Chapter 2
Edward C. was a handsome young man who looked like he had not a care in the world.
Well-dressed and smoothly conversational, Edward came to me to get a serious problem off his chest, confiding that he did not know who else to talk to other than a professional man who could observe his problem with a certain degree of detachment.
Once Edward got started, following a few uncomfortable pauses, he was able to tell his story smoothly. Recorded on tape is the story related by Edward:
Although I was born and grew up in San Francisco, I went back to an Ivy League school back East when it was time to go to college. My father was a respected businessman in the Bay Area, and he had always been high on me getting a good education, then taking over for him in business.
Once I got out of college I had the draft staring me in the face. I got a job at one of my father's plants outside the city, his Burlingame plant, but got so uptight just sweating about the draft that I finally broke the ice and enlisted.
The big reason I enlisted was that I've always had a king-sized ego, and on top of that I came from a pretty wealthy family, so I'd never really had to put up with crap from anybody.
I didn't like all the stories I'd heard from friends and acquaintances about having to shine shoes for guys just to make them happy and all that in the Army. As long as I was gonna have to go, I figured I'd be a whole lot better off assuming an officer's position, which I knew I could obtain provided that I enlisted.
Well, I finally broke the ice and enlisted with some shrewd talking recruiting sergeant in San Francisco, and next thing I knew I was on my way to basic training camp at Fort Ord in Northern California. From there I went to Officer's Candidate School at Fort Benning, Georgia, coming out with my Second Lieutenant's commission.
The next three years were a boring waste for the most part. I spent time in Germany and South Korea, then finally got out, and was I ever happy when I did. I came out a First Lieutenant and there was no way that they could ever have coaxed me into re-enlisting.
The most fun I had was on those occasions when I'd leave camp in the quiet of evening and visit a whorehouse. I liked some of the expert cock sucks I'd get, particularly from some of those thorough blonde whores I'd run into in West Berlin when I was stationed there.
When I was discharged I went home to San Francisco to a big homecoming reception given by my folks, my two brothers, and my sister. It was good to be back and I looked forward to taking over a position in one of my father's branch offices.
But when the joys of being back home wore off I discovered how little I was cut out to be a business executive. I then realized that my line of work was one of the basic reasons I was so bored working in Dad's Burlingame office. I had figured at the time that I was just nervous about the uncertainty of my future, which belonged squarely to Uncle Sam, but the job had something to do with it as well. In fact, plenty to do with it.
It was a hard thing to have to do, but I finally went to my father and told him how damned miserable I was doing that kind of work. As the eldest son in the family he had specifically earmarked me to take over his entire business for him.
He was naturally disappointed, as I expected him to be, but he was also understanding, which I had also anticipated.
"No, son," he patted me affectionately on the shoulder, "you've got to make your own decisions. If business just isn't the line of work you'd be happiest in, then so be it. I don't want to twist your arm in any way."
So I left my father's employ and left San Francisco as well, deciding to try my luck in Southern California. The big reason why I decided to leave home was that I wanted to make my mark independently. My father and mother were always desirous of helping, but I felt if I was ever going to cut it I'd better do it on my own.
At first when I moved to Southern California and took an apartment in Newport Beach I didn't know precisely what I wanted to do, so I just bummed around and even took a job as a bartender at one point.
One skill I had learned in the Army was communications, and for a time I even managed to land a post at a South Korean base as a local disc jockey. So I decided I would give that a try, securing a post at a local FM affiliate.
It wasn't a big station, but the job paid my bills, wasn't all that hard, and gave me plenty of time to develop myself in the one area that I was really interested in, painting. And that was probably one of the basic reasons why I wanted to leave home as well. I knew about how my folks, who were very much practical thinkers imbued in the old Puritan ethic, would react if I told them that I had hopes of becoming an American Van Gogh.
The Newport Beach area was scenic, and in my spare time I found myself going to the beach, complete with canvas and paint, hoping to suck in the scenery and achieve artistic success.
One hot afternoon when I was working with my shirt off and sweating like hell, I noticed a young woman with brown hair flowing in the very slight afternoon breeze walking along the beach.
Normally I was so completely absorbed in what I was doing when I had a paint brush in my hand that I never noticed anything else. But, then again, isn't a pretty girl an exception to every rule? It always has been with me anyway.
I stopped concentrating on the mountain slope I was painting long enough to focus on the pretty girl, who wore an old long-sleeved white shirt with the tail out and sloppy faded blue jeans. She wore no shoes and kicked at the sand carelessly as she walked.
After watching her for a few seconds and wiping off some sweat on my hand I went back to work, figuring that she was either with somebody or had intended to be by herself.
Then a few minutes later I heard laughter, coupled with a feminine voice saying:
"And just what are you trying to do?"
I looked up directly into the face of the girl I had seen walking down the beach a few minutes before. Her face was tanned radiantly and she wore an impish smile. From close up her body loomed even more impressive than it had in the distance. As for her face, that was superb by any yardstick.
"I'm trying to paint," I told her.
"That's what I thought," she said.
Then this girl went into a long dissertation of the history of American painting, demonstrating a knowledge which, I must confess, exceeded even mine.
"How'd you learn so much about painting?" I asked her startledly.
"I went to art school."
"By the way. My name's Ed. What's yours?"
"My real name's Sandra. But everybody calls me Sandy."
"Then I guess I'll call you Sandy as well."
"You might as well," she nodded. "I'd like to how you some of my work. I did lots of painting when I was in Paris with my family last summer."
"I'd love to see it."
"Fine, I was on my way home. That is, before I spotted a fellow painter. If you're willing to cease work for a little while I'd like to take you home right now and show you."
