Chapter 6
Tiffany and Freeda arrived at Neil's party "fashionably late," as Freeda put it. In the living room of the luxurious apartment on the twentieth floor of a Park Avenue high-rise, a single lamp cast a glow on the mob attending the near-orgy thrown by Neil Farris.
The party was to celebrate his return from Europe, and people were packed shoulder to shoulder, tits pressed against chests, cock-bulging pants touched to butt-hugging skirts. Social barriers were dissipated by the horny proximity of flesh and the haze of alcohol.
Tiffany immediately noticed that all of the women wore tight dresses, their breasts semi-exposed in styles designed to capture a man's lust. One curvaceous beauty would turn heads only to lose the fleeting attention to another woman equally attractive.
The music was raucous, the conversation of the guests a long-sustained roar, and the flow of liquor unending. The party, by all accounts, was a rousing success.
Tiffany soon wandered away from Freeda. Wherever she went, compliments and long looks of admiration greeted her. She felt wild and utterly wanton as she strolled through her first New York party.
Most of the women sneered as she passed, her body a definite threat. Tiffany heard a few jealous remarks from cunts who were convinced her bra was padded, but she brushed them off in favor of the more pleasing comments from men who obviously wanted to get their hands on her tits.
A balding, middle-aged man asked her to dance. His hands were damp, his eyes were bloodshot and he smelled of whiskey. Worse than that, he was a terrible dancer.
Tiffany invented her own steps whether they matched those of her partner or not. But their bodies kept banging together, and she finally distanced herself from the man with two left feet. She jiggled and gyrated quite on her own, occasionally spinning around to let her auburn hair fly between her upraised arms.
"You're a very sexy dancer," the man commented, stopping to watch.
"Thank you," Tiffany replied, also stopping.
The view she offered the guests was stiffening cocks all around the room. The globes of her sculptured ass rolled suggestively and let everyone know she was naked beneath her dress.
Going without underwear had been Freeda's idea, and Tiffany was glad she had taken her advice. The lusty stares were a tribute to her luxurious body. In the dim light, her tits bubbled up in her confining dress, blindingly white, stimulating every guy present. Her movements were supple, her ass swaying to the pulsing beat of the music and the blood rushing through her veins. She was unaware as her fingers roamed over the awesomely contoured mounds of her butt, that sweat streamed down her lithesome legs.
"Where'd you learn to dance like that?" the man asked.
"I just picked it up."
"You're an honest-to-goodness devil in that dress! Did you come here with anyone?"
She pointed to Freeda, who was watching the action.
"Freeda Johanson? She handled my last divorce. What do you say we find ourselves a quiet corner where we can have ourselves a nice little talk."
"Why? I'd like to dance some more."
"You know why," he said, his liquor-laden breath spraying her face as he closed in. His hands reached for her tits.
Tiffany backed away. "Hands to yourself."
"Do you know who I am?"
"No, should I?"
"If you've ever heard of Tifton Broadcasting you should."
"Sorry, doesn't ring a bell."
He wasn't offended, even though he was a bit surprised. He smiled and told her that she was quite refreshing, a woman who wouldn't be after him for his money. Tiffany made it quite clear to him that she wasn't after him at all, nor would she-likely ever be.
The music had ended and Tiffany made an exit. The crowd parted as she strolled magnificently through the men who gawked at her. Mr. Tifton followed, praising her good looks and her excellent choice of dress.
The orchid body suit was extremely tight, fitting Tiffany's lush body like a coat of paint. Her breasts spilled out of the straight-cut top and her hips pulled the fabric so tautly over her ass that it was a wonder she could walk let alone dance.
Tifton led her onto the balcony for some fresh air. The night wasn't that hot, but Farris had invited too many people for the limited space in his apartment.
"Farris should know better," Tifton remarked.
"Have you seen him?" Tiffany asked.
"Not yet. For a host, he's made himself pretty scarce. Probably afraid there might be a bill collector here."
"Tell me what you know about him," Tiffany said innocently.
"Neil Farris is a playboy. Do you understand what that means? He's a drunk, a drifter and a pussy chaser. He's been married twice...to wealthy women, and he's gone through their money like a knife through butter."
That was not what Tiffany wanted to hear. If she believed Tifton, then Neil was probably penniless, her inheritance going to support his lifestyle. She told him about the money due her.
"Do you have a job?" he asked.
"No. I've only been here a short time."
"Better get one. Getting money out of Farris is harder than robbing Fort Knox. Here," he said, removing a card from his wallet. "Come by and I'll see what I can find for you."
"Thank you," she said, taking the card. "You're being too kind."
"Nonsense! I'm a horny old man on the make," he said with a chuckle. "If nothing's going to happen tonight, why don't you join me on my yacht this weekend? We can discuss your situation with Farris in more detail."
"I doubt you'd want to do much talking on your yacht. Besides, I need my money, not a discussion of it."
She turned and re-entered the party so she wouldn't have to be rude should Tifton continue to pursue her. She asked everyone she met where she might find Farris, but no one seemed to know where he was. And Freeda was nowhere to be seen either.
She wandered into another room, a den or office or something, which resembled a scene she had only read about in magazines. Couples were prancing about in various stages of undress. Tiffany, shocked, open-mouthed, stepped over pools of spilled liquor and plates of half-eaten sandwiches which cluttered the expensive Persian rug.
"Is Neil Farris here?" she asked anyone who could hear her.
"Check the sewer," someone said drunkenly.
"What? You, too?" a redhead questioned. "Look in there. See if he's finished with that blonde cunt yet."
Tiffany followed the pointing finger to a closed door in the narrow hallway. She eased it open. A triangle of light split the darkness and she spotted Freeda in the bed. A radio played softly in the dim light.
