Prolog
Or You’ll Be Sleeping With the Tunas, See?
(Eight and a half months before the main story)
Two men, both wearing dark suits, strode purposefully through the lobby of the casino. One was six foot six and had a shaved head; he went by the name of Bruno. The other was six foot four, with dark close-cropped curly locks; he went by the name of Guido.
“I get to say the line this time,” Guido said out of the side of his mouth as the men marched towards their destination.
“No, you don’t,” Bruno said in a bass voice.
“Yes, I do. You got to say it last time. Don’t be a pig.”
“Crybaby.”
“I get to say it.”
The two men slowed as they approached a roulette table. A man stood there, tie loosened, hair dishevelled, a slouch that said that he had just lost again, and eyes that were already starting to get a little wild as he noticed the two men focus on him.
“Mr Watkins requests the pleasure of your company,” Bruno said in a voice so deep that the dishevelled man felt his ribs resonate.
“Uhm ... I, uh ...”
“I suggest that you come now,” Guido told him in a voice that seemed nowhere near deep enough to be coming out of that big chest.
“I—”
The two men stepped to either side of the dishevelled man and each took an arm. “Just walk with us, Mr Stanford.”
“How do you know—I—please ....” As the two men escorted him through the lobby, he called toward the Avacado room for his wife, “Rhonda! Rhonda!”
“Sir, please don’t make a scene,” Bruno told him quietly. “I would hate to have to crush your larynx.”
“Nnng!” the dishevelled man muffled his gasp.
They led him to the the elevator, then Guido pressed the “up” button. As they waited, three dancers from the casino show walked up. The elevator arrived, then Bruno held the door open for them.
“Ladies,” he said, smiling, and they stepped inside, giggling. “We’ll take the next one. You ladies have a nice day.”
“Look—look at that nice couple,” the dishevelled man said, pointing toward a man and woman standing by another elevator, “You should let them go ahead of us too. They seem like nice people.”
“Shut up,” Bruno told him quietly.
“Nnnnggg!”
“Don’t you wet your pants, Mr Stanford,” Guido warned him. “We wouldn’t like that.”
“Nnnngg!”
The elevator opened finally, and the trio stepped inside. Bruno pressed the penthouse button, and the doors closed.
“Mr Watkins is concerned about your ability to make good on your debt,” Guido started. Bruno gave his partner a glare and discreetly shook his head “no”, but Guido ignored him. “You’re not looking to shortchange him, are you?”
“Don’t,” Bruno warned Guido.
“N-no! I wouldn’t! Not ever!”
“Good, ‘cause if you ever do something like that—”
“Don’t,” Bruno warned again.
“—if you ever do, you’ll be sleepin’ with the tunas, see?”
Bruno rolled his eyes, then scowled at Guido.
“No, no, I wouldn’t do that! I just need to get to the bank, and I can get the money for Mr Watkins. Yeah, I can GET the money! I just didn’t realize that he was waiting.” Charlie Stanford nodded enthusiastically. He might just be able to wriggle out of this yet.
“Mr Stanford, do not lie to us,” Bruno told him, attempting to salvage some of the man’s anxiety.
“I’m not lying! I just didn’t know!”
Bruno changed topics. “Mr Stanford, how much do you value your kneecaps?”
“My! Kneecaps!?”
“I have this collection, you see ...”
“Please! No! I can GET the money!”
The elevator arrived, and the three men stepped out.
“Please! Really! I can GET the money!”
“You’ll need to convince Mr Watkins of that, sir. Please, this way.”
“Nooooo!” The man whined.
“Don’t MAKE me pick your ass up and carry you in!” Guido snapped.
“Noooo!”
“Mr Stanford,” Bruno spoke reasonably, “This is your opportunity to convince Mr Watkins that you are good for your debt. And to keep the ability to kneel, if you know what I mean.”
“Please!” Stanford whined, but came along with the two.
Bruno knocked on the door, waited a couple moments, then opened it. “Mr Watkins, Mr Stanford is here to see you.”
“Thank you, Bruno. Bring him in, please.”
“Please!” Stanford whined as Guido pushed him in. “You DON’T have to take my kneecaps! I can GET the money!”
“Bruno, did you threaten Charlie?”
“I just mentioned my collection, sir. As one professional to another.”
“Charlie, Charlie. They were just roughing you up. I don’t want you kneecaps. Egads! What would I do with the things?!”
Charlie Stanford gave a nervious little giggle.
“Well, besides giving them to Bruno here as a job perk.”
Another nervous giggle: please don’t possibly mean that.
“Did you know that Mr Stanford and I went to school together, Bruno?”
“No, sir.” Bruno and Guido both assumed semi-attention stances.
“Yeah. Charlie here was quarterback. He married the prom queen. Trite little tale if you ask me.”
A small sobbing sound erupted from Charlie’s throat.
“It gets worse from there. I was called a slacker back then. Folks like Charlie and his wife considered me an untouchable. They wouldn’t even be seen speaking to me. But, alas ... You know that if you do well in high school, you’re gonna be a miserable failure in life. Now Charlie’s a 250 slab o’ flab. And he’s got this gambling problem, you see. He’s in debt for a seven digit figure to me. Me—the slacker that now manages this casino that does business in the billions. What do you think of that, Bruno?”
“Ironic story, sir.”
“Yeah, pretty damn ironic. Don’t YOU think, Charlie?”
