sorry, you'll have to leave. This room is closed to everybody." Darnell raised his voice: "I said, we're just relaxing here. We're guests. What's the problem?" The security guy stood his ground.

I welcomed this and was ready to take Amy's hand to leave when she emerged slowly from the shadows, and slowly walked toward the kid.

I was shocked to see that she had removed her tank top and bra. She was bare chested! As she walked, her massive tits jiggling slightly. She was saying nothing and even in the dark I could tell that Darnell, Red and Bob were standing pop-eyed - as was the security kid. The sight of her breasts filled me with conflicting feelings: sexual desire, evil, and fear. I didn't know if I could take it.

"What's your name?" she said softly, staring into his eyes with a lusty smile on her face. "Huh?" he said, hypnotized by the sight of her tits. Her handful sized nipples looked so fucking great, and their teats protruded toward him rudely. She laughed. "Why don't you stay here with us?" she said, stepping closer, her knockers almost touching his blazer. The walkie talkie squawked and Amy took it from his hand and began licking it with her tongue, all the while gazing into his young, disbelieving eyes. Her free hand squeezed her tit, then pushed it in against her ribs, squooshing it so that it fluffed broadly on her chest.

The kid was incapable of speaking. She put arms around him and planted a wet kiss on his mouth. He cleared his throat and said: "I - I - uh," and she laughed again. Red and Bob chucked lewdly, and everyone seemed to be breathing a little harder. "So we can stay?" she said to the security kid. "I don't know," he said, overwhelmed and tripping over his words. Then, to my disgust and amazement, Amy pushed him gently into a pool chair, then straddled his lap and rubbed her tits in his face. "Please," she said. "I'll get in trouble," he whimpered. "I'll suck your cock," she said. The other guys were smiling, enjoying the tension she was building and the excitement on the young guy's face. "Blow him," Red said.

She mashed her tits against the sides of his face and he began to moan. She cooed: "Stand up and get your dick out. I want you to fuck my mouth, right here." He rose and unzipped his pants, tossing his jacket on the chair. She knelt before him and took his hard cock in her hand and stroked it, looking up at me. "I'll take this big prick as a compliment too." "Looks like it's welcome, harassment whore," Red said. "Watch your language," I said. My wife giggled as she kissed the kid's dick and said: "Harassment whore! I love it!". She then took his cock in her mouth and sucked him vigorously. Within a few minutes he cried out and then she moaned with pleasure as he shot his load into her mouth. She kept sucking him and fondled his balls. As he got himself together she said: "so you won't let anyone bother us?" "Uh - no," he gasped, walking toward the door briskly, his embarrassment and bewilderment returning. Amy walked after him and said: "I want to borrow your flash ," and took it out of his jacket pocket. He just looked at her blankly and left. Red laughed and said: "Now that's the kind of good night kiss I want."

"Right now, more than anything," she said softly, "I have to take a piss." She grabbed a cup off one of the tables and handed the flashlight to Bob. She turned toward me and stuck her ass out toward the guys, slowly peeling down her jeans and thong panties - amid whistles and appreciative lewd remarks. Bob was shining the light on her luscious ass. She stepped out of her shoes and out of one of the legs of her jeans, kicking them out of the way. "Hold this cup so I can pee in it," she said to me in that bossy tone. "Couldn't you at least go the ladies room?" I asked angrily. "Right now I'm not a lady," she said, "I'm a harassment whore." With that she began to urinate, in a large quantity, and more of the warm contents of her bladder went on my arm and shoes than into the cup. Unfortunately Bob kept shining the flashlight on her butt when she whizzed, and I noticed a tense silence from them. When she was done she shook her ass at them again and said, looking over her shoulder as she kept shaking: "What's the matter guys, never seen a lady piss?"

Her display of this bodily function had sent them into the next level of lust. She glanced at me and said: "Whoopsy. Well, what's a little urine between spouses. Could you be a dear and clean up the spill? Something tells me I'm about to get complimented."

The flashlight went out. We were all almost silhouettes now. Bob said: "Come over here and fix my flashlight, Amy." I was next to her and watched her move toward them. They were facing us and Bob was in the middle. I heard one zipper open, then others. Amy was now directly in front of Bob. "Oh," she said softly, "your flashlight is down here. My it's thicker than it was before." Darnell said: "I brought one too." "So you did," she said, "I definitely have to get closer to these flashlights to see if I can make them work." "Oh they'll work," Darnell chuckled. "Now get on your knees and don't rush it like you did with the youngster." Bob said: "Keep shaking it around like that, harassment whore. That'll make the light go on." Red shoved me aside and got behind her, and I cringed as I saw and heard his pants unbuckle and slide to his knees.

"I knew this whore would be doing us, but I didn't know it would be this easy," Bob said to his buddies. "I'm about to compliment your cunt," Red said, "that hard thing you feel against your ass ain't no flashlight." Sucking sounds stopped and my wife turned and said: "You want to fuck me? I don't know. That could be harassment." Darnell laughed: "The only person here who thinks it's unwelcome is your husband." Red chuckled, and I saw his body begin to ram slowly against Amy's behind. "She's got a soaking wet twat, guys. Wait til you feel this tight cunt." Bob was making encouraging comments to her about her cocksucking, then said, as if annoyed: "hey, I threw that flashlight down on the floor. How we supposed to see those gigantic knockers of yours when we fuck 'em? I don't plan on holding the fucking flashlight for it."

