Chapter 1

Sally Pomeroy clutched her shoulder bag a little tighter to her body and headed for the subway exit. You couldn't be too careful with these crowds. She always worried that somebody might snatch her bag or her necklace or the watch on her wrist.

"Sorry," a corpulent dark-haired man with a straw hat on his head yelled in her ear just before he stepped on her foot to get ahead of her.

"It's okay," Sally mumbled under her breath, "I walk on them, too."

The escalator up was crowded. And the hot air that blasted her in the face didn't ease the situation any. August was not her favorite month anyway. And here, in this subway pit, it was hotter than the mail room of Hades.

She wished she were on her way to some nice air-conditioned office somewhere. Someplace where the coffee wagon carried iced tea and nobody much cared what you did between the hours of nine and five. But such was not her fate today.

In feet, she was out of work. Courtesy of her last boss. Mr. Frederick Bevelton. Vice-President in Charge of Operations of Bevelton Pencil Corporation. Also, President of its North American Branch. Sally couldn't imagine that there was a South American branch of Bevelton. Surely the people in those turbulent countries would have overthrown such an operation long ago. It was a known fact that Latins revolted against oppressive dictatorships. And Bevelton Pencil Corporation was one all right.

Sally had grown to hate it a lot in the three and a half days she had worked there. In fact, she hated it before she started. But, she had needed the job. God how she had needed that job! She had been fired, let go, terminated or laid off every single job she had had since secretarial school two years ago. Something always went wrong. Even when she tried. But this last job was the worst.

She read an ad in the paper that said they needed a secretary, an executive secretary. Sally had been to Mavis Forrest Secretarial School in the city and she hadn't done too badly. At least the male instructors always gave her good grades. But then, they had ever since junior high school. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was a sandy blonde stunner with a film star figure and a set of legs to make a race horse weep with envy. Men had always liked her. And Mr. Bevelton had, too.

"Yes," the man said, chomping his cigar and swiveling his big cushioned chair around to get a better look, "I think we can use a smart girl like you. Of course, the hours are long, the work is tough, and I can't let you make any personal phone calls on my office phones, but the job has its benefits."

Sandy was so glad to get the job she didn't even notice that Mr. Bevelton didn't look at her resume. He was too busy staring at her knees. He also neglected to interview her. Just kept selling her on the job as soon as she sat down and hiked her skirt up a little. The way she had been taught by an instructor at Mavis

Forrest.

"Keep that chin up," Mr. McEnroe would say to her every day after shorthand class. "Keep it up there, young lady. You're learning. That's the important thing. You're trying."

Then he'd follow her all the way out the classroom door and lean over toward Sandy's blonde hair covered ear and whisper, "But if you have any doubts, keep your skirt up, too. Just in case."

Bevelton never even tested her shorthand. That had been kind of funny. He also never called Mavis Forrest School to check to see if she had ever been there. He just kept jabbering on about all the "benefits".

And it wasn't long before Sandy found out what some of those so called benefits were. One of them was Mr. Bevelton's inner office.

Sally thought things like that only existed in books. But, sure enough, the first night on the job, after an eight hour day of busting the copy machine, spilling lighter fluid on the office carpet, and managing to misfile a rather important pencil contract, Sally could hardly believe that the man would actually ask her stay after hours to do some extra dictation.

Dictation had never been her strong point, really. And Mr. Bevelton had insisted she write with a company pencil. The damn cheap thing kept breaking off every time she set the point to paper.

"Sorry," she said, as another inch broke off and fell on the carpet, "I won't press so hard next time."

After about ten minutes of trying to get "Dear Sir" down on her steno pad, she was ready to scream.

Bevelton didn't seem at all disturbed. He laughed a little and swiveled around to face the window. Then, he closed the blinds and stood up.

"I think it's been a very long day for you, Miss Pomeroy," he grinned and hooked his fat firm finger into the vest pocket of his three piece gabardine suit, "I know it has for me. How about some liquid refreshment?"

