Bill had the idea that his wife was playing around on him for a long time. But this hadn't really bothered him. As long as he was free to pursue the only thing that was important to him, he didn't give a shit what she did with her time.
He needed Sally as his wife. She was presentable, vivacious and not a bad cook. In his profession, having an acceptable wife was an asset, and Bill, in his pursuit of higher ambitions, didn't have the time or the energy to go and replace her.
That didn't mean, however, that he didn't enjoy fucking around on her. He thought to himself that Sally would probably die if she knew what her supposedly up-tight husband did on his business trips!
Right now Bill was riding along in a plane with Fran, the copywriter on his account. Fran was in her late twenties, a black-haired girl with a perfect heart-shaped face and a sparkling personality. Bill hadn't fucked Fran yet. But he was sure this was possible. To begin with, she had just been assigned to his account and he knew she was as ambitious as he was. Bill liked ambitious people; he could relate to them. One of the things that turned him off to Sally was the fact that she seemed to be content in her role as housewife. For Bill, who functioned in the so-called "real" work world, the women who took on the same challenges as men were more exciting to him. As long as Sally confined her extracurricular activities to the small town they lived in, Bill didn't feel threatened. However, if she so much as dared crass the line that separated this world from hers, there would be trouble.
"You're married, aren't you?" Fran was asking. Bill glanced at her. He wondered if she was making idle chit-chat or if it was really important to her.
"Yes," he told her. "I don't wear a ring, because the whole idea turns me off."
"The idea of being married, or the ring?" Fran asked.
Bill smiled. "Both, I guess," he admitted. He knew they were scheduled to stay in the same hotel, and it was his hope that maybe they could get together later that evening. However, he had to check her attitude out.
"Why do you want to know?" he asked her, trying to keep the bluntness out of his voice, if not his question.
Fran smiled easily. "Let me put it this way," she said. "If you weren't married, I'd wonder about you. That's one of my problems," she lamented. "Either all the men in the agency are married, or they're faggots!"
Bill was shocked, yet pleased that she could be so openly sexual in her opinions.
"You think so?" he asked, lighting a cigarette. He offered her his pack. Fran shook her head before continuing. "Oh, come on!" she protested. "Don't tell me you don't know that!"
Bill couldn't figure it out, but something about Fran made him want to fuck her. She was too confident, too positive that no one could ruffle her feathers.
"You mean to tell me that you don't go with anyone because of that?" he asked, his voice heavy with disbelief. "You're not a lesbian, are you?"
He figured if she could bandy the word faggot around, she shouldn't be too offended if he used a word like lesbian. He watched her closely for her answer.
Fran laughed easily. "No," she said. "I hardly consider myself a lesbian!"
This was encouraging news to Bill.
"What's your wife like?" Fran asked.
Bill wasn't sure if he wanted to discuss Sally, but he saw no way he could avoid what was seemingly an innocent inquiry. After all, Fran's work on his account was very important and he didn't want to alienate her.
"Sally?" Bill mused. "I guess you could say she's your typical housewife. Blonde, pretty, no children. I'm probably the envy of a lot of men," he added, seeing Sally differently than he had in a long time.
They chatted along these lines for most of the flight, Fran's head busily calculating the chances of seducing Bill later on at the hotel. She concluded that it wouldn't be a huge problem, but there was something stuffy about him she couldn't put her finger on. Fran normally preferred so-called "creative" types. Other art directors and writers in the agency, compared to the "enemy", the account people.
She suspected that Bill's reluctance to talk about his wife actually indicated that he wouldn't mind having an affair with her at all, though Fran wasn't too turned on to the fact that he made no mention of being unhappily married. Then again, she thought, this might be a good thing. She had suffered through many an affair listening to how misunderstood her lovers were and it was terrible boring after a while.
Drifting off to sleep, she allowed her head to slip onto Bill's shoulder. Though her eyes were closed, she was aware of the slightly uncomfortable move Bill made over this close contact. Smiling inwardly, she took that as a good sign. If her close physical presence meant nothing to him, he wouldn't have shifted at all. She decided that Bill wanted to fuck her as much as she wanted to fuck him.
