The Erotic Tales Of Dana Jones - Landing The Contract free porn video

Thursday afternoon, 2:00 pm  

"Come on, Mark, fuck me… get on with it… yes… yes… oooh… that's it, Mark, let me feel it deep in me,” Dana moaned as Mark's searing hot flesh pierced her pink wetness. 

Her ragged breathing filled the office as his huge, thick cock jack-hammered into her silky hot tunnel. "Ooh, you fucking bastards," she groaned, head hanging down in a gesture of submission. 

Dana Jones, a tall, lithe, attractive 32-year-old, stood in front of her desk, her skirt and panties discarded on the lush carpet. She spread her stocking-clad legs to give Mark easier access to her exposed sex. 

Robert Cranton-Smith sat on top of Dana's desk, his giant curved erection pointing toward her hungry mouth like a rocket ready for blast off. Her succulent lips were inches above the saliva-covered cock, linked by a long tendril of saliva. She moved a hand up and down the thick fleshy staff in a skilled twisting motion, one guaranteed to make men cum. She bent forward and felt her breasts, free from the confines of her bra, pressing against his muscular thighs, her erect nipples trying to pierce his skin.

Waves of pleasure coursed through her body and Dana couldn't understand why she'd denied herself for so long. Mark's balls slammed into the back of her thighs, and she returned her attention to his huge prick. Robert watched with smug satisfaction as she encircled his engorged helmet with her cherry red lips. Dana felt him shudder with delight when she pushed her tongue into his little piss hole but misunderstood why.

He was triumphant because, from the moment he'd laid eyes on Dana, months before, he knew she was a hot-blooded woman. Despite her best efforts to disguise herself behind the facade of an efficient corporate lawyer, he recognized the signs and now she was proving him right. 

He grabbed hold of her head and pushed it down, forcing more of his cock into her throat, knowing she wanted this as much as he did. Dana opened her mouth wider to accommodate the intrusion and used Robert's strength to support herself whilst pushing her arse backwards to meet Mark's vigorous thrusts. 

Mark Waterhouse had sweat running down his handsome face. Not surprising considering what he was doing. He looked down at the half-naked woman bent over in front of him, his thick veiny manhood gliding with ease between her swollen pussy lips. His Savile Row suit was unrecognizable now. He'd flung the jacket across the office and the trousers, bunched around his ankles, would definitely need dry cleaning, not that he cared. The only thing that mattered was his selfish pleasure. 

He pounded into Dana, his lust fuelled by the sight of his prick disappearing between her gorgeous buttocks and watching her give his colleague a sloppy blowjob. 

Dana felt Mark's manhood massaging her G-spot every time he thrust into her and a long-forgotten sensation built up inside her. She recognized the signs, knew these first ripples were just the beginning. They would grow into waves, each one bigger and more powerful than the previous, each one triggering the next in the ultimate chain reaction that would lead to a mind shattering orgasm.

She was moaning as this sexual onslaught teased and tormented her body. Even though the cock filling her mouth muffled her groans, no-one could mistake her wanton joy. As another wave of lust coursed through her, Dana shrugged off the feelings of guilt she was experiencing about her husband, Christopher.

When she least expected it, his kind, friendly face kept popping into her consciousness. It confronted her with her savage adultery, demanding her to stop. She almost caved, but before remorse brought her back to her senses, the two young men assaulting her body, helped Dana remember why she was here.

Resentment penetrated the mists of guilt, just like the cocks penetrated her body, banishing all thoughts of Chris into the darkest recesses of her mind. He no longer satisfied her, hadn't done so for a long time, but these two studs were more than capable of giving her what she craved.

Ironically, Chris could do nothing to change how she felt. He just wasn't equipped for the job. Compared to Robert and Mark, Christopher was out-gunned, to coin a phrase. That was all there was to it. Until this morning, she hadn't planned on being unfaithful. But, now that she’d crossed the line, giving herself to not one, but two men, she had no regrets. 

Dana could no longer pretend nothing was wrong. She couldn't carry on living the lie her life had become. For years she tried to ignore the thought gnawing away at her subconscious but today she admitted the truth. She couldn’t and wouldn’t carry on the charade: a farce so convincing nobody knew that, sexually, Dana was a deprived wreck. After years as a hostage in a prison of sexual banality, she needed liberating, and destiny had presented her with a golden opportunity. Like a drowning sailor reaching for a lifebuoy, she grabbed it with both hands. 

Having come to terms with her needs, Dana concentrated on the task at hand. She accepted what she was, what she needed to feel alive, and she was being true to herself. Discounting the financial rewards this assignment promised, Dana was taking advantage of the sexual benefits it was reaping, unsure which of the two was more important. She smiled to herself. Couldn't she enjoy both?

Her craving was rudely awakened the previous evening, but she hadn't expected it to become a reality. And how? Having expected one man to attend the meeting, she felt butterflies in her stomach when two well-dressed, handsome men entered her office. And when her fantasy exploded into life, Dana couldn't believe how eager they were to join in. Dormant sexual appetites needed quenching, and all three of them embarked on an afternoon of debauchery. 

She felt their hard bodies pressing against her willing flesh and didn't want this to end… ever! Unaware of how much time they had before possible discovery, Dana would not stop until she’d received every drop of creamy spunk from the two well-hung studs. Both men felt the subtle change as she responded to their exertions with renewed vigour.

'Am I a slut?' she wondered. 

Both men had called her one, but their impartiality was doubtful. However, watching her being spit roasted on two huge cocks and enjoying it, could easily influence one's opinion. Dana knew the answer. It had been her secret for years, but the dick between her lips and the cock stretching her, was obvious confirmation.

