by Arthur Kay |
Less than fifteen minutes later, Tracy and Lucy were saying hello again and hugging
each other. Lucy got them a booth, and ordered two gin and tonics. The waitress
gave Lucy a fisheye look, and then looked at Tracy, as if to say, you sure
she's of legal age to drink, Ms. Fern? Lucy, prepared to lie, was beaten to the punch by Tracy, who had her driver's license out. Yep, as any waitress with eyes could see, she was 18, which made her legal in this state to imbibe alcohol. Lucy said to Tracy, "You hungry kid?" Lucy shook her head. Lucy turned to the waitress. "I'm not hungry, either. When you see our two gins disappear, back 'em up. OK?" It was. The drinks were in front of them in less than five minutes. "God," Lucy said, turning back to Tracy. "Eighteen! It has been a long fuckin' time. But, girl, I've only got an hour, so why don't we get to your troubles. OK?" Tracy nodded, took a deep breath, followed by a gin sip. Lucy added, "We can play catch up on old times later." Again, Tracy nodded. Tracy then told Lucy everything, leaving nothing out. How she had just about seduced the mentally challenged Rug Burns. How his large, foot long penis had mesmerized her, and made her a fool. How Mr. Burns had her on film doing it with his son, while riding the horsey. His blackmailing of her. The three dirty pirates in suite 111. Her pirate ship fantasy. Everything. Even the golden rum-swallowing episode. She even confessed to Lucy that she had loved all the sucking and fucking, but hated the pissing part. And she told her of Burns' future plans for her. It came flooding out of her in one breathless monologue. Lucy listened and, if truth were told, found her pussy welling up with moisture, and palpitating, at the vivid descriptions coming from the young woman. She couldn't help herself. She was imagining it all happening to her. Filthy pirates and all. Lucy knew she would be late getting back to the office, but she didn't care. This was too, too juicy to pass up. As Tracy unloaded more of her tale, Lucy nodded here and there, squirming in her seat, until the entire sordid story had been told. "Sheesh!" Lucy said. "And now the bastard pirate Captain, oops, I mean Burns, wants you to handle eight men at once and, unless I miss my guess, more than that in the future. You've told me, Tracy, that you enjoyed it with Burns and his son, and even with the three, as you called them, pirates, and that's your right, to enjoy it, honey, but you're correct about eight men being out of the question. You won't be able to walk for a week!" Lucy grimaced, torn between the horror of it all and the hot, sexual implication of being gangbanged by a lusty band of brutish cutthroats. "Not to mention, you'll probably explode with that much pissy golden rum in you!" She forced out a chuckle, in an attempt to lighten the situation. Lucy winced, making a lemon-sucking face. "I know, but what can I do about it, Lucy?" She looked truly dejected. "If those films ever got out, especially if seen by my father, I'd have to kill myself!" She started to cry. Between sobs, she said, "I was hoping Tag . . . Mr. Bonewell . . . could help me . . . but I don't . . . " She started crying some more, the tears flowing uncontrollably. It all seemed so utterly unsolvable to her. But not to Lucy. Lucy reached out, lifted Tracy's wet chin up, and handed her a paper napkin. "Here, sweetie, dry those tears! Believe me, it's not hopeless. If anyone can figure a way out of this shitty mess, Tag sure can. But, you know, he's gonna have to hear it all, every detail, and you'll have to tell it to him just like you told it to me. He's . . . " "I can't, Lucy, I just can't." She looked pleadingly at Lucy, as if saying, wordlessly, she hoped Lucy would volunteer for that particular untasty job. Lucy, with compassion for the young girl swelling her chest, didn't let her down. "Okay, Trace, I'll talk to him. But after I do, he may want to talk to you. Can you handle that much?" "If I have to, I guess I have to. Oh, God, Lucy, this is all so fucking embarrassing and humiliating. Why was I so stupid as to . . . ?" "Never mind that now, that's spilled milk. I'll speak to Taggy Poo and if he doesn't help you, I'll cut his nuts off! OK?" She giggled as she lifted her glass for a sip. Tracy, not being able to help herself, also giggled. She felt better now. She took a long swig of the gin and tonic. "And, Tracy, when I speak to Tag, I'll leave out the golden rum part. OK?" Tracy nodded. That was just fine with her. "Lucy, I don't know if Tag can stop this guy or not, but just talking to someone about it has helped. The only thing I dread now is knowing Mr. Bonewell's