Sally had been dying for a glass of something cold all day. She managed to miss lunch. She spent the entire hour looking for a pair of cinnamon colored stockings since one of hers had gotten a runner when she stooped over to file some inane piece of blue paper in some drawer or another.

"How do you like your Scotch?" the big, barrel-chested man asked as he pressed a little button on his desk.

Sally was about to tell him that she never drank Scotch in her life when she saw the wall on her left split apart and slide off in two opposite directions.

She watched transfixed as the wall receeded and a little room became visible behind it. It was lit in soft, pink lighting and there was the low hum of a stereo coming from within. She saw a little bar come into view where the carpet of the office room now stopped and beyond it, a fat, enormous white sofa with blue and silver cushions. A little waterfall was set tastefully against the far wall. Tropical plants were sprouting up everywhere. She heard a parrot chattering and then saw him fly up and land on a perch over the bar.

"I don't go out much," Mr. Bevelton said, holding out his arm to assist her out of her chair, "so I keep this little home away from home."

Sally could not possibly imagine what Mr. Bevelton's real home must look like. Tigers in cages, perhaps? Emerald mines? Virgin sacrifice, perhaps. That last thought gave her a little shudder.

"You like?" The man was bending over very close to her.

"Nice." Sally said, putting her steno pad down on the floor.

"Why don't you join me inside?" the man said. Somehow, in the interim, he had managed to get to the bar and grab a fifth of liquor. He was pouring it into glasses when Sally crossed stepped from the broadloom onto the straw mat.

"You know," the man said in a voice that sounded tired, even to him, "I don't share this little room with many people. It's kind of my one big secret."

"I like secrets," Sally managed to say, looking up at the mirrored ceiling. "Sometimes."

"I hope you like mine, Sally," the man said in a voice that sounded insincere, even to him.

It was at that moment that she heard the office walls slide back into position. She gulped a little sip of the fire liquid in the glass down her throat and wondered if there was any other exit out of there.

If you want to know something," Mr. Bevelton said, after a few sips. "I think you're just about the nicest thing that's walked into our office since the French cleaning woman flipped out and exposed herself in the reception room.

He let out a hearty bellow and brought his glass down to the bar counter. Empty.

"Mr. Bevelton," Sally began, tentatively, "I hope you don't think...."

"Ah, please," he said, draining the last of his drink, "call me Frederick."

"Frederick," was all she got out.

"I'm not wild about that name, but it's my father's. Not wild about my father either, but it's his business."

She waited as he turned morosely toward the mirror behind the bar and poured himself a short second drink.

"Why don't we go on over to the sofa and sit a spell?" he said, sounding very friendly and trying not to sound too eager.

"That's fine," Sally said, "provided we lay down a few ground . ... "

"Girls in the office seem to like you fine," the big man said, lowering himself into the comfort of the waiting cushions.

Now Sally knew he was lying for sure. Three of the girls in the office had walked away when she tried to introduce herself and one of them had spilled diet soda right into her open purse.

"I can't understand why," she said, trying to sound respectable. "I haven't been working here long enough."

"Long enough," Mr. Bevelton said, philosophically staring up at the ceiling, "how long is long enough?"

Sally fumbled for an answer as he continued.

"I may not have known you long, Sally, but I can tell you something. I like you. Funny how you get a thing about someone. You just know right away whether or not you like them. Know what I'm talking about?"

Sally was afraid she did.

Frederick Bevelton patted the seat next to him with his big, jeweled hand.

"Come," he said simply, "sit."

Sally made a long, slow cross to his sofa and sat down on the edge as though she were Miss Muffet expecting a spider.

"Come on, Gal," the big man bellowed, "relax. Put your feet up."

"I'll try," she faked gamely.

