Chapter 3

Archie Baker was leaning over the drawing board putting the finishing touches to a big drawing when he felt the soft little tittie press against his arm.

"Cut it out, Jeanie, you'll make me smear this job and I'm almost finished," he said without looking around.

Old man Bundy came out of his office a moment later, his usual scowl on his face. "How's it going, Arch?" he snarled.

"Just about done, Mr. Bundy," Archie said.

"I was just looking at it. It's great," Jeanie Teasley said.

Old man Bundy looked over Archie's shoulder. "Yeah. Just what I wanted," he said. "That wraps it up. We can all relax a little." He headed towards his office. " 'Bout time," he muttered, and slammed his door.

"He gets grouchier every day. His old lady must not be giving him any," Ms. Teasley said. She squeezed Archie's arm, her tit now against his back. "How T)out you, Arch?"

"Goddammit, Jeanie, leave me alone until I finish this."

Archie had started to work for old man Bundy when he was seventeen, twelve years ago, as a flunky and worked his way up. It was a small ad agency and he'd gotten a crack at every phase of the business. He was now their top illustrator and copy writer, and that was without any formal training. Besides Archie and Ms. Teasley, who was an artist, Bundy had five other employees: Three salesmen-account executives, they said-another artist and copy writer, and a trainee-flunky, actually. The trainee was a young art student. She always wore a t-shirt and no bra; her little titties didn't bounce, but the nipples always made prominent bumps in the front of her t-shirt.

Archie finished the drawing, laid down his pen, and stretched. Ms. Teasley was still behind him, close behind him, and he felt her arch against him, rubbing her mound against his hip.

"Christ, Jeanie," he said.

"You're done now, so I can bother you." She put her hands on his shoulders and rubbed against his back.

"What the hell's gotten into you?" he said, pulling away.

"I'm horny," she said.

"What about your big, black stud?"

"He's on the road for two weeks, or has been. Won't be back for two more days. Why don't you stop by my place for a little drinkie after work?" She held herself against his back and leaned over and blew softly in his ear.

"Jesus, stop that, Ms. Teasley," he snorted, and stood up, "everybody in the place can see us."

"You always call me Ms. Teasley when you're annoyed with me, Archie. Why are you annoyed with me, Archie? Surely not because I want your body. I've wanted your body for a long time, Archie."

"Stop teasing me, Jeanie."

"I'm not teasing, Archie."

"It's been a rough day and I'm tired. I'm going home early."

"Can I go home with you?"

"Sure, but my wife is there."

"That's no good. Let's go to my place. I was done an hour ago; I can leave now, too."

"Can't, gotta get home."

"Okay, we'll stop for one drink and then you can go home."

"Geeez," Archie said, and wrapped on old man Bundy's door.

They rode down the elevator together. It stopped at the main floor and Archie stopped and looked at her. "Okay, one drink. Just one, and then I'm bugging out. That's a promise," he said.

"Goodie," Ms. Jeanie Teasley said, and grabbed his arm.

Jeanie Teasley was a very foxy chick, good looking and built like a dream. Her tits weren't really big, but big enough, and her legs were fantastic. She was twenty-four and single.

They went across the street and went into a cozy little bar. Jeanie snuggled close to him in the snug booth. Archie had a bourbon and Jeanie had scotch.

"I've been at Bundy's for over a year now and we've never done this before. Why?" Jeanie asked after the second round.

"Aw, I guess I'm just not one of those guys that does a lot of playing around. I'm kept pretty happy at home."

"A little extracurricular friendship never hurt a marriage," Jeanie said.

"I'm not too sure about that," Archie said, grinning. He took a sip from his third drink and then they kissed. It was a long kiss. "See what I mean," he said after they broke apart.

"Well, it might not be doing anything for your marriage, but it sure as hell does something for our friendship," she said, and coiled her arms around his neck.

They kissed several times, each one more ardent than the one before. Jeanie finally reached down and took his hand and laid it in her lap. It rested there for a moment, and then she pressed his fingers between her legs. She was wearing a pair of tight slacks and he could feel her deep crease. "I want you, Archie, let's go up to my place," she said.

Archie could feel his cock trying to uncoil in his pants. It almost hurt. He pulled his hand away and slid away. "This is getting out of hand, Jeanie. I gotta be going," he said.

"Aw, Archie...."

He was on his feet. He reached out and put his palm against her soft cheek. "Goddamn, Jeanie, if I don't go now, I won't go," he said, and fled from the bar. He felt guilty all the way home. Jeanie Teasley was one foxy chick, his will power had been sorely tested.

