Chapter 4
I was in bed when the phone rang and I jumped out clad only in my shorts to answer it. My cock stood up straight and almost went off the moment I heard Babbs' sultry tones. The vision of her swaying, abundant breasts, and her exciting, jiggling asscheeks, temporarily blotted out all my other worries.
"How come you're up this early-or haven't you been to bed yet," I quipped.
"Why not come up and see for yourself?" Babbs answered with an unmistakable frigging invitation in her voice.
"I'll be right over to catch up where we left off last time," I replied.
With my prick's radar eagerly directing me, I got to her place in record time.
When Babbs opened the door of her Lido Towers apartment, she looked breathtakingly fuckable in her pink bikini. I grinned in quick appreciation.
"Well, here I am, honeybunch-Johnny-on-the-spot."
"Come in, Phil," she said, turning to smile as I walked in past her. She closed the door and leaned against it, studying me.
I looked her up and down, said, "You know what?"
"What Phil?"
"You look kind of ravishing this morning. Why the bikini?"
"To give you a hard-on with, silly."
She laughed and came and pressed herself against me, putting her arm around my neck and kissing me warmly. She wriggled her twat against me, and I started to get weak all over. It was hard to remember what I had come for.
"Honey, what's the big mystery you mentioned?" I asked. "What's so important that you had to see me about right away?"
She kissed me again. "Maybe it was just a trick to get you here."
I studied her sardonically. "I don't think so. Something else is on your devilish little mind."
"You're right, darling-there's something you have got to know about."
"Like what?" I asked.
She had put her arms around my chest and my back, hugging me close. "Why?"
"Oh, let it wait a while," she murmured.
"Why?"
"Because when I tell you, you might get upset and want to run off, and I'm not ready for you to leave just yet."
"No? Why not?"
"Because I've been thinking about you, and missing you."
"Oh, is that so?"
"I keep remembering that you were the first man in my pussy, Phil. And you want to know a secret? A girl never really forgets the first man in her pussy. Did you know that?"
"Seems I've heard something of the sort, but I never put much stock in it."
"Well, darling, it's true-believe me it is."
"Hey sugar-what's all this leading up to?"
Babbs leaned back, her cunt and bush still deliciously pressed against my cock. She giggled and avoided the question.
"Let's make love," she said.
I looked at her. She was giving me a terrific hard-on already. I smiled and said, "Well, it's kind of early in the day for fucking, but I suppose I could manage it."
We bumped hips playfully, heading for her bedroom. Once there, she allowed me the pleasure of peeling her wonderful body out of the bikini. She became breathless when I kissed her sweet nipples and gorgeous tits.
Then, while she lay nakedly supine on the bed, I sampled every luscious, tempting inch of her. She wriggled, giggled, turned passionate. She begged me to take her as my tongue worked its way between her cuntlips and tickled her clitoris.
"I can't wait," she cried.
When I shoved my prick into her hot, wet cunt-hole she was breathlessly exciting to fuck. She was an expert now, too, which made it even better. Every twist, every little clutching movement of her vagina made me gasp with sensuous pleasure.
I closed my eyes, shutting off the least important ... for the moment ... of my senses, the better to enjoy the sense of feel in my hot dong. Minute by searing minute, she raised my temperature until the entire universe seemed beautifully hot and whirling and lost. When the lust heat, the intense friction, grew unbearable, we clutched each other, holding on tight for a wild, wild come which made her shriek with joy as my cock spurted its load of hot scum up her cunt.
"Now tell me the deep dark secret you've been holding me in suspense about," I demanded. "I've given you a real nice hump!"
She flung a leg across me, laid her head on my arm, and rubbed my chest with one hand.
"You're not going to like what I felt I ought to tell you, Phil," she demurred. "You're going to be shocked."
"Try me and see."
"Promise you won't hold it against me that I am the one who told you? It's something you really should know."
"I won't hold it against you. That's a promise."
Babbs remained silent a moment. Then, 'That girl you're going to marry ... Gretchen Hammond?"
"Yes? What about her?"
"I know something you apparently don't know." I was curious. "Like what, for instance?"
"You're not going to like this, Phil." 'Tell me anyway."
"Well, she's ... she's pulling a trick on you, Phil. A dirty trick-believe me, I know."
"What the devil are you getting at, Babbs? Trick? What kind of trick? What are you trying to say?"
"You might not even believe me-and I won't blame you if you don't. But I feel it my duty to reveal it to you, because it is the truth?"
"I'll believe you-what is it, this great mysterious secret you keep hedging around about?"