She felt like a slut, she acted like a slut, therefore she must be a… 

Dana might have kidded herself that she was doing this to further her career at Brady, Cooper & Davidson, Lawyers Incorporated, but she knew the truth. "Come on you two, treat me like the slut I am,” she screamed. 

o0o 

Tuesday afternoon, 5:55 pm 

Dana Jones's sexual revolution started when she was waiting for the coffee machine to provide her cappuccino. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Mr John Davidson approach and felt her temperature rise. His presence unsettled Dana for two reasons: excitement and anxiety. 

The anxiety was easy to understand. He was her boss and had the power of hire or fire if he deemed it necessary. In fact, he had done just that. As charming as he was, he could also be unreasonable, and a few associates had more than once found themselves on the street, wondering how they had incurred the wrath of Mr Davidson. 

The excitement was easier to explain. The raw sexuality he radiated turned her on. Having God-like power over her was just part of it, an incredible body another. How was it possible for one man to be so damned sexy, she pondered as he approached.

Davidson was a handsome, Afro-American ex-ballplayer. During his football scholarship, he studied law to occupy his active mind but had no intention of becoming a lawyer. His destiny was to play for the 'Forty-Niners' in the NFL.

During his time at university, he was rarely seen in the classrooms. He preferred to spend his time improving his athletic prowess on the field or in the gym. When he wasn't training or pumping iron, he enjoyed himself bedding the abundant supply of university female students. 

This all ended when a shoulder injury shattered his sporting aspirations. 

Despite bitter resentment, John crammed everything he'd missed throughout the previous years into the last semester before his finals and walked away with an honours degree Cum Laude. 

At university, fellow students heaped praise on Colin Brady and Joe Cooper for their intellectual abilities. They had studied and graduated together but outside of their intellectual circle, men regarded them as nerds. However, being nerds didn't mean they were stupid or lacking in ambition. Born to succeed, they formed their own company after graduating. It didn't take long for them to realize that someone like John Davidson could make their goal of becoming rich and powerful easier to realize.

Determined to snare John, they presented their case to him at their club. This informal meeting developed into an all-night drinking session and, as the sun rose over the grounds of the Brentwood country club, they established one of Los Angeles’ most successful law firms. Rumour has it not one word was ever committed to paper and the three young men sealed their partnership with a gentleman's handshake. No one has ever confirmed it. 

In the beginning, LA's legal fraternity considered Brady and Cooper to be the legal whiz kids of the of the company but only a fool underestimated John.

Brady and Cooper were persuasive when necessary, sharp and decisive when it counted, and compassionate when they deemed it appropriate; in fact, every quality up-and-coming lawyers need to for success. However, for looks, charm or charisma, neither could compete with Davidson. His handsome features, made more impressive by his dark ebony skin, emphasized his proud noble ancestry. A shade over six feet, the only fat on his frame came from the hamburgers he enjoyed now and again. Otherwise, it was all muscle. 

Developed and kept in condition by years of football training, John treated his body as a temple, a temple dedicated to his two loves — football and women. Everywhere he went, beautiful ladies surrounded him, vying to become Mrs Davidson, but John wasn't interested in marriage. He was in it for the sex.

Instead of being threatened by John's presence, other men flocked around him, all hoping that some of his charisma would rub off on them. Brady and Cooper were no exceptions. However, what many failed to see until it was too late, was a cold, hard ruthlessness and a will to succeed in lying beneath the charm. As long as what he did was within the law, John left no stone unturned, no line uncrossed, and considered nothing sacrosanct when searching for the tiniest detail that could lead him to victory.

His reputation for tenacity and relentlessness became legendary among the law fraternity and, hearing John was the opposing lawyer, many an adversary advised their clients to settle expediently and with little fuss. Despite this fearsome prominence, he enjoyed the respect and friendship of almost everybody he met. 

His partners watched in fascination as John exploited every opportunity that came his way. Business or personal, it didn't matter, he took every advantage offered to him, and nobody seemed to mind. Whether he raided a bank balance or a bed, when they were empty, he moved onto the next project, as he called them. The company grew, and John proved to be an invaluable asset. 

That was twenty years. Now, they had a staff of eleven senior partners, fifteen juniors, and a constant stream of associates all trying to keep up with the punishing workload that never seemed to diminish. 

Maybe he had grown older, wiser, and more respectable since university, but he was still a bachelor, albeit a popular one. Paparazzi photographs of him enjoying the glitz and the glamour that LA offered, more often than not in the company of one of the many models or actresses that inhabit Tinsel Town, appeared with regularity in the gossip columns.

Dana couldn't believe what was happening. Senior partners never came to the lower echelons. Her panic grew when she realized he was walking towards her. 

“Jesus, he's still got it," she muttered as he drew closer. Even now, his easy, casual gait, like that of a giant predatory cat, caused her to catch her breath. Her gaze moved to his abdomen and she wondered if the stories were true. 

Immersed in her secret fantasy, it took Dana a few seconds to realize he was calling her by name. A wave of panic surged through her. Why was one of the founding partners seeking her out? Her brain raced at lightning speed. She tried to remember everything she had done in the last month but came up blank. She almost jumped when one of John's huge hands rested on her shoulder and felt a shiver of apprehension run down her spine.

"Ah, Mrs Jones. I was just in your office but Suzie told me you were here."

Dana didn't flinch from his touch but she could feel her temperature rising. His hand seemed to generate a warmth that radiated throughout her body and his expensive cologne filled her nose. She averted her gaze from his face to gain control of herself, but try as she might, she couldn't relax in his presence. She felt her nipples stiffening and hoped this encounter would end before her body betrayed her. 

"I'm sorry, sir, I was checking details for the White Foundation case and because it will take longer…" Dana realized that she was babbling, "than we thought, Susie and I need to work late."

Davidson was looking at her, smiling in his self-assured manner, which only made things worse. She felt he was enjoying her discomfort at trying to defend her actions, even if he was a busy man. 

“So, while Suzie ordered the pizzas, I came here to get our drinks," she continued. 