She kicked off her shoes and felt the straw matting under her feet. The wet, running sounds of the waterfall and the chattering of the parrot were a nice change from traffic and electric typewriters, she had to admit. But Mr. Bevelton. Well, he seemed to have something more than dictation on his mind, right now. Possibly even something more than a little innocent drinkie-poo.

"I want you to be comfortable," he said grandly, gesturing in a hospitable way to the surroundings, "so, I'm gonna take off my jacket."

Sally missed his logic, but by the time she thought about it, he had already removed his tie, his jacket, his vest, and his shoes.

"You a liberal lady?" the man said, reaching over to open his humidor. He pulled an obscenely huge cigar and ripped off the seal.

"I think I am," Sally said, proud of her Democratic voting record.

"Well," he snorted as he lit his cigar and waved the match out, "you may have a chance to prove that. Why don't you show me your tits."

"What?" Sally said, her eyes big as soup bowls. "What kind of girl do you think...."

"You already told me you were a liberal lady, remember?"

Sally pulled herself over to one end of the sofa and gripped the big arm in terror. The man had her right where he wanted her. At least in the general vicinity. And he could really do most anything at all with her. Virgin sacrifice. Ha! That would probably be just for starters.

Frederick Bevelton reached out with his enormous paw and hooked one fat, muscular finger around the girl's collar. He dragged her back across the upholstery toward him and grinned down at her.

"From that sweet smile you got," he leered into her face, "I'd say you got all the makings of a good little cocksucker!"

Sally froze under his steel grip as the man reached down with his free hand and yanked his zipper down. It sounded like a wombat just scraped his fingernail along the blackboard. She winced as she saw what he drew out of his crotch basket. It looked like a jackhammer in flesh tights and she knew it wasn't even fully hard yet.

"Kind of proud of my size," the man said, giving his dick a little shake. Sally dug her fingernails into the sofa seat as she wondered how the hell she was going to get out of this one.

"I think you'll like it, once you get the hang of it." The man said, pulling his huge basketball balls out.

Of course, she might like it, but how was she ever going to get her mouth around it in the first place?

He moved his hips up and down on the sofa as he brought his tremendous catcher's mitt hand around his thick cock pole. He pulled the foreskin down and swung it in Sally's direction, as though he were offering her a refreshment.

"I ... I ... " Sally was trying to think up something really profound to say to the man, but the movement, the slow, hypnotic up and down movement of his hand along the thick, hard shaft of his pecker wood had a disturbing effect on her. She simply couldn't speak.

"I hope you might like to take charge," the man said, gliding his hand slowly up over the round smooth knob of his monster prick stick.

Then, he brought it down slowly, all the way to the hilt. The trip took several seconds.

Sally felt her resistance melting away as the man's hard rod grew harder under his slow, rhythmic pumping hands. She wanted to run, she wanted to puke, she wanted to tell him to fuck himself, but she sat there, frozen. Frozen and watching The man brought his thick thumb pad to the huge dome of his cock and dabbed at the pre-cum sticking to the slit. He worked a little down over the smooth head and along his shaft. The sounds were sticking to Sally's brain like salt water taffy. They had also started to stick somewhere else.

She wiggled a little under Bevelton's still lock-grip hand as she felt herself slowly getting steamier under her silk panties. As if his cock wasn't one of biggest, fattest, thickest, meanest, longest ones she d ever seen, those sounds were driving her to salivate.

Frederick Bevelton just sat there absent-mindedly staring down at his prick and coaxing it bigger and harder with each stroke. He knew it wouldn't be long before this little girl would give in and suck him. She had to. She couldn't possibly resist the lure of his hot throbbing rod. No woman had yet. He worked his hand a little faster up and down the shaft and felt the veins beneath his grip coming to the surface.

"Could I?" Sally heard herself say. She sounded like a wind-up doll in a nursery.

"Here," the man said, smiling grotesquely and bringing her tiny hand to rest on the head of his wide, hard schlong. "Knock yourself out."