"You've got a deal," I put my brush down and folded up my canvas.
You never would have believed it, or at least I wouldn't, but this gal came from one of the wealthiest families in the area. When she told me her last name I recognized it right away. And when she took me inside that fantastic home on top of the hill that I had admired so many times from the distance I knew all about her family.
Sandy's father was a prominent physician and civic leader in the community. Sandy, who might have preferred dressing casually, had all the luxuries a young woman could have at home.
Not only was she exceptionally bright, not only did she come from a wealthy and prominent family, but she also was a fantastic painter. Once again I've got to make a reluctant admission-as hard as I tried with my own work, I wasn't in her league as a painter. I thought to myself that maybe if I got well enough acquainted with her she would smooth over a few rough edges for me.
After showing me her paintings and having the house maid fix us glasses of cold tea, she took me outside to their huge backyard swimming pool, asking me if I wanted to take a swim.
"I'd love to," I nodded.
She steered me to the cabana in the back of the yard, assuring me that a pair of her father's trunks were destined to fit me.
"You're about his size," she smiled broadly.
Sandy turned out to be right, as she virtually always was. The trunks fit and I walked out of the cabana and back to the pool. Then my cock froze solidly as I caught a look at her in a polka dot bikini.
As beautiful as her body had looked even in the long-sleeved shirt and the faded blue jeans, they couldn't have begun to do her justice like that bikini could.
Her hips and ankles were tapered down to perfection, her breasts were flowingly voluptuous, yet very firm, and her buttocks were well-rounded and firm.
My penis was on the verge of instantly flying out of control with stored up passion. I hadn't seen anybody quite like her in a long spell. Actually, I would never see many that were in her league, she looked that good.
I jumped into the pool as she motioned to me after plunging in, taking a few quick laps. She laughed gleefully as she swam with motionless ease. Contact with the cool sparkling waters had cooled my hot body off partially, but certainly not between my legs, where it really counted.
I started thinking about the fact that her parents weren't home. I wondered if maybe she would be in line for some action, since she had picked up with me so quickly. But I rejected such a theory as quickly as it had surfaced, since everything about her conveyed the impression that she wouldn't be an easy score. The girl who has practically everything, such as she obviously did, was scarcely ever easy, unless a guy just happened to luck out.
But there was another simple reason why I probably wouldn't get to fuck her at that point. She had come over to me not as a flirt who wanted to be picked up, but as a fellow artist concerned about seeing my work and discussing a subject with which she was vitally concerned. It wasn't until after we had talked awhile that she had asked me to accompany me to her home to look at her work.
With each stirring moment I spent in her presence, however, I became more captivated with her physically. I liked the way that her beautiful body skillfully manipulated itself around in the blue waters of the pool, and wished with everything in me that I had her in a bed somewhere, where I could drill her with my stiff pecker.
Following our swim we returned to our separate cabanas, dried our bodies off, and dressed. By the time we went back into the house Sandy's parents had returned. They were handsome, distinguished gray-haired people in their fifties who looked like the pillars of the community that they were.
I stayed and talked to Sandy and her parents for a few minutes, with Sandy spending a great deal of time excitedly telling her parents that she had finally found a friend who shared her deep interest and appreciation for art.
Before I left I asked Sandy if we might meet again. She suggested we meet at the beach, where we could paint together. I agreed, suggesting we meet the following day, to which she consented.
As much as I loved painting, I dug Sandy more, and the hours I spent with her the next day were among the most enjoyable I ever spent with anyone. She kept her mind on her work, that is, until I talked her out of it.
"Can't we stop talking about Sandy the painter for awhile and talk about Sandy the girl?" I asked hopefully with a wide grin. All the while my prick shifted restlessly inside my pants.
"Do you really care about Sandy the girl?" she smiled back as a covey of sea gulls transported themselves in the blue skies overhead.
"That's a real foolish question," I shook my head. My heart began palpitating savagely, my body shook a little with excitement, and I stepped forward, throwing my arms around her.
Instinctively we kissed. She closed her eyes and puckered up and I met her ruby red lips, which I had admired so many times, with a swift decisive thrust.
I pressed her body securely against mine, gasping with sexual exhilaration as I felt those smooth solid breasts rub against my chest as my lips met hers once more.
The kissing was just too much. My cock stood stiffly in my trousers, poised and ready for immediate action. I just had to make a move at that point to maintain peace of mind.
"How about going to my place?" I inquired in a romantic whisper.
"Okay," she nodded.
No, Sandy wasn't an easy girl, I was sure of that, but there had been a certain indefinable chemistry that had jelled between us immediately, right from the time we had first met. All we had to do was spend a little time getting exposed to each other and that chemistry would be ready to unite, then explode.
We walked along the beach hand-in-hand back to my place. I was hoping she would want to go all the way with me, just like I wanted to do with her. But one thing was certain through it all, she liked me, really liked me. That was plain to see and did that knowledge and recognition ever make me feel nappy.
We got back to my small apartment and I immediately drew the drapes to insure maximum privacy. As we stood next to each other in the living room I pushed my head forward and thrust my lips against hers one more time. Then I effectively slipped my tongue inside her mouth, letting tongue clash against tongue as my pulse throbbing accelerated.
By the time I broke that lengthy French kiss we were both carried away in a sea of flowing passions. Without saying a word to each other we walked into the bedroom, where I quickly proceeded to undress her. My nervous fingers circulated quickly until I took off her jeans and her blouse.
"You look so sexy in your underwear," I sighed, focusing my eyes on her panties and bra.
