By Margo Perry  (margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Copyright 2004 by Margo Perry, all rights reserved.

“Congratulations, George,” Sonita called out, stuffing the last of her papers into her briefcase.

George paused for a moment and, without a word, continued down the hall. Sonita dashed out of her third grade classroom. “George, wait up,” she hollered after his retreating back, glad that the corridor was empty of kids. “Wait!”

George turned, his large frame slouched, his movements uncharacteristically slow. Sonita looked at him, looked for the 6’4”, shy, but devastatingly attractive football defense man she’d fallen for in college. He wasn’t there. What had happened to him? What had happened to her? What had happened to them? Mandy, her college roommate, now his wife, had happened. Mandy and George had broken her heart and from the look of him, life had since broken his. Within arms’ reach now, she watched his eyelids blink nervously over his dull brown eyes; noticed the worry lines that knitted his brow and gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“Hello Sonny,” he said.

His deep voice was vulnerable and yet resigned; his smile both forced and uncertain. He hadn’t called her Sonny once in the five years they’d been teaching together. He hadn’t called her Sonny for fifteen years, not since college, and hearing it disturbed a passion that she had long ago left for dead and buried. “Don’t go there,” her inner voice warned her.

“Didn’t you hear me calling you?” Sonita chided. “I heard about what you did today. We all work so hard to get these challenged kids integrated into the school system and you manage to place three of your kids in one week. Way to go Georgie!” She hadn’t called him Georgie once in the five years they’d been teaching together. She hadn’t called him Georgie for fifteen years, not since college.

“Thanks,” George said flatly.

“What’s wrong with you? You should be flying and you’re acting like you’ve lost your wife.”

George jerked away as if she’d scalded him. His eyes darted about her face and his lips were pursed tight. She couldn’t tell whether he was angry or frightened or both but, whichever it was, his lonely desperation was palpable. Without thinking, she flung her arms around him and held on. She could smell his Dunhill cologne, feel his body touching hers and the sensations drew her into a time warp. Her mouth ran dry, her pussy began to quiver and she could see George, not only in front of her now, but back in her college apartment then.


“Had enough to eat?” Sonny had asked.

“Yeah, I’m stuffed. The pasta was great!”

“I’ll just get rid of this stuff.”

Sonny began to clear the dishes from the table and George crossed the room to the couch.

It was good to relax with George. She’d been tutoring him all term and the vast improvement in his grades proved that the collaboration had worked well. She was also relieved that Mandy had left early for Spring break.

Sonita had been flattered when the beautiful and popular Mandy asked her to be her roommate. As soon as she accepted she became part of the clique known as ‘The Golden Girls’. They were the five girls all the sororities wanted, all the boys wanted, and the other girls envied. Sonita was the odd man out. She was the nerd: smart, plain, thick glasses and all. But, she was comfortable on the sidelines and Mandy was content to leave her there. However, the one thing that drew the boys to Sonita like a siren’s song were her enormous FF tits, and if the boys were not anxious to date her, they would have been willing to if it meant they could feel them, suck them and fuck them. But Sonita was not that kind of girl so she kept to herself. Mandy took every opportunity to remind her that her breasts were much too large for her slender body and that she should get a job and save up for a reduction. Sonita never argued with Mandy, but she knew that she would never take her advice. She loved her tits and in her room at night, while Mandy was out with her main squeeze, football receiver, Billy Jameson, Sonita had her breasts to squeeze, suck and come by.

Sonita and George became good friends and Mandy approved. Sonita could have the lowly defenseman; the football star was hers. Sonita believed that Mandy and Billy were a perfect match, selfish, self-centered and dumb as they were. She stacked the last of the dishes in the washer and smiled, wondering what Mandy would do if she knew what she really thought of her. Grabbing two more beers from the fridge, she went back to the living room. A lounging George smiled up at her. He was almost dozing.

“You can crash in Mandy’s room tonight.”

“Good idea,” George said, “but not yet.”

He sat up and held out his hand for a beer.

“Feel like watching some TV?” Sonita asked.

“Sure.”

Sonita took the remote control and settled on the couch beside George.

“Let me know when something interests you,” she said, flipping through the channels.

On an adult station a male submissive is on his knees, administering to his busty Mistress’ pussy. She barks instructions, whipping him lightly for good measure. The man is naked except for his collar and his long hard cock is rigid with pleasure. The woman moans and fondles her large breasts.

Sonita meant to change the channel, but was so flustered that she turned off the TV instead.

