Chapter 1
Al Monte stepped out of the elevator onto the thirty-first floor of the Portland Plaza building. He found himself in the plush lobby of a legal office, richly appointed in subtle shades of gray, with matching ultramodern furniture and modern art prints on the walls.
No, correct that, Al thought. Make that modern art originals, and expensive ones, too. Shit, this is going to cost me a fortune! Not that Al Monte didn't have a fortune, he was a well-to-do Portland businessman who had made his wad with a chain of liquor stores, but the prospects of blowing a good portion of his cash on this divorce was not something that sat well with him. And then he saw her, and for a few moments his troubles didn't seem to be quite so pressing.
She was, without a doubt, the hottest bottled blonde he'd ever clapped eyes on! She had a pair of startling blue-green eyes, a pair of sharply up-thrust boobs that were barely restrained within the tight confines of her dress, and a smile that took Al Monte's breath away-and he couldn't remember that having happened in a long, long time!
"May I help you?" the girl behind the reception desk said, in a cool, utterly professional voice. She was pleased by the way that Al Monte's eyes were practically popping out of his head glued to her, especially her boobs. Without him for a moment becoming aware of it, she had to restrain a giggle. This guy's too easy, she thought, and then she demurely lowered her eyes from his gaze, which also provided a chance for her to focus her eyes on his pants and to watch his crotch swell perceptibly. In her mind she quickly totted up whether this was a fish that was worth going after, and then decided that he probably was.
Ah," Al said, "I have an appointment with one of your lawyers. Mr. Kuhlman?"
"And your name sir?" Efficiency and warmth, and not faked. With some surprise Al realized that here, sitting before him, was a miracle of modern business: a truly receptive receptionist. And he wondered: What besides clients was she good at receiving? He would have been quite amazed to know that she was thinking essentially the same thing....
Two strangers, separated by a few feet of carpeting, a few millimeters of extremely thin clothing, a few feet of desk, were sharing the same fantasy. He, of sliding the hard sausage of his swollen cock between those scarlet lips, those perfect white teeth; she, of the taste of his quivering veiny rod, pumping and splattering jism all over her tongue and into her throat. But this time, unlike many other times with many other men, her fingers did not reach out and slide down the zipper on Al Monte's trousers. They did not reach into his pants and extract his stiff member from within and pull it forth. Instead they pressed a small plastic button and lifted an ivory plastic telephone handset.
"Carmine?" she said, in that same cool tone that would have left a pat of butter unmelted on her tongue, "tell Mr. Kuhlman that Mr...." Those incredible blue-green eyes gazed up at the businessman standing in front of her.
"Monte. Al Monte," he said, and smiled.
"Mr. Monte is here to see him." She listened for a moment, then said, "Okay," and sat down the phone. "Mr. Monte," she said, teasing him with laughing bedroom eyes, "please have a seat...."where you can watch me wiggle my titties a bit, just to watch you sweat, she added to herself-"and Mr. Kuhlman will see you shortly."
Al took a seat in a Naugahyde chair and pretended not to stare as the receptionist did what amounted to a perfectly conscious little sitting dance of moving things about her desk and leaning over to show her cleavage. Already Al Monte was considering how he could maneuver his way to get in the sack with the secretary, what his initial play for her might consist of, what might entice a girl like her into getting involved with a man who was at least twenty years older than her, and what it would be like once he had enticed her into screwing him. Undoubtedly she had boyfriends by the bunch, maybe even a husband, although he had made sure to note that she wasn't wearing a wedding ring. Perhaps he could wrangle a date for lunch, later. That wasn't much of a commitment, and maybe she might even go for it, just to check him out, to see if some deeper involvement-like deeper, right between the legs might be a good idea. And then, once Al had demonstrated to her that he was well fixed financially, and had a lot to offer a young chick like her, maybe he could show her another area he was pretty capable in, namely some bedroom ballet. He glanced up at the blonde secretary again, but she wasn't looking at him, just working over some papers. Shit, he would have loved to get his hands on those awesome tits, get his dick into her undoubtedly tight pussy.. Here was a living, breathing wet dream come true, and Al Monte was in no mood for waking up He was on the verge of breaking into a sweat by the time William St. John Kuhlman, Esquire came to pluck his pigeon from the waiting room.
