Chapter 7
Bob didn't see the girls that Sunday, but instead, he lay dead in the crib. He would have their apartment set up and ready for them to move in, by the end of the week. It should really be groovy, he thought to himself. A lot of shit had gone down, but everything looked good. They could make it, he thought.
Lorraine was the lead girl. She held the stuff together. She watched his ass like a hawk. Not out of mistrust, but for his safety. She knew he was calling the shots, and she dug that. But he didn't have eyes in the back of his head. So she watched his ass. When a person wanted to give you the shaft, that's where usually they would put it, right up the old bung hole.
Bob was important to her. She couldn't really put her finger on it. But he was. Bob knew, or felt this. Also, somehow, he felt a stronger bond between himself and her. But then, on second thought, he couldn't really say what he felt for her was any stronger than what he felt for the rest, it was, well, she just watched out for his ass, and helped to keep him from getting the shaft. And she watched the other girls, looked out for them.
It would work, he told himself. Somehow, he knew it would work. Now, if he could just keep Dewey Dumb-dumb off his ass.
He slept.
Brock pushed a coin into the telephone box and dialed.
"Hello, Helen? Brock! Can I see you? I know it's late, but could I please see you?"
He detected the slight trace of amusement in the tone of the voice at the other end of the line. Let her laugh, he thought to himself. I can handle her. No hang-ups there. Somehow, with her, I don't have to worry about shooting off too quickly.
Why does it only happen to me when I'm with my wife?
Fuck it. Why worry about it now. I'm going to get some, and I'm going to nail her fat ass to the mattress. I'll fuck the shit out of her. I'll push her cherry so far up in her they'll use it as a stop light. I'll fuck the cover off her pussy. I'll have her walking bow-legged for two days afterwards. I'll slay her dragon, I'll ...
The next day, when he arrived at work, Brock had a bad case of light balls. But he was still pissed off. That fucking wife of his. He could hang her by the twat and slowly burn the hair off her cunt.
It wasn't his fault that she upset him so, he always shot off before she reached her climax. What the hell did she expect?
"Brock?"
"What!" he snapped, catching himself a little too late, and squirming inside, seeing the puzzled, begruntled look on Dewey's face as he entered the office.
"Bad night last night, Brock?" Dewey inquired, his brow furrowed deeply. "It gets that way sometimes."
The old fuck, Brock cursed inwardly. Who the hell was he? Thinks he knows everything-been everywhere. How the hell does he know I had a bad night. Has he been fucking my wife? No! It was a stupid thought. Brock sighed heavily, once again drawing Dewey's attention, and the frown that he seemed to reserve only for Brock.
"You know, Brock; you can go a long way in this company if you'd just tighten up your ship. Batten down the hatches. You've got the ball, son; now run with it, run with it! Don't sit down at that desk and wait for me to tell you what to do next. Check up. Keep on your feet. Keep the employees guessing. Look like you're interested in the production, like you're interested in the company's welfare. You are interested in the company's welfare, aren't you Brock?"
"Yes sir." Cocksucker!
"Then move around. When you're on the move, the workers hustle a little more. They don't want you to catch them goofing off. And when they are, or the work is a little slow, find something for them to do. Get with it. You're a young executive. You've got to function."
"Yes, sir."
"Okay, remember what I said. Here, take this memo down to personnel."
"Yes, sir. I'll give it to one of the messengers as soon as one of them come back."
"Brock," Dewey let out a long, low sight of exasperated tolerance. "Take this memo down to personnel." He glared at Brock as if daring to hear the slightest rebuttal or look of defiance.
"Yes sir, right away sir," Brock flashed his ever-ready smile, the one Dewey liked so much.
"That's the way, Brock." Dewey smiled.
"Good morning, Phyllis," Bob said as he stopped in front of the receptionist's desk to punch his time card. Brock and Dewey heard him at the same time, and Dewey turned in the direction of the voice and flushed a deep crimson. And Brock took it all in, once again storing this observation with the other tid-bits of unexplainable vibrations he felt going around between Dewey and the new guy, Bob.
Ten o'clock break came around, and to keep things cool, Bob was going to go over to one of the fellow's office and bullshit the break away, but Anne caught his eye. And according to their pre-arranged plan, Bob changed his direction and headed toward his office with his coffee and roll.