“What was that?” she giggled inanely into a very pregnant silence.

George’s held breath escaped in jagged bursts and Sonita could feel her breasts swelling with excitement.

“Sonny . . .”

The air between them was charged.

“Sonny . . . I like that. Call me Sonny again.”

“Sonny,” George whispered.

What she’d witnessed in those few minutes seemed to have unleashed desires that she didn’t know she had and they were overwhelming. Sonny licked her lips and began to massage her massive breasts.

“Come to me, Georgie,” she cajoled. “Come to me.”

George turned to her gratefully. Their arms grabbed and clutched and their tongues explored each other’s mouths with the frenzy that comes with a passion large and unexpected.

“Show me Georgie…Play with yourself. Make it big for me Georgie. Suck my tits …I’m gonna’ suck you Georgie. Suck your lollipop…Kiss me Georgie…Eat me Georgie…Fuck me Georgie.” And all Georgie could say was, “Okay…yes…please.”

It turned into a night they’d never forget. They made love until dawn uncovering layer after layer of their sexual selves and Sonny left for her parents’ home the next day, stunned and desperately in love.

The week passed in a haze and the first thing she did when she got back to campus was to call George. She needed to see him; she needed to make it all real again.


“Sonny?”

George’s voice was anxious. Sonita had buried her face in his chest so tightly that she was gasping for breath. She was grinding into him, longing to feel the huge bulge of his cock. But it wasn’t there. He was holding on tight alright, but the passion he transmitted was born of a desperation so raw and so poignant that it catapulted her back to the present. George and Sonita had managed to resurrect their friendship when they ended up teaching at the same school, but that’s all they had – a friendship. Sonita checked her watch: 4:30 PM.

“It’s Friday. The cafeteria’s open until 5:30. I’m gonna’ buy you a coffee and you’re gonna’ tell me what the hell’s the matter with you.” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Let’s take the stairs.”

“Okay,” George said.

Sonita was glad for the short three flights down. She needed time to gather her thoughts. She felt reckless and compelled like an arsonist with a match, matchbox and kerosene in his hand. She felt dizzy. George felt too close and too far away. George was Mandy’s husband and yet Sonny wanted him for herself. Desire burned in her chest and teased her nipples. Her heavy breasts heaved. She was poised on the edge of something dangerous, something she couldn’t afford, because she was the one likely to be burned . . . again! She forced herself to remember, to go back and feel the pain.

George had been on his way to see Sonny, in fact was parking his car in the lot when he noticed Mandy. She came over to his car, eyes red and face drawn. She needed to talk. During the week, she’d broken up with Billy. She climbed into George’s car and for the next hour threw her broken heart and the rest of her into George’s arms. By the time they got up to the apartment, Mandy had already worked her charms. Knight George was as intrigued and confused as a fourteen year old and Sonita watched helplessly as Mandy spun her web around him. Sonita hadn’t the ways nor means to fight back and soon found herself sneaking off to her room, mumbling something about giving them privacy. And that was the end of that. All Sonita could do for a long while was to keep her mind functioning, studying, but mostly, just surviving. Her heart, her passion and soul had been buried in a barren wasteland.

It wasn’t long before Mandy got herself pregnant and she and George were married a few months later. Sonita believed that Mandy simply wanted to spite Billy who was dating one of the other Golden Girls, but it was none of her concern. Mandy asked her to be her bridesmaid and to witness the event at City Hall. Sonny used the day to bludgeon the hurt, anger, pain and disappointment so deep down that she would never feel it again. And it had seemed to have worked; at least until now.


The cafeteria was empty except for Paulie who stood behind the counter diligently wiping down the counters, preparing to close up.

“Grab a seat. I’ll get the coffee,” Sonita said.

“Thanks,” George said.

“Two coffees please, Paulie.”

“It’s not too fresh. I could brew a new pot.”

“No, that’s okay.”

Sonita took the two cups and started toward George. She put down the coffees, sat opposite George and leaned toward him.

“Now talk to me. This is about Mandy isn’t it?” she asked.

George propped his elbows on the table, took a deep breath and lay his head in his hands. When he looked up and sat back in his chair, his eyes were swimming with tears.

“She’s been cheating on me for a long time, since the beginning, I imagine. I’ve been such a fool. She’s been playing me for years and I’ve let her. You and me, we were just beginning back then and I treated you . . . ”

“Let’s not traipse down memory lane,” Sonita cut him off. “It won’t help. Besides, I know all about it. I was there, remember?” Bitterness clipped her every word.

