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. Pussy Pleasure Tax

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by EroticWriter, Feb 20, 2018.

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  1. EroticWriter

    EroticWriter Well-Known Member Author!

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    Pussy Pleasure Tax, a.k.a. Trumped Up Tax.

    “I know what you might be thinking, and do not concern yourself over the two intense orgasms your wife has just experienced” said Dwight Dunker, Auditor.

    By someone named K McColl and greatly hotted up with lengthened additions by EroticWriter


    Found this on another site readers and since it is so cute thought you might enjoy it but I did update the story to reflect recent changes in the government and also change the watcher into an active participant and add lots of sex near the end. Not trying to hide his identity but I had to separate the writer's name a little since it was an active link. EW

    It had been a wonderful evening up to that moment. Liz and I had gone to the same dimly lit restaurant in which I'd proposed to her fifteen years earlier. Over appetizers she stroked my hand and gave me dewy, come-hither looks. During the main course and two bottles of wine, she rubbed her leg against mine, as though we could make cricket music. Dessert had her toe at my groin.

    Once home, we disrobed on the way to the bedroom, grappling with each other and leaving a trail of clothing and inhibition behind. Liz dropped onto the bed and spread her long legs for me.

    "I want you," she whispered huskily.

    I leapt onto her and was poised to make her toes curl when that voice came.

    "I see that you are about to engage in sexual intercourse."

    Liz cried in alarm. I might have made a fearful, unmanly noise too.

    Home invasion was the first thing that came to my mind. Horrible timing was the second. I turned to look for the owner of the voice, ready to defend my beloved and atone for the surprised squeak that I'd uttered a moment before.

    A man sat in a chair in a darkened corner of the bedroom. I hadn't noticed him on entering, but in fairness I'd been more interested in following Liz's bare rump to take much stock of my surroundings.

    Despite the fact that the chair was the repository for dirty clothes -- Liz was forever reminding me that we had a hamper for that sort of thing -- the man had folded each article of clothing and stacked neat piles of it around him.

    "Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my bedroom?"

    "Our bedroom," my wife corrected me. She was sensitive about these things. Nonetheless, I was surprised by her reaction. I would have expected unmitigated hysteria from Liz at the presence of an unexpected stranger in our bedroom, but remarkably, it was not the case.

    "Our bedroom," I corrected.

    The man crossed his legs and ran his index finger and thumb along the crease of his trousers. If he was concerned at being discovered, he didn't show it. He was nattily if conservatively dressed in a suit and tie. He cocked his head, peered at me through thick lenses, and flashed a grin that seemed to contain too many teeth.

    Too many teeth notwithstanding, the man appeared completely non-threatening. He was, in fact, the very essence of meekness.

    I rose from the bed and balled my hands into fists. I hoped that I looked menacing despite my pale, middle-aged nudity.

    "Dwight Dunker, auditor." He flipped out his wallet and waved an identification card around. "I'm with the Revenue Agency."

    His words stopped me dead in my tracks. He'd spoken words that strike more fear in a man than any others, with the possible exceptions of syphilis or alimony. Revenue Agency.

    President Trump had managed to change the tax codes, re-writing them actually, and I had heard rumors of some of the changes.

    I let my hand fall to my side. Then I sat on the bed and I let it fall to the bedspread, upon which it scrabbled for a moment before pulling an edge over to hide my erection.

    Liz, having drunk a volume of wine over dinner, was nowhere near as modest or discomfited as I by the inexplicable presence of a stranger in our bedroom. Perhaps the wine had lent her courage and brazenness. Perhaps she had faith in my ability to ward off whatever threat this little man posed. Perhaps she liked being ogled by a new pair of eyes.

    'Is my wife maybe a closet exhibitionist,' I wondered?

    Whatever the reason, she perched herself on an elbow, her full breasts attractively obeying the laws of gravity as she reclined on the bed like an odalisque. While she gazed suspiciously at the auditor, her hand insinuated itself under the cover that hid my boner. The cover began a fluttering movement, as though a small animal were attempting to escape.

