Chapter 5

These fabulous "Long Lunches" with my attractive, exciting secretary, Faye, were an exhilarating and satisfying pastime for my cunt-loving nature. But my thoughts kept reverting to the blonde Babbs. The utter femaleness of her body and her experienced fucking always sent me to prick heaven. In that department she was a top pro who really knew her business-screwing.

I found I couldn't shake the harpoon she had unwillingly stuck in my hide. The revelation she had made, about what Gretchen and Vince were pulling behind everyone's back, kept rankling me. I went to talk to her some more at the Lido Towers.

I sat and sipped the bourbon and water she had handed me.

"But it doesn't make sense, Babbs," I protested. "How can it possibly make sense?"

Babbs ran slim fingers through her blonde hair and shrugged. "How should I know?"

"How long have they been meeting and fucking here-if what you say is true? Very long?"

She considered my question while exhaling a puff of smoke from her cigarette.

"Oh ... at least a year, I would say offhand," she surmised. "Yes, I'm sure it's been all of that long."

I frowned. "Then, after all that time, surely you must know more about their screwing than what you have told me. If you're holding anything back, please cue me in on it. This thing worries me. I'm supposed to marry Gretchen Hammond ... and now I am being told she fucks regularly with Vince Bodine here at your place. How do you think that makes me feel?"

Babbs smiled sadly. "You're going to feel a whole lot worse than you do now, Phil, dear, if you wake up to the truth of what I have been telling you and find it out too late to rectify it ... after you and she are married, I mean. What would you be able to do about it then?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I still feel that there must be some explanation other than the obvious one. It's all so crazy, so unbelievable."

"All right, forget I ever mentioned it to you," Babbs conceded.

She crossed her legs and leaned back on the divan. She was wearing very brief red shorts and a wisp of a halter. She looked even more tempting to fuck than usual.

"I only told you what I did as a favor to you, Phil," she went on. "I thought you at least had a right to know. Well, now I've done my duty and you can take it from there or leave it, just as you choose. If you prefer not to believe me, if you consider me a liar, that's perfectly okay. My conscience is clear. Now why don't you just forget it? Why don't you march Gretchen to the altar, clinging to the belief that her cunt is as pure as the driven snow which has never even drifted? It doesn't matter a particle to me what you do. I just owed it to you to tell you what I know about how she's screwing behind your back! Now my job is done."

She shrugged, beautifully and eloquently.

I turned her words over in my mind as though they had weight ... and heat.

"Do you think they'll be meeting here again?" I asked.

"I doubt it," Babbs said. "Now that you've told Gretchen of what I have accused her, and now that she has denied it, she would be a fool to take a chance on fucking Vince here again. For all she knows, you might watch the place in an effort to catch them while they're screwing. Isn't that so?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right."

Babbs pulled one leg under her and grinnned at me.

"But don't take this to mean that I don't think they will manage to find a way of getting together and humping," she continued.

I raised my brows. "Like how, for instance?"

"Well, this isn't the only place in town where a pair of lovers can meet. There are thousands of hotel rooms, motels and whatnot where a couple could find privacy to screw I shouldn't think it would be too difficult, do you?"

"Are you suggesting that I follow her? Well, you can save your breath. That's out. I wouldn't think of such a thing."

Babbs laughed. "I didn't suggest anything of the sort, but it wouldn't be a bad idea. I bet if you followed her close enough you would learn plenty. Maybe enough to cause your hair to stand on end! Why not try it for kicks, Phil, darling? What have you got to lose? If your sweetie-pie, Gretchen Hammond, is as innocent as she would have you believe she is, why should she mind if you go to a little trouble to satisfy your curiosity?"

I grimaced. "It's not an ethical thing to do."

"No? Why not? If I were in her shoes and I claimed to be innocent as a new-born Iamb, I wouldn't mind for a moment if my future husband did a little checking on me to make sure I was all I made myself out to be. Actually, if I had nothing to hide, I think I would welcome the opportunity. I would be proud that my fiance would not be able to locate any stains on my reputation or on my character. So why should Gretchen mind?"

"I don't know," I debated. "I don't like the idea of snooping on anybody, especially my fiancee."

Babbs giggled wickedly. "Oh, stop kidding yourself, Phil, baby. And for Pete's sake, don't try to kid me! We both know perfectly well why you're so reluctant to "snoop", as you call it. It's really very simple."

"What kind of cute remark is that?" I demanded, angrily.