Anne appeared shortly afterward.
"Feel up to giving me a little diddle?" Her eyes looked hot and kind of misty.
Bob sighed. "We're pushing it, darling."
"Shh, just touch it. Just press your hand against it through my skirt. I could cream off in less than a minute, I'm so hot."
Bob scanned the office casually, and had barely lifted his hand up and away from his desk when he felt Anne pressing herself against his wrist. He adjusted his position and cupped her pussy through her thin, light-weight skirt.
"Put it up my skirt, please. Just touch it."
"Look, you're so damn hot, all one has to do is look at your face and they'd know you're about to cream in your drawers, that is, if you haven't already."
"I save all my cream for you, love,' breathed hotly.
He didn't want to admit it, but she was blowing his mind with that kind of talk. He loved a shit talking chick. The more shit she talked, the more he blew. Knowing Anne, she could probably talk him into creaming in his pants. Her pussy rubbed urgently against his hand. Unconsciously he felt himself cupping it more firmly with more and more intent.
She smiled, then reached down for his hand and put it under her skirt.
"Goddam, your panties are sopping."
"I told you," she hissed, her face taking on a soft glow of warmth and blush.
Bob dug his hand down into her panties and slipped two fingers into her very moist hole. She ground her pussy down on his fingers. They were talking with their eyes again when Dewey came down toward the back where they were. So they didn't see him walking casually, but ever so quietly towards them, even though Lorraine had spotted him, and them, and was trying frantically to make signs with her face. Louise was sitting doing her best to conceal the fear that billowed inside her pounding heart like the full sail on a ship taking its maiden voyage.
Tiny beads of sweat popped out on Lorraine's forehead, and around her nose. While Louise froze where she was at, petrified with fear.
Anne let out a soft, low moan of ecstatic d blessed release as she shuddered, the sensual movement of Bob's working fingers gliding rapidly inside her sweetening cunt, en she melted in his hand. "I've got to get blown," came a gruff voice from the doorway.
There were no sudden moves, physically that is. Though two hearts simultaneously jumped into second gear and shifted into third within the space of a "trinit," which is thirty-six seconds quicker than a minute. They both looked around. "I've got to get blown," Dewey repeated hotly, his voice much more intense than before.
"Are you crazy?" Bob rasped, his voice not going any further than just their ears.
"I've got to get sucked, NOW!" Dewey was beginning to tremble, Bob noticed.
"The stockroom is the only place," Bob suggested, making the decision and playing the I cards just the way they were falling. There was no time to second guess himself.
Lorraine watched, and scanned the rest of the office as she watched Bob, Anne and Dewey enter the stockroom and close the door behind them. She wondered what would be going on. She could guess, but guessing was j nothing like knowing.
She continued to scan the office as she returned to her work, and Louise did the same. Louise was scared stiff, Lorraine could see that. But she had to give the girl credit. She was holding onto her cool.
Minutes passed, and the door to the stockroom was still closed.
"Stay here," Lorraine whispered, as she casually, but purposefully left her desk and headed for the stockroom. She opened the door and stepped in quickly, then shut the door and gasped.
Poor little, sweet little Anne. There was Dewey himself, laying back against the crates, his fat little, hard knob of a prick jutting from the slit of his pulled down zipper, and Anne sucking it off for him.
Bob glared at her. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
Lorraine said nothing. Her eyes were glued to the sight of Anne's hot mouth fastened securely to the prod of cock, and the look on Dewey's face.
He was making all sorts of little grunts and groans, his fat jowls trembling loosely from the rest of his face, and she knew he was going to come soon.
"Hell," she wriggled hotly. "I need something behind all this action."
"Look," answered Bob fearfully, "what do you want to do, bring the whole fucking joint down around us?"
She answered him with her eyes.
"For pete's sake," Bob unloosened his belt, opened the top of his pants, then shucked them down around his ankles along with hi undershorts.
Angrily, he reached for her, yanked up her dress, pulled down her panties, then spun her around like a cop doing a "frisk" routine. He placed her hands against the wall, then pulled her buttocks out towards him a little, then started searching for her sweet little cunt.
The entrance found, and feeling the lips around her pussy puckering and closing around the head of his cock, he pressed it against the slit, and slipped it up into her, feeling her pressing backwards and down upon him.