She sighed, deeply. "Well, here goes nothing. Hold onto your hat, Phil. This girl you are going to marry ... Gretchen ... is shacking up and screwing like crazy with another man."
"She what!" I sat bold upright, glaring at her.
Her lower lip trembled. "It's true, Phil. Whether you want to believe it or not, it's true. I happen to know."
"You're lying, Babbs! I don't know why, but you're lying. You don't even know Gretchen Hammond. I bet you never even met her."
"Oh, I've met her all right. We're not bosom friends, but I've met her. And I'm telling you there's another man fucking her!"
"Who? Who is he?"
"You remember Vince Bodine, don't you? He went to school with us."
"I remember," I stared dumbfounded. "But Gretchen can't stand him. She hates Vince Bodine ... has hated him for a long time."
Babbs shook her head, sadly, reached to touch my cheek. "Maybe she does hate him. Maybe she can't stand him, Phil, dear. But I'm telling you she meets him and very nicely sucks his cock for him and fucks with him."
"You're crazy! How can you be sure?"
"Very simply," she said. "Vince and I run in the same circle. He-he helps me locate ... customers. And sometimes I let him have the use of this apartment for his private humping. Do you know who he brings here mostly to screw?"
I held my breath. "You don't mean...?"
"Yes, I do mean...." she said. "None other than your virginal bride-to-be, Gretchen Hammond."
I couldn't find words to express my thoughts. Words dark enough or explosive enough.
"There's something else, Phil, while I'm at it. You want to be careful Vince Bodine has been in love with Gretchen Hammond all his life. He is a dangerous man. And he's sworn that he'll kill any m-n who comes between Gretchen and him."
I looked at Babbs and tried desperately to find untruth in her blue eyes. I couldn't, I grew weak.
I never felt so absolutely confused and stupid before in my life. Why was all this happening to me?
She reached her arms around my neck and held me tight.
"I'm sorry, darling," Babbs tried to soothe. "Honestly, I am."
Gretchen was furious when I told her of the accusations made by Babbs. She denied them, emphatically.
"There's no truth to it whatever!" she fumed. "I can't imagine you even listening to such lies from a dirty whore!"
I sincerely wanted to believe Gretchen. It did seem fantastic that she would be fucking Vince Bodine at Babbs apartment. It was incongruous with her social position, that she would take such a chance. To be caught and exposed would mean immediate disgrace to her and her father as well.
The wild idea came to me that Vince Bodine might possibly be blackmailing Gretchen, that he was forcing her to meet him and screw in the apartment. Then more questions arose. If this were so, could Babbs be mixed up in it somehow? In the blackmail scheme? If there was one at all?
But what could Vince and Babbs possibly have on Gretchen. I wracked my brain for an answer and came up with exactly zero. It simply didn't make sense. What else then?
How about Babbs? What cause would she have for lying? Was it possible she had some ulterior motive, that she hated Gretchen for some reason? I just didn't know couldn't even begin to figure it out.
Gretchen then asked me point-blank. "What were you doing at that awful girl's apartment anyway, Philip Overton? Answer me that, if you please! I know perfectly well what Babbs is ... nothing but a cheap prostitute who sells her body for money!"
I had to give this some quick thought. I explained that Babbs had sent me a message, had purported it to be of extreme importance, and had said that I should see her immediately if I knew what was good for me.
"I went to see her and she told me these things," I wound up.
Gretchen snorted. "Is that all you got from her? Just these silly accusations? Are you sure she didn't give you something else while you were threr? I always suspected, even when we were in school together, that she was crazy for you. I bet you went and fucked her while you had the opportunity."
"Don't be absurd," I told her. "There's nothing between Babbs and me and there never has been."
"I'll bet!" Then she added, "Well, we may as well get this straightened out right now, once and for all, Philip Overton ... are you going to believe that blonde prostitute Babbs, or me? Which?"
Before answering, I remembered a lot of things. I remembered that my forthcoming marriage to Gretchen would solve a lot of problems ... That my marriage into the Hammond family was what my Granddaddy Cass wanted, it was what Gretchen's father wanted, it was what Gretchen apparently wanted, and it was certainly what I wanted.
I not only felt that I love Gretchen, but I liked the bright prospect looming in the future. Not the least of which was money in addition to the gorgeous piece of ass Gretchen was.
The Overtons-Granddaddy Cass and I-had been poverty-stricken for much too long a time, as it was. I was sick of being broke. The Overton blood coursing through my veins called for a certain amount of finery, the luxuries which only a sufficient quantity of do-re-mi can supply.