He reached down to the ashtray for his cigar. He loved to puff on that thing while somebody beat his meat. Preferably somebody young, petite, blonde, and not too bright. Sally Pomeroy was to the manner born.

Sally recoiled at the firm, yet spongy touch of the man's prick knob. It was slightly tacky and vibrated when she made contact with it.

"Go on," the big man said, feeling very content with himself, "touch away."

Sally tried to bring her whole hand around his shaft, but it wouldn't reach. Then she assisted herself with her other hand and encircled his giant, man meat by reaching her thumb and index finger around it.

"Fast thinking," Frederick said, bringing his feet to rest on the coffee table and feeling his prick harden up a little.

Sally bit her lower lip and drew both her gliding fingers all the way down the man's long cock pole. The grease from his slit eased her way along it until she got to the hilt. She felt his hard, steely balls under the palms of her hand and couldn't decide whether or not it would be appropriate to play around with them. They seemed so lewdly inviting.

"Just keep that up a little," the man moaned, confident in his ability to last at least another eight seconds as the little nymphet glanced over his glans with her two spread hands and her tongue hanging out.

Sally began to instinctively pump her hands up and down the wet, slapping hard member and felt it grow still more rigid under the skin of her hands. The action was arousing her to a fever pitch. She bit down on the tongue hanging out between her lips and let out a little cry of pain.

"Getting to you?" the big man said, laughing a little and exhaling a huge puff of Havana smoke.

Sally wanted to deny it, but she didn't think it would be convincing, especially since she had already started to drool onto her chin and her left knee was shaking like a maraca against her right one.

"Why don't you try giving it a little suck?" he said, trying to fight the uncontrollable urge to let out a whoop every time the girl's fingers met atop his prick knob. She had begun to pick a nice rhythm all right. Maybe she would prove to be a good cocksucker.

"I don't know," Sally tried as she felt Mr.

Bevelton's enormous paw strike her down to within an inch of his vibrating ramrod.

She swallowed hard and looked dead ahead down into his hot, wet cock slit. She felt herself soften in the core and her panties grow more moist with ever breath she took. She was starting to feel hot and bothered. Steamy and torrid. The tropical surroundings were getting to her. And they were getting to her right between her legs.

"Oh," she said, as she felt the man's hand close in around her left tit.

Frederick could feel the tight air-born mass of perfectly circular flesh beneath his huge hand. He wanted to feel more. He reached down and massaged her right tit hard under his hand. Then he found the buttons on her blouse and twisted them out of their holes one by one. His cock wracked and flailed hard the whole time.

Sally felt her blouse come sliding off her shoulders and the man's hand reach for her bra hook. It didn't take long for him to disengage the hook and eye, and she just stared into the eye of big prick the whole time.

"Big succulent tits," Bevelton mumbled, "my favorite kind."

He fingered the girl's smooth, rubbery nipples in between his fingers as he brought her head down on his cock. He could feel the hot breath of her mouth steaming it up just before he felt the wet tongue press hard against the shiny, round dome.

Sally glided her tongue all around the rim of the man's big thick wet crown and flicked it across his shaft a few times. It tasted delicious. Good enough to eat. She couldn't help herself any longer. It was just too much for her. She couldn't hold back. That seemed to be the law of the jungle. And she was set right down in the middle of one right now. The incessant chattering of the parrot, the rush of the little waterfall, the stereo music all told her that;

She felt overwhelmed by a surging desire to suck the man's cock. Her thighs ached with passion and her cunt flowed with juice of excitement.

She popped the man's big prick right down into her mouth and began sucking on it hard. She slid her head down to the hilt and rolled her tongue around the wet, pulsating log as she worked her mouth back up, slowly, slowly and teasingly. She coiled her head around and sucked the man in a clockwise motion, then she reversed it and sucked him counter clockwise. All the time, she kept her up and down movements slow and rhythmic. She went up again and vibrated her hot, eager tongue around the head before she slid back down his shaft and sucked him hard at the base of his peter. His balls felt like a rock garden under a flagpole.