John raised his other hand to staunch Dana's monologue, his eyes laughing at her unease. "Excellent, Mrs, Jones, excellent but I need your help on another matter," he said. 

She blinked. "My help, sir?" she interrupted him, her mind in turmoil before remembering her manners. "Yes, sir. Anything, I'll do anything you want me to… I mean… there's nothing I'm not prepared… please, anything…" 

She stopped in mid-sentence. She realized that he could interpret her words the wrong way. "What I mean, sir is…" she realized she was prattling and shut up. 

Davidson gazed at her before continuing, unperturbed by her embarrassment. "Now, Mrs Jones… sorry, Dana isn't it?" 

She nodded. 

"I've got something for you." He gestured to the legal brief in his hand. "This is something unusual for our company because we do not let our clients choose who we assign dossiers to." He paused, letting his words sink in. "But considering who he is and what he means to our office, we bent the rules a little. He's one of our most prestigious clients and a well-known personality in Los Angeles." 

Not understanding anything that had happened in the last few minutes, Dana stared shell-shocked at him. 

"He's asked for you by name," John informed her, his neutral tone conveying neither admiration nor rancour. 

Dana pointed at herself and gave her employer a disbelieving look. John grinned and nodded. "Yes, you Dana. Because of the sensitive nature of the problem, and your experience in such matters, I'm inclined to agree with him."

Dana stared impassively, unable to think of anything sensible to say. To break the awkward silence, John handed her the file. 

"Robert Cranton-Smith, he's…" Dana's blank expression surprised John. "You've never heard of Rob —“ Then he realized. "Why would you have, you're not from LA are you?" She shook her head while he checked his Rolex. "Okay, I've got time, might as well outline the case for you. 

"Robert Cranton-Smith is the CEO and whiz kid of Sunset Holdings, the financial money-maker for the rich and famous. He started out as a hacker but after getting caught when he was nineteen, he got smart. He used his brain to make money. First for himself, then as his reputation grew, he helped lots of Hollywood's younger stars get richer. 

“Young and attractive, they identified with him, saw him as one of their own. Unlike the big financial institutions appointed to them by their accountants, he was different. He'd bucked the system, stuck it to the man where it counted. In fact, his conviction just boosted his street cred, if the young and hip give a shit. To them, he's the man. It's not perfect, but that's how it works here in LA. Since helping him at his trial, we've continued to represent him."

Dana looked impressed. John's smile faded.

"I know, I know, it all sounds like one big happy family but there are storm clouds on the horizon. Robert is being accused of assault.” With a look of resignation, knowing what was coming, Dana gazed at her employer. "The charge is total nonsense. At least, that's what he tells me and since he's not only a client but also a friend, I believe him."

Dana felt the cage being closed around her. 

"Anyway, Robert Cranton-Smith has asked for you and I will let you run with it." She felt trapped. "It's been a long time since I've practised criminal law, but if you need any help, just ask." 

Once more he gave her his megawatt smile. Dana knew she should feel flattered but all she saw was the Sword of Damocles hanging over her head.  

"We've been re-negotiating with Cranton-Smith for almost a year," John continued, "to keep his account and now this ridiculous accusation is threatening to blow the whole deal out of the water." 

Dana heard the frustration in his voice. 

"If he's incarcerated, we'll lose the contract, which is why we want you to sort out this nasty little business. We've heard good things about your defence work at Jensen & Jullianson in Chicago, so I'm sure this is nothing you can't handle."

Hearing the name of her former employer, Dana felt sick to her stomach. One reason she moved to LA was to make a new start. She was tired of defending scum-bags, especially after finding out that not all them lived in the gutter. Being a sought-after defence attorney might have been financially rewarding, but it had eaten away at her soul. Being a corporate lawyer in Los Angeles, while more stressful and demanding, was less taxing on her consciousness. 

“Mr Davidson, it's not that I don't want to help but I can't see how I can," Dana began her refusal, "I mean, I'm unknown by the DA's office, and I don’t know any judges here."

John slung a muscular arm around her and walked down the corridor. All Dana could do was shuffle alongside her boss as he countered her argument. It hadn't escaped her notice he had turned up the charm a few notches. 

"Dana, from what I understand, it's an open and shut case. Won't even see the inside of a courtroom, but just in case we're wrong, all I'm asking is that you look at the details here." 

His request sounded so easy and reasonable — and there lay the danger. Although Dana knew she was stepping in to a minefield of uncertainty, she didn't want to displease her employer. Not professionally anyway. She stared at him impassively, unable to think of anything sensible to say. To break the awkward silence, John handed her the file.

”I'm not sure I'll be much help, but I'll do my best, Mr Davidson,” Dana said resignedly

"That's all I'm asking for, Mrs Jones. Look it over, talk to Cranton-Smith, he's expecting your call tomorrow, and then contact the D.A. When you've done that, report back and we'll go from there. This is his deal breaker, Mrs Jones. If we settle this unfortunate business for him, he's promised to keep his account here and I'm sure you can imagine what that means to us financially. Okay?”

Like the headlights of a car on full beam, his smile was blinding and her resistance crumbled. 

"Now, clear your desk, Dana. Everything and everyone here is at your disposal. If you run into any trouble or receive any shit about procedures, just direct them to me. And, if you need help, my door is open to you, Dana, so don't be shy." 

His enthusiasm was infectious and as his words sank in, Dana felt a little giddy at the power he was granting her. 

"And Mrs Jones, if you pull this off, Brady, Cooper & Davidson will be indebted to you and," he gave Dana another winning smile, "we pride ourselves in rewarding people who have the right stuff."

Dana couldn't believe her ears. If she resolved this mess, she might become a junior partner earlier than expected. She blinked while John removed his arm from her shoulders. He continued walking while she stood contemplating everything said and unsaid. Before turning the corner, he stopped and smiled. Pointing his hands at her as if they pistols, he said, "Go get him, Dana, make us proud." 