I hooked my fingers inside her bra and felt the warm smoothness of those wonderful breasts. Then I undid the bra, unhooking it and letting those voluptuous tits fall free.
Then my eager fingers reached downward to her panties. I slipped them around the panties and pulled them down with one decisive downward plunge. She stepped out of the panties and I zeroed my fingers in on her vagina.
Her entire body quaked with sensation as my fingers massaged her warm red vagina, which reacted favorably to my touch. Her body trembled a little in instinctive reaction to my movements.
"Oh, do I ever want you," I told her with a tone of longing. She was one woman who affected me profoundly by virtue of her mere presence. Anything more than that was certain to drive me out of my skull.
After spending a few more seconds stroking that hot vagina, which was moistening now with excitement, I dropped down quickly to my knees and kissed her cunt.
I wanted to pay that beautiful body tribute in every conceivable way I knew how, since I loved her intensely. I kissed her pussy several more times, precipitating some more sparks flying through her, then let my tongue rub against her clitoris.
"Oh, you're burning me up with passion," she gasped, "you've got me absolutely burning."
"Let's go into the bedroom right now," I whispered.
We had gotten so turned on with what we were doing that we hadn't even bothered going into the bedroom. Now, with my prick standing extra tall in the saddle underneath my trousers, I fervently desired to strip off all my clothes and to make Sandy properly in bed.
We got into the bedroom, which I quickly darkened for effect, then I removed my clothes. I felt as free as a bird once I took off my pants and shorts, since my big cock then had all the freedom that it could ever need. And, on top of that, I was happy to unveil it in all its proud glory for Sandy.
I threw my arms around Sandy and pulled her downward into bed with me. I showered her lips with kisses, then moved my tongue down between her breasts, sucking and nibbling on her breasts.
Her entire body began vibrating to my spirited tongue movements as tongue made contact with her smooth rich boobs. My fingers combed up and down her body as my tongue continued consistently finding the mark on her tits.
I lowered my head some more. This time it dropped between those sleek, sexy brown legs which I so greatly admired. I kissed her moist cuntal lips several times, then let my tongue make speedy contact with them.
She gasped as the itch swept through her body from the movements I provided with my tongue. In and out my tongue darted speedily as I moved it around inside her. Her hips and buttocks rocked spiritedly, moving upward to make contact with my stabs, as I pushed her ever closer to the orgasm she sought.
"Oh, keep it up," she begged, "I want you to suck me out, keep it up, I want you, I want to give you my juice, oh, oh, it itches, oh, my pussy is itching, suck me, suck."
Her spirited words sent burning waves of excitement bolting through my stomach as I determinedly sucked her toward climax.
Finally lovely Sandy bolted the juices that I had been longing to receive into my mouth and I swallowed every drop of them with great pleasure, enjoying every ounce of what she had given me.
At that point my paramount concern became getting my hot rocks off. The burning excitement within me had accelerated all the more as I prepared to put my penis to work.
"I've just gotta shove this dick in you," I pointed toward my swollen rod with great excitement.
"Go ahead, I'm ready. You gave me such a wonderful time."
"Oh, thank you," I gasped, reaching down and kissing her lips with great satisfaction.
The kiss produced that much more excitement between my legs. I trembled with a sense of mounting passion as I put my cock to work briskly inside her mound.
I ran my fingers up and down her smooth legs, giving myself extra support as I drove my prick into her. I let out a gasp upon coming into contact with her tight mound for the first time. In and out I pushed with brisk effectiveness, driving myself forward with piercing thrusts, sending myself toward that surging prick, that magnanimous precipice of climax.
The longer and faster I rocked my cock back and forth inside her, the more rhythmic her bodily movements became in accompaniment to my own piercing efforts.
Quickly the tempo continued accelerating as my prick, my throbbing fleshy penis, fastened itself on its object. My fingers squeezed her nipples meaningfully as my cock continued to glide in and out of her searing love tunnel.
Through it all the tremendous excitement my body felt continued to increase. In and out my cock surged into her as she gasped and writhed, eagerly receiving my movements.
"Oh, it feels so good with this cock in you," I gasped, "just like it always belonged inside you. Oh, I love that tightness. That's it, oh, that's it, let those hips move back and forth like that, I really like it, keep it up."
Spiritedly I kept my prick surging forward, and as I let the tempo build she was content to do the same.
"Oh, this is great," I gasped.
"Keep it up, keep fucking me," she sighed. "I like those movements. Oh, are you ever pumping the meat to me. Keep it up, keep up that fucking, I want it."
Her words of encouragement caused me to become all the more excited by what was going on. I shoved my penis forward ever so diligently, determined to soak all the excitement out of our bodies that it was possible to obtain.
I leaned my head forward and placed my tongue inside Sandy's mouth. I tried to match my brisk cock pace with that which my tongue set as it splashed against hers.
The rhythmic tempo continued to increase until finally my cock exploded it's juice inside her nest. At that moment I released my tongue from her mouth and we both let out lengthy sighs.
I wrapped my arms around her when it was all over and delivered a big kiss of gratitude to her lips.
"Thanks for the best screw I've ever had," I told her.
"Don't thank me. You helped make it."
"I want to do more with you. I don't want to stop now."
"Neither do I."
I reached down and tickled her pussy with my fingers. She looked up at me and nodded knowingly. Then she put her fingers immediately to work on my cock, determined to pump it back up to where it had been before it popped.
It wouldn't take much effort for her to achieve her objective, I realized from the very beginning, since it hadn't even gone down that much from where it had been before.
A few more lively strokes and it was standing as high and as sexy as ever. I parted her legs gingerly with my fingers and shoved my head between them.
