The Chronicles of Ben Merriman #02

"And second?" I asked, getting in on the talk.

"We gather information on-site," he replied.

"How exciting," Caroline muttered unhappily.

"We're still a ways away from need for that course of action, my dear," my father said with a smile. "Let's move on, then, shall we? Status reports. Beau?"

Beau flipped open his folder and looked at some notes. "Waiting on payment from the attorney with the adulterous wife. I testify next week on the rape case from last year. Current case load includes work for Saul Fishman, a convict who says he's innocent, and Terry Ventura, the jeweler, who had some merchandise high-jacked in transit. Cases progressing."

"Caroline?"

"Closed the file on the delinquent father last week. Closed the file on the stolen briefcase, too, the one with the scrawny yuppie businessman and his lost three thousand cash. He misplaced the damn thing; took me all of twenty four hours to figure it out and find it. Awaiting final payment there. Current case load includes new work for Timothy Stone, the senator whose daughter went missing two days ago from UCLA. Also, Watkins wants me to info gather an underground gambling ring in Chinatown. It might be worth more than the usual fee."

Jack Watkins was one of the higher-ups at the Los Angeles Times. Like I said, Caroline often did some work for the paper on what were considered tougher assignments.

My father nodded. "Good. What about Ben?"

Caroline glanced at me. "He is . . . doing well."

Considering the source, it might have been one of the best compliments I'd ever received. Caroline was not one to compliment, much less a grunt like me. I was thrilled, and by the wide smile on his face, so was my father. "Excellent. Ben, anything to add?"

I looked around, not really knowing what to say, and decided after a moment to just follow the lead. "Jacquelyn Atkinson wants us at the wedding. We've already got pictures of her fiancé with another woman, but Atkinson wants us there to document any improper action before, during, or after the ceremony."

My father nodded again. "Ok, keep me posted as things continue to develop. All right then, people, let's get back to work."

* * *

I had not planned to go out. It was Friday night, but the high school football team was on the road some two hours away, the Atkinson wedding was the next day, there was no party I was keen to attend, and there was no girl I was planning to see. It was to be mellow sort of evening.

Was to be, I said.

When the phone rang, I considered letting it go through to voicemail. I did not recognize the number and figured, therefore, that no good could come of it. I was wrong, of course, which was known to happen from time-to-time; the voice on the other end of the line was girlish and familiar, and somewhat anxious.

"Hi, Ben!"

"Hi, Courtney," I replied. Amazingly, it'd been only a week since our carnal encounter. So much had happened since then. She was fun, though, and it was good to hear from her, so I said so. "I'm glad you called. What's up?"

Her voice dropped low. "I want to see you again," she said conspiratorially.

I grinned. "Why are you whispering?"

"My dad's in the other room. I don't want him to hear me. I want to see you again."

Two soft, round ass cheeks popped into my mind. Yes, I thought to myself, I could definitely go for some Courtney Daly again. "Let's do it. When?"

"Tonight," she said breathlessly, relief in her voice, "after the football game."

And the devil in me reared its head yet again. "No, during the football game."

"During the game?" She was suddenly very, very nervous.

"Come to the parking lot at half-time, after your routine." I got hard just thinking about it.

There was a long moment of silence, and then she said, softly, breathlessly, "Ok."

There was an important call I needed to make as soon as Courtney hung up. I dialed the cell phone number, hoping he was available, praying he had nothing better to do. "Hello?" the man asked as he picked up, and I thanked the heavens above.

"I need your van," I said hastily.

"What?" Beau asked, a little confused.

"Important stuff to do tonight," I told him. "I need your van."

"My van?"

"Your van."

"What will I drive? I can't use the Harley, engine's busted."

"We'll trade for the night."

"The Range?"

"The Range."

The man thought for a moment. "What do you need it for? Would you dad approve?"

"Can't tell you," I said, "and probably not."

I heard a chuckle. "You got yourself a deal."

Which is how I found myself pulling into the football field parking lot of West Mountain School right around eight o'clock that night, and parking the car in as isolated but visible a spot as I could find.

The roar of the crowd let me know the game was still progressing through the first half of play. Sometime later, whistles rang out and speakers blared to life, pumping some kind of hip-hop dance mix. It was my guess (correct) that the cheerleaders were performing, which meant it was only a few minutes before Courtney showed up.