Then he disappeared from her sight.

o0o 

The following morning, Dana sat behind her desk, tapping her manicured nails on the polished wood while waiting for someone to answer the telephone. She was calling Mr Robert Cranton-Smith to arrange an appointment, but the irritating tone of an unanswered line was getting to her. She calmed down because the call was important.

It was easy enough to say, "Dana clear your desk.” It was another thing to get that task accomplished. The White Foundation takeover was nearing completion, and she was part of the team. However, Dana's low stance in the company meant her presence at the conference table wasn't required, but if any unexpected issues cropped up, it was her task to resolve them. Although nothing untoward had occurred, the rate negotiations were going, they'd be lucky to get this thing wrapped up today, she mused. Listening to the constant ringing tone in her ear, she doodled.

"Hello, Cranton-Smith, who am I speaking to?" 

Dana jumped at the sound of a gravelly voice in her ear and only after her heartbeat returned to its normal speed, did she feel able to speak? The brusqueness irritated the hell out of her, although the rasping tone sounded familiar. She pondered the conundrum and quickly came up with the answer. His voice reminded her of the actor Nick Nolte. 

She began in a business-like manner. "Good morning, Mr Cranton-Smith. I'm Mrs Jones from —“ 

"Hey, Miss Jones,” he interrupted, “cool down and relax. No need to be so formal." Dana heard the mistake and, wondering if it was deliberate, ignored it. “Please, call me Robert or Bob, whichever one takes your fancy." 

Although she couldn't see the smile on the other end of the line, she heard it all the same. It sounded like he was having a huge amount of fun. Dana’s eyes bulged and she wondered what the fuck was going on. 

"Bob's the name all my friends use and if this thing works out…" a slight pause, "well, like I think it will, then you and I will be great friends if you get my drift.”

“Mr Cranton-Smith," Dana interrupted, wanting to stamp her authority on this conversation. However, Robert continued in his lazy teasing tone. 

“Now, I know who you are and I know why you're calling. Lord knows I've been sitting here since eight o'clock waiting for you to ring. I was thinking you didn't want to work with me, and that hurts."

Dana shook her head in wonderment. Who the fuck did Mr Robert Cranton-Smith think he was?

"Anyway, Miss Jones, I have no more time to discuss the matter today, so why don't we agree to meet up. Maybe dinner, at my place? Friday evening, and after dinner, we can enjoy drinks and relax together, maybe fill in one or two holes you have." 

The innuendos weren't lost on Dana and she was on the verge of exploding. Wanting to slam down the receiver, she took a deep breath and counted to ten. 

"Does that sound tempting, Miss Jones? Or may I call you Dana?"

She uttered her reply through clenched teeth. "First, Mr Smith," she deliberately forgot the hyphenation, "it's Mrs Jones to you… Not Miss Jones, not Dana, but Mrs Jones. And, if you think I will have dinner on Friday evening with you so you can fill in my holes afterwards, then you're seriously mistaken." 

She made the last few words sound as disdainful as she felt. Who did this prick think he was, George Clooney? And who did he think she was? 

Dana Jones wasn't some dumb chick who worshipped the ground he walked upon; she was his lawyer and a damn good one. Although the righteousness feeling improved her mood, she knew part of it was her fault. She shouldn't have allowed him to bait her so well. The smooth, teasing voice interrupted her again.

“Hey, stay cool, Mrs Jones." His amusement was audible. "We're all just having some innocent fun here, no need for the heavy attitude." He waited for her a reply but the other end of the line stayed silent. “Mrs Jones?"

Dana sat with her head in her hands. Having pulled up his file from the server, she’d read his personal details and knew she had handled this all wrong. 

It was all there, including his name and address — or, to be more specific, addresses, because he owned various pieces of expensive real estate, including one in Aspen Colorado. His marital status was single. That explained an awful lot, she thought, as did the next detail. Age - twenty-two years old. She reeled at the information. ‘You silly bitch,’ she thought. ‘He's barely out of school. No wonder the conversation was something out of a bad adolescent dream.’ 

Staring dismally at the screen, Dana knew nothing that would help her out of this embarrassing situation. ‘Fine, bloody hindsight. A fat lot of good it's doing me now,’ her conscience raged. ‘Okay, he pushed your buttons with some things he said, but that doesn't excuse your behaviour. He'd been flirting with you and you went off at the deep end.’

“Mrs Jones?” He sounded unsure now.

Dana groaned at her bad luck.

She gathered her wits and acted as if nothing was the matter. “Sorry, Mr, Cranton-Smith, I was busy with something," she lied. "We need to meet as soon as possible to discuss your case details. I recommend you come here to my office on Thursday morning and we can hear your side of the story. I must confess, I haven't read all the details yet, but it's the next thing on my agenda." She sounded in control. “So, I will see you Thursday morning," she added confidently. 

“Mrs Jones, Thursday morning is out of the question for me. I'm busy." 

She almost believed she could hear him purr on the other end of the line. 

"However, I could come after lunch, say about one o'clock," he replied. Knowing he had played her, added to Dana's humiliation. "Does that suit you, Mrs Jones?" he added as if caring what she wanted.

"I look forward to seeing you then," she again lied, knowing she'd lost this battle. Then she heard the chuckle and bristled. 

"I know you do, Dana Jones, I know you will." 

She heard a click, and the line went dead.

o0o

Wednesday evening, 9:30 pm 

Exhausted, Dana flopped onto the couch, dressed in bikini panties and a large red T-shirt. Her long hair was still damp from a steaming hot shower and she massaged the back of her neck to relieve the tension that built during what turned out to be negotiations from hell. All day, arguments flew back and forth across the conference room until, at eight o'clock, both parties agreed on the settlement.

On the coffee table in front of her was another file. John Davidson had personally delivered it, although his timing could have been better. The White Foundation negotiations had stalled, and the chaos was rampant when he appeared in front of her.