I picked up the lively scent of her moist snatch as I thrust out my tongue and let it come into contact with her box. I nibbled on her clitoris for awhile, then let my tongue work eagerly around her box as she lay back and enjoyed the action.
Finally she moved her body forward and reached outward, grabbing ahold of my big dick and moving her fingers nimbly over it. Up and down she pumped as the burning sensations multiplied in my cock and balls. When she saw my balls inflating and getting turned on to her movements, she let her fingers go to work on them, getting me so hot I could hardly stand it.
As I continued sucking out her cunt she moved her head forward and circulated her tongue over my balls. I gasped and my body jerked from side to side from the intense reaction I got from her vibrant, spirited tongue thrusts.
She moved her tongue up and down over my prick after she succeeded in getting my balls into a torrid uproar. Our bodies trembled as we pumped all the diligent tongue enthusiasm into our efforts that we could, determined to unselfishly please each other in every way that we knew how.
Sandy popped her juices at one point. I slowed down my pace just long enough to swallow her load, then quickly returned to action.
She picked up steam in her sucking, running her fingers searchingly over my balls as her tongue continued to dart up and down enthusiastically over my prick.
The pace continued to build until she shot one more time. Then, just seconds after I swallowed another load of her sweet nectar, I exploded my hot dick in her mouth.
An all-encompassing itchiness pervaded my entire cock and scrotum as the stream of hot white juice bolted voluminously out of the end of my stick and into her waiting mouth.
Sandy handled things skillfully, continuing to toy with my balls and provide me with every ounce of extra stimulation that she could as she tugged with them and drank my liquid.
We finally broke up our romantic interlude, exhausted from the physical efforts we summoned to provide pleasure for each other, but extremely happy that we had.
I took her out to dinner that night, and we talked excitedly some more about our painting and about how great it was to know somebody with the same range of interests you held near and dear to yourself. Needless to say, though, there was one interest in my case that exceeded even that of painting by that time, and it was fucking.
Sandy possessed all the attributes that I could ever have dreamed of coalescing into one delightful girl. She had a keen intellect, beauty of face and form, and was artistic.
Needless to say, I was very much in love with her, and looked forward to a day in the not too distant future when she would be my wife. I was more stoutly determined than ever before in my life to win her over to me completely and have her for my own. Everything else in life took a backseat to that objective.
Despite my determination, however, and despite the beautiful lovemaking we had enjoyed that day, I lost her, and enduring that was the greatest tragedy of my life. Up until the time that I had met and fallen in love with Sandy, women had been a touch and go proposition with me. I had had a few transitory affairs, and a few dalliances with women in whore houses, but nothing had come out of any of those arrangements other than a few passing thrills.
But Sandy changed all that. She gave me my meaning in life and, you know, even my painting picked up noticeably when I was going with her. She provided a lot of inspiration and, in addition, we compared notes continuously on what we were doing.
I went with her during that entire summer, and it was the most wonderful of my life. I made enough money from my job as a disc jockey over that small station I mentioned earlier, and spent my extra time either painting or with Sandy. She was on her summer vacation break from USC, where she attended college, and I was hoping that by the time she returned to school in fall I would have her irrevocably committed to me.
Toward the end of summer, however, she came to me one day misty-eyed and told me that her father wanted to talk to me. In the intervening period between then and the day that I had first met him, I had seen him several times. Once I was invited over there for dinner.
I frankly was more than a little dumbfounded over her announcement that her father wanted to see me. Not so much because of the message as by the expression on her face and the tears in her eyes. I was afraid that something was wrong, perhaps terribly so.
"What does he want to talk to me about, Sandy?" I asked her as I put on one of my better shirts.
"I'd better not say anymore. He just wants to talk to you," she said tight-lipped.
"I see," I nodded, realizing that I wouldn't be getting anymore out of her on that score.
Sandy didn't have much to say during the walk to her place, which made me even more fearful regarding what the future would foretell.
No sooner did I get to her place than her father appeared in the living room dressed in a sport shirt and smart sport slacks.
"Can we have a private little chat in the den?" he inquired after we shook hands.
"Why not," I shrugged.
"Very good. Right this way. See you later, Sandy," he said, cluing her in unmistakably that he wanted-privacy.
She nodded, a little sadly, I thought, and walked away.
He closed the door of the den after we entered and suggesting pouring us each a drink, to which I consented. He took a couple of quick sips from his cognac glass, ran his fingers through his curly gray mane, then got right to the point.
"Just how much do you like my daughter?" he asked pointedly.
"I don't like her, I love her, sir," I leaned forward and told him just as pointedly. "I'm sorry to have to sound so blunt, but have you ever thought of what you could give her? I mean really give her."
"Yes, sir, more love than she could get from anybody else," I replied as emphatically as I knew how. I could see the turn that the conversation was rapidly taking and didn't like it.
"That's about what I expected you to say," he nodded glumly. "I'm a little more practical than that. Sandy's the only child I have and I want to see to it that she gets the absolute best in life. I've checked into your background, young man, and checked carefully. I must say that you come from a very good San Francisco family. Your father is very prominent in his field. But I've noticed a lack of stability in your life. You're making very little at that station where you work, and then there are those dreams about becoming a painter. Painting is a fine hobby but, except in rare instances, it won't even pay your bills, much less provide you with security."
"Just what is it you're trying to say?" I asked sharply, stung by his line of conversation.
"You are making it unpleasant to say this tactfully," he shook his head. "You've enjoyed my daughter's company for the better part of one summer. You've gone swimming with her, you've painted with her, you've generally had a good time, I'm sure. But she has opportunities to explore with all kinds of wealthy, successful men who could give her the kind of life she really is entitled to, what with her brains and beauty along with her social position. There are several highly successful young doctors I know in this area who have expressed far more than a passing interest in her. And, then too, she'll be returning to school early next month."
