Charles was a security guard (shift supervisor, actually, not that such a distinction mattered to him). Overqualified, to his mind, but the economy was rough and he was short on experience, so he used his business degree to guard an investment firm. This fact was only slightly, to his mind, countered by the fact that he was simultaneously gathering information which he would later use to expose his employers embezzlement (and approximately their total personal wealth would vanish from the embezzled funds before the Feds froze them). Charles was not a complicated man, nor a particularly good one. He didn’t do it because he was outraged, but because they insulted him and he wanted money.
That same eye for the main chance and vengeful nature brought Agent Lacey to him, though then she was Louisa and he caught the twenty-year-old bombshell fucking one of the guards, Marcus, in the break room. The big black man had five inches, eighty pounds and ten years on his twenty-two-year-old colleague, which didn’t stop Charles from bringing their energetic fucking to an immediate halt and dragging his subordinate out into the hall by his ear as the larger man almost tripped over his own pants and the buxom babe screeched and covered her shame (though from the quick peak Charles snuck, she had nothing to be ashamed of).
“What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be patrolling the southern halls. Are you trying to get us fired?” Charles asked furiously, seeing his millions and his revenge slipping away.
“Didn’t you see the tits on that bitch? She was looking for directions, I said I’d give her a ride and she agreed, then actually climbed on when I joked that she’d promised. She may not be all there between her ears, but who needs her to be?”
“Your job? Your girlfriend? Your landlord?” Charles offered.
The big man nodded slowly, pulling his pants up, his sopping black cock vanishing under his pants, for which Charles was extremely grateful. “They don’t need to know,” he stated, trying to be menacing, which was somewhat undercut by his reaction to the idea of losing his job.
The smaller man looked over at him, “Not if you get your ass outta here and back on patrol. I’ll take care of her and the tapes and John, remember, the guy behind those security cameras?”
“Shit man, I can handle John and—“
“Your mother’s number is 62—“
“I’m going; I’m going,” Marcus replied, fleeing.
Charles spun back and stared at the black beauty lying on the break room table. Her skin was so dark it almost seemed to absorb the light, but the sweat from her interrupted pounding glistened on ebony skin. Her long legs were still spread as she lay back on the table. Marcus hadn’t even bothered removing her short skirt. It just rolled up to her waist, revealing a distinct absence of panties on her, or in the break room and a wet cunt dripping onto the table. He had pulled off her shirt and her breasts were so perky (or she was such a slutty dresser) that she hadn’t had a bra either. Short hair stuck to her face as she tried to cover her heavy breasts with her hands, which didn’t quite seem up to the task. Lips built for cock-sucking opened as Charles approached… |