This is a work of fiction. The story is an unadulterated and unabashed attempt to tickle male and perhaps some female fantasies as well. As such, the story may or may not conform entirely with reality. But isn't that the whole point of fantasies--what could be? With historical exceptions, all other locations, events, and characters are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.]
I do not practice nor do I condone any of the sexual acts about which I write, other than straight, heterosexual relationships. Beside the fact that most other forms of sexual behavior are illegal, I still don't judge consenting adults for their sexual preferences except where such behavior is hurtful/harmful to others, such as pedophilia.
None-the-less, many people have FANTASIES of such taboo laden behavior to achieve sexual gratification or whatever, but have no intentions whatsoever of carrying out such behavior in actual practice. That said, if I have struck a particular fantasy of yours, read and enjoy.
Barb Bushy ... female lead character, twenty-eight
Edward Busy ... leading male character, twenty-three, brother of Barb
The Crazy Russian (Ivan Ivanovitch Chezniski ... supporting male character, forties, Barb's significant other
while in Russia
Roger Chesterton ... supporting male character, late thirties, San Francisco banker
Ted Jones ... minor male supporting character, forty, salesman, seat mate on plane
My mind was in turmoil. My body only a little less so. I was going home. Home, after nine long years. I could hardly believe it yet. I was particularly anxious as to what I'd find when I finally got there. I hadn't seen my parents or my only other sibling, a brother Edward, in all that time.
Why? Because I left home when I was nineteen. My purpose was to study art at the Sorbonne in Paris. My brother was a very pimply fourteen year old at the time. He was a constant and irritating little shit ever since I entered puberty; he stayed that way until I left for Paris.
My parents? They were on the verge of divorce by the time I left. Three years later, they were killed in a car/train crash. I didn't get home for the funeral because I never found out about it until years later. Anyway, I was incommunicado somewhere in eastern Russia with The Crazy Russian at the time.
In fact, it'd been less than two years ago that I had learned of their death. My Crazy Russian had just recently disappeared under strange circumstances and I had word from the Russian Secret Police in no uncertain terms, to get out of the country sooner rather than later. I was one really lost lady.
Thus, I found myself on a United 747 seat on the great circle route from Moscow to San Francisco. We were past the North Pole with only a couple of hours left to fly. I was growing more apprehensive all the time.
No one would meet me in Frisco. I still had to fly on to Chicago and then get a regional flight to Sioux City, Iowa. Then I would need to rent a car for a drive of several hours to rural Spencer. So I had a long time before I should be apprehensive, but I couldn't help it.
I had no money worries. Not at least for some time. The Crazy Russian, shortly before he disappeared, gave me a letter of introduction and the numbers to a money account in a New York bank and in a second, off shore bank in Bermuda. I knew nothing of the amounts involved, only that the Crazy Russian said I would be well taken care of. I planned to wire the New York Bank from Chicago before going on.
The landing at San Francisco International was hair raising to say the least. We landed in a turbulent thunderstorm and literally swayed in all over the place on the approach and then bounced our way down the runway until we were able to taxi to the gate. I dreaded flying anyway and that experience did nothing to bolster my confidence in flying.
As I walked to the Cab stand after clearing customs, I thought, Why wait til Chicago? I'll just go to a bank here and wire New York for some spending money to tide me over til I decide on what to do and where I'm going.
The date was nearly mid July and still quiet, comfortable weather. I was dressed in a loose halter top, knee length culottes, and sandals sans socks. When I bent over to get into the cab, the cabbie was looking my way and got an eyeful of my more than generous boobs, unfettered by a bra. I quickly gave the cabbie the address of a big bank in town. I also gave the cabbie a wink.
Ass we sped along in traffic, I could see the cabbie's eyes dart to and from the rearview mirror that was turned my way, not so much to the traffic behind.
OK, buster, you want to look, then look, I thought.