He still had a hard-on when he entered the apartment. His fat little wife was going to get a real fucking. He sensed immediately that something was wrong. The front room looked normal as he passed through. "Florence," he called. There was no answer.

In the kitchen, the breakfast dishes were still on the table and he knew something was wrong. Florence just didn't leave dirty dishes around all day. The ash tray was piled with butts.

He rushed back into the front room. "Florence, where the hell are you?" he shouted. Again there was no answer. He saw the note on the coffee table then. He picked it up and read it. It was a short note and he read it again.

The note said:

Mr. Baker:

I've gone to my mother. You will never see me again, you beast. Don't try to call me or come and get me or anything. I hate you.

All my love, Florence

"Goddamn sonofabitch!" Archie screamed, wadded up the note and threw it across the room. He sat down on the couch, fighting back the tears. He sat for several minutes, then got up and went and picked up the note. He unfolded the wad and stood staring at it.

"Mr. Baker? Beast? She's crazy," he said.

She'd called him a beast that same morning, but it was in a little different context; it was while they were still in bed and he was deep in her saddle; it was magnificent beast then.

Archie couldn't understand what had happened; hell, everything was great between them when he went to work. She'd run off with her nit-wit mother three times before, but the last time was over five years ago; he thought she was over that shit.

He wadded the note again and made himself a stiff drink. He finished the drink and made another, cursing steadily. He had always gone and got her before, but he didn't even know where the old lady lived now, besides, he'd had all that shit he could take. He convinced himself that twenty-eight was too old to be chasing around the country after a dizzy blonde that can't make up her mind about what she wants. By morning she'd be bawling her gorgeous blue eyes out and on the horn for him to come and bring her home. Well, piss on that noise; she would have to stew in her own juice this time; he decided he wasn't going after her.

He made himself another drink-he was already drunk, mean drunk-and went into the bedroom to see what she had taken. All of her clothing was gone and so was the good luggage. He went through several desk drawers and realized the saving account passbook was gone, too. Shit, that was twenty-eight hundred bucks down the tube.

He saw the envelope on the bed and picked it up and got the answer to his questions. She got a letter from her old lady and went bananas. He looked at the address in the comer. Christ, she was in Salt Lake City, Utah, probably trying to soak up religion. Well, that really settled that, there was no way he would go and get her, not all the way to Salt Lake. Christ, he was in Des Moines, Iowa, a hell of a long ways away. He sat down on the bed, feeling like crying again and wondered what the half-baked old whore had said to make his little Florence run away from him. Probably not much, hell, they were both crazy. Life had been so much nicer after her fifth husband kicked off and she left town.

Fern DeGrasse-she still used the name of her third husband because it had so much class-had been married five times. Her first husband, McGee, had stuck with her for ten years before he ran off. He was Florence's father-probably. She married again a year later to a dude named Bowder. It took her three years to decide that he didn't have money like she had thought, and she dumped him. DeGrasse came a year later. He stuck around a couple of years and shagged ass for sweeter pickings. She married some joker named Fuller three months later. He hung around for about four years and then one night just didn't come home. She played the field for a year and then latched onto a dark skinned cat named Mendez. Mendez did have money and left her well fixed. He died of a heart attack the day after they were married.

Archie always said he was the real chicken shit of the lot, just couldn't take it. The one thing Archie could never figure was how she got away with it-she never divorced any of them. She had been without a husband now for seven years, not without a man, without a husband. About a year after Mendez kicked off, she took off for parts unknown and they hadn't heard from her since, at least not that Archie knew of.

Archie wadded up the envelope and threw it in the wastebasket. He went to the kitchen and opened a can of beans. He ate them cold and then went back to the bedroom and got out the checkbook. It said he had a hundred and eighty-three bucks and thirty-five cents. He hoped she hadn't taken that, too.

He saw the little plastic bag on Florence's vanity and opened it up. He took a sniff. Shit, he hadn't known there was any grass in the house. It smelled like good stuff, too. He rolled himself a joint and flopped onto the bed. Hell, it had been a long time since he got high.

Archie went up quick. He thought about his nutty wife and her fucked up mother and dug the envelope out of the wastebasket. He looked at the address and threw it on the vanity. "Fuck that shit," he said, "that's too fucking far away."

He remembered the first time he went out with Florence. It was love at first sight and they had fucked in the back seat of his old jalopy. She wasn't a virgin; his cock had gone in too easy, but it hadn't mattered.

He remembered mamma, too. She was a real looker then, but had put on a lot of weight in the last ten years. She was Mrs. Fuller at the time, and real pretty, almost beautiful. She was a bigger woman than Florence with nice big jugs and the niftiest ass.