As for Bill, he glanced down at the pert, pretty face sleeping on his shoulder. He could feel his cock getting hard in his pants from the closeness of such a pretty girl and hoped that he could control himself at least till they were through with their meeting at the clients!
As they left the airport, Bill drove in the rented car they had reserved. Fran sat by the window, staring out at the city, grateful she didn't have to live here instead of New York.
"Our meeting isn't until three this afternoon," Bill said. "Why don't we go to the hotel and freshen up?"
"Good idea," Fran said. Her pants suit had gotten a bit wrinkled, and she knew the importance of being presentable. Also, it occurred to her that she might have time to sneak in a little fuck before the meeting. That would make her really dynamite in her presentation, and there was a lot about this campaign she didn't really believe.
"I see they put us on the saint floor," Bill observed as they rode up in the elevator of the hotel together.
Fran smiled. "And in rooms directly opposite," she added. She wished they had adjoining suites but opposite rooms weren't too bad, either. At least they weren't on different floors. That would really have been a drag.
They parted in the hallway, each looking at the other, trying to express their desire without being too obvious. It struck Fran that she would probably have to make the first move. Though she thought Bill fancied himself a wild swinger, he was a mere babe in the woods when it came to seduction.
"We have several hours," she said, slipping her key into the lock. "Why don't you pop by when you're cleaned up and we can have, lunch together?"
"Good idea!" Bill boomed, trying not to show the nervousness that made his limbs almost quake.
Once inside his room, Bill realized that of all the girls in the agency, he had never heard any men's room chit-chat about how good Fran was in bed. He decided she must be either very discrete, or a puritan who simply didn't fuck. That appalling idea he put out of his head instantly.
She must fuck! he thought desperately. She will fuck! he decided.
Then Bill showered and wrapped a towel around his waist. Lying on his bed, he called Fran in her room.
"Why don't you come over here and have lunch in my room," he suggested.
Fran hesitated. "I have to get dressed," she explained, standing nude talking to him on the phone.
"I could come over there," Bill offered, holding his breath.
"Give me five minutes," Fran said, and hung up the phone. She returned to her bathroom to splash cologne all over her body. While she was scenting herself deliciously up, there was a knock on her door. Hastily wrapping her body in the largest hotel towel she could find, Fran walked barefoot across the thick carpet to her door.
"Yes?" she asked. "Who is it?"
"Me, Bill," came the voice.
Fran looked around the room. Her suitcase lay open on the small rack, but she didn't want to hastily throw on her good dress now. Taking a deep breath, she opened her door.
"Come in," she said in a hurried voice. "Quick!" Bill's mouth fell open when he saw Fran's tits pushing up over the towel. He entered her room quickly and Fran hastily locked the door.
"I'll be right with you," she said, turning to go into the bathroom for her robe. But as she moved away from him, Bill reached out for her towel. With one yank he held it in his hand while his eyes beheld the sight that was Fran in all her naked splendor.
With a gasp, he dropped the towel and made a grab for her.
No sooner were his arms around her soft, warm flesh, than his mouth went directly for the nearest tit. Closing his eyes and making a moaning sound deep in his throat, he began sucking and licking her nipple.
Fran froze. She threw her head back and closed her eyes. Though she would have preferred a less hurried approach, the sheer force of his passionate desire for her was an instant turn-on.
She took his head in her hands and held it to her tit. Now Bill sank to his knees, his thick cock throbbing inside his pants. Not moving his mouth away from her tit, or missing one lick with his stroking tongue, he unzipped his fly so that his cock sprang out. Then he began pushing Fran gently back towards her bed. When she felt the edge of the bed hit her behind the knees, she collapsed backwards, her spread legs forming a wide V for Bill to lie between.