"You're afraid lover," she jibed. "You're afraid to dig too deeply for fear you'll verify the very things you hope aren't so!"

"You're crazy!" I sputtered, feebly. "Of course I'm not afraid! I just don't believe in spying."

"Ho, ho, ho!" Babbs mocked. "Now, aren't we the naive one? Well, suit yourself, darling. It's your problem, not mine. And, oh, by the way ... will you promise to keep something else under your hat if I tell you a real funny joke?"

I looked at her glumly, and nodded.

"Did you know that the Big Man himself comes to visit little ole me now and then?" she asked, tauntingly.

"That he finds comfort for his troubled pecker within these everloving arms of mine?"

She caressed with her hands as if she was holding a stiff cock to accentuate her point.

Even though I knew without asking, with what dignity I could muster, I had to say, "Who are you talking about?"

She fell, laughing, to a supine position on the divan.

"Can't you guess?" she howled. "Your future daddy in-law, that's who! And you would never guess what he pays me to shove his dick in my cunt! Three hundred bucks, no less!"

I stared at Babbs. I felt like going to her and choking the laughter out of that lovely throat of hers, to shut the sound forever.

One hot afternoon, several days later, I sat sweltering in my car while I peered intently in the direction of a certain motel on the far outskirts of town. I was sweltering partly from the heat, but far more from the fuming I was doing because of a most unpleasant discovery I had just made.

Two cars were parked side by side before the hotel unit I had just passed. One of them belonged to Vince Bodine; the other, the sports roadster, was the red T-Bird in which Gretchen usually scooted about the beach.

I was pretty shook up. I was forced to admit that they really were meeting and fucking. Babbs had been right. She had known what she was talking about when she had said that Gretchen and Vince would find a way to screw in privacy. I had been a prize chump. I hadn't wanted to believe it, and I hadn't wanted to snoop, to follow Gretchen and to learn the bitter truth.

Maybe it was a good thing that I had decided, at long last, to investigate. The opportunity to do so had arisen by mere coincidence. I had been downtown earlier and I had seen Vince pull away from the curb in his high-powered car. An impulse to tail him, too powerful to resist, had impelled me.

Lagging far enough behind so he wouldn't know he was being followed. I kept him in sight until he turned in at the motel which I now had under surveillance. The T-Bird had arrived ahead of Vince's car.

Vince had pulled up right behind the T-Bird, hopped out, and marched into the motel unit without so much as bothering to knock. I stayed parked where I was, unable to drive off, while mixed emotions chased each other around in my skull.

I could take direct and violent action, but what would it profit me? I debated storming in and breaking up their little fuck-party. But why? Why should I even bother? Why should I torture myself by having to look at them, screwing away in bed, maybe too busy to notice I had opened the door?

If I tried that, there would be a battle for sure. Vince was a cinch to carry a gun. Somebody might get killed ... and wouldn't that be a hell of a note? Especially if it were me.

I finally decided to sit it out, just to wait and see what happened. Mainly, I wanted to see them with my own eyes, both of them together, coming through the doorway to that motel room after they were through humping. That would be it ... no more doubts. I would know all that I had to know.

But even that idea pained me. I lit a cigarette and got progressively more uncomfortable. A lot was about to go down the drain. Marriage to Gretchen could have been the answer to everything. Yet, there always is the element of pride. A man and his stupid pride. You simply do not marry a girl who slips around fucking with your mortal enemies, no matter what other inducements.

Once more, I thought of Babbs. I owed that kooky little broad a debt of gratitude. If it hadn't been for her, I would have walked blindly into what could have turned out to be a real crazy mess.

But there was still so much that I didn't understand. Why did Gretchen want to marry me in the first place, if she were crazy for Vince? And if Vince and she were really in love, why didn't they just go ahead and marry? Even if Papa Hammond had objections, there was nothing he could do to stop them if that was what they really wanted.

I puffed on my cigarette and continued to ponder. The word blackmail again popped into my mind. Could Vince really have something on Gretchen, something that he was holding over her head? Something so important to her that she was helpless to refuse Vince whatever he demanded, including fucking her luscious body? But if Vince were blackmailing her, what could he possibly have on a sweet doll like Gretchen?

I would have given a lot to know the answer to that, if blackmail happened to be what Vince was pulling. I kept staring moodily at the motel unit and at the two cars parked before it. Maybe I ought to crash the party after all. If Vince were blackmailing Gretchen, perhaps I could bring the whole ugly business out in the open, do something about it find a way to get Gretchen off the hook.