And then she did.

She was wearing the same outfit she had been when we met, that insanely sexy high school cheerleader outfit: tight white sweater with the letters "WMHS" emblazoned in red on the front and an ultra-short pleated mini-skirt, white with red trim. Her tummy was bare, as were her legs, all the way down to her tiny white socks and sneakers. Her brown hair was done up in a ponytail. Her skin was flushed and a thin layer of perspiration shimmered in the light.

It was insanely hot to witness her in all her cheerleader glory.

She walked briskly up to me and began to speak, but "I only have a few minutes before—" was as far as she got. I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to me, and without a word pressed my lips against hers. She stiffened, surprised, but instantly melted into me, her soft lips parting to allow my tongue to slip into her mouth. She was an excellent kisser, I had to admit; I could get lost kissing her for hours. But on this night, I had other plans.

"Get in," I ordered.

She was confused. "What do you mean?"

"The van," I told her. "Get in."

Courtney stared at the thing for a long moment. Then she grinned, and leaned in to flick her tongue out just across my lips.

I was grinning myself as she accepted my hand and gracefully climbed through the door into the back section of the van. I had to hand it to Beau; he did keep the place clean and versatile. Currently, there was nothing in the back except a couple of plastic storage crates and the blankets and pillows I had brought along.

I followed her and seated myself on one of those crates, and pulled her to me again. We had very little time, minutes at best; it was going to be a quick, hard, nasty fuck. And by the start of the fourth quarter, I assumed, all her friends would know about it.

She straddled me and threw her arms around my neck, and her sweet uniform-clad body pressed against mine. My hands went to her hips, helping to hold her in place as my tongue trailed up her slender neck. I could taste the salt of her sweat from the game as I traced the line of her jaw, all the way back to nibble at her ear. She moaned and yanked my head back, smashing her lips onto mine, shoving her tongue into my mouth.

My hands roamed over her and she took the hint; up went her hands, straight above her head as I peeled off the tight sweater-top and unhooked her bra to liberate her fantastic breasts. They were handful-sized mounds of delightfulness, and instantly my mouth closed over the left crest, savoring once more that salty taste. She shrieked and her fingers clawed at my head and hair as my tongue danced rings over the shriveled nipple. The other nipple was not far behind; I switched to the right, then back to the left, then back to the right.

After several seconds of suckling, it was Courtney's turn. My shirt was off in no time and the girl was licking down my chest, her tongue fluttering across my skin. My jeans and underwear followed as I lifted my ass to allow her to undress the rest of me, which left my fully naked body completely exposed to her. She still wore her cheerleading skirt, socks, and shoes.

I watched as her eyes took in the sight of my swollen cock for the second time, and nearly exploded from the anticipation as she languorously lowered her head. Her sweet lips parted and the mushroom crown slipped into her warm, wet mouth, and all was right with the world.

She cupped my balls in the palm of her hands, teasing them even as she was teasing me with her mouth. Of course, there was not enough time for teasing, so I placed my own hand on the back of her neck and guided her further down my shaft. Her tongue fluttered as she descended.

It was an incredible sight: imagine a beautiful, half-naked cheerleader in your lap, eyes closed with her lips wrapped around your cock. The sight alone nearly did me in.

My fingers took hold of her ponytail as she pulled back and dropped lower, lapping at my testicles with the flat of her tongue. I moaned, which made her smile, and also made her decide to spend some additional time down there as she licked my balls repeatedly with long, soft strokes. She took one into her mouth and suckled it, then grinned as it plopped out.

"My turn to get naked," she said with a playful grin.

Courtney rose to her knees and tucked her fingers into the waistband of her skirt, not to mention the white spandex underwear beneath, and slowly swiveled around. She bent forward and ever-so-slowly started to slide those garments down over her wondrous ass.

I do not think it was possible to stare any harder than I was as the top of her crack came into view, and my eyes did not leave their target as the shorts and skirt dropped around her ankles. There, beguilingly displayed for me yet again, was her gorgeous pink pussy and sweet little rosebud of an asshole.