It was about fifteen minutes and several dozen transferred phone calls later when Johnny Dearer came by.
While the lawyers and clients of the firm came and went in four hundred dollar three-piece suits and foreign cars with unpronounceable names, Johnny, just a stock jockey, was in jeans and an Oregon plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his descendent-of-lumberjack muscles. He drove a dilapidated pickup with a spring that stuck out of the passenger side of the seat and jabbed you in the ass when you sat down, that was Johnny Dearer's style. While the receptionist didn't think about him much, when she did she pigeonholed Johnny as a 'nice guy'-for a redneck, that is.
He sat down the case of photocopy paper he had been carrying on a corner of her desk, and with an exaggerated John Wayne drawl asked, "Gonna let me buy you lunch today, Cheri?"
She thought about it, but only for an instant. He was kind of cute, in a woodsy sort of way, but he really wasn't the kind of guy she went for. She just couldn't imagine Johnny Dearer behind the wheel of a Ferrari, or gambling in Monte Carlo. That was the lifestyle to which she would have liked to become accustomed. She wasn't sure that she ever would, but a girl could dream, couldn't she? Even though Oregon was nice to look at, she was hungry to move on, and hungry for more than that, too. She wanted excitement, and money, and men; lots of men in various shapes and designer colors! And so Cheri, even despite herself, thought for a moment of adding Johnny to her collection, but then she discarded the idea. She didn't want to get involved with some monogamous moralistic macho lumberjack type who would go into a raving shit fit if he ever saw you looking at another guy. And Johnny's style in bed, well, she could just imagine how that was. Maybe his dick would be big-Hell, everything else about him was big-but she could just imagine that all-star wrestling match that screwing him would be! He'd be in and out and you'd have a cunt full of cream before you could say "God Bless America!" No, Cheri didn't think that Johnny Dearer was quite what she was looking for in a man. At least not for the moment.
"No, Johnny," she said with genuine regret, "I don't think it would be a good idea." And then she smiled so sweetly, so innocently, that the bottom dropped out of Johnny Dearer's stomach and his dick felt like somebody had put a stranglehold on it.
The macho, true to form, recovered his composure and bounded back with a shrug and a leering smile. He picked up the box, winking, and said, "Get it while you can, Babe, this offer ain't going to be around forever...."
"I'll be sure and keep that in mind," she laughed as he slipped through the door behind her.
A moment later the elevator bell chimed, the door slid open, and, as happened regularly each morning, Heaven stepped out.
Heaven in a uniform, California blonde hair, blue eyes, a deep natural tan, and a lifeguard's physique. In the Air Express Messenger's uniform of snappy, sharp-looking shirt and cute short pants showing off sexy muscular legs, Michael Blade was Cheri's idea of Heaven. Now, if only he had money....
It happened nearly every day. He'd rush in off the elevator with a milkcrate filled with packages and her heart would stop. As soon as Cheri saw him her nipples would start to ache, coming suddenly to attention like soldiers on parade within the clinging cups of her bra, and her panties would get real damp and squishy. It had been going on for months and months, and now he hardly even needed to speak. The fact was that it was getting to the point where Cheri sometimes regretted it when Heaven stepped out of that elevator.
"Fifteen minutes?" Michael asked, his blue eyes dazzling her, even against her will, with sexual heat.
Just the shape, the posture, the attitude of his body made her want to fuck, but today she wasn't sure it was possible.
"Michael," she said, "I don't think I can ... My break is at two...."
"Can you get your replacement down here earlier?"
Against her better judgment Cheri surrendered to the aching in her crotch. "I'll try...."