I couldn't make up my mind. I wiped the sweat off my face with an already damp handkerchief. Damn, it sure was hot sitting here roasting my balls even with the car windows wide open. The temperature must have reached all of a hundred and fifty.

It didn't help my discomfort to picture Vince fucking his head off with his dirty prick in the cunt of the girl I was supposed to marry.

I had the most irresistible urge to get my fingers wrapped around his throat and to strangle him. I could almost see Vince and Gretchen screwing in there on that bed together, with Vince enjoying the tits and cunt of Gretchen's body which were supposed to belong only to me.

I continued to fume. I flung my cigarette away angrily and made up my mind that I was going in there and raise hell, come what may. Whatever happened afterward, at least I would have had the satisfaction of breaking up their torrid, long-drawn out hump-session.

Maybe Vince carried a gun, and maybe he didn't. I soon would find out. What the hell; a man can die only once.

But just as I was slipping out of the car, the door to the motel unit opened and Vince came out. I froze, watching, hating the thought of seeing Gretchen's face when she followed him. I was curious to see if she would appear happy or maybe just a little ashamed. Then I was knocked for a complete loss. Gretchen did not come out.

But Faye Baker ... my secretary ... did.

I stared and gulped wildly, wondering if the whole world had gone completely nuts.

Faye, who I thought was at work back in the office, got into the T-Bird and departed. Then Vince got in his car and raced off in the opposite direction. Neither saw me.

I didn't bother to yell greetings of cheer.

Feeling shocked, but at the same time experiencing a vast sense of relief, I, too, drove away. It had never occurred to me that Vince and Faye shared an intimate hump-relationship. Life was proving to be full of startling revelations. More every day! This boy, Vince Bodine, sure as hell got around. You never knew where his cock was going to pop up next.

Wouldn't it be gruesome if I were to learn that he was fucking with Faye, my private secretary, and with Gretchen, my supposedly private fiancee, both? Yet, unless Babbs had lied to me, this is exactly what this whoremaster must be doing.

I headed for the office. I intended to quiz dear Faye Baker plenty. Maybe, I would come up with some answers that way. I would raise hell with her for not holding down the fort, for reneging on her duties in my absence.

I was curious to know how she would go about trying to explain.

Later, Faye straightened some papers on my desk and tried to laugh off my irate denunciations of her highly questionable loyalty.

"How did you know I had been away from the office?" she asked. "Phil, do you have spies watching me?"

"Maybe I have and maybe I haven't," I said, sarcastically.

"I didn't think you would mind if I ran out for a few minutes," she protested.

I raised my brows. "A few minutes! My dear young lady, how do you arrive at such a peculiar sense of time? You were gone for a couple of hours at least!"

"Oh. Was it really so long?"

"It was."

"Are you very mad at me, Phil? I'm sorry."

"One of us should be in the office at all times. I don't see why you had to leave while I was gone. If Mr. Hammond had dropped by he wouldn't like finding the office deserted. It's no way to run a business."

"Oh, Phil ... please don't scold ... I won't do it again and that's a promise. Anyway, there's something you don't know which makes it not so bad as you think."

"How so?"

"Mr. Hammond did come by. He asked where you were, and I told him you were out surveying some property. I asked his permission to vacate the office for a little while. I explained that I had to go to pay a bill. He told me it would be okay and offered me his car to save time. He had driven down in that cute T-Bird of Gretchen's. And it was such fun driving it I guess I did stay away longer than was necessary. I just adore those little sport roadsters, don't you? They're so fast and zippy. I sure would like to own one."

She laughed. "I'd like a green one to match my eyes. Wouldn't that be the end!"

I snorted. "Then, perhaps Faye, you'll clear up just one more small mystery that is really plaguing the hell out of me!"

She looked at me askance. "Yes?"

"If you were so fond of driving that T-Bird why did you leave it parked in front of that motel just out of town?"

She paused and the color fled her face.

"I didn't!" she denied. "I took a drive along the beach. And I sped to see just how fast I could go...."

"Oh, come off it. Look, I saw you and the car!"

She flared. "Then you were spying on me! Oh, I can't stand sneaky people, chasing me and watching everything I do! It's none of your business!"