Archie never met her first three husbands, but she told him all about them, even though he wasn't interested. She told him about them one night after he and Florence had been married almost a year. She stopped by the apartment to see Florence; Florence wasn't there. Florence had told Archie that she was going to see her mother. Gullible Archie assumed that they had missed each other and invited her in, sure that Florence would be back when she found her mother gone. Mrs. Fuller had been drinking and was feeling no pain.

"Let's just sit here on the couch and talk until Florence gets back," Fern Fuller said. "Would you make me a drink, Archie dear?"

Archie was sure she'd already had too much, but made her one anyway. He had one, too.

"You should have seen Florence when she was a baby, Archie. She was a little dolly. McGee was so proud of her." She looked at Archie and put her hand on his knee. "McGee was her father, Archie."

"I know that," Archie said.

"That McGee," Fern sighed, "he just wasn't any goddamn good. He wouldn't work and he drank too much and he cussed all the time. He was a little guy, no taller than Florence, a redheaded Irish pipsqueak. His bad temper matched his hair, too. I can't imagine why I put up with him for ten years." She didn't mention that it was McGee who had run out. She squeezed Archie's knee. "Well, I guess he was pretty good in bed for such a little fart." She held up her thumb and finger an inch apart. "About like that," she said, and giggled, squeezing Archie's knee again.

"Uh, I'll get us another drink," Archie said.

"Mr. Bowder was different than McGee. He was a sweet, gentle man. Much bigger than McGee ... all over."

Archie sat down and handed her the drink.

"He was terrific in bed. I met him a couple of years before McGee left." She gave Archie a knowing look and put her hand on his thigh. "Now DeGrasse was mean. You never met DeGrasse, did you, Archie?"

"I never met any of them, Fern," Archie said.

Fern moved her hand back and forth on Archie's leg. He took her hand and dropped it back in her lap. It did funny things to him when she did that and covered the back of his legs with little goose bumps.

"Fuller is okay, but he isn't as good as DeGrasse was. Clyde DeGrasse was rough, a real he-man. I need a real man, Archie," she said, her hand back on Archie's thigh.

"Don't do that, Fern," Archie said.

"Get us another drink," Fern said.

Archie got them another drink. He could tell that Fern was drunk and he was beginning to feel it himself. She slid very close to him when he sat back down, and put her hand on his leg.

"Do you think I'm pretty, Archie?"

"Fern, I ... sure, you're pretty."

"Do you like my figure?" She had her hand an inch from his cock. It was hard; she could see the thick bulge in his pants.

"Goddammit, Fern, stop that."

"I'm making you hard; I can see it."

"For Christ's sake, Fern, Florence will be back any minute."

"I don't think she will. I told Fuller I wouldn't be gone long and she's probably over there waiting for me." Fern slid her hand up and gripped his thick cock through his pants. "Kiss me, Archie," she said, turning her face up to him.

Archie didn't want to kiss her, but he did anyway. She was squeezing his cock so tight his nuts screamed for more action. He was half drunk, too, and couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Ooooo, nice," Fern moaned, dipping her tongue in and out of his mouth. "You feel so big. I knew you'd be big, Archie." She knew he would be big because Florence had told her he was big.

They kissed again, a long, wet kiss, and when they broke, Fern had her hand inside Archie's pants. He moaned while she squeezed his cock. She pulled it out and started stroking its length.

"It's so big, Archie," she cried. She pulled her skirt half way up her thighs. "Do you want to see me, Archie?"

Archie didn't answer, but pushed her skirt on up until he saw a thick mass of black hair.

"I never wear pants, Archie," she said, and spread her legs open.

Archie stared at the thick mat, amazed. Florence was so blonde and her mother was so dark. He could see the pink flesh peeking from between the fat lips. Her clit was hard and stood up, thrusting out of the black hair.

"Touch me, Archie," she moaned.

He reached down and ran his thumb over the rigid clit. Fern moaned. He pushed his finger down through her slit, then back up, riding hard over her button.

"Ooooooh, shit!" Fern cried. "Kiss me, Archie, kiss me down there ... please!"

Archie hesitated. He really wasn't very experienced other than with Florence. Hers was the only cunt he'd ever kissed. He bent down and kissed her thigh, kissed it again a little higher. God, she smelled so ripe, much stronger than Florence. He didn't know if he could do it.

"Kiss it, Archie, kiss it," Fern moaned.

He kissed her thigh again, then quickly pressed his lips to her hard, little button. He kissed wetly.

"Oh, goddamn, goddamn, I like that!" she cried. "Do it right, Archie, get down in front of me and do it right."