She could laugh now, but that afternoon, it had been a different story.

"Hello, Dana, our investigators have put this file together for you." His tone was conversational. "It's not a lot, but it's all we have. Who knows, it might be helpful." He flashed her his famous smile and lay it on top of the pile she was already carrying. 

She looked down at the stack in her hands, then back at him, her expression one of dread. Her mind raced at breakneck speed, going over everything she knew about the White Foundation case.

"Have we made a big mistake?" she asked in near panic. Had she missed something that would cost Brady, Cooper & Davidson, Lawyers Incorporated a huge sum of money? "I'm sorry, Mr Davidson, I'm doing my best to keep up," she began defensively. "But I thought we had everything for the White Foundation, I'm sure..."

Now it was John's turn to look puzzled. Then he realized they were having different conversations. The situation amused him. 

"Ah, Mrs Jones, I see I've caught you at a busy time." She looked nonplussed. "This file is for the Cranton-Smith case." He saw her confusion dissipating. "I don't know what's in here but I'm sure it's just the usual background information on the accused, accuser, police records and statements. Nothing you're not familiar with, right?" 

He raised an eyebrow at her and waited for her to catch up with him. She nodded slowly, only now beginning to understand what on earth he was talking about. "Good, good," he murmured tapping the file. 

After looking at his watch, he spoke again. "I'd like to go through it with you, Dana, but I'm late for golf.” Without the smallest grain of pity for the huge workload he’d dumped on her shoulders, he smiled his goodbye and walked away. 

Again, before he disappeared from sight he gave her the pistol gesture with his hands while his fading voice said he had faith in her. Dana was speechless and slowly counted to ten before continuing to her office. 

Relaxing on the couch, Dana giggled at the memory, despite the ball-breaker of a headache. Although she was tired and exhausted, the file on the table seemed to goad her. With little enthusiasm, she picked up the damn thing and regarded it with loathing. Sex in the City was on and she wanted to watch it, or at least the remaining few minutes. For a second, she rebelled and almost threw the file back onto the table, but her professionalism kicked in. Dana Jones never went to a meeting unprepared. "There's always the re-runs," she muttered, flicking open the cover. 

Inside, mug shots of Cranton-Smith and his alleged victim, Angela Martin stared at her, along with the preliminary police reports and copies of the statements made at the station. There was another file and two CDs. 

The reports recounted what had happened after the emergency services received the first 911 call. Agents had driven to the address and found the victim lying naked on the couch next to the phone crying. 

The agents, assuming the house belonged to Angela and that the perpetrator had long since vanished, tried comforting her while waiting for a female colleague. It was only when Robert Cranton-Smith, having taken a shower, walked into his living room, half naked, that the cops realized the house belonged to the so-called accused. Seldom had the cops had it so easy, and Robert, feeling the steely handcuffs close around his wrists for the second time in his life, got booked for assault. 

When 911 receive a complaint as serious as an assault, a gigantic bureaucratic wheel starts to turn. However, once it's on the move, it's very hard to stop and everyone inside gets carried along with it. So, despite their objections, police escorted both Angela and Cranton-Smith to the station, where they could make their statements.

Dana ignored those for the time being and opened the smaller file. It contained more photos. The police mug shots had done neither the accused nor the victim justice, but these professional, promotional images were much better. Dana saw why they attracted each other. 

To call Robert Cranton-Smith a handsome guy is like saying a Porsche is a fast car. Resembling a young Brad Pitt, it was easy to see why women fell for him. His crystal blue eyes seemed to laugh at everything while his high cheekbones and a strong mouth gave him an authoritative look. He had good teeth and a natural tan. In fact, everything about him looked clean and polished except his unruly, short blond hair. Dana wondered if he stuck his fingers in an electric socket to achieve that effect or if it was natural.

Miss Martin was a tall, shapely model, the sort which lingerie and beachwear companies found so appealing. In fact, there were lots of images of Angela in various sorts of bikinis and lingerie, each racier than the last but it wasn't for the mainstream catalogues. No, Angela's state of undress was necessary for her career choice. Miss Martin was fast becoming the hottest thing to emerge from Hollywood's adult film industry.

The next series of photos showed Angela and another female model in various compromising situations, but there was more. Determined to show Angela in the worst light possible, the company's detectives had searched for and found a lot of sordid photographs. Dana tried looking at them as evidence but didn't mind admitting Angela looked hot.

Also, if the pictures were accurate, there wasn't much she wouldn't do on film. According to a summary, Angela seemed to be approaching a level of fame reserved for the select few. Not only was she famous within the industry, but she was on her way to becoming a household name after appearing on both the Ellen and Oprah talk shows. 

Immersed in her research, Dana didn't hear the footsteps approaching from behind until it was too late. Chris leaned over to kiss her before she could shut the file and he was side-tracked by the last picture Dana was looking at.

Angela Martin had a massive cock buried inside her ass, another one down her throat and a third man was trying to penetrate her juiced up vagina. Despite the discomfort such a pose entails, the young actress conveyed a sense of enjoying her work. It was the little things. Her eyes sparkled, her hands seemed to urge her partners on, and her body displayed a wantonness rarely seen. Angela Martin radiated sex, and Dana was studying the picture with interest. 

“Jesus, Dana that's pornographic," he said. "And it's disgusting.”

Chris was a devout Christian and as straight as the proverbial arrow. His strong, quiet demeanour instilled trust and, after her tumultuous past, he seemed like the perfect man, but she soon learned he was quite old-fashioned. His conservative views could teach even the staunchest republicans a thing or two, especially about sex. He wasn't good at it, didn't want to talk about it, and considered anything other than the missionary position to be positively evil.

Dana sighed. She disagreed with him on many things but let them fly in the pursuit of a quiet life. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to remain passive and the strain was telling. This difference of opinions was a constant source of tension and they'd had many fruitless arguments, neither of them prepared to concede their corner. Although Dana enjoyed looking at porn, doing it when he was away on business, she wasn't in the mood for another confrontation so she lied. 