"You do that well, kid," the big man said, smiling up to the mirrors above. He was getting a superb bird's eye view of what the girl was doing to him. As she came off a moment, he could see his huge, long prick pole glistening in the dim light of the room. Then she disappeared down over it again, sucking and flicking her tongue all the way down.

"Do that, Kid!" he heard himself say, kneading her tits between his fingers and thrusting his hips up high to receive her eager mouth hole. She had him in such a tight lock, he could feel the friction mounting to a white heat.

"Oh, shit, do that, do that to me. God, that's it. Don't stop. Suck me. Christ, suck me. Do it. Oh, God, suck the shit out of me. Suck that pecker. Suck that big prick."

Sally was sliding up and down as hard as a piston on high gear. She let the saliva roll out of her hot, horny mouth as she dove down so hard and came up easy on the man's enormous fuck stick. She hit him again and again, like waves of pleasure. like non-stop washes of agonizing desire. She hit his cock again and again with her sucking, spinning mouth.

"Fuck!" the man called out, pinching her tits together and pulling hard on the big thumb nipples, "I'm gonna shoot!"

He thrust his hips up high and hard into her mouth. Then he split his cock slit open with the force of his shooting spunk. It came bursting out of his prick hole. Right out the end of his pecker. It came spurting out uncontrollably in white, hot, rushes of thick, comey goo.

Sally bolted her head up on its impact. The hot, wet spunk stuff hit her so hard, it rocked her head back a moment. Then she felt the rush, the delicious pouring rush of white, hot cream. She felt the spurting buckets full of heavy, hot jism spewing all over the back of her throat. It aimed itself at every pore, every flesh pocket of her insanely tight little mouth gripper. She buckled right down on it. She came back down it hard and eagerly lapped it up. She licked and sucked and slurped and swallowed every ounce of the thick come cream. She ate the hot white liquid as eagerly and happily as a puppy drinks milk.

"Fucking little Sucker!" the man yelled, surprised to find that the girl actually had performed so admirably under fire. Sally ate some man spunk off her lips and then licked the corners to make sure she had gotten it all. Then she sat up.

The man stared at her high round titties as they bounced into place the moment she straightened her back. They were every bit as stunning as they had felt delectable. He could feel his numb, still rock hard pecker begin to nod.

Pity, he thought to himself, he would have liked to have fucked the little Cocksucker right then and there.

"Is it hot in here?" Sally said, looking over at the waterfall.

Mr. Bevelton shook his prick a little and folded it back into his pants. "I think you're a little hot." He said, zipping his pants up. "No, I think you're quite a hot little number. That's what I think. like another drink?"

Sally reached out and shoved the metal frame of the revolving door as hard as she could. She just couldn't believe how Mr. Bevelton had changed. He seemed so nice that first day, if a little forward. But still, two and a half days later, he fired her. Just like all the others.

What had she done? What had been her crime? All right, so she was no great shakes as a secretary. But Mr. Bevelton said she gave great head. He never stopped raving about it, in fact.

The next day had been a little more fun. Not until after work, but she was on a heavy overtime schedule. He had invited her into his office again, same scenery. Then the wall opened up and they strolled into Nairobi. This time, he insisted on going down on her. It had been fun. In fact, her pussy smarted a little just thinking about it as she pushed the elevator button of the huge stone skyscraper she was standing in.

The elevator finally did come and the door split open. Sally half-expected to see a little jungle setting come into view with a bar in one corner, but no luck. She scrambled in just as the doors started to close again. Then, after forty people rushed in after her holding the door open for each other as they did so. Then, the elevator sat there for another minute and a half, so full you couldn't get a Kleenex inside. Finally, the doors thudded shut and thing headed skyward.