“PLEASE! I can do better! I can GET you the—”
“Bruno, Guido, could you wait right outside while Charlie and I discuss the terms of his debt?”
“Yes, sir.”
The two men stepped outside, closed the door and waited at semi-attention on either side of the doorway, like two medieval suits of armor in a modern day castle.
“That’s why I don’t let you say the lines. You blow them,” Bruno said quietly out of the side of his mouth.
“I didn’t blow the line.”
“You wasted it.” Bruno twisted up his face and put on a high-pitched mock voice, “Or you’ll be sleepin’ with the tunas, see?”
“I DIDN’T waste it.”
“When you give that line properly, the Joe wets his britches. This guy wasn’t even trembling.”
“I didn’t blow the line,” Guido pouted.
“Did so.”
“Did not.”
The Pretentiousness of the High School Reunion
Frank Watkins pressed an intercom button. “Mary, bring us in some coffee, please, sweetcheeks?” He looked at the nervous Mr Stanford. “Charlie, how the FUCK did you ever get into this mess?”
“I don’t KNOW!” A sob burst its way out of the man’s throat.
“HOW are you ever going to get out of it?”
“I will FIND a way! I will find a way, sir.”
“You know, I have a feeling you might, Charlie.”
Charlie looked up hopefully and blotted his eyes.
A pretty brunette assistant entered, wearing a navy micro-miniskirt and a sheer black blouse through which her hard nipples were obvious. She handed a cup of coffee to Mr Watkins, then another cup to Charlie, then stood to the side, never meeting Charlie’s eyes. Charlie frowned. Actually, she looked a great deal like—
“Life just has a way, don’t you think, Charlie?”
“How—how do you mean?”
“Well, you and Rhonda wouldn’t be caught dead speaking to me back in high school. Now look at you. You’re ready to shit your pants begging me to be merciful with you.”
Another sob burst out of Charlie’s throat.
Frank changed the subject. “Do you remember that beautiful honors student back in high school, Charlie?”
Nervous silence.
“Charlie?”
“Yeah! Yeah.”
“Where do you think that promising young lady is today? Running a corporation? Interviewing celebrities? Counselling stock investments? What do you think?”
“I have ... no idea, Mr Watkins.” He glanced again at the assistant. She DID look remarkably like—
“I like that. ‘Mr Watkins.’ Keep that up, Charlie. It buys you points. What would you say if I told you that that pretty little honor student is somewhere wasting all that intelligence, wasting all that potential, wasting all that promise, that she’s somewhere half-nude, serving coffee for some big cock of the walk?”
Charlie stared at the assistant. There was no way. She LOOKED like Mary, but there was just no possible way that—
“What WAS that girl’s name, Charlie?”
“It was Mary,” the woman spoke. “Mary Hillford.”
Frank sat forward. “It WAS, wasn’t it. Mary Hillford. Half-naked, serving coffee for some big prick in Vegas. Who woulda thunk it?”
“You—you can’t be—" Charlie jabbered at the woman.
Her chest as well as her face blushing, she spoke. “Believe it, Charlie.”
“I just have a way with people, Charlie,” Frank said, standing and walking over to Mary, then standing behind her to cup a breast and elicit a sigh.
“You—you have a gambling problem too?” Charlie asked Mary.
“No, Charlie,” she said, reaching her arms back behind her head and around Frank’s neck and pushing her chest forward into his hands. “I just really, really need this.” She arched her back to rub her ass against Frank’s crotch. “Oh Frank!”
“Now, Charlie,” Frank groped Mary’s breasts through the sheer fabric, “I want you to follow my directions very closely. Your kneecaps depend on this, you might say. Mary, go strip Charlie.”
“Hungh?” Charlie’s voice cracked.
“Mary is going to strip you naked. Your first task is to not ejaculate on this beautiful body yet.”
“But—”
Mary walked over to Charlie, not only meeting his eyes, but staring him down now.. “Charlie, I am going to do this because Frank told me to. But if you touch me with your creepy little pecker, I am going to bite the crawly fucking thing off. Understood?”
“Mary, be polite,” Frank scolded her.
Mary began removing Charlie’s shirt while he sat timidly. Next came his shoes and socks. Then she had him stand, unbelted him and pulled down his pants, then his boxers.
“Charlie, you’re nothing but a limp noodle down there. What’s wrong? Doesn’t Mary turn you on?”
“I used to dream about Mary ...” Charlie said, his voice trembling. “I would have done anything if ... if only she would have ...”
“Mary, help Charlie out, will you? Strip for him, please.”
Mary stood, then pushed Charlie back into his chair. “C’mon, Charlie, get HARD for me, will you?” She slid off her blouse, then peeled out of her microskirt, leaving her in just a garter belt, hose and high heels.
She looked in disgust at his bored organ. “CHARLIE?! Don’t I even make you STIFF?!”
Charlie shrugged dumbly, astonished at his own prick’s laziness and disinterest.
“You’re not even really a man, are you, Charlie? Not like Frank! He’s ALWAYS hard! You little jello-schlonged coward!” She walked over to Frank, unzipped him, then knelt and took his rod in her mouth.
Charlie looked at his lap. Not even pretty Mary Hilford’s head bobbing up and down at a man’s crotch was getting him hard! What was suddenly WRONG with him?!
“Mary,” Frank sighed finally, “Our little Charlie over there is going to need a little help.”