Bill's mouth went to her other tit now, while his right hand squeezed the other one. He had never felt tits like hers before. Though the skin was soft and sweetly scented, her jugs were so firm and jutting, he wondered if she had had silicone treatments. Then he no longer even cared. He had both his hands an her tits now and was moving his head down lower and lower. He wanted to stick his tongue inside her cunt so much, a dull ache began in his groin. But Fran reached out for his cock and murmured: "Take your pants off, Bill. Please!"
Bill sprang to his feet, his head reeling. Within two seconds flat, his trousers lay in a wrinkled heap on the floor. Then he was on her like a shot. Feeling his prey weaken beneath him as his mouth once again took up its position on her swelling belly. He could catch a faint whiff of cunt, mixed with the delicate perfume she wore, and his desire to bury his tongue in her cunt was almost overwhelming.
"Eat me!" Fran was pleading. "Let me feel your tongue sucking up my juice!"
Her own hands fluttered desperately towards his cock. But Bill didn't want to go sixty-nine right now with ha. He wanted to be the sole giver of pleasure and control the entire situation.
As his tongue plunged between her outer labes and dug around in search of her swollen clit, Bill thought to himself how much he had mined eating pussy. But it always seemed to him that by the time he got home, he was too tired to go down on his wife. Now that his whole, face was becoming wet and sticky with cunt-juice, Bill promised himself that he would allow himself more times to indulge in such pleasures.
"Oh, that's so nice!" Fran told him, moving her hips back and forth and pumping them up and down.
Bill's head joggled with her pumping motion and he dug the fact that she was fucking his face. He gave a little cry and pushed her legs higher over her head so that his tongue could explore all her crotch with ease. Her cunt tasted so good and clean to him he almost creamed all over the sheets!
Fran could feel herself building towards climax, but she wanted to come with Bill's cock inside her. There was nothing, as far as she was concerned, like a good rattling fuck to prime her for a confrontation.
"Fuck me!" she cried. "Stick your prick inside me!"
The last command was almost a muffled scream. Bill raised his head from her sopping-wet pussy to gaze at her face. She seemed to be in some sort of pain, one would think, from the distortion of her facial features. When she wondered why he had paused, her eyes opened wildly, settling on Bill's wet face.
She reached forward and grabbed him by the head. As she kissed him, she could smell and taste her own cunt.
"Fuck me! Fuck me now!" she repeated, bouncing her hips up and down.
Bill moved up between her legs and guided his cock into her hole. He hoped she was tight. Her inhibitions were nonexistent, leading him to believe she had fucked and sucked around so much, the inside of her cunt might resemble the Suez Canal. But her snatch was surprisingly tight, and Bill gratefully rode into her narrow fuck-hole with several hard thrusts. He could feel the sweat on his own chest mix with hers and their bodies slipped together as their grunts and groans drove them further along the road to climax.
Fran pumped and thrust her hips higher and higher in a seeming effort to buck Bill right off her body. But her tightly gripping arms around his back insured her that he would never escape her grasp until she had exploded with him.
She felt as though his cock was a battering ram that was trying to punch out her womb, and though it was a violent thought, the sensations from this beating meat were exquisitely pleasurable to her.
She knew she would positively glow at their meeting that afternoon. Her cheeks would be flushed with a blush no amount of rouge could duplicate. Her eyes would sparkle with the memory of her pleasure. It had always been this way for her. From the time she had been named homecoming queen in high school. The principal, Mr. Briscoe, had called her into his office with the news.
Fran had always been attracted to Mr. Briscoe, as had half the girls in the school she went to. He was very young for a principal and, best of all, unmarried. Jokes in the girls' room would abound about who would be the first to seduce him.
Fran was fond of saying that Mr. Briscoe wasn't stupid enough to forfeit his career for a fuck, but she secretly felt that had she the opportunity, she could get him to drop his drawers. How she would engineer that opportunity was a mystery to her, but Fran had always felt if something was meant to be, it would happen.
As she stood in his office that late fall day, she knew the opportunity was staring her in the face. Or rather, at her tits.
This was an encouraging sign to Fran, who studied the way Mr. Briscoe's long dark lashes almost hit his cheeks as he averted his eyes from her tits.