Sally took in her breath and let it all out. She was practicing relaxing. She needed to relax. She had to look calm. Calm and lovely. Serene. Even though it was ninety-five degrees outside, the peak of lunch hour, and she was ready to scream from desperation. She felt desperate. She tried not to feel desperate. All right, so she needed a job. All right so she had no references worthy of the name. All right so she hadn't worked more than three and a half days in any one place in two years. These things happened.

"Getting out," she said from the corner as the elevator touched down on tenth floor.

She wiggled her sensuous hips through the crowd and stepped out. She hoped the place would be sensible. Reasonable. She hoped to hell they would give her a job at least.

"Won't you please have a seat, Miss ' Pomeroy?" the receptionist invited. She gestured to the plastic row of orange seats in the waiting area.

Sally noticed about fifteen other people were ahead of her. She was going to have a long wait. Too bad she hadn't brought something to read. She sat back and looked at the plastic ferns growing out of the corners.

Mr. Bevelton had really turned into one sour lemon all right. And that second evening had been such fun! He even gave her a little gift. A tiny gold heart on the end of a chain. Then they had another drink, and he fucked her under the waterfall.

Wild and wet. That would describe it best. Very wet. He had coaxed her under that waterfall. Promised her a really good time. And he had been good.

"What are you doing on that coffee table, don't you know staying dry is not where it's at, Sally?" Fred said, peeling his shirt down over his shoulders and ripping it off his wrists.

He was standing on the little rock wall that banked against the pool where the waterfall fell. He already had his pants off and that monster schlong of his was dangling about halfway down to his knees.

"I don't know," she said, trying hard to resist the lure of the wild, rollicking falls as it hit the asphalt rocks strewn in its path and coursed over the plants growing out from the wall. "I can't swim."

"Not to worry, Doll," the big man bragged, sticking his toe in the water. "I was a junior lifeguard in college. I'll save you should anything go wrong."

And he had. Once he got her into the water, ripped her dress off and rubbed his hard hands all over her body, she had slipped and fallen. He had to pull her up by that sandy blonde hair and wipe it out of her eyes. Then, of course, he shoved her up against the rock wall and plugged the daylights out of her tight little cunt.

Sally could still remember the way Mr. Bevelton looked at her when she had her clothes off.

"That's a classy little cunt you got there," he smiled, pulling her pussy lips back and admiring the view. She was rosy hot pink and wet inside. It looked like the perfect place to park his long cock. Sally blanched fuscia as the man explored her pussy locale. She loved the way his thick, tough fingers felt as they parted her tingling plump cunt lips.

"Oooooh," she said, feeling the ecstasy rush to the spot and supply more blood to her throbbing cunt veins as the man brought his thick, sensual lips down to her pussy and pressed them around the rim of her hole.

Then the man took his semi-hard man meat in his hands and ran it around the whole perimeter of her pussy inner lip ridges. The contact points made her gasp with excitement.

He brought his full thick cock head in between her lips and made for her wet, quivering hole. He stuck the huge knob inside and worked it hard until her cunt juices and pre-cum fluid mixed enough to allow him the necessary lubrication to forge ahead.

"That hurts," the girl shouted out as he worked his stiff cock wand into the pink grip lock. He had to work the head very hard back and forth, back and forth to make any headway at all. Penetration of this tight little chick was not as easy as she looked willing.

"Ouch!" she said as he stuck himself in a little higher, still backtracking every little bit to ease the way in with joy juices from the both of them.

Sally felt the man's full sail masthead heave to and fro inside her tight pink twat. It burned and stung and ached like fury, but she certainly didn't tell him no. It felt like he was trying to get two cars into a single garage, but she never once protested. She thought for a few seconds that from the size of the man's loaf and the size of her wee box cunt that he was going to cut off her air. To choke her. Then, she remembered that she didn't do all her breathing from her twat.