The look was not a long one, however. She turned back to me, grinning, and moved forward – breasts jiggling as she came – then straddled me again and cried, "Fuck me now!"

And you can guess what happened next.

Courtney's fingers wrapped around my rigid cock, holding it straight and steady as she lowered herself onto it, and the mushroom head parted her rubbery pink lips and surged deeper as she impaled herself completely. She was tight, very tight, and burning hot, and she began to grind her hips, forcing my meat deeper and deeper inside her hole.

I kissed her again, our tongues dueling as her sweaty tits rubbed up and down my chest as she rose and fell, and my hands took hold of the fleshy but firm cheeks of her ass, pulling her even closer against me. My hands were like wild animals as they rambled over her flesh, and swiftly made their way into the crack.

And yet they could not stop there. Even as Courtney gyrated her pelvis in my lap, grinding her pussy down onto my cock, her breasts like paintbrushes coating my torso with her sweat, my hands wanted more.

Which is why they grazed lightly over her little back door hole, and why Courtney moaned loudly and pushed her tongue even deeper into my mouth at the new sensation. Encouraged, my right pointer finger pressed harder, taking up residence right there on the wrinkled skin of her anal opening, and began to massage little circles against it.

She was very close to orgasm, I knew, as the grinding increased. She pulled away and buried her face in the side of my neck, and emitted a series of low whimpers. Her hot breath tickled my skin.

"Do it," she whispered, and I knew exactly what she meant.

I plunged my finger into the beautiful cheerleader's ass and held on for dear life as she exploded from the pleasure. Juice poured over my cock, so much it trickled down the shaft and onto the crate. She rose to the highest heights for long moments before returning to earth.

And then she did another incredible thing, just another mark in the favor of this delectable girl of limited inhibitions. Before her orgasm ended, before I even knew myself what was happening, Courtney had taken charge, pushing me off the crate and flat onto the ground. She straddled my face and sank her slick pussy down over my mouth in the classic "sixty-nine" position.

Immediately my tongue extended, eagerly looking to taste the sweetness of her nectar, and I was not disappointed; her ass tilted forward to allow more room, and I assailed her delicious pussy with gusto. Meanwhile, and once again, my juice-covered cock found its way into her mouth; Courtney licked up and down, up and down, gently suckling the head before swallowing nearly the entire length down her throat.

But as sweet as her pussy tasted, I had some other nasty ideas and time was running short. Her puckered little anus looked so sweet and tender, I decided to switch up my tactics. I tilted my own head this time and my tongue touched down tentatively on the rim of her anal opening, and the moan I received for my efforts was twice as strong as her others had been.

"Lick my ass!" she cried, and I was more than happy to oblige.

My tongue swiped lazily across the wrinkled, pink skin. I spread the toned cheeks with my hands and stabbed my tongue into her hole, and my cock dropped from her mouth as she wailed and moaned, and pushed her ass back into my face. The girl absolutely loved me licking her ass!

Somewhere nearby, we could hear the music of the halftime period change, which meant we were now running very much out of time; a couple of minutes left at most. Courtney groaned and cursed, and pulled away, allowing my tongue to slide from its place in her ass.

She dropped forward to her hands and knees and I wasted no time scooting and rising to position behind her, and with one hard thrust my cock was back into her oven-hot cunt, embedded to the hilt. My strokes were hard and fast now; my thighs slapped up against the cheeks of her ass, and my hands held onto her hips for dear life.

"Wait!" she panted, very much out of breath. "Stop!"

Which is why I immediately pulled my cock out of her, because above all things I respect the wishes of the women I am with. I wondered if something was wrong; it was not, I surmised, when she glanced back over her shoulder with a naughty, wickedly nasty grin on her face.

"On your back," she ordered breathlessly, and instantly I complied.

Courtney hovered over me, grinning devilishly, looking down at my naked body and the rock hard cock between my legs. Then she dropped low and slithered up my body, her tongue drawing a line of fire from my navel to my lips, where she finished with an immensely intense kiss. My cock was right next to her pussy and I wiggled my hips in vain to get it inside.

"No, no, bad boy," she said with a grin. "Wrong hole." Here we go again, I thought to myself as she shifted her body forward and guided my stiff cock right to the opening of her ass. Her grin widened. "This one, please."