"Homecoming queen is an honor few girls can look back on," he began, pointing to a seat opposite his desk and indicating that she should sit down. Fran had slid into the chair, careful that her legs should be slightly sprawled so that her beaver might be readily seen by Mr. Briscoe.
And when Mr. Briscoe thought he had seen a flash of pussy hair, he almost came right on the spot. Girls in high school were a lot different these days, he thought to himself. They seemed to have no shame and always to be on the lookout for some sexual encounter. He wished he had had those experiences for himself when he was in high school, but, his memories consisted mainly of groping in the back seat of his father's car for a cheap feel.
Fran smiled boldly at Mr. Briscoe.
"I'm flattered," she told him, letting her eyes give more meaning to her remark than her simple words.
"We've instituted a new policy far homecoming queens," Mr. Briscoe went on, clearing his throat in an effort to assert to assert his fast-fading authority in the situation. "The winner must give a speech at assembly, stating why she thinks she deserves this honor."
"When?" Fran wanted to know. She wondered if she would have time to think up a speech, or if she would have to improvise one.
Mr. Briscoe glanced at his watch. "I'm calling a three-thirty assembly for this afternoon," he said. "For all the teachers and the student body."
At the use of the word body, he allowed his eyes to once again caress Fran's form.
"What time is it now?" Fran asked.
"Two o'clock," he answered. "I might add that I'm interviewing several girls for this honor, in case your speech doesn't quite measure up to the standards I've laid down."
Shill Fran thought. How the fuck am I going to come up with some sort of winning speech in an hour and a half?
She felt the tension build throughout her young frame. Oddly enough, an itching and throbbing occurred in hey cunt as well.
"You look nervous," Mr. Briscoe observed. "Are you feeling well?"
"I'm all right," Fran said quickly. "It's just that you took me by surprise!"
I'd like to take you by real surprise! Mr. Briscoe found himself thinking. He had personally selected Fran as the winner, exercising his power of veto over the student body without their knowledge. In the five years he had been principal he had never seen a girl so sexually precocious (at least in appearance) as Fran. He wondered if it was her European heritage that gave her the look of a ripe woman when in actuality she couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen. Whatever it was, Mr. Briscoe wanted to fuck the shiv out of her, but he had to be careful. If she was as smart as her grades led him to believe, he hoped he could count on her discretion as well.
He glanced again at his watch. He would have to hurry. Mr. Briscoe didn't like the idea of fucking Fran in his office too much, but he didn't have any other choice. Suddenly he came out from behind his desk and locked his door. The gesture was the making of the situation. If she expressed alarm, she would have read her wrong.
Fran heard the bolt snap, but with a feeling of relief. No other act could have told her so clearly what she wanted to know. She turned to face Mr. Briscoe now with more authority.
"You know something?" she asked the older man. "There are plenty of girls in this school who would give their eye teeth to exchange places with me right now!"
Mr. Briscoe smiled broadly. This little cunt would soon be impaled on his prick.
He came over to where she sat in the chair and put his hands under her armpits. They were dry. Raising her gently, he brought his mouth down to hers and prodded open her lips with his searching tongue.
Fran felt his tongue enter her mouth and a thrill shot throughout her entire body. She could smell his male scent and her heart began to pound. Her hands fluttered around his back, yearning to pull him close, yet afraid to show such hunger. But Mr. Briscoe's desire for Fran gave her own new confidence.
"My God!" he murmured, breaking away from her and peering down into her face. "Where did you learn to kiss like that?"
Fran smiled. Her silence showed him she was learning how to become a woman.
"We don't have much time," Mr. Briscoe said in a low, urgent voice, and his hands moved up underneath her short skirt. Instantly he found the patch of her beaver and stuck his index finger into her cunt. Slowly, very slowly, he began to caress her clit, massaging the thickening button around and around with his carefully clipped finger.
"Oh!" Fran gasped, spreading her legs even wider. She began moving her cunt back and forth on his finger, her back arched and humping.
Mr. Briscoe was grateful that he didn't have to spend a lot of time to get her cunt lubricated. In fact, he had never felt a juicier snatch.