"God this feels like a fuck fest to me," the man shouted as he plunged his giant wick into her tiny jam jar. He wanted to just take ahold of her tiny, frail shoulders and slam on in to home, but he thought better of it. Chicks like her needed to be primed before they could be pumped properly. That's what he intended to do.

He reached around and grabbed her clit between his thumb and his index finger. He shook it hard a few jerks and felt it rise up like a leech full of blood. He massaged it hard, then harder between his fingers as he continued to ram his big fuck stick into her swollen, raw pussy hole.

"Oh, my God," Sally moaned, "I can't take much more of that."

"Too bad," Fred said, plugging her a little more, "I got a lot more to give you. Just hang on, Honey."

He slid still more of his thick meat rack into her tight, hot bar-b-que pit. The wrapping, packing, gripping, slipping motion was unbearably sweet.

Then he sunk his rod into her hole up to his hilt and then held it there for an interminably long time. He circled it a little bit, in opposition to the circles he was making with his finger on her engorged love button. Then her cries came into his ears again.

"God, it's too much, it's just fucking too much." She moaned.

He could see that her face had turned red and her eyes were rolling back into her head. So he started pumping her harder. He pumped her like he was a drill and she was an untried oil bed. He plugged the stuffing out of her as he pulled his rod almost all the way out and pushed it right back in again.

He brought his free hand around front and massaged her high, fleshy tit cups.

Sally looked down and saw the man's thick bronzed-tone arm against the soft white of her ice cream mound tits. She saw him grasp the nipple of one of her eager hot tits in his fingers and squeeze it hard. Then she felt it. She felt it go right through her tit back to her rib cage and down to her toes. Then it ricocheted back up and hit her at the base of her brain. "Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww," she screamed loud enough to scare the parrot.

"Am I hurting you, Sugar?" the man said, in between gasps for air.

"Nooooooooooo," Sally wailed back to him "I'm cominggggggggg....."

Fred wracked his meat wildly against the girl's womb opening and squeezed his butt muscles together hard as he fondled her breasts and diddled her thick clit button with a vengeance. He felt he might break the little thing in two. Slam, bang, slam, bang. He was rocking his rock hard pecker in and out. Out and in. No slowing down now. No easing up or showing off. No way. He felt his cock gear go in for the big grip and he tensed every muscle in his body.

Then he felt his balls cram up inside themselves and flick a trigger somewhere deep inside his bowels. Then he heard something go BANG!

He blew his spunk load out the end of his big cannon. He exploded the gun barrel of his cock and a high-powered load of cock come came out of it. He banged and he fired his huge semen weapon all up inside the wiggly wet squirm hole of the girl s cunt. His cock shot and the cunt took it. Right on target.

Sally felt herself pull up into a spasm of non-stop orgasms. She was coming and coming and coming. A whole string of firecrackers went off inside her one after the other. Pop, pop, pop. She twisted and jerked her whole body with each wild orgasm. Every come was bigger than the last. She couldn't find the brakes. The man's big huge dick just kept firing and she just kept repeating the gunshots. She spilled her juice. She oozed the come stuff out her crevice and down on Fred's finger. She let go her juice load all down her leg and along Fred's thick, veined cock pole. It ran down his pecker, it ran into rivulets down his balls. It covered his pecker and his balls and flowed down his thigh.

"I think you just shot your stuff, Little Lady," he said, as he watched his own milky liquid follow hers down both of their legs and head for the bubbling water.

"God, that hurt," the girl sobbed as she ran one hand through her still soaking sandy locks of hair. She wondered how she was going to be able to sit down the next day at her desk. Her pussy was throbbing with pain so hot and hard her ass was numb.

But the next day, she did find her chair. And she sat in it. Until five o'clock. Then Mr. Bevelton asked her to come into his office for some more "dictation."

"Are you reading that?" a cute young man said, leaning over her and pointing to the open magazine she had spread across her lap.