Courtney closed her eyes and bit her lip as she reversed direction, pushing herself back onto seven inches of waiting meat. She relaxed, and the head of my cock popped past her anal ring, and she moaned louder and louder with every inch of depth. Then she leaned back fully, putting her hands on the floor of the van behind her.

"So nice," she half-whispered, half-groaned, eyes still closed as she wiggled her hips to get every last bit of my cock into her greedy hole.

It was another one of those sights you could never forget: hot cheerleader, uniform discarded but for socks and shoes, sitting on my lap with my dick in her butt, glistening pussy lips swollen and twitching, body and hair a sweaty mess, eyes closed in euphoria as she rocked back and forth.

I could not help it: I began to hump my hips up into her. Courtney responded by clenching her ass down hard on my shaft, which very nearly snapped it in two. In the most pleasurable way imaginable, of course.

"Fuck my ass, Ben! Fuck me harder!" she screamed, and I prayed there was no one in the parking lot close enough to hear her.

She threw her head back, feet and hands firmly rooted to the floor, and began to really go to town on my cock, bouncing up and down, up and down, harder and harder with each passing moment. I watched, amazed, as her bowels sucked up my cock, only to spit it back out again an instant later. How her tight ass could handle such a load was simply amazing.

Then she brought one finger to her clitoris, and that simple little touch sent her over the edge. Her body tightened and her bounces became tight little thrusts as she spasmed with the force of her orgasm, whimpering all the while about how good it was; she mentioned god several times.

It was the end for me, too, when I felt her ass clench with orgasm around my cock again. My dam burst and wave after wave of hot white cum spewed up into her depths, unloading the full contents into her ass.

She sprawled forward onto me, the sticky sweat feeling of our togetherness very much noticed as my softening cock plopped out of her ass. "Wonderful," she breathed into my ear, not moving.

"Indeed," I said.

The music from the stadium ended and Courtney immediately perked up.

"Shit!" she squeaked, and scrambled to find her clothes on the floor. "I have to go. Call me, ok?"

She sounded serious, which was a plus in my book; I would definitely call her, even just to hang out together without sex. She dressed quickly and, after another searing kiss, was gone and back to cheering for her team, which meant it was time to return the van to Beau.

Who, of course, had no idea what it was used for.

* * *

Caroline gets home late, just before midnight to be exact.

The day has been several hours of work on the Melissa Stone case, which she is not feeling good about. The college student and daughter of Senator Timothy Stone had gone missing two days earlier. The police had no leads. Background work and police interviews produced very little. She is going to have to think outside the box.

She shoves away all thoughts of work as she heads through the apartment and back to her room. She has two roommates, both of whom are likely asleep.

The room of Caroline Cassidy is simple, unlike the room of a typical female. She spends little time there, which explains its scanty decor. There is a large four-post bed, a nightstand, a chest of drawers, and a computer desk and chair. The walls were blue and the bed covers white. It is clean, and little else can be said of it.

Caroline drops her bag and keys and strips off her clothes without pause; she's been in them for close to eighteen hours. She moves into the bathroom, a trail of discarded garments in her wake.

She catches sight of her naked form in the full-length mirror on the bathroom wall, and stops to appraise herself. She is quite fond of her appearance, there is no denying that, even if it means she has to deal with idiot men hitting on her or trying to smooth-talk her on a constant basis. Unlike other beautiful women, she likes the root, but not the resulting attention.

Her breasts are round and firm, and real; this a main reason why guys of all leagues approach her, to stare up close at her tits. The rest of her body is lithe and lean – she was an athlete in high school – with a hard stomach and a golden tan.

Her own personal hygiene is very important; she brushes her teeth three times a day, showers more than necessary, and goes to pains (sometimes literally) to keep herself neatly groomed, and in some places waxed. In fact, she thinks as she studies it, the blonde swath of tiny curls set just above the hairless pink area below it could use a trim. She turns to the side and her palms cup her buttocks, and hefts them; her bottom is as firm and tight as it was when she was eighteen.

She opens the glass door to the shower and twists the shower head to hot. The nozzle gurgles and sprays a cool stream across the tiled walls, and soon steam rises from the liquid as it cuts through the air.