    "What are you doing here?" I asked.

    "It's a pre-emptive audit." He must have interpreted my wide-eyed look as confusion, though it was really the result of Liz's fingernails running a tingling path up the underside of my penis. He continued, "You didn't receive the letter?"

    "No," I said.

    "We sent a letter," said the auditor. "Two, in fact."

    "There may have been a letter. Or two," Liz admitted.

    "What's this about?"

    The auditor adjusted his glasses and leaned back in his chair. "Had you read the letter -- and I must tell you that you really should pay more attention to government communications -- you would know that the government has launched a new taxation initiative.

    The Trump tax breaks being given to so many of our citizens has resulted in a shortfall of revenue. Having exhausted all other revenue-generating avenues, we've been forced to introduce what the media has erroneously called a pleasure tax. You may have heard of it."

    "A pleasure tax, sir?"

    This was a new one to me.

    "Whatever you choose to call it, I'm here to establish a baseline for you -- the both of you, that is -- so that the tax is fair and equitable. You should carry on as though I'm not here and perform as you normally would. As I said, I want to establish a baseline upon which we will levy a modest tax that's based on both the frequency and quality of your coupling.

    If you refrain from certain customary activities in the hopes of decreasing your tax burden -- though I strongly advise against it -- we would be forced to levy a penalty should it be discovered that you do, indeed, perform such activities."

    "But you can't just break into people's homes!"

    "Had you read the letter, you would have known that it contained a return communication that would have indicated to us that you wished to exempt yourself from pre-emptive audit. As of last week, we received no such instructions from you.

    As a result, your non-response indicated your accession to our request to evaluate the relative value of the services you provide to each other."

    "That's ridiculous!"

    "I get that a lot, but you should understand that the services you render to each other do have an inherent value. Do you deny it?"

    It was a loaded question and I chose to invoke my right to remain silent.

    "Consider, for example, the sex trade worker who is deprived of custom by your actions. Admittedly, sex trade workers don't pay into the system in terms of source deductions or sales tax, but that is precisely the problem. The government is obliged to provide a modest standard of living for all of its citizens, regardless of whether they have contributed monetarily.

    As well, numerous peer-reviewed studies have shown that those who engage in regular intercourse live longer than those who do not. Consequently, society incurs a huge expense to support those who, as a result of their healthy intimate relations, are at risk of outliving their savings and thereby become a burden on society."

    Liz tugged at me. "Come on," she implored me.

    Her hand felt good on the part of me that she was tugging and I momentarily closed my eyes.

    "If you should procreate," the auditor added, "you could claim a deduction, of course. You know, for creating another little taxpayer."

    I opened my eyes again and glared at the auditor. "I don't want to have children," I said.

    "I do," said Liz.

    I didn't want to start that argument again. "We haven't decided."

    "There's time, but not too much." The auditor winked at me.

    "I'm not that old," said Liz.

    A thought came to me; a potential loophole, as it were. "We could stop having sex entirely. How about that?" I said testily.

    Liz's hand squeezed me painfully. I wanted to reassure her that it had been an empty threat only.

    The auditor shook his head sadly. "I wouldn't advise it. That would qualify as tax evasion, I'm afraid. The penalties for deliberately denying oneself intimate relations to avoid taxation are stiff. Speaking of which, you're not."

    I looked down and saw that the cover had slipped and noticed also that what he said was true. I was old enough to know that the adolescent-grade erection that I'd been sporting a few minutes ago was something rare and wonderful and to be cherished. The auditor's presence had produced an alarming wilt, despite Liz's attentions.

    "Oh crap."

    Liz crawled around me to investigate and uttered a cry of alarm. Soon her lips wrapped themselves around me in an attempt at resurrection.