“Oh, NO, Frank. DON’T make me do that!”
“Go help him get it up, will you sugar-tits?”
Mary stood and marched over to Charlie. “Charlie, you sick fucking pig!” she hissed. “You goddam get that stinking pecker of yours up. Now!”
Not even a twitch.
“Charlie, goddam you, you soft pussy! Get that thing up! Do NOT make me do this!”
“I—I’m sorry ... Mary ... I don’t know ... what ... I just ....”
“You sick fuck! You just want me to SUCK it, DON’T you! You never could get me back in high school and now you are just being a perverse limp dick to weasel me into sucking your little cock! HOW are you keeping from getting hard, you stinking shit?!”
“I—I don’t—”
“Well, fuck (schlupp!) you, Charlie (schlupp).” Mary’s head bobbed on Charlie’s soft penis. “Get it (schlup) up, Charlie! (slurp) You goddam fucking pig (shshshslump)!”
“Nothing, Charlie?” Frank asked. “Just soggy oatmeal?”
Horrified, Charlie nodded vehemently.
“You’re going to hurt poor Mary’s feelings. Not to mention giving her a sore jaw from trying to wake the dead.”
“But it’s not ...”
“Tell you what, Charlie. If you can get an erection right now ... I will forgive your whole debt. On the spot. Clean and clear, the entire thing. What do you say, buddy?”
Charlie’s horrified eyes went down to meet Mary’s furious glaring eyes. She spit out his pecker. “Charlie! You fucking get that thing up! Now!”
Desperate, Charlie reached down and began groping at it with his own hand. “Pleeeeease!” he whined to it. “Come on, pleeease ...”
“Anything? Charlie?”
Charlie looked up silently at Frank and vigorously shook his head no, a horrified expression still on his face.
“You make me SICK!” Mary told him.
Frank shook his head sadly. “Well, that’s just ...”
“No! I can get it up! I CAN!” His hand was working vigorously in his lap.
“Give it up, Charlie,” Mary said, embarassed for him now. “It’s nothing more than a slack rubber band down there.”
“No! It’s coming! I can FEEL it!”
“Mary?”
“He’s not even as stiff as mashed potatoes, Frank.”
“Charlie,” Frank sighed. “You disappoint me.”
“But—I don’t mean—”
“Mary.”
“NO! Frank! I will NOT!”
“Mary, we need to try to help our little Charlie in any way that we can.”
“NO, Frank! Not again!”
“Charlie, Mary is going to try again to help you do the impossible and get a stiffie.”
“But, I can—if you just—”
“No, Charlie. We can safely conclude that you’ll never get it up by yourself. So sad. So pathetic. Mary.”
“Charlie, you PIG! I DESPISE you!” Her head went to his lap again.
Frank sat down at his desk chair and leaned back, then stared at the ceiling about two minutes. “Anything Charlie?”
“No! Not yet! But it’s coming!” he said, his voice cracking.
“Charlie, think of Mary’s jaw. And her tongue will get sore. Hell, you may give her chapped lips after this fiasco. What do you think? Can you get it up for Mary?”
“I’m TRYING! It was OKAY just a couple nights ago!”
Marriage Counselling
Frank leaned forward and pressed one of the buttons on the intercom. “Let’s proceed.” He looked at the pathetic man. “Charlie, you little pudding prick, my offer holds until that door opens. If you can get it up, your slate is clean. Give it a try, eh, old chap? One for the Gipper? Do it for the team?”
Charlie’s face bunched up in flexed concentration.
Frank almost believed that Charlie could move matter with that look of concentration ... but apparently he could not stiffen his penis.
There was a light rapping at the door, then a couple moments later, a third man in a dark suit leaned his head in. “I have your other visitor, Mr Watkins.”
“Excellent. Charlie, our little deal ceases at this point—”
“NOOOOOO! I can DO IT! Just give me a minute!” He grabbed the back of Mary’s head and began moving it faster at his lap.
“No, Charlie, you can’t. And even if you do, it won’t matter now. The deal is off. Tony, please bring our other guest in now.”
Tony opened the door the rest of the way and led a very pretty strawberry blonde woman in. She was perhaps in her early forties, still with very pretty eyes and pert breasts.
“RHONDA!!” Charlie said, jerking Mary’s head back from his lap and pushing her away.
Rhonda’s handbag dropped to the floor in shock. “CHARLIE!! What are you doing NAKED?! With that WOMAN?!”
“I can assure you, Mrs Stanford,” Frank spoke calmly, “Absolutely nothing.”
“CHARLIE?!”
Charlie’s whole body blushed as he tried to cover his crotch with both hands. Mary stood, wiped her mouth and walked over to the side of the room, still naked except for her stockings and heels.
“Mrs Stanford—may I call you Rhonda?” Frank stood and walked around to the woman, picking up and handing her her purse. “Rhonda, please, have a seat over here.”
Rhonda allowed herself to be led and took a seat on a sofa across from her naked husband.
“Rhonda, your husband owes me a great deal of money.”
Rhonda scowled at Charlie. “Exactly how MUCH money?”
“More than the two of you combined are expected to make during the rest of your lives. Needless to say, I’m not yet convinced that you two are good for the debt.”
“We ... uhm ...”
“I’m also not convinced that Charlie is sincere in wanting to relieve himself of that debt.”