"I saw you by accident," I explained. "I was driving along and I saw the T-Bird in front of the motel. I recognized it as Gretchen's car parked and naturally was curious since it was quite surprising to find my fiancee's car parked in such a hot bedsheet place. So I waited and watched, expecting her to come out. There was another car, too. Vince Bodine's. So you can guess what happened. I saw you and Vince come out, and I will have to admit I was quite puzzled. How long have you and Vince been so buddy-buddy? You were in that motel room one hell of a long time. You were playing tiddly-winks I suppose?"

Faye paled once more. "I-I'd rather not answer, if you don't mind, Mr. Overton. As a matter-of-fact, it's none of your concern what I do or with whom I do it. Outside of this office, my life is my own. And I'll do with it what I please!"

I frowned. "I beg to disagree, not during office hours you can't, not while you're drawing pay from Hammond Enterprises. From nine to five, your time belongs to this firm. After five you're on your own and can fuck and suck whom you like, not before."

"Mr. Hammond told me I could leave," she snapped. "I had his permission ... and unless I'm mistaken, his authority overrides yours, Mr. Bigshot!"

"Would you like for him to know what kind of "bill" he loaned you his car to go pay? Do you want me to inform him? He would fire you in a minute, and you know it!"

Faye stared a moment through her aquamarine eyes. Then, flashing a smile at me, she came and petted my cheek.

"Oh, you wouldn't do that, Phil, dear. I don't think you'd dare."

"And why wouldn't I?"

"Don't be silly. If you told on me and got me fired, then it would be only fair, wouldn't it, that I would have the right to tell on you."

I glared, but I was curious. "And, Miss Screwball, just what do you assume you could tell him about me?"

"Why, Phil! I would have to enlighten him about us, of course."

"Us?"

Faye laughed and teased my lip with a dainty finger.

"Natch, silly!" she lilted. "What would I have to lose if you caused my dismissal? What would I lose be telling Mr. Hammond how you and I have been fucking away our lunch times together? I can imagine how enormously he would appreciate it, can't you? His future son-in-law humping with his secretary? Can't you just picture dear Mr. Hammond's face when he hears about this? Mr. Hammond-if you haven't already learned it-can become quite a nasty and vengeful individual, Phil. He crucifies people who cross him!"

I gulped, feeling the blood drain from my cheeks.

"You wouldn't tell on yourself-I don't believe you!"

She pinched my ear. "I wouldn't? Why don't you try me and find out, Mr. Overton? You'd be surprised at how vindictive I can be. Do you know what-I think Mr. Hammond still is in the building, somewhere. Why don't we call and tell him all the delicious frigging secrets we know about each other? Would you like to do that?"

I looked at the cock-crazy, smiling female and couldn't think straight. Finally, I had to shake my head and laugh.

I conceded. "You may be just nutty enough to try to go through with it."

She wriggled, sat on my lap, and kissed me.

"That's being a nice boy, Phil. I thought you would prove sensible. Kiss me back and let's be friends again. I like the way you kiss, darling. It kinds of sends me. Do it now ... really goody-good-good!"

"Listen, we've got to get some work done around here for a change. This is no time for...."

Her finger followed the curve of my mouth, mischievously, and her voice turned coy.

"Darling, if you don't kiss me, I'll be very unhappy," she murmured. "And when I'm unhappy, I get the wildest notions. I might ever go so far as to call Mr. Hammond in and tell him about how we've been fucking, regardless. So won't you please be a good boy and kiss me, Phil?"

I didn't like her insinuating tone, but I liked the rest of what she was dishing out. Her red lips were close, slightly parted. Palpitating, she awaited my decision. I knew that the moment bore drastic implications, namely, that if I relented and yielded to her demands for my prick, the balance of power between us would shift from my control to hers.

As I hesitated, her fingers crept to the intercom button.

I quickly decided it was wisest to be discreet right now. When I kissed Faye, she lifted her leg and jiggled around her juicy asscheeks so that she faced me. She quickly unzipped me and fondly caressed my ever-ready stiff hard-on. She hiked up her skirt and I could see she must have left her panties someplace, if she had bothered to wear any today.

Her smooth, expert thighs captured my pulsing cock in the velvet delight of her moist cunt-hole. She threw her arms around me and her twat churned with hungry desire as if she hadn't seen a cock for months. As Faye felt my prick thrust with the quick violence of a sudden ejculation of hot sperm ripping through my cock and balls her buttocks joined me with an ecstatic flurry. I steadied her wildly writhing ass so that she would not fall to the floor.

"I just love to take your dictation in this position, Mr. Overton," she panted in my ear.