    "I do understand that an audit is unnerving, but please relax. It'll go a lot more easily for all of us if you're open and honest. I'm sure that you don't want to give me a reason to come back. So please, pretend that I'm not here."

    "You could leave the room," I suggested weakly as Liz descended on me.

    The auditor laughed. "And take your word for it? No offense, but really, I can't."

    Liz lifted her head. "Oh, for Christ sake, stop talking already!"

    The auditor removed a notebook from his briefcase and made a show of finding a blank page. He checked his watch and made note of the time. Annoyingly, he clicked his pen a few times. Liz, I have to say, was masterful and I was soon primed again. A quiet Hallelujah chorus bubbled up in my brain.

    Liz's head bobbed up and down on my saliva-slick length and the auditor nodded encouragingly. I fell back on the bed, my hand quickly finding the slick folds between Liz's legs and then moving up to coax her clitoris from its protective nest. Soon the auditor was forgotten, my attention divided between Liz's oral ministrations and my own efforts.

    Liz moaned with abandon as I strummed her. Wine did that to her. She took me in more deeply, her own arousal overriding the reflex that ordinarily inhibited the complete insertion of my manhood into her throat.

    Her lips closed around my base and her tongue undulated against me. We remained thus engaged for several minutes, each of us giving and receiving pleasure in equal measure.

    Through the blissful haze produced by the warmth of her mouth on my cock, I noted the tell-tale signs of her own imminent climax and redoubled my efforts, concentrating on the glistening pearl of her clitoris. At length, her legs snapped together on my hand. Muffled squeaks accompanied the rhythmic pulsing of her hips as she came.

    "Oh yeah!" she exclaimed.

    Oh no, I thought.

    "Did she?" asked the auditor with interest, confirming my fear.

    "She doesn't fake it." I said sadly.

    "Uh-huh," Liz affirmed dreamily before another wave robbed her of intelligible speech.

    The auditor gave me an attaboy look and scribbled something in his notebook.

    Liz was one of those women for whom orgasm was an old and reliable friend, one that visited regularly and stayed a while. I found myself wishing that Liz were less effusively vocal in welcoming this friend and more restrained and calculating in greeting.

    Given the company we had, it might have been better had she stopped this particular friend on the threshold. After all, the auditor had mentioned the quality of our canoodling and I grew concerned that Liz's yelps might propel us into a wholly unwelcome tax bracket.

    Liz crawled to the center of the bed and positioned herself on her hands and knees. She arched her back, angling her pelvis to better display herself to me. The glistening folds of her pussy beckoned. Her hand insinuated itself between her legs and her fingers spread apart her lips, revealing the moist warmth that was mine to have.

    "What is the matter with my wife,' I was thinking? Doesn't she realize that the more she wants sex, the higher the tax bracket we might end up in? I glanced from Liz to the auditor and back to Liz again.

    "I'd go for it," said the auditor. "You know you want to."

    "Yes honey," Liz said, wriggling her ass at me. "You want to and I want you to."

    Shit, this could further increase our tax base, but I did. God, I wanted nothing more. I perched my rigid member at her entrance. What is this going to cost us? I wondered. I placed my hands on her narrow waist and held Liz firmly in position. She tried to press against me and whimpered as I withdrew.

    "Fuck me," she pleaded.

    I noticed that she glanced at the auditor out of the corner of her eye as she begged me to fuck her, and I wondered if he might be the reason she was being so ornery.

    Fiscal self-preservation battled with an overwhelming desire to plunge into her. I could hear the auditor shifting in his chair.

    Liz pressed more firmly against me and waggled her hips. Before I knew it, I'd entered her another inch or so. She tightened her muscles around me, the most intimate of embraces. She felt exquisite.

    My indecisiveness must have infuriated her, for she reached between my legs, grasped my balls, and pulled. Self-preservation compelled me to follow the trajectory of my testicles and I was soon buried within her.

