"Lucy. Meet Mike," Dave introduced.
"Hello, Lucy."
"Hello, Mike."
"What's eating you?" demanded Dave, "This is no time to dig me out from the hay."
"I'm in deep trouble, Dave," I panted. "What do you know about the law?"
He rubbed his jaw and looked wise. "A judge once said 'the law is an ass'."
"About divorce?" I persisted.
His eyes became sharp. He looked at me penetratingly. "Trouble with a married woman?"
"The worst way, Dave. Her husband and two witnesses jumped us. They've got photographs too."
Dave rubbed has jaw some more. Then he scratched his groin. Lucy made a mewing sound to remind him she was still around and he slid his hand under-the bed sheet. I watched it glide down over her belly until his fingers were inside her crotch, with his palm resting upon her pelvis. Lucy grunted contentment.
Dave shook his head slowly. His hand moved gently and rhythmically. "That's bad, Mike. Real bad! Once you're trapped by the legal eagles you're a dead duck."
"I signed a full confession," I admitted. "They had all the factual proof they needed. If I hadn't signed they'd have yelled the intimate details from the house tops."
"You're in bad trouble, Mike," he told me.
He was telling me!
Lucy's hands slid down under the sheet to her parted thighs. Dave wasn't rubbing at the right place. The bed sheet clung to her damply so I could see her perform the age-old girlie gesture of tugging at the folds of skin on either side of her pussy until his fingers were lodged precisely where she wanted them.
"It'll be even worse if you employ legal advice," Dave told me glumly. "He'll be an extra shark, tying you up in legal knots and skinning you of everything you've got."
"Tell me this, Dave," I panted. "How long have I got? When Janet and Lillian learn I'm a Correspondent, there'll be hell to pay!"
"There'll be hell to pay when they find out you've fixed to marry both of them," Dave reminded me.
Lucy purred. Dave's stroking fingers were giving her all the right, lovely sensations. Her hand crept out from under the bed sheet, slithered over his thigh, found his shrunken cock and cupped it delicately. Her hand stroked rhythmically.
"What do you know about these things, Dave?" I asked. "How long before the balloon goes up?"
He scratched his head. "They've got to draw up a complaint and register it. That'll take time. Lawyers are always slow preparing documents. They charge by the hour."
Lucy's caressing fingers were obtaining excellent results. Dave's prick responded sluggishly and then quickened. It uncurled, stretched lazily and flexed its biceps. Then it stood up, growing thicker and taller. Its increased substance enabled her to get a firmer grip on it. Her briskly stroking fingers then seemed to be manufacturing prick before my eyes. It swelled, thickened, and tautened. Its knob glowered aggressively, large and darkly flushed. It stood up sharply at an angle of forty degrees, conveniently poised for manual manipulation. She rested her elbow on his groin while her fingers stroked up and down.
"How long?" I persisted.
"A couple of days, maybe," he said.
"A couple of days!" I screamed. "That's no time at all!"
"That's the legal side," he said regretfully. His face was sad because he had to paint such a black picture. "Don't forget your written confession. That could be worth something to the newspapers."
"The newspapers!" I choked. "They wouldn't do that!"
"The best way to keep their client white, is to blacken you thoroughly," he pointed out. "But they won't dare approach the press until they've registered the adultery claim. So you've got a couple of days."
I wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it. Everything was hitting me hard, all at once. My world was coming to an end.
Yet, despite my problems, my big, fat prick was turning traitor again. Here I was, bowed down by grievous problems, and the stiff bastard was becoming hypnotized by Lucy's fingers. They were like a flamenco dancer's fingers, long, slim and sensitively delicate. I could almost feel their tactile subtlety as they caressed Dave's prick. Some women just grab a prick and rub it up. But she was fondling artistically, each slim finger working with a whispery touch. Her hand was long and slender, and her wrist arched gracefully. She wore a gold bracelet with a dangling lucky charm. She arched her wrist, her fingertips lightly held the top of his knob and while she frictioned with a tantalizing butterfly touch, the charm swung and brushed across his shaft. Dave's cock twitched each time.
My prick strained erect inside my pants. It was enjoying a vicarious thrill watching Lucy play with Dave. And the bed sheet had fallen down to Lucy's lap. She had lovely breasts. The nipples were pink and taut, and becoming tauter even as I watched them. The skin of her belly sighed rhythmically in time with Dave's stroking fingers. My prick identified so completely with all that was going on I wasn't sure what I wanted to look at most; Lucy's stroking fingers, her swollen nipples, or her gently sighing belly.
"What am I going to do, Dave?" I pleaded, faying to over-rule my prick.
Again he scratched his head. I could tell tie wasn't concentrating on my problem. Prick-juice trickled from the orifice of his knob and Lucy's thumb smeared it around the dark red crown. "Let's ask Lucy," he said. "What do you think, Lucy?"
Lucy wriggled her hips to encourage his stroking fingers to deeper penetration and said low-throatedly. "I don't know anything about the law. I can only see things from the woman's side. Don't stand there uncomfortably, Mike. Sit down." She patted the bed beside her.
"That's right. Make yourself comfortable," invited Dave.
I sat on the side of the bed and Lucy's hand rested consolingly upon my thigh. It burned my skin right through my pants. My prick twitched. "I'm sorry, Mike," she said sincerely. "I think you're in real trouble."
"You don't have to tell me. But… what do I do!"
She slid her fingers along my thigh, stroking it. "This married woman will make you marry her," she stated, "No woman gives up a husband unless she has another in the bag. That's a fact you must accept. Now. If you try to back out she'll be so mad she'll destroy you." Lucy shuddered for me. "Don't risk thwarting her," Her fingers moved gently on my thigh.
"Mike's not shy," Dave told her. "We might as well relax while we're talking."
At once Lucy's fingers slid up to my fly. My zipper hissed, her fingers feeled inside, finding their way by instinct, circled around my prick and drew it out. "That's better," she sighed. "I've been on tenterhooks, seeing it bulge and wondering what it looks like." Her fingers, were magical, stroking me and Dave with a slow-beat rhythm that kept us gently simmering. "You can stroke my nipples if you like," she told me, both her hands moving with the oiled smoothness of precision machinery.
"As I was saying," she continued. "You've asked my opinion, and I'll give it, as a woman. She'll carve your heart out if you don't marry her after the adultery publicity. I know I would. And about the others. It's terrible for a girl to be jilted. Especially when the date's fixed and the license granted. Any girl would be terribly hurt at being left at the altar, But if it transpires that another girl's involved, her hurt is transformed to hate. You couldn't blame her for wanting to cut off your balls then." Lucy gave a pleased gasp as I increased the pulling pressure on her nipple until it stretched taut like chewing gum. I released it, and her entire breast snapped back with a little "plopping" sound.