I unsnapped the front closing halter and let its cups fall to my sides. My hands returned to my exposed boobs to caress and knead. I rolled my nipples with my thumbs and fingers. The cabbie swerved and sideswiped a parked car and then tail ended a squad car at a red light.
My giggles got the better of me as I quickly resnapped my halter in place, handed the metered fare to the cabbie, and said, Your mirror just gave you your tip!
I climbed out of the cab, leaving the cabbie to face the music. I'd noticed we were only one block short of my destination. The walk was invigorating.
The sweet young thing, cute by the way, at the information desk took my request to see the manager and dialed a number on her phone. A bug-eyed young assistant came and ushered me to a secluded waiting room.
The manager entered from across the room. He was mid thirties, handsome, and suave. He ushered me into his office and he was introduced as Mr. Roger Chesterton.
How may I help you, dear lady? Your name is Barbara Bushy, correct?
I handed him my letter of introduction. He read it and then looked up at me.
Ah yes, our dear Mr. Chezniski. His reputation has preceded you.
We chatted for some time. Unintentionally, I gave Mr. Chesterton a number of great looks into my gapping halter top. He sure didn't waste any of those opportunities.
I have a suggestion, Ms. Bushy.
Yes, Mr. Chesterton?
I really wouldn't like to see this bank lose your account, but, for a fee, I can set you up with an offshore account that will be highly beneficial to you financially.
How much of a fee, sir?
Oh, I don't mean a monetary fee, Ms. Bushy.
Then, just what kind of fee did you have in mind, sir?
Come now, Ms. Bushy, you're quite a lovely young woman. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out the fee I have in mind.
Why you dirty old man, I thought.
I stood up quickly, somewhat red faced.
I didn't hesitate one iota. Come here, Roger! It was given as a command, not a request.
Roger stood, showing off a really good bulge in his pants as he did, and came around the desk to face me. I opened and dropped my halter top, giving him an unobstructed view of my naked orbs. The nipples hardened immediately.
Drop you pants and underwear. Do it quick.
He complied, freeing a sizable boner and a large ball sac. The tip of his cock head slid out of his uncut foreskin and it was leaking precum. That cock was still bouncing a bit from the rapid passing of his dropped clothes. It throbbed with life.
I pushed him back onto the front edge of his desk, scattering his name card and some other trinkets in the process. He sat down hard. His bouncing boner was now staring up at an angle, right in my face.
Take a really good look, Roger. This is what you ARE NOT going to get a taste of. I'm not a dumb blonde, ' Roger. I don't have an account in this bank and I never will now. I also already have an offshore account and don't need another. All I want is to have a draft of money sent here to me in the amount of fifty-thousand dollars. You will do that now by giving instructions to an assistant over your phone or I will scream bloody murder. Do it!
Roger started to get up.
Just sit right there just as you are and do it, Roger.
He did. When he hung up, I spoke again.
Roger, how many women have you done on your desk like this?
Ummph, I don't know--a lot, I guess.
Well, I've changed my mind. I need a good fuck. You've been a good boy and carried out what I wanted.
My mouth dropped into place over his glans and my tongue went to work. I laved all around that prick tip, tonguing the little eye for its juice. My reward was some deep groans of pleasure from Roger. Suddenly, his hands grabbed my head through my hair on either side and held me tight as he spasmed his cum into my mouth.
Like that did you, Rog?
Mmmph, was all he could manage to say.
I swallowed all his spend, but kept my mouth on his dick as I worked to get him hard again. When I succeeded doing so, I stood up and did a sexy strip tease of dropping my culottes. Rog seemed to like my bald pussy with the little narrow landing strip of trimmed red hair on my mons just above my clit.
How bout a little muff diving, Rog? That way you can get me even more ready for that fuck stick of yours.
He needed no further urging. Rog stood and I switched places with him with my ass then on the desk edge. He stepped between my widespread legs and dropped to his knees. He was pretty good with his tongue and I climaxed within two minutes.
Enough, Roger, now I need that cock of yours where it'll do me the most good.
.... There is more of this story ...