She must not have been fooling him by letting it lie there. And the truth was, she wasn't reading it. She gave it to him and smiled wanly.

"Miss Pomeroy," the receptionist's coolly efficient voice wafted over toward her. "You're next."

Indeed she was. She could see from the way the waiting room looked that not much movement had occurred since she sat down. But sure enough, as luck would have it, she was next.

"There's a really good ad on page twelve," she said to the cute guy, "other than that, the magazine's a total waste."

She held onto the strap of her shoulder bag and disappeared into a little cubicle.

A broad-shouldered middle age man sat behind the desk. He was wearing a dark tan suit and a big, flashing grin. Whatever it was that Sally had shown him in that first moment, he seemed to like.

"Miss Pomeroy," he said, standing up and extending a massive, solid hand with sturdy, elongated fingers. "Rolf Drake."

"Hi" she said, sitting down. She was so intent on looking at the rugged hunk behind the desk, she forgot to swing her shoulder bag onto her lap and promptly sat down on it. She rose swiftly up off her seat and swung the damned thing up where it belonged.

"How's the weather out there?" The cute hunk said, reaching up and scratching his ear. Sally wondered if it would split his seam. His muscles were bulging that hard.

"Beastly," Sally replied, smiling coyly. She hoped to hell he hadn't seen her resume.

"I've just been looking over your resume," he said, shaking his head. "Frankly, Miss Pomeroy, your work record is something less than superlative."

"I know," she said, casting her eyes down toward the linoleum "Life hasn't been too kind these past two years."

"I hope you'll understand, that we might have a hard time placing you in a good job, given your work record."

"I didn't come to this agency for a good job."

"What did you come for? This is a job agency."

"I came for a job. Any job! '

"Hmmmmm " the man said, stroking his chin and leaning on one elbow. "Stand up again."

Sally stood up and brought her weight to one foot. She licked her lips to check for lip gloss and stared back at Mr. Drake.

"Would you wait here one moment?" he said, standing up. He looked like a line backer for a pro football team.

She nodded her head as he strolled through the half-glass door. Five minutes later, after she had scraped all the finger nail polish off her fingers, he returned.

"I think I may have a line for you." He was really grinning now. So hard that Sally saw that one of his teeth was solid gold.

"I've heard a few this week," she said, trying to sound hopeful, but sadly fearing she missed the mark. "What is it?"

"Ever hear of Tip Top Temps, Inc.? " he said, busily writing some information onto a white card.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I thought I'd heard of all the temporary worker agencies. I've worked for most of them, uh, temporarily."

"I'm not surprised," the man replied, scribbling away furiously with a thick ball point pen. "They're a small outfit. And, I better add, exclusive. They specialize in hard-to-place candidates."

"Well, that's me," Sally replied, remembering to cross her legs and hike up her skirt. It was a little late, but it never hurt to take out insurance.

"They're located not far from here." He finished his chicken scratching and handed her a card with an address on it. And a name. Sally could barely make it out.

"I can walk here?" Sally said, still unsure of her way around the big city.

"Oh, yes," he said, standing up and extending his hand toward hers. "It has been a pleasure, I assure you."

"Thank you, so much," Sally said, finding herself in a little curtsey pose as she clutched her card hard between her fingers and felt strangely optimistic.

"I shall leave you on a precautionary note, Miss Pomeroy," the athletic hunk said, "Tip Top works with some of the top clients in the city. And in the world. But they may appear a little peculiar at first."

"Oh?" she said, blinking her eyes like headlights in the fog.

"They have some unusual ways of screening new candidates."

Sally cocked her head to one side and looked into the man's tanned good-looking face. Nothing she hadn't probably already been through. Considering how Mr. Bevelton had already screened her without her knowing in advance that it was going to be peculiar this place sounded refreshing.

"Bye," the tall hulk said as he opened the door for her.

She could smell the distinctively woodsy smell of his cologne as she sailed off through the open door and out.