“Why—why is that?”
“Well, I told him that if he could just get it up, I would clear his debt entirely. I even had beautiful Mary there try to help him by sucking his cock. But ...” Frank spread his hands and sighed.
“CHARLIE?! How COULD you?!”
“Rhonda! I’m sorry! He ordered me to strip, and he ordered her to put it in her mouth. I didn’t want to, but—”
“I don’t CARE about that! You wouldn’t GET IT UP? Not even to clear your DEBT?! You miserable LOSER!”
“I TRIED!”
“Well, not hard enough, Charlie!”
“Pun unintended,” Frank muttered.
“But—!”
“Hush, Charles,” Frank told him as he walked to the far side of the sofa Rhonda was sitting on and sat down himself. “You had YOUR chance.” He looked at Rhonda. “You still look fine, Rhonnie. The years since high school haven’t worn away your looks at all. You’re still a fine looking vixen.”
She remembered Frank Watkins, remembered the drug-dealing rumors about him, the rumors about him knocking up high school sluts and then not marrying them. He had been the lowest of the low, the slimiest of the slimy. “Thank—thank you, Frank.”
Frank leaned back and crossed his legs. “What was the name of that movie? The one that had Demi Moore in it. And Robert Redford. And that Cheers guy.”
“Ted Danson?” Charlie asked, and Frank scowled at him.
“I—I remember that movie,” Rhonda said quietly.
“Yeah, and Redford gave the girl, like, a million dollars, wasn’t it? And she would fuck him.”
Rhonda swallowed hard.
Charlie felt very vulnerable, sitting naked with his scared little shrivelled penis in the castle of the enemy, the enemy troops right outside the door, the enemy devil playing sick mind games with his pretty wife.
“Yeah, that always seemed like a pragmatic way to do business,” Frank said. “What did you think of it, Rhonda?”
“It—it, uhm ...”
“Well, you had to like Robert Redford. All the women like him. Don’t you, Rhonda?”
“Yes—yes, he’s an attractive man.”
“Attractive? Because of his pretty bleached locks? Or because of his fat-assed wallet?”
Rhonda took a moment trying to figure the best way to answer that. “Both,” she said. “Both things make him attractive.”
“You know that I thought you were pretty back in high school, Rhonda?”
“I ... suspected it.”
Frank laughed. “Suspected? I suspected that every cock at the school wanted in your pants. Teachers as well as students. And maybe a couple of the cunts wanted in there too.”
Rhonda just shrugged her shoulders.
“Do you consider yourself a good judge of people, Rhonnie?”
“I ... uhm ... don’t know how to answer that.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll come back to that in a couple minutes. Let’s try this first. Rhonda, I always lusted after you back then, and you’re still one sizzling fine piece of ass today. I will give you ten thousand dollars for a single kiss. Not a full fuck like in the movie, but a single kiss. You come over here and kiss me on the lips and I will forgive ten thousand of the lump you owe me.
Rhonda swallowed hard. Her eyes moved to her naked, feeble husband, the man that had run up the huge debt with his gambling problem and was sitting there naked now, hunched over, covering his shrunken penis with his hands. Then they travelled back to the devil that she knew was trying to get her to sell her soul, beginning with this one tiny piece. “I—I—”
Frank clapped his hands. “Before you answer that, let’s start by establishing some boundaries. Let’s try a question that I think you’re more sure of the answer. Rhonda, if I gave you a million dollars, would you fuck me? Just one fuck, no strings attached, one million dollars.”
Rhonda sighed. “No. No, I wouldn’t do that, Frank.”
“And why is that?”
“That’s not the type of person that I am. If Charlie has run us into debt, we’ll pay what we owe, but we’ll pay it straight. I won’t whore around for you.”
“Good!” He leaned his head back. “Good answer! We’ve established one line that you will not cross. I respect your integrity, Rhonda. I always knew in school that you were one fine lady. Now, let’s see what we can do about a line on the other side of things. A kiss. That’s not nearly so serious a matter as a fuck. A kiss can be given to someone outside of marriage—at least nowadays. We’re no longer medieval, are we?” He laughed. “And let’s say we’re talking about fifty thousand dollars. Fifty thousand dollars for one little ten second kiss. Hell, from a business sense, that’s five thousand dollars a second. That’s the same rate of pay that Marlon Brando got when he made ten minutes of Superman for three million. Seems almost reasonable to me, Rhonda. What do you think?”
Rhonda stared at him, then, slowly, she leaned forward and across the sofa and placed her lips on his. She did not wrap her arms around his neck, she merely held her lips to his for ten seconds, then leaned back to her seat.
“Excellent!” Frank leaned his head back and smiled, then looked back at her. “We have a line drawn on each end of the spectrum. Now comes the fun part of seeing where they meet. Is a french kiss worth two hundred thousand dollars? Is a boob grope worth one million? How much for an ass fuck?”
“I don’t think—”
“Back to the earlier question, Rhonda. Are you a good judge of character?”
“I still don’t—”
“Let’s simplify it then. Are you a good judge ofyour own character?”
“Do—do I know my own self? Yes. Yes, Frank, I do.”
“Good! Good!” he smiled. “Do you remember Mary Hillford from the old days?”
“What? I am not following you at all, Frank.”
“Mary Hillford. Remember her?”
“Yes. Of course I remember Mary. She was valedictorian. She was accepted at that—that journalism university, whatever one that was. She was going to be a big writer.”