As it was, I already had come to see myself practically heading up the entire Hammond Enterprises, living in Conrad Hammond's luxurious beach mansion and crawling into bed each night with Gretchen's exciting cunt, screwing it until I was blue in the face.
Since Gretchen was still awaiting an answer, I grabbed her and kissed her.
"Of course I believe you, sweetheart," I assured her. "I never doubted you for a minute. I just wanted to hear the truth from your own lips. Am I forgiven?"
She allowed me to cool her down ... and I finally had her purring. But after I left her that day, my doubts still troubled me. I knew I should not be giving the whole ugly business a second thought. Yet things like that keep eating away at a man's craw.
When I took my problem to wise old grandfather, he frowned and blurted, "Why, you crazy nut, what if she is meeting somebody else? Why should you care? You're not in love with her I hope! For heaven's sake, don't let that happen. All our plans would be spoiled! Our aim-just in case you've forgotten-is to destroy those friggin' Hammond's, not to love them."
"You're going to marry into the family, go to the top of the Hammond business, learn everything there is to know, and then well tear it down ... him and his daughter, both. Revenge-that's what I want. That man has been a pain in the ass to the Overton clan since the day he was born. He's got to be stopped, made to suffer. He's got to be pulled off that high horse of his and taught a thing or two."
I looked at Granddaddy and didn't know what to think. His motives left me frustrated. His purposed and mine were not the same. But I knew it wouldn't do to tell him this. If I gave him my reasons for wanting to marry Gretchen Hammond, if I pointed out that I loved her and enjoyed fucking her, he might even have a stroke.
"All the better if she is fucking with some other man," Granddaddy pointed out. "When the right time comes, well expose them, disgrace her and at the same time jerk the rug from under her arrogant old man. Golly me, boy, I can hardly await the day! I've dreamed of it too long already!"
So my grandfather didn't turn out to be much of a solace to me at this time. I still wanted to believe that Gretchen was innocent of the accusations brought against her by Babbs. I hated to imagine her meeting Vince Bodine in Babbs' apartment, going to bed, fucking with him, letting his hands feel her body. I loathed the thought of Vince kissing her tits, caressing her cunt, being fucked by her, in return.
So I had to let the matter drop. I had to force myself to the decision that Gretchen was telling me the truth, and that Babbs had lied. I had made up my mind to marry Gretchen, come what might. I was going through with it. There was too much to lose by allowing myself to be swayed by unproven statements that claimed she was screwing on me.
To hell with Babbs. She was just a whore, and she was probably lying to me for her own reasons. What they were didn't matter. I could live without knowing. Why should anything regarding Babbs really mean anything to me anyhow?
The office in which my future father-in-law installed me was large and imposing. It was done in the latest modernistic style, heavy on pine paneling, hidden file cabinets, an intercom system on my massive desk, a three-hundred dollar swivel chair for my executive ass, and a well-stocked liquor cabinet for my convenience. Also, a well-stacked secretary, attractive and sexy enough to keep any young up-and-coming businessman from falling asleep on the job.
Faye Baker came equipped not only with a remarkable proficiency in shorthand and typing, but also with the most appealing pair of tits in the entire real estate industry, I was sure.
She obviously enjoyed displaying them to me. She knew the real estate business upside down and sideways, which made her a tremendous asset to the company.
She was married, but she didn't work hard at it. Being what any man would call a tempting piece of ass, she played it to the hilt. Whenever she faced me, taking dictation, she kept those enticing legs crossed for my benefit. I was forever on the edge of getting a big hard-on. She would look up and smile impishly, as though reading my mind. This kept me in a constant state of acute frustration, if it kept up I'd have to jerk off in the executive bathroom and waste a good load....
I wasn't sure whether or not I could take a chance of making a play for her. She had me hopping with the kind of itch that you can't scratch, but I had to keep in mind that she had been working for my prospective father-in-law for a long time. Going by the fabulous salary she was dragging down, she must either have cock-sucked the old boy regularly or she must stand very solidly in his good graces.
After a couple of weeks of this acute discomfort, one day it happened. She brought the subject up herself. Her approach practically startled me out of my pants.
"Mr. Overton," she asked, leaning forward, "would you mind too much if I called you Phil?"
"Of course not, Faye," I said warmly. "I wish you would."
"There's one more little thing," she persisted, tossing her mane of brunette hair and gazing at me coyly through narrowed green eyes. "When, if ever, are you going to make a pass?"
I gulped and stared. "I didn't know you expected me to."