“I’m sorry,” George said. “I’m so . . . ”

His apology drifted into space. Sonita felt herself being pulled in two directions: love and hate, disdain and caring, attraction and repulsion. “Why does love always win?” she asked herself as she reached across the table to take George’s hand. “Just talk to me.”

The tale was long and sordid. Sonita listened from a place outside herself; a place that was safe and expansive and able to support the anger and grief she felt at hearing the details of George and Mandy’s intimacies and treasons. She understood George, understood that he felt ashamed at being so gullible, so foolish and so used. Mandy had made Sonita feel the same way, over and over again. They’d never been real friends. Real friends were equals. Mandy had been the Golden Girl and Sonita was her minion, someone to take advantage of, someone to feel better than.

Sonita listened to the steady drone of George’s words, drenched by the sadness weighting them.

Two days ago, the airline had called. Their scheduled stewardess was sick and they needed somebody immediately to work a first class cabin full of dignitaries. It was an international flight and Mandy would be gone for three days. George was working on their taxes and Mandy had neglected to leave him some important information. That’s why he’d done what he’d never done before: log onto her personal laptop. That’s how he’d noticed the large file: For My Pleasure Only. He resisted at first, printed out her time and wages file, put her computer back in her desk and went back to filing their taxes. But as the night went on, curiosity turned into insecurity and nagging doubts grew into a full blown paranoia that completely overwhelmed his respect for her privacy. He went back to her laptop and opened the file. There were still photos and video clips, all starring Mandy and a stable of studs servicing her all across North America and Europe.

“Sorry folks, I gotta’ close up,” Paulie said.

Sonita was glad for the interruption. She needed to think.

“Are you driving, George?”

“Yes.”

“Will you drop me at the mall. I have to pick up a few things”

“Of course,” George said. “I’ll wait for you.”

“No that’s okay.”

They got up and Sonita touched George’s face with the back of her hand. Her caress was innocent, but her intent was anything but. A plot was hatching. She was through being the good girl. She had no idea how she’d do it, but she was determined to take back everything Mandy had stolen from her. She would take back George and leave Mandy with what she deserved . . . herself for her pleasure only.

George stopped just outside the mall.

“Thanks for listening. You’re a better friend than I deserve.”

“Better than you think. You and Mandy were at my place once. Do you remember where it is?”

“27 Chester Street, I remember.”

“Apartment 2505. Come around 8. We still have some talking to do.”

“Are you sure? I’m terrible company these days.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Sonita jumped out of the car and fled into the mall. There was so much to do and so little time. She sat down at a table in the Food Court and made a list. She flew from level to level, store to store. She flew home and tidied her apartment. She washed her hair and then bathed in foamy water that smelled of roses and lime. She painted her toe and fingernails. Dinner would take care of itself. She dressed.

At 7:58 PM she stood in front of her bedroom mirror examining herself. Every part of her buzzed with excitement. She felt like the old Sonny except that her heart had turned black and shiny. All she cared about was what she wanted. A cascade of dark hair fell in heavy waves over her shoulders and midway down her back. Her huge breasts jutted out from the neck of a white satin elastic sheath and a red stoned pendant hung over the long line of her cleavage. The dress clung to her torso and tiny waist and stopped just inches below her crotch. If she were a good girl, she would have worn more underneath it than a garter belt, white fishnets and high, high heels. If she were a good girl, she’d watch how she sat tonight. If she were a good girl she wouldn’t be standing here glowing, waiting for somebody else’s husband. But that somebody was Mandy and the husband was George. She wanted him and she would have him because all in one day, Sonita had changed. She was no longer a good girl and she was glad. She felt aroused. She placed her fingers underneath her dress and enjoyed the erotic shiver as she tickled her clit. She was wet, soaking with anticipation. Her fingers were wet. She placed them under her nostrils and breathed deep. The phone rang. She picked it up.

“It’s George. I’m downstairs.”

“Come in, George.”

She touched her pussy again. She smelled her fingers again. She was horny. She was ready.

She stood in her open doorway wondering what the old man who lived across the hall would do if he happened to open his door. She almost wished he would. The old guy was sweet. He deserved a bony rush now and again.

She heard the elevator grind to a stop, waited a few moments and stepped into the hall. She laughed aloud when George stumbled in his tracks. He looked sweet, wine in hand, his blushing grin stretching widely across his face. She could feel his excitement meeting hers. She could feel his anticipation. She could feel his horny cock growing. Feel it deep inside her throbbing cunt.