“That’s the one. What do you think? Would she kiss me for ten thousand dollars, or would she hold out like you for a bigger purchase price?”
“Frank, I am not following where your logic is heading.”
“Would she kiss me for ten thousand dollars, Rhonda? Or would she not?”
“I ... really have ... no idea.”
Frank smiled. “Mary? Mary Hillford?”
The naked woman that Rhonda had first seen with her head buried in her husband’s lap stepped forward from where she was trying to blend in with the wallpaper and stood beside Frank.
“Mary Hillford, do you remember Rhonda Stanford nee Davison?”
“I remember Rhonda, Frank.”
“Mary, give me a kiss.”
The naked woman kneeled down and planted a kiss on Frank’s mouth. A moment later, her tongue entered his mouth. After a half minute, she stood back up beside him.
“Well, there you have it.”
“There I have what, Frank?” Rhonda asked, still not entirely believing that this was that girl from high school. She LOOKED like Mary, but Mary had been dignified, stubborn. She would NEVER demean herself like this.
“Well, not only would Mary kiss me for ten thousand, she’d additionally french me for free.”
Rhonda just stared back at him.
“Rhonda—don’t make a move until we settle this next question, please—will you soul-kiss me for a quarter million dollars?”
Rhonda swallowed. Where DID she draw the line? Was she a whore if she kissed him like that? Or did it take a stronger action to make her a whore? Or just a lower price tag?”
“Rhonda?”
“Y- yes,” she said. I will french kiss you—and nothing more—for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“Splendid. We’re establishing price tags.” He looked over his shoulder. “Mary? Unzip me, please, hon.”
Mary knelt in front of Frank, unzipped his pants, then pulled them down to his knees when he raised his butt.
“Sit on it, won’t you, sugar-titties?”
Mary turned around so her ass was to Frank, widened her stance, then stepped back to straddle his legs. Positioning his cock with her fingers, she sighed and arched her back as she sank down on it.
“Mmmm, nice. Now, back to Rhonda. Is there any amount of money that would get you to do this for me?”
Rhonda watched, repulsed, as the other woman slowly bounced on Frank’s cock. “No, NO amount of money will make me be a slut for you, Frank.”
“And I guess an ass fuck is out of the question.”
Rhonda did not even dignify that with a comment.
“How about ... a boobie grope? Bra and shirt stay on. I just pet your titties for sixty seconds through your clothes. Is that worth ten million? That’s a sizable chunk of what you two owe me. Is it worth it?”
She knew this lech was trying to get her to yield her soul a piece at a time, trying to ease her into whoring herself, bit by bit.
“Rhonda?”
“Charlie, how much are you in for?”
“No, let’s just set an absolute price tag on this. You know that your debt is more than ten million and less than a hundred million. And I’ll raise the bid to twenty million. If you let me grope your titties for one minute, I will give you twenty million. That COULD be everything that you owe me. Hell, it could be that it pays off your entire debt, and I OWE YOU ten million!
“So ... what’s the answer, Rhonda?”
Several seconds passed in silence. “Yes,” she finally said softly. “For twenty million you can feel my breasts for one minute.”
“Great! Do you see how easy it is to do business, Rhonda? We make a GREAT team. Now one last offer.” He paused, shutting his eyes and grunting as he shot his load inside Mary. She slowed, then stopped, then stood and walked back to the wall.
Frank opened his eyes and looked at Rhonda. “One last offer. I will forgive all the rest of your debt—this could be worth eighty million, Rhonda. I will forgive all the remainder of your debt if you put my cock in your mouth for sixty seconds. You don’t have to make me cum—hell, I’m already spent after Mary here—you don’t have to swallow. All you have to do is hold me in your mouth for sixty seconds. And you and Charlie walk out of here in the free and clear. Quite a deal, don’t you think, Rhonda?”
Rhonda just sat and stared at the demon trying to weasel corruption out of her.
“See, I’m trying to just get what I can. We’ve already established that you’re not about to fuck me for any amount of money. And, if I’m right, I also couldn’t pay you enough to grope your naked breast.”
“No. I don’t THINK so!”
“See? I’m a good judge of character. And you’ve already claimed to be a good judge of your own character. So, what is it?”
Several more silent moments passed. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, I will do it. In return for a cleaned debt. AND you never permit Charlie to play any of the games in your casino ever again.”
“Wonderful! A counter offer. That is no problem. And we have lines! I feel so much more comfortable with gentle reassuring lines. In return for the fifty thousand dollars and the twenty million dollars and the nulling out of your debt and the preventing Charlie from ever playing in my casino, you will french kiss me for sixty seconds, let me feel your breast through your shirt for sixty seconds, and hold my cock in your mouth for sixty seconds.”
“Yes. That is what I will do. Is it a deal?”
“And a naked boobie grope is wholly out of the question, let alone a naked pussy grope. A blowjob doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell, and a full fledged fuck is utterly out of the question. And, God forbid, an anal fuck is simply unthinkable.”
“Stop playing games with me. Is it a deal?”
“I’m not playing games, Rhonda. Will you do any of these latter things for me? For any amount of money whatsoever?”
Several seconds passed, and she realized it was a serious question. “No. There is no way I ill do any of those things. No way, Frank.”