"Well, my feminine pride is going to be sorely wounded if you don't," she said, with a rueful laugh. "You'll be the first boss I ever had who didn't. But I'll forgive you because I'm sure I can guess your reason. You're afraid I might talk, aren't you-that I might get you in Dutch with Mr. Hammond and with the charming Gretchen ... isn't that correct?"
I smiled sheepishly. "Could be. You could very easily upset my well loaded applecart in that little old orchard."
She hitched her skirt an inch or two higher, giving me a glimpse of creamy bare thighs practically up to her pussy. In another minute, my eyes would have to be pushed right back into their sockets.
"Have no fears, lover," she jibed, half seriously. "I would have just as much to lose as you. If Mr. Hammond suspected for one moment that I would even dream of having a hump with you ... his own daughter's fiancee ... he could tie the can to me as of right then. With a husband who would have to be told the reason for my dismissal, you don't think I would want that, do you?"
This made sense. I nodded.
"So where does that leave us, Faye?" I asked.
Her smile was teasing. "Right where we should have been weeks ago you on top of me! Shall I put the latch on the door so no one can interrupt our ... dictation?"
"Please do," I urged fervidly.
She did. When she returned, walking with that old Swiss movement, I swung my knees out from under the desk and patted my lap.
"Why don't we wind up the few letters I have left, with you sitting here?" I suggested. "I'm sure you will find it a lot more comfortable than that hard chair."
"Okay. Who needs a hard ... chair!" she giggled, coming toward me.
I pulled her ass down onto my lap. Then I took the dictation pad and the pencil from her and threw them onto the desk top.
The perfume she wore was intoxicating. It wafted exticingly from the area of her ample breasts. I kissed the valled between those soft, white titties. She let her head rest against my shoulder, that fiery red hair of hers teasing my throat.
"This is more fun than working any day, isn't it, Phil dear?" she cooed.
"Much, much more, Faye," I said with mock solemnity, feeling my prick getting stiffer with a tremendous hard-on. I kissed her full parted lips lingeringly, and she squirmed with delight.
Then my hand was following the smooth, sweet contours of her knees, the long, lush line of her thighs, until my fingers gently parted her cuntlips.
Surely, this was the kind of sex-life all good young executives were entilted to lead.
Beginning with that makeshift ... but highly satisfactory ... quickie screw on the narrow office couch, Faye and I hit it off like Romeo and Juliet ... even better. We took to spending our lunch hours together, fucking away in a neat little motel unit on the outskirts of town.
Since I was now considered an executive, however minor, at Hammond Enterprises, there was no one to reprimand either of us, however long we "lunched."
Since this meant that Faye didn't have to make excuses to her husband in order to slip out nights to meet me, this worked out very well. It worked out fine for me, too, in that I didn't have to explain to Gretchen whenever I found myself in the mood for the highly competent cunt of my versatile secretary.
Faye and her husband, Pete, had no children. Pete worked as a house detective at one of the larger beach hotels. The idea of fooling around with the wife of a professional snooper didn't set too well with my sense of self-preservation, but I brushed aside my qualms. What the hell? If you want to enjoy the smell, the velvety feel of roses, you have to brush aside a thorn or two now and then.
"Don't worry about Pete," Faye attempted to reassure me. "He's not very smart. And the last thing he would suspect is that I would be unfaithful."
She laughed, kicking her legs deliciously on the bed in the motel room and displaying her naked cunt. "Pete thinks I'm the only virtuous female in town."
"What kind of a man is he, otherwise?" I inquired, hurrying out of my clothes in anticipation of a frantic "lunch interval" here with Faye and her yummy tits, ass and cunt.
"You'd never guess," she said, holding her hands out toward me, wriggling one of her fingers for me to hurry. "Pete is one of those health fanatics. He's always taking exercises to build up his muscles. He's square ... in more ways than one ... and heavy set, but he really does have a marvelous physique. Still, it takes more than that to satisfy a girl like me."
I directed a mocking grin at that beautiful greedy face, that avid cunt.
"You mean he's got the build, but he lacks the prick to back it up, is that it?" I teased.
"Exactly, Phil," she said, seriously. "Pete doesn't care to fuck with me more than once or twice a month. He says it's destructive to a person's health. His attitude towards frigging is maddening! I was born too hot to trot! That's why there are two sexes ... so they can really hump together ... close together. That's nature in the raw, the way I love it. And as far as I'm concerned, I don't intend to let dear Mother Nature down. I made up my mind sometime back that if Pete wouldn't or couldn't keep me hump-happy, I would find other men who would be glad to help me out. Do you blame me, darling?"