going to have to hear all about my . . . uh . . . escapades." She shuddered. "Brrr!" Then took another sip, her hands trembling. "Don't worry about that! Tag's as perverted as Larry Flynt, maybe even more so. Besides, if Tag does come up with a solution, and it works, he'll probably want to fuck you himself, as payment for a job well done!" She laughed. Tracy also laughed. "Well, Luce, if you don't mind . . . he can!" "Mind? Hell, I'd wanna watch!" They both laughed, the laughter making one of them feel a whole lot better. And more hopeful than she had felt in what seemed to be a long time. They then had some girl talk, with Lucy filling her in on just how large and magnificent Tag's cock was, and how good it felt to suck and fuck it. Tracy was all ears, oohing and aahing here and there, as Lucy went on and on about Tag's wonderful penis. Your ears burning, Taggy, old thing? "And," Lucy added, standing up to leave, and leaving a nice tip. "Talk about a heavy cummer . . . " * * * * * * AFTER TAG had heard the entire lewd and sordid story, minus the pissing part, he told Lucy to have Tracy come into the office the next day. He already had a plan in mind. And it would take a willing Tracy to pull it off. "Lucy," Tag said. "Ivan Shakely is in town for a security convention. I believe he's staying here, at the Wellington. He'll probably drop by to see me, at some point, but I don't want to wait. See if you can run him down and ask him if he would come see me. OK?" Ivan Shakely was the guy Tag had replaced as hotel dick when Ivan took a more lucrative job with another hotel on the opposite coast. The two of them had hit if off, and had actually had a few threesomes with Mrs. Merganthal, Mergie, one of the hotel's longtime residential guests. Tag had caught the sexy Mergie, in this very suite, giving Ivan a hot blowjob, and had been invited to join them, which he did. (Reader: See: Tag Bonewell: House Dick! to read all about it.) "Sure, Taggy," Lucy said. "No prob. Anything else?" There was. Tag filled Lucy in on his basic plan, and what he expected her to do with Tracy in preparing her for her role in the scheme. Tag said, "Think she can pull if off?" Lucy giggled. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure she can. She's a tough gal, Tag. And she's gonna love doing it, too. In fear and dread, no doubt, but I can picture her liking the fun parts." She winked at Tag, who grinned and winked right back at her. Tag picked up the house phone and dialed the extension for the front desk. A pleasant sounding man answered on the second ring. "Hi, Willie, it's Tag. I need a favor. Give me the number of a suite, any suite that is not being used right now. Hmm . . . suite 209. Good. Now listen carefully, Willie, sometime within the next week, a Hal Burns, that's aitch-a-el-bee-you-ar-en-ess, is going to ask for a suite. You make sure he gets 209. OK?" It was, with no questions asked. "And, Willie, keep suite 209 open for Burns. Don't give it out to anyone else in the meantime. OK?" No problem was Willie's answer. "And, Willie, let's keep this from Mr. Smoot. He might frown on it. OK?" Mr. Smoot, the by-the-books Executive Manager of the Wellington, sure would. In spades. Again, no problem was Willie's answer . . . * * * * * * THE NEXT DAY, bright and early, Ivan Shakely was in Tag's office, face to face with him. After some preliminary catching up chitchat, Tag filled Ivan in on Tracy's problem, being stingy with the prurient details. He then told Ivan exactly what he needed for him to set up for the rescue of Tracy Winsome. Ivan, chuckling, agreed and said no problem, just leave it to me. Ivan left to get suite 209 fully operational. All he needed, he had informed Tag, was a few hours, at most. Two days later, Lucy popped into Tag's office. "Tracy called, Tag, Burns has told her be at suite 209 the day after tomorrow, Thursday, 4:00 p.m." "Good. I'm glad Burns is a creature of habit, and didn't change the location to some freaking cabin in the woods. Ivan says everything is ready for our little party. All you have to do, Luce, is get our girl up to snuff. She find the clothes we need for her?" Lucy nodded. "Oh, yeah, and a choice of outfits, too. I'll have her come by on Thursday, say around noon, and you can pick what you want for her to wear. If you don't like the initial outfit I've picked, it's no problem to do a switcheroo. And, Taggy Waggy, I shouldn't tell you this, but she says she'll fuck your ears off if this works!" She laughed. "Nice bonus, huh boss?" "How old did you say she was?" "Oh, Taggy Waggy, you're supposed to say, 'Lucy, darling, you know I don't want to fuck anyone but you.' " She