Chapter Text
Copyright © 2002, Dark Tower Gunslinger. ALL Rights Reserved
Date of first publication Monday PM, January 07, 2002
Story_codes: M/f/oral
Story_intro: I had traded in my Chrysler SUV for a Volkswagen Passat when I started attending classes at the college on the bluff. My pad on the beach was a one-bedroom beach bungalow I leased for seven months at a rate of three large a month. I was living the lifestyle of the L.A. beach bum with money. You paid a high price to have a Malibu address, and it allowed you to attract all kinds of talent to play beach blanket bongo on your waterbed. Coeds, aspiring starlets looking for a producer and swallowing any line you handed them (along with every inch of cock you could get stiff) and tons of young beach girls with easily spread able legs and hard bodies that would give Pinocchio a woody.
Where the Monkeys Have No Tails - A Paladin Adventure
Written by Dark Tower Gunslinger
Chapter One
I had traded in my Chrysler SUV for a Volkswagen Passat when I started attending classes at the college on the bluff. My pad on the beach was a one-bedroom beach bungalow I leased for seven months at a rate of three large a month. I was living the lifestyle of the L.A. beach bum with money. You paid a high price to have a Malibu address, and it allowed you to attract all kinds of talent to play beach blanket bongo on your waterbed. Coeds, aspiring starlets looking for a producer and swallowing any line you handed them (along with every inch of cock you could get stiff) and tons of young beach girls with easily spread able legs and hard bodies that would give Pinocchio a woody.
Life was good over that fall and winter. The weather was shitty for being on the beach, but the pad and the atmosphere was very conducive for pussy. A college that was known as being liberal and intellectual, most of the cunts going there thought their shit never stunk and all the male students should just bow down and worship their precious, rich bitch pussies.
Me, I could care a shit less how they felt. I either fucked them or said fuck you when I got an attitude. Any hot bitch that entered my pad was well aware long before she got there, she would be eating and fucking three quarters of a foot of stiff cock in every hole she had. If she didn't buy into that action, she better be prepared to call a taxi or hike it home to Bel Air. And without dinner besides. No free lunches in my pad. This wasn't no social welfare deal. Move to South Central and make yourself at home.
I was taking several international law courses covering both Europe and the Far East. Since my local office had handled a lot of Pacific Rim business, I had kept fairly abreast of most major law changes, but the university really had a neat program that brought you fully up to speed. I had promised Jim Gallivan, the guy who had talked me into coming into his global international law firm, that I would be ready by the spring and he had already begun to make preparations for me to run his Manila office about May 1st. That fit in well with my plans and although I seldom got to see my two girls, Pammie twelve and Jill age ten, I wanted to bring them over to Manila for their summer vacation.
Around the middle of April, I made all my travel reservations and shipped two trunks of clothes and goodies to the Manila office via air express. With the current state of affairs and all the turmoil brought on by the shithead terrorists I had reservations about international travel but little choice in the matter. I was flying Air Nippon to Tokyo, had a three-hour layover then a Philippine Air flight direct to Manila. A lot of hours in the air. I had my laptop, a drive full of movies and shows, and a good James Lee Burke's Dave Robicheaux novel to relax through.
The flight over the Arctic Circle route put us into Tokyo a good fifteen hours after I flew out of LAX. I had about three double scotches in the bar and was feeling pretty mellow when I boarded the first-class cabin of the Philippine Air Boeing 747. It was fairly crowded with an old couple in the seats across the aisle. I was on the aisle seat of a row of two when an older woman with a blonde teenager came in.
The teen looked about thirteen or fourteen, long legs, nicely shaped ass and hips and the good beginnings of a set of tits tented out the mid-riff tee shirt for some rock group she had on. The old lady folded herself into the seat in front of us by the aisle and the teen tossed her phone into the window seat.
She had a small flight bag, and she opened the overhead bin and reached up to tuck it in. I looked directly up and under the mid-riff tee and saw two pert, up-swung teen breasts sitting perkily on her small chest. No bra, huh. This might get interesting. She slid past my knees and flopped into her seat, gum smacking in her mouth as she worked it at a high rate of speed.
The older woman looked between the seats and asked the teen, "Comfortable, hun?"
"Yea, sure, whatever," she replied in an exasperated voice.
The woman leaned into the aisle and smiled at me. "Pardon our little cross talking. I can't stand to sit next to her when there are only two seats, she fidgets so much I can never get comfortable."