The way she asked, and with her quivering tits and cunt asking for a lot more, there was only one possible answer.
"Not in the least," I said, emphatically.
Then I moved in beside her. I loved the warm feel of her satiny body in that air-conditioned room. Each delicious sensation in each sensational spot, made the next caress, the next move, further into her torrid cunt-zone even more exciting.
Boy, how that babe loved it! She loved to be, palpitating, while my hands moved over her bush-hair and parted her cuntlips slowly and sensuously. But it wasn't too long before her desire for stiff hot cock would soar way out of control. t
"Fuck me!" she always whimpered. "Please! Now!"
At this point in the delightful proceeding, I enjoyed torturing her just a little. I would continue to caress her clitoris until she was nearly out of her mind with passion. Finally, she climbed all over me like a hungry wildcat. I would laugh and simply lie there, my stiff prick throbbing in the air. Her whimpering lips would sweep fire all over my cock ... after which she would practically take it away from me and then shove it in her cunt.
Then we would play topsy-turvy. First she would be on top, then I. It was a great game humping her, with plenty of tumbling and wrestling, and the nicest part is that both players win.
All fucked out at last, we would take a shower together, grab a couple of candy bars before starting back to the office, and eat them for fast energy to carry us through the rest of the afternoon.
On one of these quickie hump-sessions Faye mentioned something that caught my interest immediately.
"Did you know that your grandfather and Mr. Hammond once were in a battle over a woman, Phil?" she asked.
"No, I didn't," I answered, perking up my ears. "How do you know this? Where did you hear it?"
"I didn't hear it. I read it."
"Read it? Where?"
Faye smiled and touched my lower lip. "Mr. Hammond keeps a diary in his private office safe. He forgot to put it away one time. I took the opportunity to steal a glimpse ... woman's unquenchable curiosity, you know."
I nodded reminding myself to keep a closer guard over my own private papers.
"What else did you find?" I asked.
"Not much. I only had a chance to read snatches here and there because Mr. Hammond remembered in a hurry that he had left it out and he came back to lock it up tight."
"Don't you recall anything else of the snatches you read?" I quizzed. 'Think, baby. You really have roused my curiosity now."
"Gosh, that's all I remember seeing," Faye said, frowning.
"Do you remember the woman's name?"
Faye gave that some thought. "I saw it, but I can't seem to bring it clearly to mind at the moment. Maybe it will come to me later."
"Keep trying. I would give a lot to know more about that woman. Who she was and anything else I can find out. As you probably know, my grandfather and Mr. Hammond have been enemies for years. My grandfather bitterly claims that Mr. Hammond tricked the Overton family out of all its real estate holdings ... but I have long suspected that there was more to their enmity than this. Is there any way in which we could get our hands on that damned diary?"
Faye shook her head, doubtfully. "I don't think so. Unless, of course, we got a professional safecracker to do the job for us. The only one who knows the combination is Mr. Hammond himself."
"He must have jotted down the combination somewhere, just in case he forgot it," I mused. "Couldn't you sneak a look around the office to try to find it?"
"He probably keeps it in his wallet," Faye said, sardonically. 'That's the natural place for a man such as he to keep a thing as important as that."
"I suppose you're right," I had to agree. "Well, doll, if you ever do get another chance at that diary, for my sake read fast and concentrate, then rush straight to daddy while you have it straight."
She kissed me, promising that she would. Then she wanted to drop the subject of the diary for another subject, more immediately intriguing. She put her arms around me, pushed me down, and climbed on my stiff prick.
With her lips brushing mine, she whispered, "Do you mind if I change the subject, Phil dear?"
I couldn't say anything. Faye was thrusting her pert, luscious breasts into my mouth. What a lunch, I thought as I kissed her appetizing nipples into ruby erection. As I mouthed her belly, I feel the heat waves from her shapely thighs as she straddled my cock.
She quickly enveloped my pulsing prick in the smooth, moist haven of her hot, wet cunt. Her thighs and buttocks swiveled as if they operated on ball-bearings, piling the thrills on my cock with every churning movement. As Faye wriggled into the home-stretch, my loins arched under her in a climaxing thrust into her twat as far as my pecker would go. As happy jets of scum fountained through my cock in torrential pleasure. Faye's cunt convulsed, wildly, pin-wheeling in the grip of mutual rapture.
"What a lovely lunch that was," she panted.
"That's because you never forget the waiter's tip!" I joked.