He sighed heavily, as his joint slid all the way up her, and he felt her familiar sucking pussy muscles grab hold of his dick and begin to do their pussy thing. He put it to her sweetly, moving his dick in and out of her with a steady rhythm. Her cunt was sweet and wet. Most of all, it was as hot as all hell.
Just then, the door opened and a frightened Louise came in closing the door quickly behind her.
"Good grief. Everybody's going mad around here. Sex, sex, sex, all I see is sex." Then she exclaimed again: "Good grief!"
Fuck it, Bob thought to himself, as he continued to move in and out of Lorraine, not missing a stroke. Fuck it all to hell.
There was a slight choking sound, and Lorraine tore her lips away from Bob's hot kiss just in time to see Anne's mouth bubbling over with hot gism as Dewey came heavily into her mouth
"Suck it, suck it. Oh, hell, suck that prick, honey. Suck it. Ohhgg, suck it. Suck the meat off the bone, baby! Ahhh, suck it, suck it, suck it, suck it, suck it," he babbled in rhythm with motion of Anne's tongue sliding back and forth Ms prick just beneath the head of it.
Lorraine started sighing the way she always did when she was getting her rocks.
"Ohh, push it, ohh! Ahh, Ahhh, Ohhh!"
Bob pushed it to her hard.
"Ohhh baby. Ohhhbaby, ohhh baby, I'm coming."
Bob whipped around inside her a few more times, then like he had other things to do, slipped his steaming, hot cock from the creamy snatch, and reached for Louise.
"Come on, let's get it over with."
Louise started to protest at his reluctant manner. I mean, she thought; after all, she wasn't just something for him to spit his come into. You know?
He detected her hesitation, and snatched her by the arm, reaching up under her short dress and grasping a hold of the waistband of her panties, and stripping them down over her ankles, as she involuntarily stepped out of them.
She knew she wanted to be fucked, or eaten, or something. Who the hell did she think she was fooling?
She was really going to give him a piece of her mind, when he placed her into the same position as he had Lorraine.
"It's all right honey, I enjoyed it," Lorraine said, satisfied with the medicine Bob had given her to cure her temporary illness of lusty hots.
"But ... "
Bob slapped Louise sharply on the ass. Then manfully, found the entrance to her sweet pussy and inserted his cock as far Up into her as he possibly could. Hmmm. His cock was beginning to get a little feeling into it. He had better get her over kind of quick or she'd find herself with a pussyfull of male spunk, and no cream of her own to mix with it.
Ah shit! I got her under control. Bob redeemed himself. Then he commenced working his cock in and out of Louise's tight, little snatch. Boy, how long had it been since she had a good fucking, outside of the ones he himself had given her.
She really had a tight, little pussy. He could touch the back of her, and yet every solid inch of his prick was encased with pure pussy. Whooo! Pussy like this could blow the lid off Mount Everest, providing the Mount had a prick!
Bob cracked up inwardly at his own weak humor.
He was just beginning to make his stride, sinking his hot cock into Louise, in long, hard strokes. She was getting a much better fucking than Lorraine had gotten. And Lorraine was wondering why?
Dewey had finished spurting his come in Anne's mouth, and now sat down on one of the boxes of supplies and watched the scene before him. It was really kind of nice. When was the last time he could watch a scene like this and play with his meat.
Well, Martha's place was something different altogether. I mean, at a whore-house, what do you expect but the best. Those girls are paid to give the customer the very best. But this was different. This wasn't costing him a single cent. Hee, hee, heee. Yes, what a stroke of luck for him when he caught them fucking and gamahuching on the floor that particular day. Weee, dogie. Yes indeed! Free tail. This was only the beginning, Dewey told himself, smugly.
Bob now had his hands on Louise's ass and was pulling the cheeks widely apart, taking a good look at the sight of his slick shaft slipping in easy and coming greasy; more greasy each time than the time before.
Yes, she was about to burst her grapes.
Then the door to the stockroom opened again. And what to their wondrous eyes should appear-horny, ol' Brock with a lustful leer.
He said nothing as he closed the door behind him and took in the lusty sight. That wasn't the scent of jasmine wafting its way down the Nile, what he smelled either. That was, that was, yeah. PUSSY! PURE PLEASURABLE PUSSY!