“Come in, Georgie,” she said, leaning against the doorjamb, forcing him to climb awkwardly over her extended legs, forcing her tits against his arm as she followed him in.


“You look great!” he said, his eyes gobbling her up from head to toe.

“Prove it,” Sonny teased, dodging out of the way when he bent to kiss her.

“For you,” he said, offering the wine.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll put it in the fridge.”

“Please sit,” she said, gesturing to the couch in her living room.

George sat. Sonny grabbed a chair and placed it opposite him across the coffee table.

“What are you up to?” George asked. His smile was open, vulnerable and full of anticipation; just the way she wanted it.

“I’m up to you, Georgie. We’re here to fix you up. Exorcise all your demons. But you have to talk about it. I know that everything about those pictures upset you, but was there anything in particular? Tell me what and why.”

“I can’t . . . ”

“You can and you will,” Sonny interrupted, her voice firm.

George sighed deeply. Sonny spread her legs. Her skirt rose up over her pussy. She could see her glistening hairs, smell her pussy. She crossed her legs after she saw George’s eyes caressing her, after she saw the bulge in his slacks.

“Two things really upset me. One, she was going down on some dude. That upset me because she never does that to me. And the other thing was that she let another guy fuck her in the ass and she never let me near her ass.”

The words had come in a rush.

“Thanks, Georgie,” Sonny said, playing her necklace over her breasts and between her cleavage. “Next step, take off your clothes please.”

George’s face was flushed with embarrassment.

“Slowly,” Sonny added.

He climbed off the couch and moved around the table. He shrugged out of his jacket, one arm at a time, letting it fall to the floor. He began to unbutton his shirt.

“That’s good. Nice and slow,” Sonny said. “Now turn for me.”

She watched him move. He was so big, so gentle and light of foot. His ass was still tight, still lifted. She uncrossed her legs, let one swing open like a gate, slowly open and shut; offering and then closing off the gift that lay between her legs. She massaged her tits through her dress.

George let his shirt fall to the floor. Sonny remembered that naked chest. Her mouth watered for his nipple. She wanted to feel his skin against her own. “Soon,” the voice promised. George had unzipped his pants and was sliding them down, across his hips, thighs and knees. Sonny watched the discomfort and embarrassment ballooning in his chest, watched his enormous cock ballooning in his jockey shorts.

“Get rid of the socks while you’re at it. I want you naked.”

“I’ll have to get this chair cleaned,” Sonny thought as she felt liquid appreciation flowing generously and freely out of her.

George stood naked, his face slack with horniness, his eyes brimming with lust.

“Sit,” Sonny instructed.

George sat on the couch, his pole jerking with readiness. Sonny danced toward him, swaying her hips and breasts. Her eyes bored into his. They were slits of eyes, hungry eyes. She sat on his lap, positioning his cock between her legs, against her cunt. She couldn’t help squirming. She felt so good. She could feel her clit growing, pulsing, reaching toward him.

“Did Mandy kiss any of the men in her pictures, like this?” Sonny licked George’s lips before pecking him on the cheek.

“No,” George whispered.

“Kiss me, Georgie,” she said.

George gathered her into his arms, mashing her breasts between them. His eyes glinted and bled with horniness and she could feel his giant cock getting harder against her. Her mouth opened slowly, letting the heat and moisture register slowly, letting the possibilities register slowly. She nibbled at his lips, teasing them with her tongue. He nibbled and sucked her soft lips with his own. They took their time. They licked and tasted and shared tongue and teeth and wetness until they could stand it no more. And then the dance was on, a primitive dance that involved a kissing fuck, a ritual that started in the mouth and traveled its complicated circuitry through their bodies to pussy and cock; to the core of man’s survival. And they fucked their kiss until there was nothing left to do but stop or come.

“Fuck,” Sonny said, drawing back and looking into George’s eyes. “Fuck,” she repeated.

“I’d love to,” George groaned.

“Soon,” Sonny promised, “but first things first.”

She slid off his lap and knelt between his legs. She took his cock in her hand gazing at it lovingly, her mouth open. She bubbled saliva out of her puckered lips and let it drip onto its head. She bent over him, her mouth an ocean of warm wetness. She tested the terrain, running her tongue over the smooth flesh, over the ridge, along the moving skin to the base of him. She took his balls in her mouth, first one and then the other, weighing them, tasting them, swishing them in her pool of a mouth. She could smell him, that smell that intoxicated her. She buried her face in his crotch and breathed and breathed and breathed the lovely smell of him. She had been stroking him with wet hands all the while and a large blob of pre-cum escaped out of him. She gathered it in her mouth.