"That's quite all right. You have a beautiful daughter."
"Oh my, she's not my daughter, she is my granddaughter but thank you for the wonderful complement."
I took a closer look at the woman. Her hair was cut short in a pale ash colored pageboy. Her features were refined and genteel. Nice, tanned complexion, probably some surgery around the nose and eyes. A nip here, a tuck there. Very little crow's feet, loose turkey skin on the neck. No wabble or waddle, whatever you called that loose skin at the throat. I would have guessed her at mid forty at the most.
"Surely you jest, you can't be old enough to be her grandmother," I said with a look of amazement in my face.
"I'm afraid I'm guilty. Gave birth to her mother at seventeen and she had Sandra at age twenty. Sandra's thirteen so that must make me fifty, a grandmother long before my time. I'm from Sydney and I picked my daughter up in San Francisco from her father. Her mother is back in Sydney and we're doing a ten day stopover in Manila and a week in Hong Kong before going to Australia."
"That's where I'm going, to Manila to start work there."
"What do you do, if I can ask?"
I glanced at the teen who was still popping her gum as she listened to some boy group probably named Insane or Boys to Punks or something. They all sounded the same. Manually manipulated testosterone wailing and grinding their hips so the teen queens could cream their jeans and fork over the two hundred dollars for tickets, souvenirs and such. Poor Dad, stuck with a sniveling cunt with her puss full of juice and his wallet empty while being forced to listen to all that crap. Standing in a drafty stadium with a jillion other idiots holding a small flashlight up singing the current teen theme song. As yes, I knew it well.
"I'm a lawyer, if that doesn't put me up for being thrown off the plane at ten thousand feet. Mostly I'm called something like ‘scum of the earth’ or ‘the mouth that ate Hollywood.’ I'm used to looks like that. Just call me Paladin, Have Legal Code Will Travel."
"Oh yes, Paladin. I used to watch that on the telly out in the Outback. Loved that song."
"Yea, catch ditty, wasn't it? What are your plans while in Manila?"
"Well, everything is not fully set. We are thinking about a trip to the southern islands. Maybe Zamboanga or somewhere like that."
"Zamboanga, where the monkeys have no tails, right?"
"Yes, righto, those monkeys. I had forgotten that little one. Good memory Paladin."
Our discussion was interrupted by the red headed stewardess assigned first class as she brought us two long stemmed glasses of champagne.
"Something for you, honey?" she asked Sandra.
"What?" the teen said taking off her headsets. "Oh, same as them."
"I'm afraid not dear, I think you're legally shy of the required age. What about a nice glass of fruit juice? I have papaya or passion fruit?"
"Whatever. Give me the passion stuff, maybe it'll make me hot to trot." She put her headphones back on and went back to smacking her gum. I was thinking I could give her a good smacking about that time. The gum was driving me crazy and the noise incidence seeping around the earphones was quite disturbing.
I watched the redhead make her way to the small galley midships. She had a nice large ass, was about five feet ten in heels and had a nice complexion. British I suspected, hearing the accent. Smattering of freckles across the nose and arms. After giving everyone drinks and passing out pillows and blankets she slipped out of the formal blue flight jacket. As she arched her back to slip the garment off, I noticed the full thrust of her tits as they strained against the thin white nylon blouse. A lacy half cup bra was clearly visible before she donned one of those customary smocks for the flight.
This would be a night flight with us chasing the setting sun clear across the Pacific. Probably eleven of the fifteen hours in darkness. Lots of time for sleep or whatever. My erotic daydreams started immediately, led by me fucking the red headed stewardess while the teen sucked her big tits. I even thought of a few ways to involve Evelyn, the grandmother into the sex play. Well shit, I can daydream, can't I?
The only problem with that kind of daydreams is Mr. Peckerhead can't stay asleep long. I had amused the teen enough to take off her headset and watch Castaway on my laptop. She got a kick out of the plane crash over the Pacific and the desert island bit.
"If you were stranded like that guy, would you rather have Wilson to keep you company or me?" she breathed in my ear at the end of the movie.
"Well hell, you, of course."
"Why."
"You're a human being not a piece of sports equipment. Plus, I could probably think of a few things to do with you, it would be hard to do with Wilson."
"Like what?"
"Never mind, let your imagination do the walking."
I went back to reading my Burke novel while she curled up in the seat and pulled the blanket around her. Her ass was facing me, and I kept glancing down at the rounded rump and having thoughts of easing my nine-incher between those cheeks. Believe me, I had fucked younger than that up the ass. Specifically, my nine-year-old daughter, Jill.
