My Manager: Transported

By Byron George and Sandra Power

"Transported by road, rail, sea, and air,

Our love has transported us to cloud nine,

Transported in the mind to orgasmic enrapture,

We've cruised and ridden elated to sensual highs.

Let us take the readers on those ecstatic reminiscences

As we detail in full those romantic embraces."

Following on f

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Regency Publishers, US
• Release date: Aug 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781958517826

Byron George

Byron's travels are well documented in the Desert Love series based mostly in Dubai they document the seamier side of life in that outwardly strict Country. Not happy with the tourist beach areas, Byron hangs out in the town and frequents the night clubs and bars that are full of ladies from the Orient and Africa and loves them all, an emotional roller coaster. Byron lives between London, Thailand and Dubai in these crossover Erotica and Love stories.

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Copyright © 2022 by Byron George & Sandra Power.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author and publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.

ISBN: 978-1-958517-83-3 (Paperback Edition)

ISBN: 978-1-958517-84-0 (Hardcover Edition)

ISBN: 978-1-958517-82-6 (E-book Edition)

Some characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to the real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Book Ordering Information

The Regency Publishers, US

521 5th Ave 17th floor NY, NY10175

Phone Number: [phone] ext 1007

Email: [e-mail]

www.theregencypublishers.com

Printed in the United States of America

Biography

Byron George is the alter ego of the author Brian George. Sandra Power is his muse, his confidant.

We love to write these emotional, romantic stories as if real adventures. This is a modern love story, the eroticism is meant to be realistic, to affect the emotions, to tease the reader, to bring out the natural wanting or an adventure of the mind into a fantasy that a modern woman would desire of her partner. It is not meant to be an explicit romp it is sex-positive but subtle. What real lovers would want with a little extra edge.

To have a collaboration with our partners of similar persuasion is just parfait, and exquisite, as sensual as that French language. Every chapter is a genuine love story with just that extra. Je ne sais quoi.

We hope you love the stories as much as we love each other in them.

Foreword

Sandra is a complete motorhead and decided that our next book to journal our romantic adventures and a record of sensual and erotic encounters would include all the incidences we had where an element of transport of some form or another had occurred.

We hope that the reader enjoys these tales as much as we did in enacting them.

This Poem was the start of our thoughts on compiling our stories:

Are cars an extension?

Sweet as Belgian chocolate is my lover

As smooth in her accentuated talk

She’s better, superior to any other

More beautiful than our roses, so pink

I love her eyes so brown

As sensual, soft, and subtle as mink.

As a coat so warm, she covers

My senses in a glow, I slink

As genial and convivial daily,

She brightens my way

Lightens my day, my ardor

So passionate and zealously

Applied with hot-bloodied candor

We dance with concerns forever

Intellectually inclined

Souls aligned

Latin passions alight

We kiss as sweet as candy

Make love with gay, reckless

Need and lust.

Luxuriate in our wanton

Licentious abandon

Shameless, we couple in cars

While under the stars.

We snuggle together wild

With impious, dissolute behavior,

She encourages my goals,

We reach for the moon,

Come together under the sun.

Never, ever, chaste

We luxuriate

In our arousal

Excited by Ferrari

Motivated by Lamborghini

Or vintage Bentley.

Chapter 1

Sandra’s Fantasy: The Ocean, the Vintage Bentley, and Her Silk and Lace Teddy

The 1928 Bentley open sports tourer was a 6.5 liter monster of a car, valued at around a quarter of a million dollars. Sandra had found the auctioneer, and we had arranged a test drive with viewing in California. It didn’t take us long to get a disclaimer to sign for any damage and bribe the auctioneer’s assistant to let us have it for one afternoon.

Sandra’s fantasy was for us to make love in the spacious rear of the gorgeous car. She made me hire a chauffeur’s outfit in grey and collect her from our hotel. I had to go along with it, what a dream, we planned to take it a short distance only to a small country estate where a friend let us have the Seaview for a photoshoot. We designed a photoshoot but not for any magazine; this was for our archives.

As arranged, I collected her from our hotel, dressed in my livery, complete with a cap. I pulled into the drive, and there she was, my vision in red. She wore a perfect scarlet maxi dress, buttoned the whole length, with 6-inch heels to match. I got out and shepherded her into the car gentlemanly, opening the rear door, and saw her sink into the plush leather seats. She made a point of undoing a couple of buttons at the top and bottom of the dress to ease her seating and give me a taste of what she had planned for me later. I got a flash of the fine silk and lace teddy that she had shown earlier, which got my juices flowing, and I could feel a fat one coming on already from Little Byron.

