In Her Father's Footsteps Ch. 02

Scooting up on the bed, Brad's cock felt the cool sheet rubbing against his hot shaft again, helping to keep "daddy" all big and hard for his impending entry and descent into "baby."

Now the tip of daddy pressed past baby's wide-open lips, and began its slow, inch by inch thrust into her. She couldn't help smiling now, not only at feeling him start his descent into her, but also at the recollection of the first time that she had seen Brad's love tool. She had fallen in love with Brad for his intelligence, his ability to be a good provider, his understanding that her career was very important to her, and the fun, creative, unusual places and activities around which he built their dates. The fact that he was good looking--not a stereotypical hunk, but pleasant to look at--was not the main attraction, but it was clearly a nice icing on the cake to Jane.

Jane and Brad had just concluded their third date, and after a lot of kissing and stroking each other, she had stood facing him, loosened and removed his neck tie, and slowly unbuttoned his formal white shirt. She had then noticed that he had a nice, muscular chest, with just the right amount of chest hair, just the way she liked her man: enough chest hair to run her fingers through it, but not so much as to obscure her seeing and touching the soft, smooth skin underneath. Her heart had raced and pounded, her mouth had watered, and her tongue had slowly licked her lips in anticipation, as she had slowly unbuckled his belt and slid the zipper of his suit pants down that first time. When she finally had him naked and had looked at him, her mouth had gasped open in astonishment. His love muscle was long and thick, very hard from the muscle and bone inside, but her eager hands and licking tongue had quickly discovered that his shaft had very soft and smooth skin on the outside. She had stealthily retrieved her sewing kit's tape-measure from the nearby night-stand, so stealthily that Brad had not noticed until the soft fabric of her tape measure was actually touching the sensitive skin of his cock.

When she had read the tape measure, Jane's mouth had once more dropped open in astonishment. From the point where his cock began protruding straight out from his balls, until it ended in the wide-open single eye at the very tip, his wonder worm was a full eight inches long, two inches longer than the only other trouser snake she had ever seen up- close and personal. But even more astonishing to her, when she had wrapped the tape measure around his circumference, it had been a very thick 6-1/2 inches around (over 2 inches in diameter).

Noticing that her mouth had opened wide in astonishment, Jane had decided to put her opened mouth to better use than merely gasping in astonishment. Whispering the six most powerful and magical words in any woman's vocabulary -- "I want to suck your cock" -- Jane had then pushed Brad down on the floor, knelt over him, bent her head down, and let him thrust his hips up and down, driving his long, thick rod rapidly in and out of her eager mouth. His bucking hips had pushed the mushroom-shaped head against the back of her throat, and his balls against her lips, before pulling out again to leave only the very tip against her lips. She had then kissed and licked the opening at the tip of his cock's head. He had then thrust himself all the way back down her throat again. She remembered the sweet but tangy taste as a few drops of his juice had hit her tongue, but before she could gulp down his delicious spunk, he had retreated past her teeth and lips.

Jane had feared that a love muscle this long and wide might hurt her tight little pussy, but that day, Brad had proved himself to be gentle and very skillful with his weapon. Now she knew what people meant about it not being the size that matters, but how you use it. She felt truly blessed, having a man with both the size, AND the skill to use it. Very quickly, his deep, rapid thrusts had made her feel so good that she had let herself go, coating his coat with her come and triggering his own wonderful, warm, wet explosion deep inside of her.

Now here she was, her first day on her first case of her first new job after graduation, once more feeling Brad thrust deeply and rapidly in and out of her, her pussy not only no longer fearing his size, but constantly craving it. She could feel her outer lips stretched wide in an O around him, her pussy muscles clamping down tightly on him, as he thrust furiously in and out of her. She knew that he would come soon, and they both knew that they always enjoyed their orgasms more if she came first.

As if to ensure that she would have her orgasm first, Jane began to slide her hand down to her thighs, and across to touch and play with her clit. Brad and Jane were so much in tune with each other, that he beat her to it, reaching down and rubbing his thumb over her clit, then pressing hard on her clit. He hunched himself forward, so that on each in and out thrust, his thick shaft joined his thumb in rubbing her clit.

It only took three or four strokes like this, for her to erupt her desires all over his shaft, accompanied by her loudest and most drawn-out "Yee-hah!" of the evening. Feeling Jane's thick, creamy passion completely coating his cock, Brad now pumped his plentiful supply of love juice deep inside of her, then continued pulsing, stirring their liquid passions into a nicely-blended love martini. Her famous father, from whose shadow she hoped that her new case would finally let her emerge, can keep his "shaken, not stirred" martinis, Jane thought. She much prefers Brad's vibrating human swizzle stick, gently stirring their own natural martini deep inside of her.