    My wife giggled and held me tighter. 'What is with her? Doesn't she realize that a stranger is seeing all this, her nakedness, my hard cock spreading her pussy?'

    It was like Mr Dunker, Auditor was reading my mind, because about the time I was thinking that he was seeing my hard cock spreading her pussy, I glanced back, and sure enough, notebook in hand, he was down and behind me and studying the fit between our organs from just a couple of feet away.

    He saw me looking back at him and on cue he made a note in his book and mumbled, "Apparent tight fit."

    There was little point in stopping now, so I grasped her more firmly and plunged into her violently, again and again, angry that she had interrupted my deliberations.

    Liz whooped giddily under the pummeling and soon buried her face in a pillow, muffling her cries.

    I think we both put on quite a show for him. After several minutes, she lifted her head. "I want you to finish in my ass," breathed Liz.

    It was a suggestion that she made only when drunk and I usually eagerly complied. I hesitated this time, suddenly worried about the tax implications. A wife willing to take it in the ass will surely raise our tax liability.

    I looked over to the auditor. He shrugged expansively and made a note.

    "Do meee," Liz wailed. "Please!" Her hands grasped her ass, spreading her cheeks to reveal the tight button of her anus.

    This was no time to be fiscally conservative, I realized. There was a good chance that we were screwed already.

    I leaned over and fumbled with the drawer of my bedside table. The auditor, attuned to my need, helpfully reached in and handed me a bottle of lubricant.

    "Thanks," I muttered.

    "Don't mention it."

    I applied a generous dollop of lube to Liz and then spread some on myself. I noted absently that I'd no doubt already paid harmonized sales tax on the stuff, with after-tax income no less, and angrily pushed the thought from my mind.

    I spread the lube around her anus with the tip of my cock and pressed against the initial resistance before the muscle yielded slightly, taking the head of my cock in its blessedly tight embrace.

    "Just between us," said the auditor, "section 159 of the criminal code frowns upon what you're doing right now, but I'll overlook the fact that sodomy is illegal if more than two individuals are present.

    The provision is a little archaic and is probably moot given my status as an observer and as an agent of the government rather than a participant. So rest assured that there's no cause for concern. Please go ahead."

    I have to admit that I became a little agitated at this point. The notion that I was now operating in the law's grey zone, with an agent of the government present no less, lent a certain frisson of danger to the scene. This was a forbidden thing that we were doing. But I had no doubt the government would turn a blind eye if it could also capitalize on it.

    I could feel her fingers strumming her clitoris as I buried myself within her. Her ass described erratic circles and pumped against me.

    It wasn't long before I felt the building of pressure that presaged release. A few more thrusts and I was there, shuddering as I spent myself within her.

    She collapsed under my weight and I fell upon her, cock still embedded in her ass.

    She gave me a squeeze. "That was great," she said after several long moments.

    "Uh-huh," I concurred.

    I heard the tax man clear his throat. “Now that you have finished, I must give you my thoughts on what I have observed. It is obvious that the two of you thoroughly enjoy your fucking and go at it quite vigorously. This will put you in the upper twenty percent tax bracket.”

    “Wow,” I exclaimed. “Just for having a good time doing what married people are supposed to do? How is that fair?”

    “I must commend you for being honest and not trying to conceal anything. But nothing is fair in today's world of rising costs." He looked more intensely at my wife and she greeted his gaze with a big smile. That probably encouraged him. "I am, however, prepared to make you an offer that might save you hundreds if not thousands of dollars in years to come.”

    My heart quickened. “An offer? Please tell us because we certainly can not afford another tax increase.”

    “You wife can possibly lower some of your tax burden by allowing me to make a thorough evaluation of how her pussy feels overall. If I can feel satisfied that she has been and will continue to be a real value in service to her country I can drop you into the middle third tax bracket instead of the upper twenty.”

    I stared at him in disbelief. "How her pussy feels? You mean, if I allow you to fuck my wife, you will not place us into the highest tax bracket, is that correct?"