"I know, but one of the senior partners asked me to look at this case and I promised him I would. You know how I feel about breaking my word... Anyway, it's not the worst thing I've ever seen. In fact, it's quite tame compared to what crossed our desks in Chicago." 

"But..." Chris tried interrupting, but Dana carried on before he could continue. 

"If I do a good job on this and our client wins, then I get a bonus and stand to make junior partner next year," she lied, trying to offer him some consolation.

Chris sulked as he walked toward the kitchen. Unable to refute her claims, he knew it made sense, but it still irked him she had blindsided him like that. Like a petulant child who'd lost an argument, he had to have the last word. 

“Well, I don't care for it, Dana. It’s disgusting, wrong and immoral, and can only lead to no good." 

She sighed as she heard him muttering in the kitchen. Looking at the photos brought back long forgotten memories for her. At university, Dana, being away from home for the first time, rebelled against her strict church upbringing and soon became known as a wild party girl. Her sexual rampage knew no bounds, and weekends and spring break were a free for all.

Together with her best friend Monique Schneider, Dana engaged in an orgy of sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll. The drink and drugs not only helped Dana lose her inhibitions, they also impaired her judgment. At one such party, a guy was filming everyone and everything. Dana thought nothing of it until a year later when Monique called her to say she had seen them on the internet. 

Dana logged on, biting her nails to the quick while she waited for the film to download. Then she watched dumbfounded as Monique and herself took part in a  gang-bang. The scene was as bad as it could be and Dana felt tears of shame trickle down her cheeks while she watched multiple guys fuck all her orifices. 

Although her memory of the affair was hazy, it all seemed like fun and games at the time. However, in cold light of day, it was very confrontational. There was worse to come. Driven by her own shame, Monique had not only confessed to her parents but had also informed Dana's family.

Dana's father found the film on the internet and watched it, disgusted by what he saw. He found it hard watching his little girl enthusiastically performing acts he regarded as the devil's work. Even though every nerve demanded he turn off the filth, he felt compelled to watch it to the bitter end. However, the sight of his daughter drinking sperm from Monique's anus, while smiling at the camera and demanding more, proved to be the last straw. Outraged by his daughter's depravity and fearing disgrace within his church community, he banished her from the family. 

Although Dana couldn't deny what she had done, she hadn't reckoned on her father's reaction and felt hurt at his rejection. She tried explaining herself but he wouldn't listen and, after realizing he would not back down, Dana's anger grew.

So, she had made a mistake. Who hadn't? Focusing her anger at the production company who had produced the porn film, Dana looked at her options. She confided in her tutors but they couldn't help her. They pointed out she had signed a consent form, case closed. Despite being high on drink and drugs at the time, it would take a long, drawn out, and expensive court case to prove her point and would only prolong the suffering. "And there’s no guarantee you would win," they told her, shaking their heads. 

Dana was no fool. She hated to lose but with everything stacked against her, she dropped the case. Although she had come out of it relatively unscathed, she was a changed woman. Even though she spared herself certain financial ruin, the emotional damage seemed irreparable. She spent many long nights crying herself to sleep. 

Wanting and needing forgiveness, Dana sought comfort from her local priest, who explained in his fatherly way, that we were all sinners in the eyes of God but because he was a benevolent God who forgave all, the Lord welcomed everybody who repented. Feeling low and lonely, Dana threw herself into her newfound faith and, with the helpful guidance of Father Michaels, she even repaired the relationship with her parents. 

It was through the church, Dana met Chris, a building contractor. A gaunt, wiry young man, he was a dependable fellow, and they dated. The young Christian didn't believe in sex before marriage and Dana, still ashamed of her past, never told Chris about what happened at university. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him, was Dana's ethos, glad she had found someone to love.

After graduating and finding work at a firm specializing in legal defence, they tied the knot. However, after the honeymoon period, the cracks in their marriage appeared. They were two different people with their own opinions and the rows started. Moving to LA had been Chris's idea. Fed up with the cold Illinois winters, he figured there was a lot more money to be made in sunnier climes. 

Dana, hoping a new start in a more relaxing climate would give their union a new impulse, agreed with him but she had a condition of her own; she would not be a defence attorney anymore. 

"Babe, I have to fly up to 'the Bay' tomorrow so I need an early night. Can I get you something to drink 'fore I go to bed." 

Dana, absorbed in her work, didn't answer immediately. Then she realized Chris was still standing by the fridge, waiting for an answer. 

"No thanks, you go on up. I'll join you as soon as I've finished reading this file."

"Okay, sleep tight," he mumbled, still unhappy at what he had seen. 

"You too," Dana replied, reaching for the double CD case with an envelope attached. Inside, there was typing on a sheet of paper. 

"Hello Dana, 
One of these two CDs contain copies of the 911 call and the other disc has evidence that might prove Cranton-Smith is innocent (at least that's what my informant says). I haven't had a look at it myself, but I'm relying on your good judgment. Let me know if this helps our case. 
John Davidson."

Stifling a groan of exasperation, Dana placed the first CD in the player and waited. Soon she heard the professional voice of the 911 operator talking to a tearful Angela Martin claiming someone had assaulted her and was demanding the police come and rescue her. It still amazed her how the operator calmed Angela enough to extract the address and assured her that the police would arrive in minutes. 

Having heard many 911 calls in her career, and this one differed little from the rest, Dana replaced the first CD with the second one. When her laptop started up the video player, she knew had made a mistake. It was a DVD, not a CD. 

The film started and a large decorated room appeared on the screen. Dana switched to the full-screen viewer and settled the laptop on a cushion in front of her. Despite the quality, which was superb, Dana was sure she was watching a home movie — whoever was holding the camera didn't have a steady hand. 