“It’s a deal, then!” He slapped his thigh. “I’m gonna kiss ole’ Rhonda Davison! And I’m uh-gonna ... touch her titties! And then ... and then ... she’s uh-gonna take me in her mouth!”
“Stop taunting me, Frank. This is a business deal. Nothing more. Let’s get it over with.”
“Hold on just a sec.” Frank pulled off his shoes, then his pants, then leaned back in the corner of the sofa, a new erection already stiffening. “Okay! Come plant your big old smooch on daddy’s hungry lips, Rhonda.”
Rhonda scowled, then stood and stepped towards him. She pointed an index finger at him. “No touching. Sixty seconds of kissing with tongue. The deal includes nothing more.”
“Exactly,” Frank grinned.
Rhonda bent over and leaned in, careful not to let his penis touch her. After swallowing distastefully, she placed her lips to his. This was so repulsive that she didn’t know how she’d go through with the other two parts of the deal. Slowly, she inserted her tongue into his mouth.
Oh.
Oh, WOW!
A ripple of thrills moved from his tongue into hers, then spread out to her lips.
OhGOD!
His tongue entered her mouth in return, and she sucked on it, sliding her lips, charged with erotic energy, full erogenous zones now, back and forth on his tongue. She jumped slightly as it felt like her tongue was orgasming! Then it spread to her lips! Then to her throat!
Oh ... fucking ... WOW!
“Nnngh?” she murmurred as she felt Frank break off that delightful kiss and she tried to refocus her eyes. She realized she was laying on her back on the sofa. Frank, who had moved on top of her—touching her with his penis, she realized now!—was standing up.
“What?” she murmured, confused
“I know, I know,” Frank said. “We agreed for sixty seconds, and I only took thirty.”
Thirty seconds?! She felt all THAT in thirty seconds?!
“But I want to share my wonderful discovery.”
She was still sweeping the erotic cobwebs out of her brain. “Share?”
“Mary!” Frank said, looking to the side of the room. “You gotta try some of this!”
Share? Mary? He had only kissed her for thirty seconds. And now he wanted to share the other thirty ... with Mary. With MARY?!
“Frank!” She sat up and saw Mary in front of her as she got her eyes to focus. “I am NOT bisexu—mmmmphth!”
Mary shut her up with a french kiss.
The same thrills, the same spreading orgasm slowly zinged through her. It was just starting to crest when she felt Mary part lips with her.
“Don’t stop again ...” she heard herself mutter.
“I always wanted to do that ...” Mary whispered. “To mouth-fuck you with my tongue, Rhonda. Since high school.”
“You ... you really ARE Mary, aren’t you?”
Mary just smiled and nodded her head, then slid back to her place standing in front of the wall.
Frank clapped his hands, his erection hanging out in front of him. How the hell did he get so hard again so fast?
“Well! THAT was delightful!” he smiled. He grabbed a towel, then stepped towards Rhonda, who was still recomposing after her experience kissing the two of them.
“First of all, stand up.”
Rhonda stood.
Frank spread a towel out where she had been sitting. “Okay, you can sit back down now.”
She looked questioningly at him.
“You looked like you were going to make a spot. You already have a little wet spot on the front of your skirt, and I didn’t want you to stain my expensive sofa with your sex juices.”
“Frank! I do NOT!” She looked at the front of her skirt, and, actually, she did.
“Sit, Rhonnie. We’re ready to earn you twenty million.”
Rhonda sat. “Okay, Frank. By the rules. You can feel my breasts through my bra and blouse. Sixty seconds. No more.” She sat on the towel and held her arms back, unintentionally puffing out her chest.
Frank sat beside her and unceremoniously grabbed her boob.
The tingling, the dancing, spreading orgasms, started at her nipple, then flowed and zinged around her breast, following his fingertips like iron filings following a magnet.
“Oh GOD!” she gasped.
“That’s my girl.” He treated her to forty-five seconds of the sensations, then spoke. “Rhonda! Do you see what I see?”
“Ngh?” she asked vaguely from a great erotic distance.
“Look at Charlie, Rhonda.”
She focussed her eyes on her useless lump of a husband. The incompetent slug that had run up a tremendous debt, forcing her to do ... do these THINGS .. to get it paid off.
“Rhonnie ... he’s getting HARD!”
Rhonda squinted her eyes and peered at her husband’s crotch, which he was trying to cover with his hands.
“Charlie?!” She raised her eyebrows.
Charlie sat tensely, covering his groin with his hands.
“Charlie! You ARE! You’re getting HARD!”
“I ... uhm ...” He shrugged his shoulders.
“You’re getting HARD! Watching your wife get GROPED!”
Charlie shrugged again.
“THIS turns you ON, Charlie?!” she screamed.
“I ... uhm ...” Another shrug.
“I can’t BELIEVE you, Charlie!” she said, standing up, then stepping over to stand in front of Frank. She sat back down on the couch between Frank’s legs, his penis touching her back, then pulled Frank’s hands up from behind her and placed them both on her breasts.
“Maybe a DOUBLE grope will get you DOUBLE hard, Charlie!”
Indeed, the head of Charlie’s pecker strained up from behind his hands.
“It DOES, Charlie! I can’t BELIEVE you’re GETTING OFF on watching your WIFE get GROPED!”
Charlie just shrugged again, his whole body blushing.