About an hour later the cabin lights had dimmed really low and I had settled into a deep sleep with my legs stretched out in front of me and reclined back. Suddenly I realized the zipper on my pants was being slid down. I felt a small hand reach in and grasp my limp cock. It was a warm hand, and I cracked one eye and saw Sandra bent over, intently focusing on her hand beneath the blanket working at my cock.
Soon my cock responded to the touch, especially when she began to run the skin up and down the shaft. Soon she had achieved a full blown hard on from Mr. Peckerhead.
"Ummm," she breathed, feeling the taut, muscled cock. Soon she shifted to a squatting position on the floor in front of my seat and her head disappeared under the blanket. Within seconds a warm mouth enveloped the mushroom-shaped crown of my big prick.
I let out an involuntary gasp as I felt her tongue flick the piss slit and wipe out the gob of precum that had rapidly formed there. The world under the blanket was her entire reality now; she couldn't see a thing, only feel the massive, nine-inch cock filling her mouth, her jaw stretched to its limit as she struggled to take more of it in.
Her initial efforts were enthusiastic but clumsy. She could manage the head and maybe three inches before her gag reflex protested, a wet, choked sound that was lost in the drone of the engines. Her saliva was flowing freely now, a thick slickness that made her task slightly easier but no less daunting. I could feel her throat constricting around me every time she pushed her limits, a desperate, fluttering spasm that milked the base of my cock. It was time to take control.
I placed my hand flat on top of the blanket, directly over the back of her head. From the outside, it was a perfectly innocent gesture. Underneath, she tensed for a moment, then relaxed, submitting to the firm, downward pressure I began to apply. I guided her down, past the point of comfort. I felt the tight, hot ring of her throat give way, and with a guttural, wet sound that was swallowed by the blanket, she took another two inches. Her body shuddered with the effort of suppressing a gag, her nostrils flaring as she fought for air.
"That's it, honey," I grunted, my voice a low whisper barely audible to her. "Take it all."
I established a slow, deep rhythm, using the pressure of my hand on the blanket to pull her up until just the tip was between her lips, then forcing her back down. Each downward plunge was a silent battle for her. Her hands, which had been on my thighs, flattened against the seat, bracing her body. The only sounds from under the blanket were the wet, sloppy suction and the occasional, muffled retch as I pushed her deeper than she thought possible. Her jaw had to be aching, but I didn't care. I was using her mouth, and the effort of her silent struggle was the only thing that mattered.
Suddenly, I felt something brush my shoulder. I yanked my head around to find the red-headed stewardess standing at my elbow looking down on the hidden action. Suddenly, she leaned over and lifted the blanket. She had a small flashlight the stewardesses used to find stuff in the darkened cabin and she shined it down into my lap.
Sandra's eyes darted up, wide with surprise, but she never stopped the frantic head action. Thick stands of saliva ran down both sides of my cock as her tongue danced in and out of her mouth. Her jaws were fully distended to engulf my cock head and about four inches of my cock.
The stewardess began a low panting sound and went into a partial crouch. I reached down and ran my hand up the stocking clad leg, past her knee up her thigh until my hand encountered the edge of her skivvies. I slipped two fingers into her slot with ease and found her sopping. I ran my fingers in and out rapidly as she crouched and grunted to the action. I took my thumb and wetted it in the runoff leaking down her leg. Sliding my thumb up a notch I launched it past her tight sphincter into her rosebud arse, which really brought out a groan from her throat.
The action was going full speed ahead when the plane hit a patch of rough turbulence. The sudden jolt bounced Sandra's mouth violently down on my cock, forcing it even deeper into her constricted throat. I had to bite my lip to stifle a loud groan as she gagged, the sound muffled by my flesh. The stewardess leaned in close, whispering hoarsely to the girl under the blanket, "Don't you dare spill a drop."
"I'm going to cum in your mouth honey, get ready," I told the teen.
She merely nodded her head up and down, never stopping the mouth action. I cut loose a gallon sized blast and as the stew saw my juices come squirting out of the sides of the young mouth to roll and nestle in my hairs, she shook, quivered and had a tremendous orgasm. I was afraid she would let out a scream and some sky marshal would fill me full of holes before realizing I was not a terrorist killing the stew but just a pervert bringing her boiling hot pussy off.
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Chapter Two - Manila and beyond; the adventure continues.