Then Tiffany saw him, fully dressed, as he climbed on top of Freeda. She waited, knowing what was about to happen yet unwilling to move from the spot.
The man, dark-haired and handsome, stroked Freeda's naked body as she moaned around the excitement of her growing lust. His hands roughly mauled her huge tits, squeezing her nipples into the air. But Freeda seemed to love his rough treatment.
His mouth lowered over one of her breasts, and looked to Tiffany like he was nibbling her nipple. Freeda squealed but didn't try to detach his mouth from her full, ripe melon.
Then he moved down between her legs, her breasts abandoned for more succulent treasures. His face disappeared in her cunt, Freeda writhing around what Tiffany knew was his wildly flicking tongue. Her pussy heated at just the thought of his mouth attached to her own craving cooze.
He lifted away from her blonde bush and sat between her outstretched legs. Freeda thrust her cunt upward as he raised her knees to her tits, forcing her thighs apart.
The man was fumbling in his crotch with one hand, his fingers working to free his cock for the pussy waiting to be filled by his erection. His other hand pushed against the bed to keep his body angled over Freeda's naked crotch. Freeda held her legs out of the way as she waited for the fuck to begin.
Tiffany watched the man sink his dick into Freeda's pussy even though she couldn't actually see his cock's penetration. Their bodies told her what was happening. The man pushed down at the same time Freeda pushed up, and Tiffany knew that his rigid cock was slicing through her swallowing snatch.
Freeda called him all sorts of nasty names as the man furiously ground away at her humping cunt. His covered ass raised high and dropped hard between Freeda's bouncing thighs. It appeared he was in a hurry for climax.
Tiffany watched in fascination as the man rammed his dick into Freeda's pussy, riding her hard, each lunge between her legs powerful and deep. Both hands pushed against the bed to maximize the power of his thrusts, his chest raised high above her, and Freeda's ass gyrated around his spearing attack.
Even in the near darkness, Tiffany could tell that the man was very good-looking. His profile was classic, his hair styled, his clothes obviously tailored. This was a man with both money and style.
Freeda had his rhythm down perfectly, moving her butt right and left, up and down, weaving every which way. Then she screamed, "Oh... no...no, I'm almost there!"
Tiffany grew feeble from the lust boiling within her crotch. She sweated until she felt drops of moisture descend from her armpits down her naked skin to her waist. Perspiration slid slowly from the hollow at the base of her back into the ravine between her rounded ass cheeks. She was hot, and it wasn't because of all the people crammed into the apartment.
Her throat was dry and her chest ached as she tried to remain quiet. She had scarcely any breath left when Freeda cried out around what was obviously her orgasm. With all the noise the buxom blonde was making, Tiffany gulped for air.
Freeda bucked as her pussy gave up its treasured fluids, her tits bouncing madly upon her writhing chest. Every muscle seemed to be in motion as she dumped her load around the man's still-stroking cock.
Then Freeda's ass dropped into the bed and the man pulled out of her pussy. His face was instantly in her crotch as her legs fell onto his shoulders. Tiffany could hear the guy slurp and suck in Freeda's snatch, his mouth hungrily drinking the nectars of her orgasm.
After a moment, Freeda's body came back to life, her cunt pumping against the man's active face. She swirled her twat around his mouth as her hands pressed his head even deeper between her legs.
But the man jerked his face out of her pussy. It wasn't clear if he had cum or not as Tiffany continued to watch. Either way, the guy zipped up and rolled onto the bed.
"Tiffany!" Freeda yelled. "Come on in. There's someone I want you to meet."
Slowly, tiptoeing like she was walking on eggs, Tiffany entered the room. The man, his clothes completely readjusted, stood next to the bed, expressionless.
"I understand you've been looking for me," he said, deadpan.
"You're Farris?" Tiffany asked incredulously.
"In person."
Tiffany was somewhat taken aback. She assumed that she would have to fuck him to get her money, not Freeda. "Has Freeda told you?" she mumbled.
"That you want your inheritance? Yeah, she told me."
"And... "
Tiffany tried to fathom the situation and take in the polished young man who threatened her happiness. He was handsome and well-built, his hair soft and dark, his features chiseled, his mouth hinting at cruelty. That much she could tell with his clothes on.
"Little Tiffany King. Well, well, well... " Farris said, smiling, drawing her into the room so the minimal light played over the vast amount of her exposed flesh. Standing next to a mirror, she was quite pleased with her reflection. There was a sensuality in the slight curve of her mouth and certainly in the erotic thrust of her breasts and her butt. The dress did everything it could to heighten the allure of her already sexy figure.
"He's all yours," Freeda said, now next to the bed, smoothing a pink slip over her fleshy curves. "I don't think I really pleased him, but maybe you can."
"What?" Tiffany said, shocked.
"It's you he's interested in, honey. Hell, he didn't even bother to take off his clothes for me. Just think of it as business, dear," Freeda said, moving next to her and patting her fanny.
"But-"
"Keep smiling and play hard to get. He-likes that," Freeda whispered into her ear before she left the room.
"I don't want to be treated like that!" Tiffany blurted as soon as Freeda had closed the door.
"Don't be silly," Farris said, gently stroking her shoulder. "Women like Freeda love to be treated that way. But a beautiful girl like you deserves a whole lot better."
Tiffany experienced lust at first sight for Neil Farris. Her flesh tensed beneath his touch, her muscles tightening by the incessant throbbing that urged her to give her cunt to this perfect stranger.
Neil moved closer, his breath warm on her neck as his hands moved lower on her body. She wanted to discuss her inheritance, but desire singed her pussy and kept her silent. Her snatch sizzled like it had been set aflame by an incendiary bomb. It ignited her emotions and sent her brain spinning into wanton desire. Farris was about to fuck her, and she was ready to collapse into his arms.