    "I shall not merely be fucking your wife," he replied. "I will be performing a thorough analysis of your wife's performance values.

    The higher she scores, the lower I will be willing to place the two of you in the tax schedules."

    "That's not exactly in the tax codes, what you are suggesting," I offered, while thinking this is sounding like blackmail..

    "No," he said, grinning, "but we tax auditors are given some flexibility in our interpretations of the code."

    He had me over a barrel. If he fucks my wife, and the better her response, the more we save. But if I allow this man to fuck my wife, will she be willing to pretend to be enjoying him, or will it be a case of her not having to act?

    Money talks. This man might get to fuck Liz, but my taxes could end up being much lower, and afterward, I would still have my wife. I looked over at my wife, who had never had another man within her. I raised my voice a bit and tried to sound positive. “Liz, what do you think? The better you perform, the more we save.”

    I expected her to at least show some reluctance, but not my hot little wife. Without hesitation, and all the while keeping her eyes on him, my smiling wife rolled onto her back and spread her legs invitingly. “He can probably do his best evaluating starting in this position.”

    I was looking at my wife in disbelief. Before, she had been exposing herself for me, with him watching. Now, this exposure, her having her legs opened wide and her pussy beckoning invitingly, this is for him. No hesitation, not even a look of disgust on her part.

    This was blackmail of course. I am sure that the government would be frowning completely on what Mr. Dunker is proposing, but then, I had no way to prove it. The best thing to do is just go along, allow him to fuck my wife, and breath a sigh of relief.

    Besides, I could see that my wife was more than willing to go along. Is her willingness to fuck him because she wants to ultimately save us money, or maybe, is it because she sees a chance to legally but still illegally get some strange cock and not be accused of, or feel that she is cheating?

    I guess the Auditor knew my wife would be in agreement because when I turned to look at him, he already had it hanging out of his opened trousers. There it was, huge and uncut. It was shaved too, because with no hair in the way, I could see the total expanse of his balls below.

    Dwight Dunker, Auditor.

    I must admit, it was truly an elegant piece of manhood. That cock looked so thick, and though the head was still covered by foreskin, the outline of that head was clearly visible under the skin. I knew that once Dwight Dunker, auditor, went into my wife and that skin was peeled back, that the ridge on the back of his head would stroke my wife's inner secrets with a lot of sensitivity and probably drive her wild.

    Of course it would figure, my luck. If my wife is going to be fucked for the first time by someone else while married to me, he would be larger. But by this much?

    I was going to have to trust him. Mr Dunker had said that the better my wife performs, the lower he might place us taxwise. But what if he doesn't keep his word? I could see us moving into the highest possible tax bracket if he used that thing on my wife and she reacted accordingly.

    I could see it with my mind, my wife going wild with that cock inside her and having orgasm after orgasm and begging for more.

    "Normally, in these situations, we auditors just remove the necessary apparel."

    Leaving his shirt, even his tie on, Mr Tax man removed his trousers and laid them neatly on the foot of the bed. As his underwear came off, I was further surprised that this little man was even better equipped than he had first looked. At first he had looked much thicker and maybe a bit longer than me, but now that his balls were hanging free and it was all exposed, he was also way longer than me.

    I of course had seen uncircumcised men in the gym but this was a first for Liz and her eyes widened as she watched the tax auditor move to the foot of our marriage bed and give himself a couple of strokes as he eased his foreskin back and forth and stared between her legs while allowing Liz to have a good look at his massive equipment.

    My wife, bless her heart, making sure to show Mr Dunker that she planned to do her best to save on our taxes, did her bit by matching his pose with one of her own as she pulled, yes pulled her vaginal lips apart and displayed herself openly for his pleasure.

    Her loud sigh was pretty indicative of how my wife was going to be reacting to this fucking she was about to receive.

    Judging by the size of his cock it was certain that he would not be leaving my wife's pleasure center in the same condition in which he had found it.