"Doesn't she have a say in this matter?" I jumped up on my feet and exploded, my face contorting itself tightly in tense rage.
"Control yourself, my young man."
"Control myself like hell. I want to hear these words from her, not you. She's the one I love."
"You're only making things that much more unpleasant for yourself," he shook his head. "But very well, if you want to speak with Sandy you'll have that opportunity." He pushed his intercom button and said: "Sandy, would you please step in here for a minute, dear."
I heard the pitter-patter of her footsteps moving toward the den. My heart pounded and my head spun as I knew that the dramatic showdown was impending.
As she entered the room she was sobbing, with tears rolling down both cheeks. Her father explained to her the purpose for which we both wanted to talk to her.
"He wants to hear from your lips what I have already told him, my dear," he explained. "Well, what would you like to tell him?"
She stood there, her knees knocking slightly with tension. She let out a sigh, then nodded:
"Yes, it's better that way," she said meekly.
"Do you really mean that?" I looked in her eyes carefully, my heart breaking in two.
"Yes, it's better that way," she repeated, once more in a soft, dullish tone.
"I see," I jumped to my feet, staggering unsurely for a few seconds. "Then I guess there's no use for an unwelcome guest to spend anymore time here." I turned toward her father and looked at him spitefully. "Thanks very much for the drink. You couldn't have been a more excellent host, I'm sure."
Sandy started sobbing uncontrollably as I darted out the door. Her father tried to calm me down.
"No need to have hard feelings, young man. C'mon back and I'll pour us another drink," he said smoothly.
"Pour them for you and Sandy," I said bitterly. "You're the ones who have something to celebrate."
With that I stormed out the door and left the house. Never again would I see either one of them.
The first few nights after that tragic meeting I would awaken in the middle of the night thinking about Sandy. My cock would get good and hard, and often I would have to run my fingers up and down it until I exploded. Then I would be forced to confront the real fact that she was out of my life.
Suddenly the job became unbearable and I even lost interest in my painting, since it was tied so closely to Sandy. In fact, so was that whole Newport Beach area. Every time I looked up on that hill and saw the house where she lived I thought about her smug old man and the way that he had curtly told me to get out of his girl's life.
For the first time since I had decided to quit working for my father I started resenting my life style. I resented it because it had enabled Sandy's father to hold it over my head, informing me that I wouldn't be a good bet for his daughter due to my lack of financial security.
I thought about what I would have to do to change my status, to develop a position within society that would even be superior to that of Sandy's smug father. I thought about how satisfying it would be to some day be much wealthier and far more prominent than he. What a sheer joy it would be to rub my position in the son of a bitch's face.
Finally I decided that, as hard as it would be, I would return to San Francisco and talk to my father about a job at one of his plants. Maybe I would hate what I was doing for a while, but if I worked hard enough perhaps I would soar to the top in a way that I wouldn't if I just went out on my own.
By the time I went to see him he informed me of his expansion into other countries, and that he had a thriving business office in London. By that time my young brother Tony was out of college and was working in the Burlingame office in a management position, the same post I had given up.
When I saw the style in which Tony was living, with a flashy wardrobe, a Cadillac, a beautiful apartment overlooking the Bay, and more beautiful dolls than you could shake a stick at, I knew that that was for me, even if business might not be my bag. I'd learn to make it my bag no matter how hard it might be.
I was just as happy that I was being sent out of the country, sent to London, where I knew nobody. I wanted to be away from people that I knew. I wanted a chance to completely do my own thing.
It did take a tremendous manifestation of the will, but finally I started to achieve something in the way of progress. I started to rise within the organization until I finally ended up as head of the whole office, which my father had assured me would happen if and when I proved my mettle.
I started getting on my feet financially and prestige-wise. I took advantage of every opportunity I got with women. Then I got some ideas about my father expanding his European base. I talked to him about it and was receptive about the idea.
Through my initiative we opened four new offices in European locales slightly better than two years after I joined the operation. And I was in charge of overseeing the whole operation.
I kept wondering if and when I would meet another girl like Sandy, somebody I would want to marry. But even though I had more than my share of women to choose from, I never got to feeling the same degree of intensity that I felt for Sandy.
Then one day, as I sat in my London office going over the books, I got a call. It was from my sister Pamela, whom I hadn't seen in better than a year.
"Glad to hear your voice," I chuckled. "What caused you to give me a ring?"
"The most awful thing has happened," she said with a choked voice.
"Whatever happened?" I asked.
"I'm calling from school. You remember that guy I said I was gone on? The one I said I was sure I'd be marrying?"
"I remember. You mean the stockbroker?"
"That's the guy. Well, I found out he was married and I just don't care about anything right now. My whole world's crushed."
"I'd like to fly over there and break that guy's neck," I said with obvious bitterness.
"No, no, that won't do any good. Actually I was the one who turned him on, and he gave me subtle little hints at certain points, hints that I was too naive to pick up on."
"I hope he didn't knock you up. Come clean and tell me if he did."
"No, nothing like that."
"That's good."
"I don't know how to put this Ed, but I'm on my spring vacation and I'd sure like to see you. It would cheer me up, it really would. I just can't face anybody else like this, I really can't. I've always looked up to you."
"I'd love to see you, honey," I told her. "How's about me wiring you plane money? Would that be okay?"
"That would be great. I'd really appreciate it."
That was where our conversation ended. A little better than one day later I was standing pensively at London Airport awaiting my sister Pamela's arrival.