“Well, maybe THIS will get you even MORE excited, Charlie!” She pulled Frank’s hands from her boobs, unbuttoned and removed her blouse, then unsnapped and removed her bra, and returned Frank’s hands to her bare titties.
Frank smiled from ear to ear.
“Does THIS get you even HARDER, you little TURD?! Hmmm?! Where was your goddam erection when it could have paid off our debt and kept me from having to go through all this?! You could have kept your wife from having to DO these horrible degrading things, Charlie!”
Charlie pulled his hands back to fully expose his enthusiastic erection. What it lacked in length it made up for in eagerness. It looked like a four foot midget, standing on its tiptoes, stretching, straining, trying to see the parade past he tall people standing in front of it.
“You don’t even have a cock of your own, you little scumbag turd! You have to borrow Frank’s, don’t you?!”
Frank’s hands caressed and massaged her breasts.
“Well,” she said, leaning back against Frank’s chest, his caresses relaxing her, making those little orgasms take over her body. “Well you just watch then, you impotent little peeping ... mmmmmm ... tom ...”
She closed her eyes and just let herself feel Frank’s hands on her, feel the sensations they were giving her. Ohgod!
She opened her eyes again and saw Charlie three feet away, leering at her and Frank.
Well, let him. She was feeling far too good to let him spoil this experience.
After another minute, Frank whispered to her, “I think our sixty seconds are up, Rhonda.”
“You don’t ...” She reached her arms up behind her to wrap them around Frank’s neck. “You really don’t ... have to stop, Frank ... mmmmmmm ...”
“Well, we need to move on to the third part of the deal. And you need to watch yourself.”
“Watch ... myself? ... Why? ...” Frank’s hands were still bringing magnificent tingles to her breasts.
“Don’t you remember, my little slut? No amount of money could make you let me touch your bare breasts.”
She leaned her head back to tongue his neck. “I’m not a slut, Frank. And I’m just being ... generous to you.”
“Hmmmm ... generous?”
“Yeah ...” she smiled
“Well,” Frank said, taking his hands from her busom. “We need to move on to the third part.” He stood, forcing her to stand as well.
As she stepped forward so Frank could move from behind her, she came closer to Charlie than she wanted to be. “Ugh! Get away!” she said, swatting at his straining woody, but he jumped back before she could successfully whack him.
“I’d like ...” Frank said from behind her, and she turned to face him, still topless. He handed her a box. “I’d like you to put this on and wear it during our third part.”
Rhonda took the box from him and opened it. It contained a pair of black four inch heels, a turquoise garter belt, and hose.
“You ... want me to wear ... THIS?”
Frank nodded.
“I’d be ... exposing ... my ... my pussy to you, Frank.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Weeeellll ... you’ve already gotten a good gander at my boobies ... so I guess my bare pussy wouldn’t be all that much worse ...”
“You did, of course, swear that nothing in the world could ever make you show your pussy to me, Rhonda.”
“Weeellll ...” she smiled, “... a girl’s got a right to change her mind. Do you want to see it? My pussy ... I mean.”
She held her breath, hopeful.
“Do you want to show it to me?”
Rhonda swallowed hard, suddenly nervous. “Where ... do I change?” she whispered.
Frank smiled. “Use that room over behind Mary there.”
Charlie waited until Rhonda was in the room and had closed the door, then burst with exuberance. “Oh, MAN! You’ve got her baring her BOOBS and letting you FEEL HER UP! Oh man oh MAN!” He pressed his fists into his own crotch and rubbed them there. “Oh man oh MAN!”
Frank raised his eyebrows. “Careful there, little monkey, or you’ll hurt something down there.”
“Oh MAN! Oh MAN!”
A minute later, Rhonda opened the door and stepped out, wearing nothing but the heels, hose and garter belt. Her pussy was strawberry blonde too.
“Oh, MAN! OHMAN!” Charlie pressed hard, grinding his fists in his crotch. “Grrrkh!” he finally groaned, having pressed too hard, then fell over on the floor, making little vomitting sounds.
“Oh, GOD!” Mary exclaimed, disgusted. “Charlie, you spineless little piss-scum! If you put vomit on this floor, I am going to make you LICK it off! I’m WARNING you!”
Rhonda looked in Frank’s eyes. “Do ... you like?” she whispered.
“Step over here, bitch.”
Rhonda stepped to him.
He reached behind her, gripping and squeezing her upper thigh and buttocks. “You’ll do,” he pronounced. “Well?”
Rhonda had hoped for a better reaction than that. She was used to inspiring men to fall over their own feet just by smiling at them. Frank’s response was ... needless to say ... lukewarm. “Well what, Frank?”
“Well, let’s get to it. On your knees. Take me in your mouth. The whole shebang. But—”
Rhonda swallowed, her mouth watering in anticipation. “But ... what, Frank?”
“You got a little out of control during part two, wouldn’t you agree, Rhonda? The deal was that I would feel your clothed boob for sixty seconds. We went a lot longer than sixty seconds, and you were stripping out of your blouse, out of your bra, just making a real scene of yourself.”
Rhonda blushed crimson.
“And after swearing that nothing could make you do those things. I was really disappointed.”
“I’m SORRY, Frank,” she said, a pleading tone in her voice.
“You’ve got to remember, Rhonda. You were my high school dream! My lady on a pedestal! So, PLEASE ... a little more lady-like, hmmm?”
“ANYTHING, Frank,” she sank to her knees and stared at his erection. “Just anything ...”