We played the game of master and servant as we drove out of the city to San Clemente. The site we had selected for our photoshoot was perfect as we went through the estate gates and along the sweeping drive, through a few glades, and up to the promontory overlooking the ocean. A small lane ran off to a turning circle, where we could park adjacent to steps down to the beach. Still playing the game, I opened the rear door of the Bentley, but my lover had prepared a surprise for me. She had unbuttoned her dress and stood to let it fall entirely to the soft carpet. Sandra was a sight to behold in the see-through silk and lace teddy, but not only that, she had popped the buttons at the crotch to expose her soft labial folds and sat down again, crossing her legs twice to entice me into the rear. She stared at me, then gestured a beckoning finger and slipped the delicate shoulder straps of the teddy slowly down her arms.

What an invitation; I threw my jacket into the front seat and moved towards her. Sandra grabbed my waistband, laughed, and said, Come here, Little Byron, your baby needs you.

She had my liveried trousers down to my ankles quickly and smiled as she saw that I had gone commando just for her. mmm, I want him so much, she purred as she pulled me onto her mouth. I was her Parker, and she was my Lady Penelope at that moment, and I almost tore the buttons off my shirt to throw it behind me.

Standing there, I could see way out to sea, a couple of yachts, and idly wondered if they might have a telescope, it was one of those crazy thoughts that come into your head as I tried to think of anything that would stop me shooting my seed. Sandra teased me and licked me like her lollipop. She held me under the balls and ran her fingers lightly along my perineum until she pushed one into my ass. Her eyes lit up as she felt further into my prostate and the male g-spot and hummed and hawed in rapturous enjoyment. I had to grab at the other door to keep standing, as my legs had gone to jelly.

Suddenly she let out one of her dirtiest laughs as she let go of me and turned to kneel on the leather rear seats, exposing her swollen wet vulva as she bent and twerked at me, enticing me onto her butt. I charged into her wetness, quickly forcing Little Byron up to his hilt, and Sandra let out a howl, as I was maybe too forceful, but no, we both had to hold onto the top of the Bentley’s seat. She bucked and writhed as I humped into the rhythm of 9 high-speed and hard pumps, counting them out loud; then, to stop my release, I slowed down and counted off six more. We went on like that for a few more counts until Sandra hollered, Keep on, Babe, keep on, don’t stop, until her juices squirted like a hose, it hit my belly, and I could feel it trickling down my legs. I dove in right then to part her butt cheeks and ate her moisture, drooling and licking her butt hole, spreading and moistening it wildly, Yes, yes, Babe, do it, she yelled as I did as instructed, then slid Little Byron into her ring of gold. It was as if time stood still then as I just stopped thrusting. Sandra gripped him, used her kegel muscles, and flexed her butt, drawing me in further. We were both perfectly silent for what seemed an age.

Eventually, I came out of my trance and withdrew, but Sandra turned and sat again as I did so. She aimed Little Byron towards her mouth and opened wide, ready to receive him again; I could not hold on any longer. Sandra’s face spattered in my white juices, in her mouth, around her face, and in her hair. She laughed and wiped it onto her skin, The best vitamins for my skin, ever, Babe.

I collapsed onto the rear carpet, exhausted and still twitching a little, my heart banging away as if in a gym session. But Sandra wasn’t done yet; she had previously set the video camera up on the dashboard and took it onto the flexible stand to check if she had captured us properly. Her face lit up as she bent the flexy curve and angled it outside the Bentley. You’re not done yet, Chauffeur. Then, insatiable, she grabbed my hand and laid me down on the ground alongside the car. Then rode me into oblivion before returning the favor of squeezing her juices over my face as she stood just before climaxing, placed her finger on her clitty, and aimed her gush, laughing that special wicked cackle.

I was gone, laid out twitching and spasming, eyes rolling for a while until getting my bearings back. I was in a meditative, sexual trance.

Sandra went to her handbag and cleaned us up with antiseptic wet wipes. She couldn’t stop laughing, though, and kept kissing me on the lips as she tried to lift me to a sitting position, resting my back against the Bentley’s running board. We eventually dressed again and stood hand in hand to look out at the Ocean for a while. I had to check out the car’s rear to make sure that we hadn’t soiled it, and it was ok, but even if we had to pay for a valet, it would have been worth every cent.