You know, I just wasn't ready to see the sight of the beautiful lady who glided down the runway and walked toward me wearing a mini that gave ample opportunity for me to see her lovely legs.
Sure, she had always been good looking, but never before had I seen her dressed this stylishly. During the past year she had departed from the ranks of a cute girl and had definitely become a woman.
She waved to me joyously and broke into a trot when she saw me. As she moved ever closer to me, her face burst out in a smile, I recognized just how closely she resembled Sandy, the one girl in my life that I had truly loved.
I observed the resemblance even more closely when she was standing right on top of me. Her first act was to throw her arms around me and kiss my lips.
No sooner did her lips come into contact with mine than my penis shot out in an act of spontaneous restlessness. I wanted her so badly that I could hardly stand it, and my feelings were mixed with guilt at that point with the knowledge that she was my sister.
I kept thinking that my intense sexual feelings would leave after I had been around her awhile, but instead they grew stronger. I took the next two days off from work to show her around and give her a good time. I could sympathize with how she felt over losing the man she loved, since I had once lost somebody who meant very much to me, and it had changed the course of my entire life.
I took Pamela on a drive through the English countryside one afternoon, and after we got out of the car and took a walk, as I held her hand in mine, waves of sexual voltage bolted through my entire body. I realized that my strong feelings for her weren't about to go away anymore than my feelings for Sandy had.
I kept thinking about how strongly I felt for her all the way home, and for that reason had less to say than usual. My cock was throbbing with a sense of wild adventure, dying to let itself go and experience sexual desire to the fullest.
When we got back to my place I mixed us drinks. I just couldn't keep my eyes off those sleek legs and pendulous breasts. I could clearly see beautiful Sandy all the way, and for the first time since I lost Sandy the throbbing desires within me had been rekindled.
Finally, as my heart fluttered rapidly, I walked toward her. She put her cocktail glass down and looked at me with intense interest, wondering what I was going to do.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.
"This might be hard for you to understand," I told her solemnly as I stood within inches of her, "but I love you. I really do."
"Oh, I'm glad you're able to admit it," she smiled. "Kiss me, my dear, kiss me. If we really love each other than nothing could ever be wrong in what we do."
My arms encircled her and I pushed my hungry lips spiritedly forward. Our lips collided forcefully with great passion as our bodies shook with exhilaration.
I don't know how many times those lips converged together in the next few seconds, but I do know that by the time I finally withdrew my lips from hers my penis was so aroused that it felt like it had to explode within seconds.
"I've got to take your clothes off," I found myself boldly announcing, reacting solely through instinct, not even fully aware of what I was doing, reacting strictly out of sexual need.
"I'm all yours," she gasped, "now and forever."
Her words couldn't have been anymore positive and my blinding need for her couldn't have been greater. I continued plunging my lips against hers as I removed her clothes.
When I took off her dress, which she wiggled out of as I moved my fingers up and down briskly on the zipper, I cupped my fingers inside her bra, toying with her breasts.
While my fingers explored the sensuous flesh of her breasts my lips continued to descend upon her lips and face. All the while my cock itched desperately for contact with her.
I undid her bra, letting my tongue zero in on those creamy rich breasts, which were so much like the breasts that had belonged to Sandy when I had made love to her.
Then I pulled off her panties, letting my fingers trail down to her moist snatch. Her legs quivered as I put my fingers to work playing with her mound, which was moist with a sense of spirited adventure.
I placed my fingers around her curvaceous buttocks and slowly glided her over toward the nearest bed. She let me ease her body downward. I got ready to go to work with my dong.
As she lay there I shoved my head down between those beautiful legs, which generously parted, giving me all the latitude I could ever hope to need.
I rose my head upward and quickly began removing my clothes. When Pamela saw what I was doing she rose from the bed and walked over to where I was standing.
"Here, let me help," she insisted.
Pamela quickly took charge, working her fingers nimbly as she took my clothes off. Once she pulled off my shorts she became totally absorbed with my cock.
"What a beautiful dong," she gasped, "it's so big and strong. It's absolutely lovely. I can hardly wait to go to work on it."
The next thing I knew I was lowering my body down to the bed as Pamela's fingers pumped up and down resolutely on my huge stick. Now and then she would provide me with extra sensation by playing with my hot balls.
"I like a nice big cock," she exclaimed emphatically, "and so does my tongue. My tongue gets hypnotized by them. I just love to suck cock, especially one like yours."
"Do whatever you want," I told her, "suck it to your heart's content. Oh, have you got me excited."
As her fingers continued vigorously massaging my balls, her tongue went to work moving up and down on my prick. She began at a slow but rhythmic clip, content to take her time in the early stages of the suck, but as she got further along her efforts became increasingly brisk. The fingers continued driving themselves with a flurry against my scrotum as her tongue made steady contact with my prick.
The longer she sucked the faster she went, until she was driving that fiery tongue of hers at a fever pitch. I watched her beautiful head bob up and down at a spirited clip, her hair fluttering in the breeze as she gave me all she had.
"Oh, I love that sucking," I gasped, "keep it up, keep that tongue twirling around my prick. I love that action, go to it, I love it, suck that dick off, go after my juice."
Her fingers continued faithfully moving along my scrotum as her tongue gave my cock all the action it could take. I felt that familiar tingle in my cock and balls that always preceded orgasm.
"Just a few more strokes and I'm there," I gasped.
She took me at my word, stepping up her pace even more briskly than before as she got set to receive my load. I let out a lengthy gasp and my whole body shook as the sea of white juice shot out of the end of my restless dick.