shammed a hurt look, then giggled. "Shit, Luce, knowing you, you probably told her you wanted to watch!" Lucy laughed. "I did!" Tag laughed, slapping both hands on the desk's edge. He knew his Lucy real well. Tag hadn't seen the grown up version of Tracy yet, but given the real embarrassment of the situation, he understood if she was purposely avoiding him. He tried to picture her as a fully-grown, eighteen-year old woman, but all he could come up with was a blond, blue eyed, ten-year old version. A childish version, in long pigtails, that he had great trouble picturing with adult-sized breasts. Lucy had said Tracy had turned into a real knock out and, if so, Tag felt he was in for a pleasant surprise treat. But could he fuck her? She was, after all, the daughter of his one time partner, Bill Winsome, a take-no-prisoners, follow-the-protocol kind of cop. While he and Winsome didn't always see eye-to-eye on police procedures, Tag liked the guy. Winsome was a straight shooter. But, to fuck the guy's kid . . . Lucy seemed to have read his mind. "Yeah, Tag, she's your old cop partner's daughter. So what? When you get one look at the body on her, Taggy boy, you won't care if she's the President's daughter!" She wolf whistled, and then grinned at him. "Luce, we're both shameless. But anyway, does Tracy have the raincoat?" It wasn't an important part of the game, any long coat would suffice, but a raincoat lent an air of spy vs. spy mystery to it all. Tag liked that aspect. Lucy nodded. "Yep, she didn't own one herself, and I don't either, so I had to borrow one. Got it from Mrs. Merganthal. Nice dark gray one, with a real mink fur collar. Mergie, of course, had no idea why I needed it, but when I told her you needed it for a secret hotel mission, she couldn't drag the coat out fast enough. Tried to pump me for more info, but I told her you swore me to secrecy. On pain of death! Ha ha!" Lucy was enjoying it all. Tag said, grinning at her, "I'm surprised Mergie hasn't been after me for details of my so-called secret hotel mission. Oh, well, guess she's got other fish to fry now that old Shakely's back in town." He winked at Lucy. She winked back at him. "She and Shakely? My, my, who would have guessed she'd dig that old fart . . . oops! Did you just accidentally talk out of school Taggy?" He nodded. "Yeah, I slipped, Luce. But I know you can keep it secret . . . pain of death and all that." He ran a forefinger across his neck. "Sure, boss, but it'll cost you, so tell me everything . . . " * * * * * * THURSDAY MORNING rolled around, followed by Thursday noon. Tracy was right on time and, if she was the least bit nervous, she managed to hide it very well. Lucy led her into Tag's inner office, announcing their arrival with, "Ta da! Here's my work of art, Taggy, Ms. Tracy Winsome." Tag looked up from his desk and saw Tracy in the mink fur collar raincoat. The transformation was unbelievable. Lucy had done a really good job on the girl. Tag stood up, walked over to Tracy and put his arms around her, hugging her to him. He planted an avuncular kiss on her forehead, and said, "My, my, Tracy, you sure have blossomed into one fine looking woman. Your father must be so proud." Tracy winced at the mention of her dad. Tag said, "Sorry, kiddo, what I meant was . . . " "I know what you meant, Mr. Bonewell, and it's okay. I'm just a little thin-skinned at the moment. I hope you understand." "Sure do," Tag said. "It's understandable. But if all goes as planned, he'll never have to know a thing about any of it. You have my word on that. Now, how about you take off the raincoat, so I can get a gander at the rest of Lucy's handiwork. OK?" Tracy unbuckled the belt, opened a few buttons, and dropped the raincoat to the floor. She now stood before the other two, awaiting Tag's approval and assessment of her outfit. Tag whistled. "Perfect, ladies, absolutely perfect. Lucy, you're a wizard." Lucy said, "We have other outfits, Tag, if this one doesn't fill the bill fully. Tracy can be in one of them in less than . . . " "No, gals, this one is fine. Right on the money." Tag took a long look at Tracy. "Oh, yeah, this look is perfect, just perfect. And now, ladies, because we have some time, how's about I treat you two to a nice, leisurely lunch at The Den?" Tracy nodded, and said, "Great! I could sure use a nice, stiff drink!" She was thinking of what awaited her in suite 209, and the role she would have to play if Tag's plan was to work. Her spoken lines were simple enough, but even so, she knew she would soon be sucking and fucking eight men. And, if that bastard Burns had his way, swallowing a gallon or two of their piss. Lucy looked at Tag, then at Tracy, and said, "Honey, if you're gonna drink, you better make damn sure you have your I.D. with you . . . " * * * * * * TRACY STOOD OUTSIDE SUITE 209, her raincoat unbelted, but held closed by three large, pearl buttons. She felt a little tipsy from the three gin and tonics she had downed at The Den, but she didn't care. The drinks had fortified her for what she had to do in the next few hours, and she knew she wasn't tipsy enough for it to matter. If it had mattered, Tag would have called it to her attention. She felt sure of that. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door. Burns opened it and just about yanked her inside. As she tumbled into the room, she saw the eight men. They were all wearing robes. And, it was obvious from their bare feet; they were all naked under the robes. Burns popped his head out of the doorway and looked up and down the hall, checking it out. He mumbled to her, over his shoulder, "Good girl, Tracy, you're right on time. Eager to get at it, are we?" She nodded, then, realizing he couldn't see her, said, "I sure am, Mr. Burns!" She was now standing in the middle of the room before eight men. Burns closed and locked the door, then looked her over. "What gives, kid? You look different. Younger. You joining the Girl Scouts or something?" He reached out and grabbed her hair. "And what's with the pigtails, for crissakes?" He was smelling a rat, getting suspicious. "Oh, Mr. Burns," she said, batting both eyelids at him and undoing the raincoat. "I just thought the fellas would," she dropped the coat to the floor and paused, looking from man to man, seeing some dump their robes, and start playing with themselves, "get a big kick out of my young schoolgirl look." She turned her back to them and wiggled her ass a few times, and then she lifted the white mini skirt she had on, and showed them she had no panties on underneath. She whirled around, taking note that all the men were now naked. And in different stages of erection. "Right guys?" "Shit, yeah!" One guy said, pulling on his balls. "I like 'em sweet and young!" Said another, stroking his cock's head. "Me, too!" Said a third, his fully erect hardon wobbling in space. "Yeah, babycakes, come to daddy!" He licked his lips in anticipation. "Burnsie, you sure know how to pick 'em!" Burns, still unsure as to what was going down, said, "Yeah, I do, don't I?" He stared at Tracy, and thought: What the fuck are you up to, woman? Or are you really as sex crazy as you seem? Before he had the chance to think on it any further, Tracy dropped to her knees in front of him, split the front of his robe, took his cock out and started sucking away on it. Shit, he thought, I've created a cum slut! He put his hands into her hair, pulled her mouth closer to him, giving her more of his cock and, looking at the other men, beamed from ear to ear. Yeah, he thought, I have picked a good one, haven't I? Tracy removed her mouth from his prick and looked up at him, her eyes all innocent and wonder filled. "Mr. Burnsie Wurnsie," she cooed, "is this what they call cocksucking. If so, am I good at it?" She batted her schoolgirl eyelids at him, a look of sheer innocence on her face. Well, thought Burns, if she wants schoolgirl, I can go along with it. "Yes, my dear, what you're doing is called cocksucking. And, yes again, you do it real well." He put his cock's head against her lips, signaling her to suck it some more. He looked over at the group of naked men, and winked at them. Tracy then said, "I like cocksucking, Mr. Burns. I like it so much, I want to suck all your pricky wickies and taste all your cummy wummy before you fucky wucky me. Okey dokey, Burnsie Wurnsie?" Again, she batted those innocent eyes at him. The eight men were moaning and carrying on. Each man could hardly wait for his turn to be sucked off by this luscious and sweet schoolgirl child. Burns started to moan. His legs felt weak, so he sat down on the edge of the bed, taking her along with him. Tracy noticed, for the first time tonight, his cock seemed tanned. It was dark and bronzy looking. Captain Burns, it seemed to her, must sunbathe nude on the great ship's rolling deck. A few seconds later, it was obvious to all that he was unloading into her mouth. She made it more obvious, by puffing out her cheeks, telling the men that she was swallowing it all--and loving it. She then sucked each man in turn, swallowing his cum, and draining him dry. She was in control of the men now, and she knew it. Tag had predicted this part correctly. And her pirate fantasy was protecting her somewhat. When one burly guy told her to suck him off, she noticed a tattoo on his cock . . . |