I had to take a stand and said, "Amy, nothing is this important. Tell these guys you had too much to drink and let's get out of here." She stopped her sucking again and said to me, commandingly, "take the flashlight so they can see my tits while I enjoy the best cock I've had in a long time." "Amy," I protested, "you're being sexually exploited." "Maybe," she gasped, amid the slapping sound from Red's fucking, "but this is the first big prick I have had in me in nine months." I was stunned to hear this unkind talk coming from my wife. Dazed, I groped around on the floor for the flashlight. On all fours I stared for an instant at the scene of two men, pants to their knees, alternatively getting sucked off by my wife. And a third figure was screwing her harder and harder. She was whimpering with each of his strokes.

As my hand discovered the flashlight I heard Bob break the conversational silence. He matter of factly asked Darnell: "So when did you know Amy was hungry for dick? First night we met her? When she took the jacket off yesterday?" Darnell snickered. "Hold that thought," and instructed Amy. "Deep throat time, you horny bitch." Amy was panting now with Red's strokes. "But you're a big fucker," she said. "Take it all," he yelled. He grabbed the back of her head and made her choke. "I said take it all," he persisted. Then he turned my way and said, frustrated: "can we get some light here?" Fearing the rage of a guy who towered over me with arms the size of my thighs, I turned on the flashlight at directed the beam at my wife's double fellatio. "Thank you," he moaned, "you and your wife run a great seminar." Red laughed between gasps, "yeah, he's the brains and she's the boobs." "I've got a great ass too," Amy said. "Built for fucking," Bob said.

Darnell spoke, "getting back to your question, Bob, I knew this bitch was a tramp the night we met her. What kind of a professional speaker would show her tits off for a sexual harassment seminar?" He made sounds of pleasure. "And she didn't mind our questionnaire. But I really knew she had a slutty ass when she rubbed my crotch - and yours - under the table at the restaurant tonight." Bob said: "Hey Amy, you liked that? Feeling our dicks under the table when he's sitting right there?" Amy came up for air, and quickly said: "Are you kidding? I practically had an orgasm," then eagerly resumed her blowjobs, this time Bob stuffing his dick into her mouth.

"Switch!" Darnell said, and stepped behind her. Red was indignant: "Hey!" Darnell pushed him aside. "I'm the supervisor of this crew," he said. "Roll over on your back, Amy McSlut." "Right here in front of my husband?" she said with mock concern, "You'll get in trouble..." "Shut your cocksucking mouth and roll over on your back, and," he turned toward me, "shine that light on her jugs while I fuck her." Darnell flipped her legs up in the air and got into screwing position. "Look at those fuckin' tits," Bob said, laughing. "Unbelievable." I found myself shining the flashlight on Amy's boobs, then stepping around to aim the light at Darnell's crotch. His stiff, long cock was as thick as a catsup bottle. He stroked it casually as he held her legs up with his giant bronze arm and looked at me briefly, mockingly. He rubbed his dick against her lips and her clit, an action that made Amy give out little screams. Then he slowly entered my wife. Amy cried out and gasped: "Oh k!". Bob took hold of her ankles and sat on her face, his meat hovering over her mouth. Then he scooted forward so that his balls were poised over her throat. "I'm gonna harass these fuckin' watermelons," he said.

Bob fucked her tits and high-fived Darnell, who was pounding my wife's twat with his major league prick. Amy moaned with uncontrollable desire. I moved the flashlight as they told me to, and cursed me when I was too slow. "Your wife's a filthy tramp who can't get enough dick, right?" Red said, kneeling at her side and thrilling at her jacking of his cock. Darnell fucked her harder and harder, saying filthy things to her. "You are such a fucking slut," he laughed, "you take my meat like you haven't had a decent fuck in years." "Umm hmmmm," my wife's muffled voice registered agreement. "You hear that?" he said to me, "you hear that shit? This pussy needs constant fucking." Then they turned her on her side so that Darnell could fuck her with her upper leg bent slightly and Red could maul her ass with his hand while she kept on jacking him. Her head stayed flat on the floor as she blew Bob's dick, jammed in her mouth. My flashlight caught the sight of him jacking his prick e she hungrily licked his balls.

After about five minutes of this Darnell came loudly, and Amy came with him. A series of high, otherwordly noises emanated from her throat, as if possessed by demons. No sooner did he fall back on the floor, saying: "God what a hot cunt," then Red slid over and rammed his impatient dick into her pussy. "Give me a piece of your sexy ass, you horny bitch," he demanded, immediately slamming his pelvis into her in violent, powerful thrusts. The slapping of his groin against her ass made loud smacking noises. Bob was squatting so that his asshole was over her mouth, and I could barely see her tongue flicking toward it.

"Keep fucking me," she whimpered, "I need more." Red's thrusts matched Darnell's and within a few minutes he shot what seemed to be a huge wad in my wife's womb. She implored him to stay inside for a few moments. "Get hard again, baby," she pleaded, "I want some more hard dick." Then Bob raised his asshole from her face and slapped his dick down again between her tits. "God this feels great," he said as he fucked her breasts. He was getting close and was pushing her boobs together, pulling roughly on her nipples. He stroked faster and faster and cursed, the flashlight barely seeing jets of semen landing on her tits and stomach. "Lick that fuckin' cum off your watermelons, seminar slut," Darnell said, "and get the flashlight on her doing it. I want to see that slut mouth lick the cum off her tits. Yeah, push those big fuckin' tits against your chin, you dirty whore." Amy seemed to go crazy over the whole thing, the attention, the sex with these men she barely knew, th demeaning talk and rough handling of her body. It was a dizzying revelation, and I shook my head, looking down at the floor, feeling a little faint.