Fran's hand was now grasping his fly, her deft fingers unzipping Mr. Briscoe's pants expertly. As his dong shot out, Fran gasped at the size and thickness of his prick. She fell to her knees and put his rod in her mouth, sucking away like a contented child.
As much as Mr. Briscoe loved a blow-job, he knew they didn't have, a lot of time for foreplay. He raised her to her feet again and pushed her back towards his desk. Fran felt the cold wood underneath her back and though she flinched for a second, their body heat was so intense she soon found herself comfortable again.
"I'm going to fuck you!" Mr. Briscoe was saying, as though Fran didn't know this. "I'm going to stick my prick up in your juicy cunt and fuck the shit out of you!"
It thrilled Fran to hear a grown-up speak this way, especially the high-school principal who had a reputation for punishing students who used foul language!
"Yes!" she moaned. "Fuck me, you bastard!"
Mr. Briscoe didn't flinch at her choice of words at all. Though this was the first time he had fucked a student, it certainly wasn't going to be the last! He rammed his cock high into her tight cunt and began rutting in and out as though trying to beat a stop-watch.
Fran began shaking and shuddering. The ramming and battering technique employed by Mr. Briscoe was to set a precedent for all her future lovers. She could feel the blood surge to her cheeks and her face take on a feverish glow.
"Fuck me!" she screamed. "Fuck the hell out of me!"
Mr. Briscoe had the good sense to bring his mouth down on hers to muffle any more out thrusts like this and he swallowed her spit in lieu of her cunt-juice. The awareness of what he was doing and the short time he knew they had together, all sewed to speed Mr. Briscoe's cum on its trek from his balls to her cunt. Just as her own orgasm shot through her, Fran felt her womb being washed by a hot, sticky fluid, and she felt her excitement burn higher.
It was several moments before they came to a stop.
Mr. Briscoe stayed on top of her, his eyes closed, his head reeling with the enormity of what he had done. He could feel his cock retreating back to its normal size in the confines of her tight cunt and he sighed.
"You'd better get cleaned up now," he advised her with a gentle kiss. "Get ready for your speech!"
Fran opened her eyes and peered into his handsome face. "I wish I could stay here forever," she told him.
Mr. Briscoe smiled and disengaged himself from her arms. He noted his desk was being stained by his excess jizz and he removed his white handkerchief from his pocket. Wiping his desk neatly, he said: "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll be back for seconds!"
That afternoon Fran stood on the stage of the large auditorium and faced the faculty and student body. Her spirits were soaring from her fuck with Mr. Briscoe and the fact that she had been chosen as homecoming queen. Her voice rang out confidently over the masses as she spoke: "Most of you might be wondering why I should deserve the honor of the vast hall. I wondered that myself," she continued, thus endearing herself to all the jealous chickies who were staring at her with thinly veiled hatred. "But now, after an in-depth interview with our principal, Mr. Briscoe, I no longer doubt that I deserve this award!"
There was a shocked silence while the little honeys and female teachers tried to interpret her meaning. As for the boys, there was not one among them who had fucked around who didn't recognize the look on her face and what had, caused it.
"Mr. Briscoe has made me feel that I am ready to take my place in the adult society of our nation. Under his careful tutelage, I feel eager for the challenge and I say to you that you have not misplaced your choice!"
With a self-satisfied smirk, Fran had sat down to much applause. She glanced towards Mr. Briscoe to see how he had received her speech, but he now had his back to her as he led the auditorium in the school anthem.
Thus, until she graduated, Fran not only enjoyed the privileges that went with being a high-school star, she was also able to avail herself of the finest cock in the school. She went on to become a debating star, being careful to always get fucked prior to speaking in public, and enjoyed the acclaim that she received.
Now, as Bill battered and rammed away at her cunt, Fran knew her heart was pumping adrenaline and blood into every fiber of her being. And when she exploded with a powerful orgasm that kept her pussy twitching for almost five minutes, she knew her meeting with the client that afternoon was bound to be a success.