"Oh, baby, you're the greatest," I ran my fingers through her hair.
"Then how about doing something for me."
"Just say the word."
"Go down on me, baby. Get that tongue of yours between my legs and give me a tongue bath I'll never forget."
"You make the whole thing sound so damned sexy," I laughed, gripping her breasts and grinning.
"That's what I'm trying to do."
"Well, you're gonna get your wish."
I dropped my tongue down to her breasts, letting it run over them as the searing intensity mounted within both of us. I would let my fingers start the job and then allow my tongue to move in and finish it.
I nibbled on her breasts and nibbles, leaving a prolific trail of saliva through my efforts. Her body tingled with accelerating passions as I stepped up the pace, eager to provide her with every bit of the same kind of thrills that she had provided me.
"Keep it up, keep that darting tongue going," she gasped, getting carried away with the thrill of what was happening.
When she began gasping I knew that it was time to move on to the one pleasure she sought more than anything else, that of having her cunt taken care of.
I started out by nibbling effectively on her clitoris, which got her feeling more passionate than ever. Once I got her clit reacting I switched my efforts to her cunt, letting my tongue slide diligently over every bit of her slippery mound.
She placed her fingers on my buttocks and applied finger pressure of her own, happy to give me extra satisfaction while my tongue continued blazing a hot trail over her mound.
"Oh, are you ever working me over," she gasped.
I was and was eagerly intending to do more. I shoved my index finger of my right hand inside her ass for extra support. Her body spasmed to my touch and she let out a sigh of exhilaration.
She was enjoying what I was doing for her, and wanted more. My tongue worked its way eagerly and spiritedly around that flaming, moist red pussy. I was like a magnet stuck in place, happy where I was, determined to remain there until I got what I was after.
"I'm gonna shoot, oh, yes I am, oh I'm gonna shoot," she sighed. "Go after it, go after my juices, I want to give them to you, oh."
That first explosion, which I eagerly swallowed, made me eager to go back to the sucking and get her to shoot a second time. I did, getting her off even more quickly than I had the first time around.
The session then ended as fast as it had commenced. Pamela began acting like a tired little girl. She yawned several times, draped her head atop a pillow, and fell into a deep sleep.
I suddenly began to realize how tired I was from the fantastic exercise, which drained me more emotionally than physically. I had only gone off once, but what had been really difficult was that I had been tense and fearful about making the first move with my sister, and had been holding back my fervent desires for that reason.
I dropped off to sleep and didn't awaken until morning. When I did awaken she was still sound asleep, lying there looking so innocent with her head propped up against that pillow. Her lovely nakedness immediately turned me on and my cock popped up back to where it was before we had had sex the day before.
She had incredibly smooth skin, and superb lines. Her skin was so firm, so pliable, yet soft. Her breasts stood out like two lovely melons, ripe to the touch.
I decided to just lie there and watch her until she awakened. That was precisely what I did, and it wasn't until thirty minutes or so after I awakened that she blinked her eyes open.
"Hello, beautiful," I greeted her, my cock throbbing with the keen anticipation of wanting to screw.
"Good morning."
"Have a look at this cock."
"I see it."
"You impressed by it?"
"Yes. Let's just say that I'm impressed with you period."
"That's the kind of talk I love to hear from my favorite girl in the morning."
I pressed my lips against hers fervently. Her body began to rock with vibrations of love. I withdrew my lips from hers, then kissed her a second time, followed by a third.
Once I sufficiently warmed her up through kissing her on the lips I Frenched her, letting my hungry, trembling tongue work its way inside her mouth.
Her body swayed from side to side under the steady, fervent impact of my tongue. She gasped under the steady, relentless pressure I sweepingly applied.
My fingers caressed her breasts as I removed my tongue from her mouth. I looked at her longingly.
"Do I ever wanna fuck you," I exclaimed.
"My legs are spread for you, and they'll always stay that way."
"That's what I call an open invitation."
"You've got it, honey, you've got it."
I moved my prick diligently forward and let it slide inside her hot mound. She shoved her pussy upward, meeting my spirited forward thrusts. I cupped my fingers around her buttocks cheeks as I moved back and forth, delivering a furious onslaught of sexual energy into that trim, sexy body.
The stabs accelerated as I kept the pressure on her steadily. It was my first visit inside that tight cockpit, and I wanted to see to it that there were many more. She was tight, and knew just how to manipulate those sexy hips of hers to see to it that I got just the right kind of motion to keep me extra happy.
"Can you ever fuck," she exclaimed thrillingly. "Keep up the fucking, keep driving that hot prick, I want you, I want your wonderful meat, fuck, fuck, fuck."
Her spirited words of encouragement made me all the more desirous to keep up my steady, effective pace. That supple body that was so smooth to the touch continued driving itself back and forth with every stab I put forward.
"Faster, faster," she swooned, "do it faster. Give it to me, ram that hot meat into me, I want you, I want you."
My fingers gripped her ass cheeks more tightly than before and I grunted as I shoved my body forward once more. I drove my prick into her with every ounce of sensation I could drum into myself, determined to give her the fuck of her life.
"Oh, your tightness drives me wild," I gasped.
I had to admit as I fucked her that she was even tighter than Sandy had been. Not only that but she manipulated her hips in a brisk, effective manner that Sandy at her most erotic couldn't hope to match. Her sex instincts were undeniably better than those of Sandy, and for the first time since I lost Sandy and had hurled myself into a series of affairs with women who only made me think the more strongly about the girl who had got away, I found myself perfectly content with Pamela, and enjoying myself more screwing her than I could ever hope to enjoy with anybody else.
