Dead End

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by Yabba

Carl Caine, owner of The Caine Casket Company, is married to the beautiful Candy, a former burlesque dancer, but it’s not a happy marriage and Candy much prefers to spend her nights with the virile Sam Franklin.
Meanwhile, Carl’s business manager, Freddy Swinton, seems determined to set some sort of world record for the number of women at the Company who would perform oral sex on him, much to Debbie Butcher’s disgust when it is made clear to her that any promotion depends on her performance with Freddy. She and her friend Louise (neither of whom are averse to a little girl-to-girl sex between them), plot revenge on Freddy, but only after Debbie discovers that her latest boyfriend is a serial killer and Louise has been having an energetic affaire with Freddy only to find out she has been filmed and is now, apparently, a famous star in explicit adult movies.

After that, it all becomes really complicated, with Carl Caine on his way to Europe to see a woman who surely will keep him happier than the impossible Candy, leaving Freddy to do as he pleases to whoever he pleases at The Caine Casket Company.

Perhaps it is all summed up in Louise’s words: “Never underestimate the power of a great blowjob.” Or perhaps not. The powers of the supernatural and of natural justice may just have the last word.

Published: 4 / 2014
No. words: 30400
Style: Erotica – Erotic Fantasy, Mainstream Erotica
Keywords: sex more sex erotic novel supernatural infidelity

EX8t

“It a secret,” Louise hedged.  “I promised not to tell!”

“You’ve been seeing someone else, and doing it without saying anything about it!” Debbie countered.  “Tell me, Louise, has he been banging your brains out?  I’ll bet he has!  But who is he?  That’s the question I want answered.  Tell me, sweetie.”

“I won’t!  I can’t,” Louise replied.  “So let’s talk about something else.”

“Sweetie,” Debbie insisted, “we’ve been the best of friends, and never hesitated to share any of our deepest, darkest secrets with each other.  I even got drunk, and ate your wonderful pussy on a couple of occasions, as you may recall.  That’s how close you and I have been.  So won’t you please tell me who your current lover is?  The secret is safe with me, I promise.”

“I don’t think you would understand,” Louise replied.  “So let’s just drop the subject.  Besides, I have to go to the restroom.”

Debbie Butcher was a bit stunned by her friend’s total refusal to share the requested information.  But as she stood alone in Louise’s office cubical, her eyes went down to the waste paper basket sitting on the floor.  On top of the refuse, Debbie saw a discarded red ribbon, and the wrapping paper that, evidently, had held the box Louise’s jewelry had come in.  Also in the trash container was a greeting card.  Debbie was quick to read the message written there, even though it was none of her business:

To my lovely Louise:

Many thanks for the beautiful night in front of the fire.  You were absolutely sensational!  We’ll have to do it again very soon.

I hope you like the jewelry I bought for you.

Freddy

When Louise returned from the restroom, she found Debbie Butcher slumped in her swivel chair, looking as if she was ready to be laid out in one of Carl Caine’s caskets.  Debbie’s eyes were closed, and the card from the discarded package was still lying loosely in her fingers.  Debbie looked as if she had been shot by an assassin.

“Oh!  So now you know the truth, I see,” Louise commented.  “I hope you’re satisfied, Debbie, after rummaging through the trash can!”

“How – how could you have done such a completely vile thing to me?” Debbie Butcher managed to ask.  As she spoke, there were even a few tears in her eyes.

“I didn’t do anything to you,” Louise answered.

“Louise, you might have had sex with Adolph Hitler, or Joseph Stalin, or Genghis Fucking Khan, and I probably would have understood,” Debbie insisted.  “But to think of my best friend being sexually intimate with that awful Freddy L. Swinton!  How could you DO such a damned thing, Louise?”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand,” Louise countered.  “That’s why I decided not to tell you.”

“What’s to understand?” Debbie asked.  “The guy is a colossal, loathsome creep!  I just don’t see how you could put up with him!”

“Well, if you MUST know, Freddy Swinton has the biggest cock I ever saw in my life!” Louise told her friend.  “It absolutely huge, and he certainly knows how to use it in pleasing a lady!”

Oh, yeah?” Debbie replied disbelievingly.  “How big is it?”

“It’s as long and thick as your naked forearm!” Louise insisted.

In response, Debbie Butcher looked down to study her forearm from wrist to elbow, as if trying to imagine a man’s cock that size.  Her eyes became immense.

“You’re not serious!” Debbie finally remarked.  “You’re telling me that shrimp, Freddy L. Swinton, is hung like a fucking horse?”

“Why would I lie to you?” Louise Butterfield asked.

“This is all so… absolutely incredible,” Debbie responded.  “My best friend has been having sex with the worst sort of thoughtless, despicable character I ever knew in my life, and she thinks he’s great in bed?  I feel simply shattered by such news, Louise.  But tell me, how – how many times have you been with Freddy Swinton?”

“I don’t know.  I never kept track.  Ten or twelve, I suppose.”

“God!  That little fucker must be very good at it,” Debbie responded.

“He’s the best I ever had,” Louise replied.

“What could be worse than to hear such awful news, especially from a woman who was my best friend?” Debbie said, almost to herself.

“I’ll tell you what could be worse,” Louise answered.  “To meet a very handsome, totally wonderful guy who is absolutely lousy in bed!  I’ve read that the famous film star, Clark Gable, was that way.  His wife, Carole Lombard, said, “He’s such a lousy lay!”  But Freddy Swinton is not like that at all.  Once he gets me into a horizontal position, Debbie, he is the greatest lover I ever had in my life!”

“I don’t think I want to hear anymore of this unbelievable horseshit,” Debbie responded.

“Fine!  I never wanted you to tell you about it, anyway!”

“Don’t talk to me!” Debbie insisted.

“Suit yourself!” Louise replied.

That was apparently the end of the close friendship between Debbie Butcher and Louise Butterfield.  Afterward, they simply chose to ignore each other, while on the job.  But, meanwhile, Louise kept collecting more items of flashy jewelry from Freddy Swinton, and she even took trips to far away, romantic places with him.

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