Shirley James: Daddy_s darling

With a huge erection pulsing his pants to remind him of voluptuous Sue Carson, Hamilton Burns waited by the telephone table. He was trying to get the nerve to do something he should have done a long time ago. "Damn it," he said to himself, "have some nerve, show her you're a man!" He paused for a moment to take a deep breath of determination, then he reached resolutely for the telephone receiver.

With a nervous finger he dialed a number, a number that was etched in his memory. For months now he's been itching to call it, longing to do what he dreamed about, but up until now he's never gotten the courage. Well, he'd waited long enough. Now was the time for some action. Tonight was the night when he'd manage to spread Sue Carson's reluctant thighs, and bury his big cock into her uptight cunt.

With his ear on the phone, he heard the phone on the other end of the line ringing. It rang again, then again, then again. Beads of sweat began to break out on Hamilton's forehead. Damn it to hell! He thought angrily. She's probably out right now, fucking every pimply-faced teenage stud in town. Just my damn luck, alright, he thought. I finally get the nerve to ask her out, and she's not even home.

Hamilton Burns heard the phone ring for the tenth time. He was about to hang up when he heard a click on the other end, and a sultry female voice was saying: "Hello?"

As soon as Hamilton heard that voice, he could picture the body it belonged to. He could see the firm, taut breasts, the trim rounded hips that curved so invitingly towards that gleaming treasure trove between her fleshy white thighs. Burns wanted that body, and just the thought of possessing it sent a delicious sensation running up and down his tingling spine. He could feel his cock flexing excitedly, itching to get out of his pants and into her cunt.

"Hello," the female voice repeated, and the sound of it snapped Hamilton back into reality. If he didn't say something soon, she would hang up, and then he'd have to start the whole process over again. He frantically searched his mind for an opener. He hadn't really figured out what he was going to say. He fell like a teenage kid all over again, asking a strange cheerleader to a prom.

Oh, my God, thought Hamilton. She's going to think I'm a heavy breather, or a pervert, and she's going to hang up! I better talk fast! He tapped the floor nervously with his foot.

"Ah, ah, hello, Miss Carson," the man stammered, hoping that the nervousness in his voice wouldn't be detectable over the telephone line. "This is, ah, this is Mr. Burns, your boss." His voice trailed pathetically away into thin air. Jesus, he thought to himself, I never thought I'd chicken out like this.

"Hello, Mr. Burns," said the female voice in the phone, "Is there something wrong? You usually don't call me at home, you wait until you see me at the office."

"I… I know," the man stammered. Hell, baby, you're never gonna get any pussy at this rate, he thought to himself. Seizing the bull by the horns, Hamilton Burns gulped out the lie as quickly as possible, so as to get it over with. "Miss Carson, I just found out that the budget figures for the Marcus account are completely wrong. Completely. You know as well as I do that if I don't have the budget on Mr. Peterson's desk at nine tomorrow morning it'll mean my job, and you'll be sent back to the secretarial pool I don't believe that either one of us can afford that."

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line as his secretary took in the situation, and then he could hear her ask: "What do you suggest we do, Sir?" Just hearing her voice, just hearing her calling him "Sir", made Hamilton feel even hotter and hornier than ever. He wanted to possess this bitch, he wanted to stick his hard throbbing meat in her twat and cream all over her insides… His erotic thoughts were cut off abruptly when he heard her saying: "Sir? I asked you what you thought we should do about the Marcus account?"

"Huh? Oh, well, it seems to me that the smart thing to do would be for you to come on over here right now and then we can both go over these figures together." It was a bare-faced lie, but Hamilton Burns was sure that it would be the only way he could ever lure that pussy into his clutches. All his co-workers had secretaries that put out as regularly as clockwork. It was part of their job. Why did he have to be the only executive in the whole damned company who had a prude for a secretary? Well, one thing was certain – he'd turn that prude into a screaming nymphomaniac before this night was over. Grinning lecherously into the phone, he spoke again to the object of his carnal desires: "You'd better get your sweet little ahhh…" He checked himself hastily. "You'd better get on over here as soon as you can!"

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. Damn it, had she detected his little slip of the tongue? Then he could hear her saying: "Mr. Burns, I haven't had time to eat supper yet!"

"You'll have to skip it," he told her. "I'll whip up something on your way over here and we can both eat together. Then we've got to get to work on that account." Hamilton Burns grinned to himself at the thought of his own ingenuity. They'd both be eating together, all right, but she wouldn't have anything to eat but hot cock. And he'd be cutting himself a slice of that nice juicy snatch of hers. "Come on over right now," he repeated. To himself he added, My cock and I can't wait any longer!

"I'm on my way," he could hear the woman promise. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added: "But, hey, what about your two daughters?"

"Daphne and Tricia?" Burns grinned to himself again at the mere thought of his two delicious young daughters, whose lithe bodies were only just beginning to ripen into the full sexual maturity of womanhood. He wanted those two sweet daughters of his just as much as he wanted Sue Carson, his secretary. But he didn't dare force himself sexually upon his two daughters. At least not for a couple of years yet. They were only sixteen and seventeen, and to Hamilton Burns it seemed as though the two girls hadn't arrived at their sexual prime yet, but he was soon to find out otherwise!

"Look," he said to his shapely secretary on the other of the phone line, "never mind about my two daughters. Just get on over here so we can straighten out this budget and hang onto our jobs, okay?"

"Yes, Sir," he could hear her reply, and then Burns, hung up in relief. It was only when the phone was back on the hook that a thought occurred to him: why had Sue Carson asked if his daughters were home? After all, if she and her boss were really going to get together for business purposes, it didn't matter if the kids were around. Was it possible, he asked himself, that that bitch of a secretary had managed to figure out the real reason for his telling her to come over? Was it possible, he asked himself, that Sue Carson had figured out he wanted her to come here for purposes of sex, rather than of business? No. It didn't seem possible. She was a smart woman, but not that smart.

Hamilton Burns took one more look around to make certain that everything was in readiness. The house, the dinner, everything was arranged so as to make his guest comfortable enough to be receptive to sexual suggestion, but not so comfortable that she would smell a rat the minute she walked in the door. And, of course, he'd taken the phone off the hook and sent his daughters out for the night, sending them to a slumber party at the house of one of their young friends. That way Hamilton Burns could feel confident in seducing the woman he longed for without fear of being interrupted by his daughters.

Ah, his daughters! Hamilton allowed himself a moment to mentally savor the physical delights of his two female offspring. Sixteen-year-old Daphne, still the pure and innocent little virgin-girl, and seventeen-year-old Tricia, soft and youthful like her sister, but with just enough of the hard edge of impending maturity to remind any man she was with that she was part girl and part woman. Hamilton knew that soon, very soon, his daughters would reach the time in life when they would learn the delights of sharing themselves with a man, and he suddenly found himself wishing that he could be that man. Quickly, almost guiltily, he put the thought out of his mind. A grown man going to bed with his own daughters! Ridiculous! One simply doesn't do that sort of thing in polite society, and that's all there is to it!