Rigidly I continued slamming my hot dick high up into her mound, driving it into her with piercing stabs as I moved ever closer to the big moment we were both anticipating.
A tremendous sensation of itchiness enveloped my cock and balls as my body trembled forward. I was determined to explode my hot prick inside her in a way she could never forget.
"Oh, I'm just about to shoot," I gasped.
"Hang on, baby, 'cause so am I."
"Oh, darling, darling."
"What a fuck you are."
I leaned forward and moved my tongue inside her mouth, letting it flick back and forth as I got set to explode my juices.
I clenched her buttocks more tightly than ever, then unleashed a steady driving spurt of semen, an avalanche of cum, into her waiting pussy. And as my cock shot I could feel the juice spurting out of her pussy. It was the kind of fuck one dreams of but seldom ever attains.
"If you weren't my own sister I'd ask you to marry me," I laughed when we finished.
"If you weren't my brother I'd accept," she grinned.
"Maybe we can't marry, but we can remain lovers."
"That we can."
And so began a glorious love affair, the upshot of which was that Pamela moved in with me. Naturally nobody thought anything of it, since she was my sister. But if they had ever known the depths of our relationship most people would have thought plenty.
My parents actually thought it was a good idea, deciding that I might be just the stabilizing influence to tame her down a little. Wasn't that an absolute laugh? Imagine me taming her down. I was fucking the absolute life out of that tight, lively cunt between her legs.
She went to school in London, to make it look like she had other interests. But the basic interest was making love to me, and I found myself spending considerably less time with other women after she entered the scene.
My job situation still necessitated a lot of traveling, and quite often she was my charming companion. Sometimes, whenever we were in a place where I figured we weren't likely to get caught, we would register as man and wife. If I didn't want to take the chance when I was somewhere on important business, we would take separate suites.
At one point I took her with me to a business convention in Miami Beach. One afternoon as I was walking out of the hotel where the convention was staged I thought I spotted a familiar face heading toward the hotel bar.
I entered the bar and found myself face to face with an old nemesis, none other than Sandy's father. When he spotted me his face burst out into a broad grin and he shook my hand vigorously.
"Sit down, son, let me buy you a drink," he said.
I joined him at the bar, thinking about the last time I had seen him, when I had also been offered a drink. He told me that he had heard about me through some business associates, and was proud that I had made such a name for myself. Bitter thoughts returned to mind about the way he had talked to me that afternoon, which wound up changing the entire course of my life.
"How's Sandy?" I asked.
"She's just fine. The poor girl's just been divorced from her second husband. I took her on this little trip to get her mind off things. She got very good settlements both times, though. The good old California community property laws worked out to her benefit. Just a moment, son, and I'll ring her in her room. She'll be dying to meet you. By the way, are you married?"
"No I'm not."
"Good, very good," he smiled.
He made me so sick that I wanted to throw up. Before I wasn't good enough, while then he was making me feel like a king. He walked over to the nearest phone and put in a call to Sandy.
"She'll be down in a minute," he grinned as he sat back down. "She absolutely flipped when I told her who I was with."
Sandy appeared a few minutes later. The nervous anticipation that had built within me when I found out I would be meeting her again quickly vanished when I saw her. The years hadn't treated her well. Her slim, voluptuous figure had filled out inordinately, her face looked a lot older, and the once perfect complexion looked a little on the withered side. She was now what you'd call only moderately attractive, whereas she had been a knockout when I knew her.
Sandy threw herself into my arms and planted a big kiss on my lips. About that time I was so sick of both of them that I was just looking for the right opportunity to make my exit.
The opportunity came when they both asked me to spend some time in California visiting with them.
"No, I'm pretty busy," I told them coolly, getting up from the bar. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must be going. Thanks for the drink and good luck, folks."
They both stared at me dumbfoundedly as I walked off. If you don't think that gave me a lot of satisfaction then you've got another thought coming.
But since then a big dilemma has entered my life. Pamela has been dating men regularly, as one would expect, since she's as attractive as she is. I hate like hell to stop her, and want what's best for her, which means getting married if that's what she wants.
I must admit, though, that I get jealous as hell when she goes out with somebody else, and even though I know it would be in my best interest to find somebody else and get married, I'm absolutely hooked on my sister.
Even though she still consents to having sex with me, I can tell that she's starting to get jumpy about it, thinking that maybe I want to cling to her. And she's absolutely right, since that's really what I'd like to do.
I even took a trip to Spain a few months ago without her in hopes of shaking this terrible crush I have on her. I had sex with a few girls there, including a good looking young divorcee from New York City who was there on vacation.
But when all was said and done I wound up thinking about Pamela back in London, and sometimes I'd think so long and hard in the privacy of my room that I'd have to jack off to get the passions out of my system.
Since this dilemma started plaguing me I've found myself spending less time on business and more time worrying. I wish you could help me out of this bind.
SUMMARY
I told Edward that what had drawn him to his sister was the resemblance he felt she bore to the girl who had forsaken him. The tragic loss of Sandy had upset the balance of his life.
But the tragedy had, in addition to affecting him adversely, caused Edward to throw himself intensively into business, achieving great success as a result.
I liked his fascination for his sister with a Adam eating of forbidden fruit. Once he got accustomed to the fruit he didn't want to give it up.
I advised him that, if he ever hoped to find someone to get serious about and marry he would have to make a clean break with Pamela. Only by taking such a sharp step would he free his psyche from the pangs of desire he felt toward her.
Edward agreed with me and promised that he would do just that.
Several months ago I received a letter from him in Paris, where he was staying on business. He told me that he had made such a break and that both he and his sister had found romance with devoted partners.