"All right, mother-fucker," he grinned. "The jig's up."
Everyone just stood there staring at him-Dewey, turning as red as a beet. Yes, everyone stood staring at him. Everyone that is, except for Bob. Louise was trying to look at Brock, but Bob was putting such a terrible fucking to her sweet hole she could give a fuck less if it was Brock, the president, or the Prime Minister's chancellor.
It was just too damn bad for all of them. She was getting fucked. Which was the same as saying: Come back later-can't you see I'm busy.
Yes, she thought. I'm terribly busy. I'm getting the wrinkles fucked out of my pussy. He's ironing out the wrinkles. Pretty soon it will all come out in the was, that is, when I finally cream all over his cock. Oh, oh, the thrill of it all!
Oh, hell, he's so stiff, so hard, so good! Oh, for life and limb of me. Oh, that I might give my soul to get fucked like this for the rest of my life. That I might forever and always take into my being the sweet delicious boy who stands behind me giving me what I want-giving me what I need-ten pounds of cock-piping hot-more bounce to the ounce, more ground per pound, and ohh, ohhh...
"Well, you hot-blooded motherfuckers, I'm waiting." Brock was very smug now. Knowing that he was holding all the trump cards. Not only had he discovered the link between Bob and Dewey, but he had stumbled onto an easier way to spend the day, an easier way to get his dick wet.
He started to approach Bob and reached out to grab him by the shoulder. But Dewey stopped him. Brock started to protest bitterly, but the fear on Dewey's face made him hesitate long enough to take a second thought.
He couldn't really figure out why Dewey was so scared, but for the moment, not knowing what the score was, well, he could "afford" to take his time about things. No, he didn't have to push this new guy, Bob.
No, just because he, Brock, was now the man of the hour, the man with all the aces-naw, he didn't have to be a prick. But, just as long as each and everyone of them understood that he "could" be a prick if he desired to be so.
Well, he would get that understood just as soon as this young man finished the fine fucking he was giving this girl, Louise. Louise? Wow! I didn't know she would throw a fuck like that!
"Ohhh, o gosh, wow!" Louise began to gasp, interrupting everyone's train of thought except Bob's.
"Ohhh honey, ohhh, do it baby, do it, wow!"
With her skirt hitched up around and above her waist, with her little sweet ass cheeks shaking furiously in Bob's hands, her thighs trembling, her legs shaking, and heart felt sighs escaping her pursed lips, Louise climaxed beautifully right there in the stock room.
A few more strokes, then Bob eased out of her, his own fulfillment yet to be obtained.
He turned around somewhat annoyed at this last interruption.
"Just what the hell do you want, man?"
"Hey kid, I'd suggest you watch your mouth, you know? I mean, like I now hold the security of your job in the palm of my hand, yours and Dewey's also."
"You don't hold shit," Bob shot back, his voice still in quiet control, still not wanting anyone outside the stock room to hear.
"What the-" Brock took a threatening step towards Bob, and Dewey immediately rushed up to him, seized him by the shoulder, the fear on his face twice as intense as before.
"Ahh, ahh Brock, no. Ah, no, I wouldn't do that Brock."
"Look, I've just made the discovery of the century. I could turn you all in for just half of what I've just seen.
"Brock," Dewey interrupted him.
"Anyone of you is willing to give this sucker a play?" Bob asked no one in particular.
"I'm the only one that hasn't been fucked," Anne spoke up quickly, and a little embarrassed at her boldness.
"You can fuck her," Bob said to Brock, in his matter-of-fact tone of voice.
"Now, just you wait one fucking minute."
Bob spun around and the expression on his face was evil and menacing, as Dewey again rushed to Brock's shoulder.
"You'd better confer with your boss, sweetie, before you loose some teeth," Lorraine said knowingly.
"But-" Brock still tried to protest.
"But, mother-fucker, you haven't got all damn day to fuck. Now get the pussy, then get the fuck out of here!" Bob spat the words out, his body tensed, poised, like something from the jungle ready to strike.
Brock's feathers felt suddenly wilted. They just didn't understand his position yet. They didn't understand what power he had over them. Well, he would get the pussy first, then they would talk. They'd talk and they'd listen. Then we'll see who the real "King Tut" is.