We returned the car to our friend at the auctioneers giving her a tip for her help. next time we get a suitable car in, I’ll give Sandra a call again, she winked knowingly.

Chapter 2

Our Chevrolet Camaro & The Jealous Colleague

I was at home when Sandra came back from work one evening, and unlike her usual rush for her welcome kiss, she ran straight into my arms and sobbed her heart out. My shirt was wet with her tears, and it was all I could do to hold her tight, or she would have collapsed. There had been a few problems at the office. A jealous colleague had been putting rumors out about her behind her back. These were not pleasant, and she was concerned that even I might believe them.

Sometimes, when you are successful and happy in your career, there is always someone who thinks that to win for themselves, they have to tread on or rubbish whoever they see as competition. For example, Sandra had been a successful agent and manager, not only for me and my novels, and was in demand. In contrast, one colleague saw fit to crawl to the senior partners with complaints about her methods. But unfortunately, the old green-eyed monster often brought out the worst in people. They would act cowardly, often hiding behind anonymous notes, phone messages, or social media.

My worldliness understood these things that you have to fight back against cowardly bullies like that, and that was how we came up with our plan.

That was why we were now on surveillance together in the car park at the mall. In the early days of this bullying, whoever was doing this had sent me a few anonymous text messages, telling me that Sandra wasn’t who she said she was. That happened early in our relationship and long before our marriage in Santorini. They had not realized that I had kept those messages, sent from numbers hidden behind a digital smokescreen. I was now flush with wealth enough to hire one of the best hackers in the business to trace back to the sender. We now knew who was responsible for the poison pen and had set them up with a dating app and a hunk of an Adonis with whom they would not refuse to get it on. We had a private detective’s reports on this woman’s life, her sexual proclivities, and the fact that she was having an affair behind her husband’s back with someone from another dating app. We knew she could not refuse to meet our plant because we had set her up, and he was such a good-looking escort whom we had paid handsomely to seduce her. We had even hired the car, a stretch Cadillac with blacked-out windows for the occasion. It had hidden CCTV linked to my iPad where we would record the whole seduction.

For this book, we’ll call this woman Amy. She was a snappy redhead, always, it seemed, in a smart black suit, black stockings, black suede heels, and large designer spectacles. She only changed her blouses daily, often leaving her suit at the office, and she would change out of jogging pants on arrival. It was all an illusion to make the bosses think she was super-efficient and fit. This woman was just forty years old, and most of everything she did was for appearance’s sake. She was not hands-on like my Sandra was. She did not get the personal approach right and would never go the extra mile to assist clients.

We fully intended to put this woman back in her box, and she would become our bitch for daring to bring tears to my wife. But, we accepted that sometimes you have to fight dirty to fix these people. Amy walked right past us, the last people she expected to see in our car, the 2016 Chevy Camaro that I had bought the previous week with the proceeds of our last book, My Manager. What a beauty this car was, Sandra had always wanted one, and I loved it when she showed it to me online. It cost me just under 50,000 Bucks, but we enjoyed it to the limit, and our situation made it even more exciting.

Our white 2016 Chevrolet Camaro stood out in every way imaginable. It had the works, the flat-bottom steering wheel, high-performance power seats, and intuitive shifter placement. This low mileage convertible had just 12,000 miles on the clock, an 8-speed auto transmission, and a 455HP 6.2L 8 Cylinder engine powered. Our Camaro’s trim level is 1SS and performs at 455 horses, with high-performance Brembo brakes, ultra-cool 20-inch wheels, and a performance suspension. HID headlights and a rear spoiler. The 1SS model also features some incredible technology like an 8-inch touch screen with Chevy MyLink, and Bluetooth for my phone connection, which we were using to good effect with linking to the cameras in the Cadillac.

Amy had arranged to meet outside the stretch limo, and she sure did like the look of her date; Alexei was his escorting persona, a musclebound film extra cum male prostitute who we had selected just for Amy. We knew her taste in male fantasy porn and delightfully watched her fall for the door opening and the welcome of champagne. Alexei did us proud as his seduction went from gentle to out and out Sado-Masochism as he had Amy stripped down to just her heels and hold-up stockings in a remarkably short time. Next, Amy was gagged and blindfolded as Alexei pounded into her butt hole while sharply whipping her across the bareback with a leather strap. We didn’t mind her enjoying herself in that manner, but it looked a little too brutal for our tastes.

We had the roof on as we didn’t want anyone to see us,