Archie blinked and kissed it again, harder this time, his nose buried in the hair. The rich, pungent smell of her cunt was too much and he slipped off the couch onto his knees. Her legs came up over his shoulders, her ass sliding half off the couch. She pulled at his head and let her legs drape down his back.

"Make me come with your mouth, Archie!" she cried. "I love to make it like this!"

Archie buried his face in her cunt. He felt her hard clit against his lips and sucked on it, nibbled lightly with his teeth, then pulled it between his lips, stretching it out and letting it snap back.

"Oh, oh, goddamn, good, good," she gasped. "Eat me, Archie; put your tongue in. Oh, goddamn! McGee was good at this, he ... he ... little Irish bastard, but sure could eat pussy. Oh, Archie, honey, gettin' close, gonna come in a second!"

He had his tongue in her hole, pushing in and out. It was all slippery and wet, the stuff from her cunt wetting his lips and his nose and chin. The hair was soggy with juice.

"Ung ... oh fuck, I'm coming, Archeeeeeee!" Fern screamed.

She pressed against him, holding his head tight with both her hands. She held him like that until he couldn't breath, and then when her first hard spasm passed, relaxed and sagged back against the couch.

"Good, Archie, good. I made it good," she cooed.

Archie stood up and looked down at her. Her dress was up and he could see the wet, shiny clump of hair and her smooth, glossy legs and knew he had to do it. His cock was aching for a good go, for the exquisite relief he knew was inside her cunt.

"Lay down, Fern. My turn now," he said.

Fern was still feeling fuzzy and good and let herself slide onto her back. She drew her legs up onto the couch and let them flop open. She knew her son-in-law was going to fuck her, but she didn't much care one way or the other. She felt too drunk and too good to care.

Archie unbuckled his pants and pushed them down to his knees. He crawled onto the voluptuous broad and nuzzled her cunt with his prick. He was hard and throbbing. He knew it wouldn't take long as hot as he was; a few good deep jabs and he would get his rocks off. The wet hole seemed to open up in invitation and he pushed it in. He went in easy, first just the head and then the whole shaft. She was bigger than Florence and would have been sloppy if he didn't have such a big cock.

He came down on top of her and started fucking. Fern lay without moving for about a minute, then started moving with him. Her arms went around his neck and her knees came up alongside of his hips. He felt her cunt contract around his pecker.

"Good, Archie, geez, you're nice and big," she moaned. "Fuck me, fuck me!"

Archie bumped into her furiously. It was so much better now that she had come back to life. Florence was always hot for it when he fucked her and he was used to a little action under him. Fern wasn't as firm or as tight as Flo, but she was suddenly bucking like a bronco, cursing wildly.

"Fuck me, you sonofabitch," she screamed. "Fuck me hard; I want to come, baby, make me come, baby. Yeh, yeh, oh sweet shit!" Her legs went over his back and held him tight. "Fuck a duck, I'm coming!"

Archie was already pouring his stuff into her snatch. He sent a thick gob into her belly each time he lunged in. Fern grunted with pleasure and held him tight with her arms and legs. They continued to rut until both were exhausted.

Archie rested for a couple of minutes, then pulled out and got to his feet and pulled up his pants. He was disgusted with himself for what he had just done.

"We shouldn't have done that," he said.

"Why not?" Fern said. "It felt good."

"I'm married to your daughter, Fern. For Christ's sake, Florence is your daughter, remember."

"Aw, shit, Archie, why don't you grow up?" she said, and sat up.

She felt like telling him that his darling little Flo was probably lying on her back with old Fuller between her legs right now, but she didn't. She could see that he wouldn't be able to handle it.

"You better go," he said.

After Fern left, Archie felt lousy. It was the first time he had cheated on Florence, and he vowed it would be the last. He avoided Fern like the plague. He felt so guilty that he didn't ask Florence where she had been when she drug in several hours later. It was after midnight and she was a little tight, but Archie told himself that she was just tired.

Archie looked down and saw his big cock in his hand and realized he had been jacking-off while he thought about his mother-in-law. He drew his fist up and down on his shaft and wondered why he hadn't cheated on Florence more than that once; he'd certainly had plenty of chances. Women seemed to like him. He'd even been faithful when Florence had run off with her mother. He never gave it a thought that she'd been with anyone but her crazy mother.

He thought about Ms. Teasley, her boyfriend out of town, and decided to give her a call. He felt a boiling in his groin then, and his nuts erupted. The stuff spouted up in the air and came down all over his hand. He milked his cock, watching the rich cream bubble out and run down onto his hand. He didn't want to call Ms. Teasley now.

He sat up and started sniffling. Shit, he missed Florence already.