"See, I'm running late." He said nothing more, Michael had never really been long on words, but for an electric instant he placed his hand softly on top of hers, nothing more.
When Carmine came behind the desk to replace her, Cheri practically ran through the doors behind her, down the filing cabinet-lined hall to the freight elevator.
Angelo Bandini saw her coming.
He sat at the battered desk in the service dock bay, sweating into the bright red company blazer with the monogrammed "PP" of Portland Plaza on its breast pocket, and stared with utter and complete boredom into the three tiny black and white televisions of the security camera displays. Some squeaking babble was coming over the walkie-talkie on the desk beside him.
Before him, backed up to the loading dock, were two delivery vans; the old-fashioned bulk of a UPS truck and the sleek and shining new colors and lines of an Air Express Messenger van.
The freight elevator opened and a tiny figure hurried across one of the monitors. Recognizing the regular visitor, Angelo straightened up, unconsciously running the fingers of his right hand through his thinning hair.
Now there was Angelo's idea of a woman, or rather a girl.
Cheri, breathless and excited, came around the corner into the service bay. She slowed her step to a sexy wiggle and then slinked toward Angelo. With a sly, conspiratorial smile she said, "Hi, Angelo," and gave him a slight hug and a peck on the cheek. "Not a word, remember?"
"Have I let you down yet?" he said with mock hurt. Damn, what that little girl did to Angelo!
Cheri shook her head, a halo of brilliant white blonde swirling around the gestured "No." Then, with another smile she turned and dashed for the Air Express van.
It was several minutes later when Michael's figure flashed across Angelo's monitors. "If I had a chick like that," Angelo muttered under his breath, "I sure as fuck wouldn't keep her waiting the way that arrogant sonofabitch does...."
Angelo glanced up and Michael gave him a cocksure smile as he walked past him. Angelo responded with a nod, and then Michael disappeared into the back of the van. It was for that fox Cheri that Angelo even bothered keeping a lookout, it sure wasn't for that arrogant shit that she liked to fuck most mornings. Well, even if Angelo didn't have youth or looks on that bastard, there was one thing that that ass-hole didn't know about....
Cheri had made a space for them amid the packages, a blanket Michael kept handy spread out on the van's floor. Michael's first view of her would have taken any man's breath away. She had pulled her panties off and hiked her dress up around her lush blushing pink hips. She lay spread-eagled on the floor of the van, propped up on her elbows. Fishnet white hose, lacy garters, and a beautiful snatch of dark brown, the strands of hair arranged prettily around her pussycrack, awaited him like some incredible Christmas present inside of the van.
Michael took one long, lingering look at the vision on the floor of the van, then unbuckled his belt and dropped his drawers. Cheri swallowed and her temperature felt like it went up ten degrees as she saw Michael standing there. His big, youthful cock angled out, almost hard, from the scramble of blonde hair at his crotch. Michael stood there for a long moment. He took his prick in his hand and frigged it a few times, hardening it, preparing it for Cheri. Then he lowered himself to the floor of the van and walking on his knees across the blanket he came up between her legs. He bent down and ran kisses first up her hot thighs, nuzzling his face into that dark, fragrant muff, pressing his nose and his mouth into the soft wetness of her pussycrack. Then he reached up and slid down the bodice of Cheri's low-cut dress, her tits dawning above the cups like two big moons. Her nipples popped out pearly pink and big, the coloration of the silver dollar-sized aureoles shading imperceptibly into the firm flesh that surrounded them. Her nipple spikes were erect and bobbing, prettily clefted at the ends.
Michael's mouth found her nipples and kissed the surrounding coins of pink until they dimpled. He sucked and pulled at her nipples with his teeth while Cheri's fingers worked overtime on his stiff, quivering rod, the foreskin pulled back to expose the bloated purplish bulb of his cockhead. She lay down flat, and with her hand guided his quickly swelling prick into the wet, splayed salmon of her pussylips. Michael gasped as his prick slid into Cheri's cunt channel, and he ran his tongue through the deep valley of her chest, up her throat, to fix like a hungry parasite on her open mouth.