    I was already thinking in my head and wondering: Come next tax season, will I be able to claim some depreciation on my wife's pussy after his evaluating having been performed today?

    It was too late now to express my concerns as I watched him climb onto the bed and wasting no time, get between Liz's legs. She was already wet and partially stretched from me and needed no foreplay, and he was on and because she hastily reached down and aimed him, he was in her within seconds.

    I had never seen and heard my wife's reaction before as to how she would be responding to having another man's organ within her. It's a good thing there is no tax bracket for noise generation because my wife would have been placed way up there.

    I was torn ladies and gentlemen. I of course did not want my wife to be enjoying this stranger from the government and probably be receiving more pleasure than she had ever experienced with me, or at least fake not enjoying him, but at the same time, she was supposed to be responding and giving him a great fuck because that is the basis for his putting us into a lower tax bracket.

    Still, I had a moment of hope that maybe my wife would not cum with him for real because he was moving slowly, barely using his cock on her it seemed as he pumped her gently. But I was to be proved wrong as my wife started doing some of his work for him.

    Yes, her voice, it was way up there, and her legs were going way up there as well. She was taking him deep, and trying for deeper. He was lying on her, but for the moment, staying up on his knees and elbows.

    I had thought he was just going to do an examination of her most valuable asset so I am not sure what his tongue in her mouth had to do with anything but my wife seemed not to mind as she tongued him back.

    His hands all over her breasts were also not necessary but again, my wife did not seem to mind as she groaned loudly and reached her first orgasm in a remarkably short time. Immediately he paused in his stroking as my wife went limp and after he had straightened up onto his knees while my wife laid under him with her body shaking, he calmly made a note in his book.

    I heard him mutter almost under his breath as he checked his watch and made notations. "Most interesting response. In less than two minutes I would say."

    In less than two minutes my wife had already reached orgasm, one that I knew had probably been more intense than the usual. Unless he had been telling us the truth, that he would lower our rating based on her performance, she had already placed us higher.

    "Now I shall do more evaluating." It looked like he was fucking my wife with longer strokes now, pulling back a long ways and sliding forward, further, further until he was buried with each stroke. I was torn between watching the workings of my wife's pussy as it enveloped his cock, and the workings of my wife;'s mouth as it enveloped his tongue.

    Both of them were sweating heavily and I was hoping he would not try to add on a tax for water wastage. If he did, I was going to hit him up for beds sheet replacement because of all the stains that were being placed on the sheets under my wife.

    He had laid his notebook aside and instead of resuming his pumping so he could have his own orgasm, he was taking the opportunity to further play with my wife's breasts.

    I did not waste the opportunity to be seeing what was happening between their genitals as I moved in close and stared down between their bodies. As Mr Dunker was fondling her breasts, he was not moving with his lower half. His shiny cock was maybe halfway in, and I could see how widely stretched around him my wife's inner lips were.

    "Mr Dunker, are you still evaluating my wife's pussy at this moment?"

    Strangely, as Mr Dunker turned his head to face me with a big smile, my wife did the same.

    "You may be wondering Sir why I am feeling your wife's lovely breasts at the moment. We have a sub-category for a woman's breasts in the new tax scales as well," said Mr. Dunker, Auditor as he continued to fondle Liz's breasts. Most of the ratings are based upon the quality of the pussy, but with these lovely breasts, her evaluation would be raised five points."

    He was fondling her breasts and I saw him actually lick his lips as he gave my wife a deep stroke with his cock and again enjoyed the feel of my wife's tight pussy. "As you can see as I enjoy not only the feel of your wife's lovely breasts as I do my evaluating, but also her so very snug pussy, that our new administration believes in full transparency in government."

    "Yes sir. I can see that."

    I saw my chance to inquire. "Mr. Dunker. I know you are doing some evaluating on my wife's pussy, but how can you be objective about it? After all, you are obviously stretching her pussy more and going deeper than I can, so therefore she would be feeling different, and...and probably better to you than she does me."