However, judging by the size of the room and the expensive furniture, he had both money and good taste. The camera continued panning from left-to-right stopping only when it saw Angela Martin, standing in the middle of the room by a white leather couch.

She was wearing a short, chic summer's dress that complimented and accentuated her feminine curves, and high heels displayed her long legs in all their glory. Her long blonde hair was swaying from side to side as she danced to the rock music playing in the background, and Dana could see Angela's erect nipples. Then Dana heard Cranton-Smith's gravelly Californian accent from behind the camera telling Angela to do a sexy striptease for him.

Angela giggled and then informed Cranton-Smith that it was only because he was a dirty kinky bastard and she liked that in a man. That's why she would give him the sexiest show he'd ever seen. Dana watched with bated breath. The actress wasn't wrong, and she treated both Cranton-Smith and Dana to an arousing show. As Angela gyrated her hips to the steady beat of the music, she kept raising her dress above her hips, first on the left and then the right, each movement revealing more of her body before covering herself and starting all over again. Angela was a real exhibitionist and knew how to show herself off.

Engrossed in the film, Dana felt her mouth go dry as she waited to see what would happen next. She hadn't been with another woman since Monique and got all tingly as she watched Angela's perfect body move sensually on the screen. Dana watched the actress remove the last strap holding up her dress before slowly revealing her firm breasts to the camera. Angela's cherry red nipples were large and erect and it was obvious she was hot to trot as she lifted them to her slutty mouth. 

"That's it, babe, show papa bear how bad you are," crooned Cranton-Smith. "Go on, finger yourself, I want to watch you," he suggested with enthusiasm.

Angela traced a hand across her flat stomach, pulling at the hem of her dress to reveal her skimpy underwear. Moments later, Dana watched with growing excitement as Angela Martin fingered herself. Her hand was visible through the sheer panties and the microphone recorded her moans and whimpers with remarkable clarity. Although she was enjoying the show, Dana wondered what this was all leading up to. She soon found out.

Angela shrugged off her dress. She stood for a moment in panties and high heels, showing off for the camera, before moving toward Robert. She was pouting provocatively, caressing her firm breasts before she hooked her thumbs inside the small string around her waist. 

"Okay, papa bear, does daddy want to fuck me?" Angela teased as she moved toward the cameraman. "I'm so hot, daddy," she cooed, her thumbs moving down her hips. "I need fucking," she informed the camera. Dana heard Cranton-Smith chuckling. 

“Oh, I'll fuck you, darling but first my cock needs attention." 

Then the camera jiggled violently and Dana wondered what was going on. After realizing what had happened, she grinned sheepishly. 

Then Robert spoke again. “So, you little whore, why don't you get on your knees and put your mouth to good use?" 

"But I'm so wet, daddy," Angela pouted, enjoying the game, "that big cock of yours don't need no extra lu-bri-ca-tion," she cooed.

"Now, now, darling," Cranton-Smith admonished. "You come over here and use that exquisite mouth for something better than talking trash. You know what daddy wants, so stop messing about. Otherwise, I might have to spank that peachy little ass of yours." 

Squealing with delight, Angela sank to her knees. Then, reaching toward the camera, she opened her cherry red lips to obey her lover. Dana found herself unable to breathe as she willed the camera to pan lower. A gasp of surprise escaped her lips when Robert lowered the lens. 

Dana bit down on her knuckle as one of the biggest cocks she'd seen in a long time, filled the screen. She whistled in appreciation, her eyes glued to this monster cock as Angela, showing no inhibitions, engulfed the huge piece of meat as if her life depended on it. 

Trying to keep an unbiased opinion was becoming more difficult for Dana, because she was getting turned on, watching the film. Her erect nipples poked against her T-shirt and her knickers were damp and sticky. She watched mesmerized as Angela kept trying to deep throat Cranton-Smith but failing, each time choking on the huge slab of meat.

"Fucking amateur," scoffed Dana disdainfully. "For a so-called porn star, you suck," she snorted, amused at the actress's futile attempts. 

"Relax your throat, honey," Dana advised, but Angela had given up her attempts and concentrated on what she could handle. While the action on the screen heated up, Dana, aroused beyond belief, slid her fingers between her legs and caressed her wiry mound. After a few seconds, she pulled the gusset aside and placed her fingertips between her moist folds. 

Her arousal penetrated her nostrils and Dana moved her fingers to her clitoris and rubbed her swollen nub, using small circles to apply pressure to her sensitive button. “Mmm, that feels sooo good," she murmured, increasing the pressure. 

On-screen, Angela was moving back toward the couch, leading Robert by his erection, beckoning him to follow her. When she reached the couch, Angela fell back onto the soft cushions and spread her legs. Through the sheer panties, her excited womanhood was visible, and like Dana, Angela pulled the dainty garment aside and plunged two fingers into her juicy cunt. While she waited for Cranton-Smith to fuck her, Angela lay there, fingering herself.

"Come on, Daddy, I'm so wet, I need that big fat prick inside me now." 

Her husky voice was perfect and Dana watched entranced as Robert rubbed his engorged dome over Angela's clit. The young actress's eyes closed, and she placed a finger into the corner of her mouth for effect but Robert carried on teasing her, making her beg for more. Only after making her scream in desperation did he push his manhood between her swollen lips and into her silken tunnel. 

Dana bit her lip when she heard the actress gasp in shock as the monstrous cock penetrated her. Although Cranton-Smith's size had taken Angela by surprise, the porn star was soon moaning as the camera moved between her face, contorted in lust, and her sex being pounded by the thick organ.

There was no way one could call Angela a passive participant. She watched the huge prick ploughing her furrow with obvious pleasure. Erotic whimpers escaped her lips when she bucked forward to meet each deep thrust. In fact, the loud rock music in the background was being drowned out by Angela's primaeval groaning and obscene entreaties. Then Dana saw the actress reach down to hold her pussy lips apart and once more she marvelled at the way Robert’s cock, glistening with Angela's juices, slid with ease into the porn star's pussy.