Frank nodded, and she opened her mouth and took his cock inside.
Ohgod!
The TASTE!
It must be traces of his jism from where he’d fucked Mary, but WOW! She started licking and tonguing it, eagerly, then furiously, trying to lap up the taste! Oh fuck!
After a few moments, his pubic hair kept going up her nose as her head bounced on his prick, deep-throating him with each descent. She had no idea how she was able to take him in so deep—usually anything more than just the head made her gag—but she didn’t fucking CARE! She NEEDED that cock as far inside her a she could get it!
All too soon, Frank spoke. “Well, that’s sixty seconds, Rhonda. I sure do appreci—”
Rhonda seized his buttocks in an iron grip with her hands and continued to impale her throat with his cock, desperate to get to the juicy climax.
“Oh, my! Rhonda! You really are quite good at this. You could be a professional cocksucker, you know. I always thought of you as a proper innocent—where did you learn this slutty art?
Shame washed over her, but she didn’t CARE! This just felt too GOOD! She couldn’t even imagine how good it was going to be when Frank squirted slime down her throat!
“Mary, you should experience the suction power she’s giving!”
“Maybe I could use her over here, then, Frank. This little pig turd DID just vomit. But the idea of making him lick it all up and swallow it back down just disgusts me because I know how much he’s going to get off on it.”
“Charlie ... Charlie ....” Frank sighed. “You’ll be delighted to hear that your wife is determined to finish this blowjob and swallow.”
Charlie pressed his crotch hard, then retched again.
“Oh, come on, Frank. He’s made enough of a mess already!”
Frank grunted, and Rhonda felt his ass cheeks clench, and she KNEW it was coming ... COMING .... Jism filled her mouth, and she swallowed load after load, saving the last mouthful to swirl around on her tongue and let it run down her chin to show Frank what a nasty girl she was. The kind of girl that Frank liked.
She sat back on her butt, spread her legs and started frigging herself in front of him. “I’m your fucking WHORE, Frank! I’ll do ANYTHING you want! ANYTHING! ANY TIME!”
Frank laughed and looked at Mary, and Rhonda glanced that way too. Mary was sitting on a chair, looking bored, the heel of her shoe sunk up inside Charlie’s rectum. Charlie was on his hands and knees, ass high in the air, tongue lapping up the lunch he’d just vomitted up. Weak pig!
“Rhonda,” Frank sighed. “I thought you said you were a good judge of your own character. I thought you said you wouldn’t whore for me.”
“I AM your whore now, Frank. I’m your sexed up hoooooorny SLUT!”
“And you said that a blowjob didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell, that an anal fuck was simply unthinkable.”
Rhonda’s eyes lit up. “YES! Fuck me UP THE ASS, Frank! She scrambled to a doggie position and wriggled her ass for him. “FUCK MY ASS, Frank! PLEASE!”
“Well,” Frank shrugged. “What the lady wants ....”
The Cheerleader Slut Clique
(Two weeks before the main story)
Nicole Haversley swallowed hard. How had it come to this? HOW had she run up a half million dollar gambling debt?
“Remember the old days, Nicole?” Frank Watkins was leaning back in his chair, puffing a cigar.
Nicole remembered. She remembered how the whole school had envied her and the other cheerleaders. She remembered how Frank had been a virtual leper—touch him, and you’ll sink beneath the waves of sewage too.
“You know ... I used to think you were pretty, Nicole.” Then the sonofabitch had the gall to LEER at her, to imply that one way out of her financial toubles would be to—ugh! No way!
“Never. NEVER in a MILLION years! As a matter of fact, I will be talking to my LAWYER!” She started to stand.
“Never say never, Nicole. Why, just a few months ago, I had one of your friends in here, and she ate those same words.” He smiled, “Right along with my jism.”
“Pig!” she glared at him. “You might be able to intimidate some—”
Frank leaned forward and pressed the intercom. “Hey, slutcheeks! Drag that whale belly o’ yours out here, will ya?”
Rhonda had made sure that her hair was just right, that her makeup was just the way Frank liked. She was wearing her black four inch heels and had a sheer black scarf tied loosely around her waist. She had been sqeezing her nipples—like they really needed perking up! She had been a whoring sex machine for months now! Her boobs had gotten SO much bigger in the last few weeks! She might not even need to get a boob job if they stayed this size.
She stepped out into Frank’s office to answer his call, lust dancing in her eyes, her boobs and pregnant belly hanging out naked, her shaven pussy hidden only by the sheer scrap of material.
Nicole nearly had a conniption. “Rhonda?! Rhonda Davison?!”
“Oooooh!” Rhonda sighed, drinking in the shock she was eliciting from her old co-cheerleader friend from high school. “I am SO fucking HORNY for you, Frank!”
“You see, Nicole?” Frank taunted her. “Rhonda was in the same shoes as you just a few months ago. NOW look at her!”
Rhonda looked Nicole in the eyes. “You’re gonna give him your asshole before the day is up!” she predicted with a giggle.
“I will NEVER—”
The two pretty women had put on their FU cheerleading costumes, and over an hour’s time had stripped back out of them again.
“WHY am I DOING these things?!” Nicole kept asking until she was simply too horny to care. Now she was in doggy stance, begging Frank to fuck her up her ass while Rhonda cheered her on.
“Well ... what the lady wants ....”
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