Anne was already stepping out of her panties. "How do you want me," she asked almost demurely.
"Just like old people fuck," Bob shot in, "straight up and down."
Brock glared at Bob, as Anne lay down on the floor and spread her legs wide apart, everyone getting a good look at the salmon pinkness of her inner pussy.
Brock quickly forgot his bickering, as the throbbing of his stiff cock took hold of his mind, and the sight of Anne's sweet pussy wiped his mind as clean as an erased blackboard.
He fumbled momentarily, not knowing whether to just take his cock out of his pants, or to strip down to the ankles like Bob had done. The girl had warned him to follow his boss's lead. Did that mean fucking too!
He decided to take one more chance to see what happened. He unfastened his pants and dropped them down around his ankles.
Nothing was said. Hump! You mean he had finally done something without an objection from the "in-crowd"?
He didn't have a bad-looking cock at that, Anne thought as she viewed the stiffening rod, jutting out and throbbing right above her face.
He looked around him once more, then knelt down between Anne's spread open thighs; grabbed hold of his member and aimed it toward her slot. It slipped in with no trouble at all. Anne closed around his cock like a velvet glove.
He hunched into her once and she began to writhe beneath him. He thrust into her again, and she began throwing all that hot, young pussy over his marauding prick. But alas, too much, too soon. For as Brock hunched into her a third time, he groaned suddenly, and cursed.
"Ohh, fuck, I'm coming, dammit, ohhh, I'm comin'. " He started spurting into her.
"You creepy bastard," Anne shot at him disgustedly, instantly jerking away from him while at the same time reaching for his prick with her hand to keep him from shooting off her entire load between her legs. But she wasn't quite fast enough, because he was still coming as his prick slipped from her and the stiff rod slurped from her pussy with a resounding pop, and burst forth with two more heavy spurts of come that shot up and landed on Anne's stomach and inner thighs.
"You pig!" she spat, and frowned nastily.
"Where the fuck do you think you get off?" Brock yelped, raising his hand back to give her a shot across the mouth.
A shoed foot kicked him gently but firmly in the ribs as he began to start the down-swing. And as he looked up, Bob slapped him viciously across the mouth, jerking his head back, and while the blow jerked Brock upright, Bob hit him again, so that he just kept going backwards and sprawled out on the floor on his back.
Brock felt at his mouth. His lip was split and bleeding a little. He went to jump, and Lorraine grabbed his arm.
"You snatch away from my arm, and he may kill you," she said softly, her voice heavy with concern, though her concern was only for Bob.
Brock's eyes were hot with anger. He wanted to kick ass. He wanted to kick much ass. But now that he looked at Bob, well, the guy looked just a little too confident. His air was just a little too quiet.
Naw, Brock evaluated, just might get the shit kicked out of me.
Bob watched Brock's face. Brock was angry and impulsive. He just might want to tangle and go for broke. But no, his eyes showed he had resigned himself to let things go as they were. Bob turned his back. And it was then that Brock lept up from the floor just high enough to tackle Bob around the legs, sending him slamming into the floor.
Bob was instantly a twisting, thrashing snake, violently kicking the entanglement of pants from around his feet, and fighting to regain his balance of the situation.
Brock also had his feet entangled in his pants. But Bob got loose first, and raised up over Brock and smashed down into his face. Once, twice, three times, and Brock crumpled to the floor in a heap.
Bob began pulling on his undershorts and pants when the door to the stock room opened again, and one of the fellows across the hall walked into the room.
"What the hell-"
Well, there was the scene: Lorraine half laying, half sitting on the floor with her dress up around her waist; Louise sitting on a box, her skirt up around her waist and her pussy hanging out, and then there was Anne cowering in one corner of the room. Her face flushed and full of fear. And...
Who the fuck was on the floor?
"Who's that? What happened. What's going on?"
Bob was keyed and ready to go. "You want to go down too! Come on in."
"Hey, wait a minute, I didn't mean to interrupt anything. I mean, I didn't mean to interfere. I just heard the noise, and I came to see what it was."
"Did anyone else hear it," Bob asked. "What?"
"Did anyone else hear the noise? Was it loud?"
"Uh, no, I don't think so. You want me to take a look?" He reached for the door.
