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Over the next few years my work took me to more cities than I could remember. They all kind of blended together, except Indianapolis where I stayed at Mrs. Phyllis Carlson's B&B, Charleston, WV where I was Beatrice Bonner's guest and Charleston, SC where my tongue ravished Mrs. Comstock's pussy.

Of course, when I was home in White Plains, I frequently spent the night with Gloria's Glorius Puss in my face.

The company had grown and I'd grown professionally, and according to those women my tongue had grown. Not in length, of course not. But, "Seth, every time I see you, you do the most amazing things to my pussy."

Or

"Seth, I'm not complaining, but it seems like every time you come here, you don't want to take your face out of Beatrice's black bush." That was true.

Everything changed when the company hired a travel agency to handle our travel, our hotels, rental cars, etc.

They had an agent, Brittany Kelleher, dedicated to our company. Six months later, "Seth, the next time you're in New York you need to come see me. We need to discuss your travel and how I can help you be more efficient."

I was surprised when I walked into her Manhattan office. Brittany was only a year or two older than me; almost six foot tall, and her business suit could not hide what could only be described as huge breasts.

She got right to the point. "Seth, I've done an analysis of your travel over the last few years. You've been on the road a lot, and although according to the data, the offices in Indianapolis, and both Charlestons are doing well, you spend an inordinate amount of time in those cities or you have a change of flights in those cities and end up overnighting there. Is there an explanation?"

"Ummmmm, I-I. . ." I stuttered. She'd caught me.

"Here's what I think, and it's happened before in other companies I've worked with. You're not married, I checked, and I suspect that in Indianapolis you have a girlfriend. That's not unusual, but what is unusual is that you also have a girlfriend in Charleston, West Virginia and another one in Charleston, South Carolina. You must be exhausted all the time," she laughed.

I dare not mention Mrs. Hutman in White Plains, where I still had that apartment across the street from her B & B. I didn't confirm her suspicions, but I think it was pretty obvious.

"I don't think the company wants to pay those extra costs for your love life, and it's my job to save the company where I can. I hope you understand."

I did. For the next month, I didn't have a chance to spend even one night with Mrs. Comstock, Mrs. Bonner or Mrs. Carlson. There was, of course, some consolation when I was home in White Plains and gorging on Gloria Hutman's Glorius Puss.

"Seth, you seem like you haven't had any pussy in ages," Mrs. Hutman smiled down at me, as my tongue just wouldn't leave her puss.

One Thursday morning, as I was preparing for a flight home from Tulsa, Brittany called me to discuss my travel schedule for the following week. "One final thing, I know I've been a little hard on you and your love life, but the company wanted me to cut expenses. I know this might be unusual, but how about I take you to dinner tomorrow night?"

"Ummmm, I-I-I don't know what to say." Last weekend, I didn't see Mrs. Hutman. That means it had been two weeks since I'd had any pussy. I was anxious to get fucked; get my cock sucked, but mostly eat that old, but still delicious puss.

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