When they finally calmed down, and he slowly eased his still-throbbing shaft out of her, the stirred martini of their juices slowly oozed down along the entire length of her still wide-open pussy lips, oozing onto her dark, smooth, creamy thighs, and onto the towel that Brad had thoughtfully placed between her and the sheet. Their strongly-scented ooze seeped out of her at about the same luxuriously-slow pace, and with nearly the same thick consistency, as a Hawaiian lava flow that is starting to cool off. The next morning, invigorated by the previous night's injection of Vitamin Brad, Jane returned to her computer, and her search for the mysterious and elusive arms dealer known only as W. Jane was drawing renewed energy from the thick pulp of Brad Juice still deeply-embedded inside of her. But she couldn't allow her mind to focus on last night now. Jane still had the vague, gnawing feeling that the existence of a Mrs. W was somehow crucial to bringing W to justice.

Jane looked at the photos of W, and of William Washington Walker, again. He was ruggedly handsome, in a traditional sort of way. Handsome in a different sort of way than her Brad. She wondered what sort of shallow woman would have married W for his looks, either not knowing, or more likely not caring, that he was the world's most dangerous and treacherous merchant of death and destruction. Sure, Jane found her own Brad physically attractive, and last night Brad had once more demonstrated his amazing talent for bringing her to sexual ecstasy. But those features were merely the icing on the cake. Jane had first been attracted to Brad, and later fallen in love with him, because of his intelligence, warm personality, and the interesting, unusual, and fun places and events to which he took her. So a woman attracted only to looks, must be shallow indeed.

With W always on the run, watching over his shoulder for authorities of various nations he wanted to stop his nefarious arms trafficking, W obviously couldn't share fun adventures with his wife, the way Brad did with Jane. W must be one hell of a lover, Jane thought, for his wife to stick with him. Either that, or she was not very bright. But who was his wife, and where, when, and how did they meet? Had they met at the spy academy, just as Jane and Brad had first met?

That gave Jane an idea. Could W have met his wife at The Academy? After all, he had gone underground and started running and hiding, less than a year after he graduated. Where else would W have found the time and opportunity to meet, date, fall in love with, and marry a woman?

Since W seemed to like anything with the letter W in it, having concocted an alias with W as all three initials, could his wife's first or last name start with a W also? Or did both her first and last names start with W? Hey, maybe she was on to something here. She punched ina database query for a female academy graduate, class of 1987, both first and last names starting with W. This time, just one name appeared: Wendy Warmcox. That had to be an alias. Maybe she really enjoys warm cocks (and what healthy heterosexual woman doesn't?), but it was unlikely that Warmcox was really her last name. Had the elusive W made up this name for his girlfriend, as some sort of inside joke?

Jane searched through Wendy Warmcox's records from her Academy days. The verbal portrait that came up revealed just the sort of air-head that Jane expected to marry the likes of W. Wendy had been a cheerleader in high-school, and had gotten in trouble with school authorities during a football game. Apparently, naughty little Wendy really did enjoy warm cocks. She was caught lying down under the bleachers, with several football players piled on and beside her, and with her very short cheerleader's skirt raised even higher than normal. She was supposed to be out on the field, leading cheers, and the players were supposed to be in the locker room, resting up for the second half of the game and listening to the coach's half-time pep-talk. Disgraced, Wendy had dropped out of her high school. Not fair, really, Jane thought. The football players hadn't been punished. And her team had rallied in the second half to win the game, after Wendy had fucked the whole team at half-time. Sometime after this incident, Wendy had enrolled in the British Spy Academy, on the very same day as W, suggesting that Wendy and W already knew each other before they both decided to be trained as spies. Jane wondered if W been one of the football players with whom Wendy had been caught at half-time.

Wendy's grades had not been very high at the Academy. And like W, Wendy had never joined Her Majesty's Secret Service at the conclusion of her spy training. So a highly- intelligent man like W had obviously been attracted to Wendy for something other than her brains.

When Jane finally punched up a photo of Wendy Warmcox, even she could see why W had married Wendy. The photo was evidently the one that Wendy had submitted with her application to the Academy, as it showed her in her high- school cheerleader's outfit. She was tall, about 5 foot 7, with long, shapely legs that seemed to reach halfway up to the sun, and which any man would appreciate having wrapped around him. Wendy had an alluring smile, and an absolutely unblemished, smooth, peaches-and-cream facial complexion. That pretty face was framed by long, straight, golden- blonde hair that cascaded down to her well-curved, toned ass, and brushed across her forehead in a cute little bang. But most importantly, her tight cheerleader outfit made it obvious that her huge breasts put even Jane Bond's 36-C breasts to shame. Like Jane, Wendy seemed to dislike bras, as the high-school photo of her in her cheerleader's outfit clearly showed huge, hard nipples poking out against her well-filled-out uniform top. In the photo, Wendy was holding a partially-peeled banana, and her long tongue was suggestively licking the top end of the banana. If Wendy had married W, her obviously-talented tongue was probably what kept this notorious gun merchant loyal to his hot, trampy little bimbo.