"Hold it. You take a look, but you just open the door and split back to where you belong. We'll talk later."
"Yeah, sure, okay, Bob. Anything you say, man."
The fellow opened the door and left.
Brock was staring up at Bob from the floor. He opened his mouth to speak.
"You say one motherfucking word, just one-and I'll stomp your guts in," Bob said in a low tone of voice. But there was no escaping the intensity of his threat. He meant it. And now Brock knew it!
"If the price for keeping your mouth shut is pussy on the bone; then you've got it. I know we can work out something. But if you have any ideas of turning any, or all of us in, forget it. Because you'll need twenty-four hour police to keep me from getting to your ass. Do you understand?"
Brock shook his head in the affirmative.
"Now get dressed and get the fuck out of here."
Minutes later Brock was dressed and weaseling his way from the stockroom. They, the girls, had wiped the blood from his face as best they could, and Brock had said that he would go straight to the men's room and clean himself up.
"Do you think he will say anything?" Anne asked.
"If something should happen to give him complete protection, he'll sell our ass out for the price of a used cigar butt. But until that happens, he's afraid, and he'll keep his mouth shut. So don't worry about it. Okay?"
He threw on his disarming smile.
"Now, which one of you are going to service my fulfillment?" They all stared at each other incredulously.
"Are you serious?"
"Everyone in here has gotten their rocks except me. Even Brock got his."
"I didn't get mine, remember? The bastard came before I even got warmed up."
"Then let's get it on."
Bob stripped again, and by the time he got out of his pants, Anne was lying back on the floor, again with her legs spread widely apart.
Bob crawled between her legs and inserted his penis into her.
Ahhh, yes, he mused. like putting a key into a lock.
like putting a hand into a glove. like putting penis to pussy. Ahhh, yes.
He had no sooner stuck it in, than Anne began writhing her lovely hips, squirming beneath him and throwing all the pussy she possessed up to his cock.
Again, and again he dug into her hallowed tunnel of love. Again and again, he felt the inner muscles of her sweet cunt contracting around the shaft of his penis, closing, clasping, loosening, tightening, drawing him deep into her, then spewing him out again.
Bob was hard up, now. Fuck all that pretty shit to make her feel good. He wanted a good down to earth fuck, and that's just what he was going to get.
Lorraine watched the scene with increasing interest. She dug Bob. She let her mind go again. Maybe it was his style. Maybe it was because the way he just let himself hang loose. Maybe it was because he was so capable of taking care of them when the shit hit the fan.
Maybe, it was the care he took in their interests, and in their behalf. And then again, maybe it was just that she liked the way Bob fucked. Somehow, even though it had looked like he was doing a much better job on Louise's pussy than he had done on hers, she still got one big hell of a thrill in being fucked by him.
He was just so capable.
There was something about the way he nudged his prick up the straight of her vagina, touching her at all points west, north, south, and east. Maybe it was the way he filled her from stem to stern once he started stroking that long thick cock in and out of her dripping box.
Yes. She was sure now. That was it. That had to be it. The way Bob filled her box made her feel like a birthday present, a Christmas stocking, a Thanksgiving turkey, an Easter basket.
Yes. Having Bob fuck her was like having a celebration. like drinking champagne in August. Or having steak in the morning for breakfast.
Yes. That's what it was, her steak. But only if she could have it anytime she wanted it. Well, at least, almost anytime she wanted it.
"Ohhh, ohhh," Anne moaned, interrupting Lorraine's train of thought again.
That girl. Every time I get to think about Bob, either she or Louise are with him. Oh well, I already had mine. She smiled openly, and Louise looked at her and smiled too! Neither of them knew what the other was thinking, but they just continued smiling at each other.
Bob stroked Anne down hard, till finally she shuddered violently, and a gasp tore from her pursed lips.
"Ohh, Bob, Ohh, ohh do it, do it, do it, ohh, yes."
Dewey still sat on one of the boxes jerking himself off. And at the same time that Anne was coming, and Bob was spurting off inside her, Dewey fizzled to the top of his dick and squirted his last remains out on the floor of the stockroom.
While our dynamic quartet was in the stockroom with Dewey doing their thing, Phyllis, the receptionist at the front desk, spoke to Brock.
"Brock, this is the new girl that will be working for us now, Mona Freeman."