“You want some?”

“No, please no!” George sounded frightened.

Sonny leaned over him, her breasts filling the space between them and forced his own pre-cum into his mouth. She kissed it into him. She tongued it into him. She shared it with him.

She straightened up. She was so horny that her legs shook and she was losing the ability to think. Her nipples ached with the need for attention and cum was dripping down her legs onto her stockings.

She moved around the table. She didn’t need music. She reached under her skirt to undo her garter. With one foot up, she slowly peeled her stocking down. She kicked off her shoe and then started on the other. She wiggled, Marilyn Monroe style, out of the tight sheath. She stood naked except for a strapless bra. She moved the table a few feet away and stood in front of George. She lowered her tits in his face. He groaned reaching for them, molding them in his hands.

“All for you. I’m gonna’ give it all to you.”

She disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a tube of lubricant. She knelt before him, spreading it in gobs, over his lurching cock. She passed it to him.

“Be gentle. I’m a virgin,” she said softly, “your virgin.”

She turned away from him, bent over and spread the cheeks of her ass and then she placed her hands on the table and waited.

“Not yet,” George said. “Not yet.”

He took her hand and began to lead her to the bedroom.

“No, right here,” Sonny said. “Right now.”

She eased herself onto the floor and George moved over her.

“It’s been so long,” he said, playing his cock over her engorged clit.

Sonny raised her legs high and opened them wide. He held them, kissed each foot quickly and then lowered himself over her. She could feel her heart beating out of her chest and her pussy walls throbbing with welcome. As he entered her slowly, she moved toward him, matched him as the rhythm quickened. There was a quiet moment, like the still before a storm, and then they were swept away in a galloping, grinding, teasing, fucking rush to the finish. The walls of her vagina pulsed and her belly tightened in that moment before … he withdrew.

“No,” her body screamed. He rolled her over. “Come back,” her body begged.

He guided her onto all fours. She felt a slippery finger, a foreign object in a foreign place and it frightened a part of her. She felt two fingers. “Touch yourself, baby,” George instructed. She manipulated her clit, pinched her tit. She spanked her clit. She was ready.

“Please fuck my ass,” she begged.

George was as patient as he could be until she began to push into him, away from him, back into him. She liked the pain, she liked the invasion. It soon crossed the pain threshold into pleasure like she’d never felt before. She could feel him in her pussy and in her ass; it was a total fuck. George was moving faster. She met his pace. Her nipples grazed the carpet. Her nipples were on fire. Her pussy was on fire. Her ass was on fire. Burning, burning, her whole body burning to a white heat until she could take no more.

“I’mmmmmm commming . . . ”

George placed one muscled arm around her belly and pulled her to him as he spurt fifteen years of regret and longing into her. Sonny began to cry with joy and relief and completion.

George lowered her gently onto the floor, gathering her in his arms as he went. They lay still for awhile and then Sonny pulled George to her. She pulled her huge breast out of her bra and offered it to George. He began to nibble and then suck and then suckle. He undid her bra and let the other one free. He made love to them both in turn and together.

“Feel like a glass of wine?” Sonny asked after a while.

“Yeah, and I’m hungry. How about a Pizza from The Best Palate, for old time’s sake,” George suggested.

“They’ve gotten fancy,” Sonny laughed. “They don’t deliver anymore.”

“That’s okay. I’ll grab a shower and go pick one up.”

While George showered, Sonny ordered a large deluxe, George’s favorite.

While he was picking up the pizza, Sonny retrieved two cameras: one from the bookcase behind the couch and the other from the one facing the couch and headed for her computer. The scene had been covered nicely. It took no time at all to burn the clips onto a CDRom and copy them in manageable files on her hard drive.

When George came back, she poured them each a glass of wine, and sat him down in front of her computer. She opened her email ‘Sent Items’ folder and clicked on the last one:

TO: MANDY MEYERS SUBJECT: FOR OUR PLEASURE ONLY.

There were three attachments. Sonny opened one and George was gobsmacked! Thanks to Windows Media there he was in all his glory, starring in his first porn film. As he gulped his wine, horror turned to anger and then to humor and then to pride. He thought he looked quite good and Sonny looked terrific. Revenge was sweet. Mandy would be plucked.