But Jane still had no concrete evidence to tie Wendy Warmcox to this dangerous arms dealer named W. Frustrated, she leaned back in her desk chair, propped her feet on her desk, cupped her hands behind her neck, and closed her eyes. For the umpteenth time, Jane replayed in her head the mental tape-recording of the briefing that M had given her about W the previous day. Jane desperately wanted to remember something, anything, that would identify Wendy Warmcox as W's wife. But she finished playing back the briefing in her mind, and still had nothing. Jane leaned forward in her chair, set her feet back on the floor, picked up the stack of the Agency's surveillance photos of W again, and tossed them onto her desk. She spread the photos out, so her eyes could scan them all at once. As Jane looked at each photo, her frustration increased. Nothing in that photo. Nothing here. Nothing, nothing, and still more of nothing.

Amidst all the glossy 8 by 10 black-and-white photos, a tiny color Polaroid snapshot suddenly fell out of the photo pile, and softly landed on Jane's carpeted floor. "Hold on, what's this?" Jane wondered aloud, although nobody was near enough to hear her. She picked up the photo, which looked to her spy-trained eyes like it was taken as some cheap, amateur, and probably bungled attempt at blackmailing W. As Jane looked at the photo, there was the man that she now knew unmistakably was W, sprawled naked on his back on a bed, his arms and legs spread out and tied to the four corner posts of the bed.

Jane's eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she noticed in the photo, the enormous size of W's stiff cock, which was pointing straight up. It looked to be even longer and thicker than her Brad's amazing shaft. Jane had heard, from other women, about men with cocks as long as 10 inches, but she had always assumed that they were exaggerating. Her Brad's eight inches always seemed so long to her, that she had never been able to picture one bigger, until seeing this photo of W naked. Brad's shaft had always completely filled her pussy, his tip pressing against her cervix, his balls against her outer lips, and his thickness tightly stretching her lips around him. So while she drooled in wonder at this photo of W's shaft, Jane also felt that if she ever experienced W's love muscle first-hand, it would hurt her too much. She mentally slapped herself for even thinking about W's huge cock. He was considered the world's most dangerous arms merchant, and Jane Bond would never involve herself with such a man. Besides, she loved Brad, and would never do anything to betray his trust. Her Brad's cock was just the right size for her, and he knew how to use it to bring her to wild, thrashing, shaking, quaking, screaming, moaning orgasms every time, so she had no need of any other cock. Still, that was a mighty big cock that W had, and it was SO hard.

Jane wondered what had made W that hard.

Jane finally moved her eyes away from her riveted attention to W's anatomy, and noticed a naked female figure standing over W's bed at the left side of the snapshot. Now Jane knew what had made W so big and hard, and why this blackmail-style photo had been taken in the first place. Jane studied the female figure. This woman's gaze was locked on W's amazingly huge organ, as Jane's had just been. Not at all surprisingly, that woman had a broad, lustful smile lighting up the peaches-and-cream complexion on her face, as she stared at W's erect 10-incher. Jane recognized the cute blonde bangs, and the long, golden- blonde hair cascading down around the woman's huge, naked breasts (her chest must have been at least 40 inches) and delicately curving ass. That woman also had nearly the same tight, sexy, curving creases as Jane did, where his ass cheeks met her shapely legs. Considering that the high- school photo must have been taken about 15 years ago, this girl had evidently aged very little. But there was no mistaking the woman in the Polaroid photo: that was Wendy Warmcox. Although Jane had never before exhibited any Lesbian traits, as Jane gazed at the naked photo of Wendy, she couldn't help wondering what those enormous breasts would feel like cupped in her hands, and what those long, wide nipples tasted like. Jane found herself wanting to experience first-hand what kind of wild animal this blonde sex-goddess was in bed.

When Jane finally snapped out of her fantasies about W and Wendy, she realized that she now had her proof that W and his wife were both alumni of the British Spy Academy, and had both dropped out of sight when he started selling weapons to terrorists in 1988. Now all Jane Bond had to do, was to determine where W and Wendy were hiding-out right now, and stop W's next arms deal from going through. If only she could find out where that color Polaroid had been snapped, maybe she could track W's movements from there.

And if she could find Wendy, maybe Jane could somehow find a way to use Wendy against W, to bring the arms merchant to justice. She didn't know precisely how yet, but Jane just knew that she had to find something more attractive to Wendy than W's 10-inch cock, to break Wendy's 15 years of loyalty to this dangerous man, and to get Wendy on her side in bringing this terrorist down.

To Be Continued...