    I hated to say that because of cock sizes Liz would be feeling better to him than to me in front of my wife, but we were talking taxes here.

    "Yes, that is true," Dunker replied as he continued to smile down at my wife and fondle her breasts. "But from considerable experience with previous couples I can readily make determinations based on seeing the husband's cock within his wife and how her lips seem to be stretched around him before I fuck her.

    Based on that and how the wife feels stretched around me, I can make a pretty close evaluation of the overall quality of the pussy in question."

    I was tempted to ask my wife what kind of evaluation she would make of Mr. Dunker's big cock if given the opportunity but I kept my thoughts to myself. For all I knew, the tax codes might have a value rendered category for raising our rates because my wife had received pleasure from a tax man.

    Then she said it, two words spoken by my wife that supposedly would place us higher in the tax categories but if Mr Dunker keeps his word, will place us lower.

    "More please."

    Just as I had previously imagined, my wife, after having an orgasm, is begging for more.

    Smiling with what looked to me to be a superior smile, Mr Dunker allowed my wife to rest for maybe only a minute and started on her again. This time he got lower onto her, almost lying with all his body over hers. Again, my wife's legs came up, around his ass, and then, after a minute, around his waist.

    This adjusted position automatically placed his head next to my wife's and now their mouths and tongues were in continuous interplay. Not wanting to see how involved my wife might be with him mentally because of the kissing I turned my head away and moved lower down so I could better see the action between his cock and my wife's pussy.

    Watching from down between their legs and seeing how much his hugeness was manipulating my wife's pussy. I could see that the Dunker dick was so wide that not only were her tight inner lips being moved around, but sometimes her outer lips as well.

    His thickness was dragging her inner lips outward each time he pulled back, and when he went in, the entire region around her hole seemed to cave in with him.

    It would seem, if Mr Dunker keeps his word, that not only should we be placed into a lower tax category based upon my wife's response, that we should not have to pay any taxes at all. But I knew that could never be.

    So much sex was going on between Mr Dunker and my wife that I was thinking in terms of user tax, miles driven tax, and a tax for wear and depreciation. Oh yes, definitely I would be checking for a wear and depreciation clause.

    Her legs were staying way up around his waist now and he was pumping vigorously, causing his shaved balls to be slamming against her ass and my wife again got quite noisy. His second evaluation did not take all that long but was deep, wide-ranging and very probing.

    My wife had another orgasm. This time, my being down there, I saw every contraction my wife's vagina was having. They seemed to go on and on. Maybe I should have counted because there might be a sub-category in the new tax code for orgasmic contractions. and as soon as she had finished, his started.

    He was using a trick I had learned over the years. Cum into my wife and do it slow so she can feel my contractions within her pussy. She always likes it when I do that. It had taken me years to find that out about my wife, but Mr Dunker, it seemed, knew, probably from his vast experience with having other men's wives.

    The Auditor seemed to have these evaluations down to a science because he had timed it perfectly. My wife's entire body seemed to be shaking as she held him tight with her arms and legs and felt his powerful throbbing going on deep within her most taxable body part.

    I kept watching after his groans seemed to be fading. As he kept pumping I could see that Mr Dunker had placed a large load within my wife because even with how tightly squeezed his cock was being held by her tight lips, some Dunker cum was trying to ooze out and drip down onto her anus.

    Though I am sure it had nothing to do with any tax evaluating, they continued to kiss after the intense part of the fucking had came to a close. Fuck, not just for a few seconds were they kissing, but maybe for a few minutes. The fucking had ended, the reach orgasms part, but Mr. Dunker continued to pump slowly so as to drain more of his cum into my wife.

    Taking notes after a most notable experience.

    After he had pulled out of her, Mr. Dunker remained on his knees above her and immediately made some more notes in his pad as he stared down at my wife with her heaving breasts and shiny matted down pussy hair so visible to both of us. His cock was dangling slightly now, and residual cum was dripping out of that fat head and falling onto her pussy lips.