Engrossed in the raunchy home video, Dana was now fingering herself. She enjoyed hearing the squelching noises her fingers made as they rapidly penetrated her sex and she freely acknowledged that her objectivity and morality was out of the window. She had become obsessed with her client's cock. 

Watching him fuck Angela only increased her craving. She wanted to experience the burn big cocks caused, cry out as her cunt was stretched to its limits. Then the truth hit her: she wanted to fuck Robert Cranton-Smith. 

The thought shocked her. Finally admitting Chris's five-inch prick didn't satisfy her anymore caused her to feel guilty. Not that size was the only problem. She'd had lovers with average-sized dicks, but what they lacked in stature, they more than made up for in vigour. Chris's lovemaking, in contrast, was mind-numbingly boring. Although she hated to admit it, Dana missed her wild college days.

She had enjoyed a much more exciting love life then, and she had even experienced some big cocks, although nothing like Cranton-Smith's nine-inch specimen. Watching him use it to bludgeon Angela Martin's cunt, made her jealous. Not only jealous, she felt cheated. It was bad enough knowing how well endowed her client was, it was worse knowing the bastard knew how to use it. 

Just then, the man in question pulled his slick manhood from Angela's swollen sex and moved it up to her greedy mouth. Angela sucked him clean whilst trying to coax sperm from his balls with her hands. Dana listened to her urging him on. "Come on, baby, give it to me, cum all over my tits darling. I want to see your spunk."

Robert was enjoying Angela's expertise but ignored her pleas. Removing his cock from her mouth he told her to turn around and get on all fours. "I'm gonna fuck you like the dirty little bitch you are," he promised. 

Angela obeyed her lover, looking over her shoulder, waiting for him to join her again. After he’d aligned the camera at the right angle on the table, Dana watched her client, his enormous prick bobbing around in front of him, move behind the young actress. Then she watched Angela reach behind and pull her buttocks apart. 

"Take me, daddy, take me from behind." 

However, instead of kneeling behind her like Dana expected him to do, Robert stood above Angela and guided his prick to her welcoming slit. Then he jack-hammered his cock into the actress. “Oooh, God," she wailed as Robert's prick disappeared from sight.

Dana was biting her lip to keep herself quiet as an orgasmic spasm raced through her body. Even through her fluttering eyelids, she saw the young man bury his cock to the hilt each time he pounded Angela's lithe body. 

The aroused lawyer couldn't help herself now. She wanted it to be her being stuffed by that gorgeous thick prick. She wanted it to be on the receiving end of such a masterful fucking. Robert Cranton-Smith was a shit, worse still, he was a shit with a huge cock, but there was no denying he knew how to treat his women. Dana watched, more envious of Angela than she wanted to admit. Then Robert withdrew from the supine actress and ordered her to stay put. 

"I want to film this, close and personal," he said, retrieving the video camera. Images moved back and forth as he raced back toward the waiting actress and the next clear shot showed a close up of his greasy erection disappearing into Angela's gaping slit. Moments later Dana saw a glob of saliva land on Angela's exposed starfish. Then he used his thumb to massage the liquid into the porn star's arsehole.

Dana guessed what was about to happen.

The thought excited her so much, she imitated what she was watching. Reaching down with her free hand, she scooped up some of her copious love sap and lubricated her own back door. With growing excitement, she watched Cranton-Smith push his thumb into Angela's asshole and she thrust a finger into her back passage. Hearing Angela's moans for more, fueled Dana's desires and she added a second finger.

Dana was close, very close now. The tops of her thighs felt hot and sticky, and her panties had been reduced to a sopping rag, but that didn't stop her; she wanted the release she deserved. Dana felt her orgasm approaching and intensified her movements. She was so close now, she daren't stop. Her body tensed and waited for the moment supreme. Somewhere in the distance, Dana heard shouting and screaming but she was too far gone to care. Balancing on the edge of sweet oblivion, Dana closed her eyes, teetered for a second, and then stepped off the precipice. 

"Oh, my... fuckkk," she growled. Her body shook violently, her T-shirt sticking to her sweaty back. She was almost losing it, but somewhere in the back of her head, she knew she had to keep quiet. If she really let go, Chris might hear her and come downstairs to investigate. 

"Oooh no, oooh God." The muted scream escaped her clenched jaws and her muscles cramped in protest. Dana had trouble breathing and her nerve ends tingled. Another muted moan sounded when cum flooded her cunt and her abdominal muscles contracted around the invading digits. She experienced another violent spasm and, unable to deny herself anymore, Dana closed her eyes.

o0o

As Dana recovered from the shattering climax, she felt a deep shame envelop her. Sitting in a ball on the couch, her eyes still closed, she felt small aftershocks rack her body, and she knew she could tell no-one about her secret desires. If Chris ever discovered her past or discovered how she spent her time when he was away on business, he would feel so disgusted and betrayed, he'd kick her out in an instant. 

"Get a grip," she commanded herself, returning to her senses. She looked at her laptop and realized something was wrong. The screen was all black but the progress bar was still moving. Intrigued, Dana moved the cursor back until she saw moving pictures and resumed watching. She paused it at the moment the film went black, the last seconds making it obvious what had happened. 

She frowned at the knowledge. It didn't make her case for Robert Cranton-Smith or Brady, Cooper & Davidson, Lawyers Incorporated, any easier, but that was a problem for tomorrow. 

After wiping away the stains on the couch, Dana packed her briefcase for the following day's meeting and headed to bed. 

Silently, Dana climbed beneath the bedspread and lay listening to Chris's snoring, unable to sleep. She stared at the darkened ceiling, but she couldn't erase the mental images racing through her brain. At last, she closed her eyes, but it was a fitful sleep, one filled with dreams of her and lots of virile young men.