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Bob Katt

Hot 'N Juicy Lucy

Chapter 1

I'd have no troubles if it wasn't for my big, fat prick. For twenty-three years it's caused me more grief than a wife. The troubles were small when I was a schoolboy: the cane on the seat of my pants for fingering up a little girl while she stroked my prick. But now I'm a big boy I'm in real hot trouble. My big, fat prick doesn't give me a moment's peace. Paradoxically, I wouldn't be without it for anything in the world!

But it's balled up my whole life. My prick has got personality and ideas of its own. It often refuses to obey me. Our plans are sometimes so divergent that we're in violent conflict. And I always lose out. My prick's so strong and vigorous, I get carried along by it like driftwood in a mill race. My present troubles were aggravated to explosion point by my prick's interest in Janet. Personally, I want no part of Janet. She's not a bad girl, but she's got grave defects. Although she's only twenty-two, with youth on her side, she's as ugly as a girl can get. She's brunette, with a good figure, but is as hairy as a bear. In a couple of years she'll be shaving every day. And as is so often the case with ugly girls, she's man-crazy. That makes her dangerous. If a man gives her a kindly smile she makes plans to walk him up the aisle. Shell make some man a good wife. But not me! If I met Janet socially I wouldn't dare speak a civil word to her. Anything less than an insult from a man she interprets as a come-on.

But I knew Janet in the worst way possible. She was the boss's daughter!

The Boss has been trying to marry her off since she was a teen-ager. He hasn't succeeded. A couple of weeks ago the Boss resigned himself to an unmarried daughter and decided she'd have to earn her living. The Boss made an appalling decision. He employed her in our office as his Personal Assistant!

The decision was calamitous. Our small business is highly specialized. I'm the Boss's right-hand man. We publish pop songs and make records. We manage to pay the rent, wages and entertainment expenses. I'm the hinge-pin of the set-up. I've been twanging a guitar since I was five, and have a flair for guessing public taste. Every day I look through piles of pop music and choose songs I believe will please.

I haven't been wrong yet. I've always selected pop tunes that have sold enough records to cover expenses. But I could be wrong one day. Then we'll have a warehouse stuffed with records we can't sell. But on the other hand; I might get lucky. I might choose a tune that gets into the top ten.

I'm happy at my work. It's the only job I know. But the moment Janet was ushered into the office by her father, my days in the business were numbered.

The Boss introduced us and I was too polite to look pained at Janet's ugliness. But I did notice the strong smell of cunt that began to pervade the office. When we shook hands Janet's hot fingers held mine so firmly I had to tug hard to break her grip. While the Boss told me that Janet would be learning the business;, I tried not to be repulsed by the sweaty black down on her upper lip, the hypnotic stare of her eyes through pebbled glasses, and the big mole on her left cheek that had a long hair sprouting from it.

The Boss set Janet to work in his own office entering items in the account books. Then he went out on business. He handles Production and Sales. I stay in the office searching for a winner among the submitted song-sheets.

He'd been gone ten minutes when Janet came through to my office to consult the files. It took only two minutes then for it to dawn on me how dangerous she was.

She was a sex-bomb. Every open pore of her dark skin oozed unquenchable desire. Every slight movement of her thighs wafted a thick cloud of cunt-fragrance across the officer Worse. When she had her back to me, and I couldn't see her face, her sexy allure hit me like a shell. She had a lovely, perfectly-proportioned figure, and was acutely aware of it. She wore very high heels, a wisp of a mini-skirt, skin-tight panties that showed under her skirt hem, and a blouse as delicate as tissue paper. She opened the lower drawer of the filing cabinet and stooped over to root through it. She had a beautiful, firm little ass. Her legs were parted and as straight and as stiff as ramrods. When she stooped and her mini-skirt rode up high, her tight panties displayed the creases -under her buttocks and a segment of bottom. Her pantie gusset was drawn so tight it looked painful. It also looked damp. From either side of it, luscious long cunt-hairs curled out. I stared as though hypnotized. She knew exactly what she was doing to me. No girl has ever stooped so long over a filing cabinet. My prick stood up in my trousers and gibbered.

From that moment onwards my prick and I waged a battle. There were a hundred good reasons to stay clear of Janet. I knew them all. I could set them out clearly on paper. Any man in his right senses would agree that Janet should be kept at arm's distance.

But my prick wouldn't agree. So long as Janet was around it gibbered, roared and rampaged. It wouldn't let me concentrate on my work. I spent most of my day in the office, sweating as though in a steam bath. I drooled so much anticipatory prick-juice I had to change my underpants twice a day. But I was fighting a losing battle. If my prick and I could have gone our separate ways, I could have kept out of trouble. But we were inseparable, and that was my downfall. No matter how clear-headed a man is, once his prick stimulates his glands until adrenalin is racing through him, he's a dead duck.

I was doomed from the start. I should have known it. I've never yet gotten the better of my prick. The miracle is that I held out so long. But even the delay helped soften my resistance. I got used to seeing Janet around the office, day after day, I grew accustomed to her ugliness and didn't blanch every time I saw her. There was even a fascination about that black down on her upper lip when she pouted. She had beautiful lips for pouting. And when she I took off those pebble-rimmed glasses her eyes were f quite attractive. I even began to find her black mole fascinating. The long hair that sprouted from it was delicately spiraled, like the hairspring of a watch.

When I finally succumbed it was complete capitulation. She was in the Boss's office. I had to go in there to get a drawing for a record sleeve. When I entered, Janet was standing with her back towards the door and stooping over her father's desk. Somehow, I always found her stooping over. My underpants were sopping wet with prick-juice, my cock was burning against my belly and I was drunk with the musky smell of cunt that steamed out from between her legs. It happened as I circled around the desk. She moved back slightly and my prick gave an eager, quivering leap towards her. It rushed across her buttocks. Just a touch. But that was all it needed. Then I was behind her, grinding the shaft of my prick in between her buttocks. She sprawled forward over the desk, braced her hands upon it to get leverage and then ground her cute little ass right back at me.

I'd been tantalized, teased and tortured by her tormenting ass for endless hours. Now I had it! Everything else was abruptly of no importance. Her beautiful straining ass had become my whole world!

She was hot for it Heat lashed out from her buttock cleavage like a blast furnace, scorching my prick even through my pants. At once she started snorting and panting as she frictioned her ass up and down against my prick. I pulled her blouse out of her skirt-waist, slid my hands up under it and around front of her. She didn't wear a bra. Her tits hung ripely, richly swollen and quivering. I cupped them and she whimpered. Her ass thrust back at my prick with increased fervour.

I forgot where I was, I forgot everything except this moment.

I wanted her naked. She wanted it too. I tore her blouse off, ripping away the buttons. Great tufts of black, underarm hair sprouted from her armpits, glistening with sweat and steeped in the smell of woman. The smell sent me a little crazy. I pulled down her skirt and panties together. They were a rolled-up wad when they slid down her calves. She stepped out of them without ceasing to grind her bare bottom against my prick. One urgent hand explored behind her for my belt buckle. But I didn't need her help. My trousers and sticky underpants were down around my ankles in a split-second. As I stepped out of them my eager prick was probing her crotch.

     

 

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