    I guess all that extra pumping had not succeeded in his leaving it all inside her forever changed vagina. That fuck between my wife and our tax auditor, despite being professional and businesslike in nature, had perhaps been the fuck of the century as far as our marriage was concerned.

    Four to five minutes later my wife was still lying spread-eagle on the bed and trying to catch her breath and watching as he pulled on his pants. I was waiting, afraid to speak, and wondering how our tax evaluation would end up. My wife, it appeared, had gone overboard with her response.

    I don't think my wife was feeling the least bit guilty over having responded so intensely to the feel of the Dunker Dick. The fact that she could see me standing there with a full erection might have had something to do with it.

    “I know what you might be thinking, and do not concern yourself over the two intense orgasms your wife has just experienced” said Dwight Dunker, Auditor.

    “I had already heard your wife having what I could tell were relatively mild orgasms previously with you and that gave me a basis for comparison, and I shall not jump you into a higher tax bracket since it was obvious that those last two very intense orgasms your wife had were not the norm for her and were being generated entirely by my large penis."

    My wife, her face shiny with sweat, looked at me and heartily agreed.

    "That's true honey. His big penis is the reason I was cumming so hard."

    I didn't know if my wife was just admitting the truth, or being wise in saying that so he would lower us on the tax scale if he keeps his word.

    I do know this. My hard cock was shrinking fast now that the evaluating was over and my wife had said that his cock had made her cum with much more intensity than it was possible for my penis to generate.

    "Your wife is very intelligent," he went on. "Since she consented to having a wide-spread and deeply personal evaluation done of her pleasure center and also allowing me to make a substantial deposit within, I am satisfied that your wife is worthy of being placed in the middle third tax bracket.

    You understand of course that in reality, because of the intense pleasure your wife's pussy is capable of generating that your wife should rightfully be placed into the upper twenty percent but since the two of you have been so co-operative I will make marks in my book accordingly."

    He smiled. "You can thank the current Trump administration. Overall, you will be paying over ten percent less in taxes compared to previous years. As you can see, our president keeps his promises."

    "Ahh sir," I ventured. "Is there a further deduction I can take for having had my wife's pussy used by the government for such a long period of time tonight and possibly having been altered in feel for me in years to come?"

    "There is, but it is already included in the bracket I placed you in, so there will be no further reduction. I will say though, I enjoyed your wife's pussy and her reactions to the evaluating I did with my cock so much, that if there were a further reduction to be had, I would certainly tell you about it."

    The auditor clicked his pen a few times, opened his briefcase and placed the notebook within it. "On behalf of the Trump Administration, I thank you both for your cooperation."

    My wife sighed and I heard her say, “It was a pleasure to be serving under you, Dwight Dunker.”

    My wife, I noted, had remembered not just his last name but also his first. Even now, the evaluating over, she was lying with her legs still spread, and the evidence of his having been inside her was now becoming visible and soaking our mattress.

    He made his way to the bedroom door and exited. I quickly followed, stopping long enough to retrieve my underwear from a sculpture in the hallway to cover myself up.

    At the front door, the auditor turned to me as I was pulling on my underwear and I am sure, taking note of how small my cock looks when completely soft. Fortunately, he had something positive to say. "You're a lucky man."

    I nodded in agreement.

    "With a wife such as yours, so beautiful, energetic, with luxurious breasts and a pleasure center that clings tightly to a sex organ with every stroke, and the way it looked with you and felt with me, clings even tighter to mine, and with her being so uninhibited in her use of it, I must admit that I envy you. You are wealthy sir in ways that are hardly quantifiable."

    "But you will try," I said. “I am sure you will quantify it."

    The auditor nodded. "It's my job. Screwing taxpayers is my business."
     
    Last edited: Jun 13, 2018
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