Cheri pulled her mouth away from his, gasping. "Remember, Michael; no marks, no hickeys, or anything like that...."
Michael grunted an affirmative and then clamped his mouth back on Cheri's. Their tongues wrestled hotly and wetly as Michael slowly probed her, grinding his prick into her crotch, making Cheri purr with pleasure and the van rock back and forth on its wheels.
Michael knew that they didn't have a lot of time, so he made quick, sweet work of fucking Cheri. He drove his prick into her tight pussy just as hard as he could, while his fingers scrabbled and flailed over her firm tits, sucking up as much sensation as he could through his fingertips. He slammed his pelvic bone against hers, arching and angling his cock to achieve the maximum sensation, swirling it into her, withdrawing it almost all the way out to linger at the door to her pussy, to taste the cool air there, then to slide home again and again. Cheri was whimpering out her pleasure and bucking her hips frantically. Her kisses were frantic, too, her fingers clawing at his sweaty ass-cheeks, descending to friction and dawdle at the hairy perimeter of Michael's ass-hole.
He pumped and rammed into her, his breaths coming like a rapidly accelerating freight train, huffing and chuffing and pile driving his boner into Cheri's hot, humid hole until, finally, all there was, was the wet pivot of cunt and cock slamming against each other, the mixing of blonde and brown fur, the thoughtless final strokes as Michael went gasping over the edge.
Shuddering and spasming Michael arched back and let splatter his hot jism to rocket into Cheri's grasping cunt. He continued to pump, draining the dregs of his juice into her, unwilling to stop, unwilling to surrender those final moments of bliss.
He kissed her sweat-moistened hairline, her eyes, whispering endearments that he almost meant in her ear. Slowly he rose and ran his hands down the length of her body, feasting his fingers, his eyes a final time for that day. Still woozy from his orgasm Michael held a package-restraining bar and pulled himself to his feet. Without removing his eyes from Cheri's sweat-plastered cunt, his cum still dribbling out of his rapidly-softening cock, he reached down and pulled up his uniform shorts.
Michael took one deep breath, then turned, picked up his electronic clipboard, noted his next assignment and slipped out of the van without uttering a word.
Shit, that was the way it always went with Michael, Cheri thought a little sadly. It was wonderful while it lasted, but it always turned out to be disappointing. She was still dizzy from that whirlwind of a screw as she slipped her panties back on and stood up, slipping her tits back into their restraining bra cups.
"Maybe he can get off that fast, but I can't...." she said to herself peevishly. She was not looking forward to returning to her desk unsatisfied.
A moment later a gorgeously disheveled Cheri stepped out of the van, still adjusting her clothes, patting at her hair to deal with loose strands.
Angelo was sitting on the edge of his desk when she emerged. He slipped off the edge of the desk, standing with it behind him, sucking in his stomach to deal with his slight spare tire. Cheri saw him, and then their eyes met. She turned on a smile that, to Angelo, looked like it had ten thousand volts backing it up, and she floated toward him. Blonde hair floated around her radiant face and she was smiling a smile that only lovers think they know. With a start Angelo realized that wasn't the look of a sexual afterglow, that was the look of a broad that was hot to trot! Whatever had happened, it didn't look like that shitbrain Blade had given her enough of it. Angelo hoped against hope that she was going to give him the chance to.
Cheri had to admit she was a little confused. Michael could deliver just about the most fantastic quickie in the world, and just looking at him drove her nuts with desire, but that damned three to five minute shit was driving her insane! She just couldn't get her rocks off, if chicks got their rocks off, in that short of a period of time. If it was so fucking wonderful, like he said, how come it couldn't last a little longer than a fucking top forty song? Oh, well, there was always Bob! That was probably the reason she was particularly horny this morning. Bob, out of town for a week on an assignment, hadn't been there to service her when she needed it at night. And then she noticed Angelo, and glanced over at him. He had just slipped off the corner of the desk. He looked so funny, mouth half-open, obviously getting off on the look of a woman who had just been hit by a speeding fuck machine! Angelo, she thought sweetly, that sexy Sicilian ... Angelo!
The thought hit her like a revelation from the Pope and she sucked her breath in with the inspiration. Suddenly those fingers of heat were again crawling through her pussy, moving upwards and making her nipples go all sensitive....
She approached Angelo and then put her hands lightly on his shoulders. Hey, Angelo wasn't that bad ... Maybe he was a family man, and maybe he was getting a bit thick around the middle, but Cheri bet that that man was an animal when it came to bed!
"I think you need a kiss," she said, "to keep those sexy lips sealed...." Angelo couldn't have been more delighted as their lips met, as her tongue probed wetly out to wrestle with his, and then he was slightly startled as he felt her hand crawling down to come to rest over the half-hard prick embedded in the crotch of his work pants. Cheri squeezed the thick, gristly tube of Angelo's prick through his trousers and felt it start to harden in her talented fingertips. With lips still locked onto his she slid the zipper down and then fished into his underwear to draw forth his cock. Angelo's dong was getting harder by the second, pulsing and jerking in anticipation as she cradled it in her fingers. Shit! It was a big mother-fucker, thick and laced with purplish veins, the big, purplish head looking like it was ready to lunge out and bite her on the cunt!
"Shit, little girl, you can't do that in here!" Angelo bleated, his face turning as red as his uniform blazer.
"Nonsense," Cheri said, her tone not unlike the one she employed in her secretarial duties to calm distraught male clients, "you keep your eyes glued to the little screens and I'll do the rest...."
Then Cheri went down on her knees, looking almost worshipful as she held Angelo's prick in her hand and cupped his hairy, taut balls with the other one. The big purplish head of his dong glistened, staring at her with its single eye, the faintest trace of the jism to come smeared across the blunt snout end. Cheri worked Angelo's hot, throbbing balls with her gentle fingertips, and at the same time slowly slid her mouth over the head of his dick. To Angelo it felt like he was sliding a sizzling poker into a pool of cool cream. Angelo started to slowly pump his ass and hips, using Cheri's lips as a hungry cunt, sliding it deep into her mouth, all the way to the back of her welcoming throat.
Angelo tried to reach into her dress, to pull out one of those fabulous jugs that he had dreamed about for so long, but Cheri mumbled around his dickhead, "No, darling. Keep your eyes on those screens. You don't want us both fired, do you?"
Angelo just kept plunging that rod deep into her throat, savoring the feeling, savoring the look of Cheri's lips distended around it, sucking away at it to beat the band. He slid his fingers into her hair, using his hands to lever her mouth harder over his dong, driving it in and out with increasing rapidity, his breathing speeding as he drove his boner in and out between her lips. Driving his prick harder and harder, he grunted his pleasure, bringing himself closer and closer to that moment when....
Then, suddenly, Angelo was arching, stiffening, gasping out his pleasure. Cheri was squeezing his balls, milking them, and then it felt like Angelo's cock was swelling within her mouth and he was rocking and bellowing with the bliss of his cum. Great gouts of his juice rocketed hot into her mouth, dashing over her lips and teeth to dribble down her chin. She took a moment to Hoover out the last of his juice from his prick, swallowing it with relish, pulling back to scour the shining head of his prick with her tongue.
She stood up and stretched, her hand gently massaging his shrinking dick. With her other hand she wiped the dribble of cum from her face. Then she stood up and kissed Angelo on the cheek, gave his dick one last parting squeeze, and turned to walk back to the service elevator.
Well, she hadn't had the opportunity to cum with Angelo, either, but she did feel a little relief. Besides, she was going to be seeing Bob tonight, and maybe that would afford her the kind of release she was just aching for....