Mallory and her Achilles Heel

"I ... I ..."

"Did you think you'd still see the imprint of your Momma's ass on the bench ... huh ... did ya!"

He was stood right in front of me now. I was almost gagging, the stench was so bad. He stunk of body odour, his hair was greasy and matted and he hadn't had a shave in weeks judging by the amount of stubble he had on his face. His clothes reeked, but I wasn't sure of what.

"But if you look real close ... just here ..." he reached out and pointed a finger at a spot on the edge of the bench, "... you can just make out the imprint of your Momma's hand as she gripped hold of the bench when I fucked her!"

I jumped back in revulsion. I hadn't realised that I had leant in to look so closely at what Ed was pointing at. But he'd noticed.

"I can see you're intrigued. Maybe it's because you want to get fucked by me as well!"

"I most certainly do not!" I retorted angrily. I had rediscovered my voice.

"Yeah, sure you do. But don't worry. I'm not about to go to jail for under age sex. Oh no. We'll just have to make do with a fumble instead. I know you'll like it, especially if you're anything like your Momma!"

He'd clearly not realised I'd now turned eighteen and without thinking I was about to correct his assumption when his hands closed around my 32DD breasts. My boobs were prominently displayed because of my tight fitting, knitted cheerleader top. He squeezed them hard and luckily my mind became blank before I could reveal this snippet of information. I tried to move but couldn't. I was frozen to the spot as Ed groped and manhandled my breasts.

Why was I not moving? What was keeping me stood in front of this smelly and obnoxious man who was now feeling me up pretty good.

Now I'm no prude. Even from the age of seventeen, when my boobs finally started to appear I've had boys fondle them. But no-one had done it like Ed was doing it right now. To my shame I could feel myself responding to his manipulations of my large tits as he ran his hands over them, squeezing and massaging them, fondling and playing with them.

I could see drool running down from his mouth onto his stubble and the sight revolted me. He was clearly enjoying himself intensely and I could now feel something pressing against my leg. I may still seem to be naive but I know what a cock is.

Hot flushes were rushing through my body now in a seemingly never ending torrent. I felt really funny inside. It was a kind of fuzzy, warm feeling that is hard to describe properly. I could sense little pulses of electricity flashing through me, making parts of me tingle and I was aware that something was happening to me down below, between my legs.

And then Ed shoved his hand up under my short skirt. As his fingers touched my panties it broke the spell.

"Get off me!" I exploded in anger. I hit out at him, battering against his arms with my small fists.

"Now, now," he laughed at me, easily batting away my feeble attempts to hurt him. "If you're not careful, you'll hurt yourself!"

He forced me back up against the bench, his arms closing tightly around me. I continued to struggle but he held me easily, so easily that he stuck his hand back under my skirt again.

I felt his fingers rubbing against my most private of places. No-one had been there before, no-one. Only I had ever touched myself there. I fought back as best I could but he was too strong. The way he had his arms around me meant he could still squeeze one of my big tits whilst the other one went to work down below.

The stench of the man was overwhelming. I was making him sweat and that wasn't good at all. What had been absolutely and disgustingly revolting had now gotten a whole lot worse.

That was until he tried to kiss me. I nearly threw up as his breath hit me. He was persistent but I managed to keep my lips away from his by letting him get better access to my pussy.

Not that it was a fair trade off as my stance had already shifted moments before. I hadn't deliberately moved, it just happened of it's own free will. His fingers were tracing the outline of my pussy lips as he rubbed along them. I could feel myself that they were considerably bigger than earlier.

It was too much to take and I was done. Trying to keep his lips off me, trying to get his hands off my boobs, trying to free myself from his vice like grip, something had to give.

I offered very little resistance as his fingers slipped under my cotton panties and entered my slick virgin pussy.

"Ohh fuuucckk ..." I growled in pleasurable pain as he jammed two thick, gnarled fingers inside me at the same time.

I stopped fighting as I concentrated on what he was doing to me. He relaxed his grip when he realised I was no longer battling against him.

He pushed me back up against the bench again and as I straightened up he took a pace back. The only contact he had with me now was his two fingers that were firmly embedded deep inside my sopping wet pussy.

He looked deep into my eyes, holding them in his unblinking gaze as he thrust upwards, lifting me up onto my toes. I moaned loudly as he repeated this action, curling his fingers as he rammed them up inside my pussy again and again. His hand was now a blur and it dawned on me that this was what I had seen him do to Mom. His other hand came up to maul at my breasts. And I moaned louder.

I'd never had an orgasm before. Well not one anything like this. I felt my whole body begin to shudder to be followed almost immediately by a hot wave of pleasure that was so intense that I felt I was going to pee myself. My blood felt like it was boiling inside of me as I got hotter and hotter.

I cried out as I exploded and I could feel large amounts of liquid gush from my pussy to cascade down onto my bare legs. I had no idea what had happened or what it was. The aftershocks coursed through my body, each one slightly less intense than the last.

The gardener took the opportunity to kiss me and before I realised what I was doing his tongue was in my mouth and I was kissing him back. I rubbed my body against his, pushing my large breasts into his welcoming hands. But as my massive orgasm receded the reality of my situation hit home.

I screamed bloody blue murder and pushing Ed away ran for the door. He made no attempt to come after me. I sprinted across the grass towards the sanctuary of our house, my cheeks flushed bright red from the shame and disgust and self loathing. I choked back the tears until I was safely locked inside the house and I was in the shower in my bathroom.

I wept for what I had done. I showered, the water almost too hot to bear as I tried to wash his smell off me. And I wept some more as a reality dawned on me.

* * *

I never told Mom or Dad what had happened that day and I kept out of the way of Ed from then on. It never occurred to me at the time that I should have reported his actions to the police. I suppose I thought I was protecting Dad and his social program. I don't know.

I can recall that a few weeks later things got a little bit strained between Mom and Dad. They didn't seem to be talking a whole lot to each other and when they did it seemed clipped and forced. He also cancelled a couple of business trips away, which was definitely unusual.

Ed Harris disappeared around the same time. Dad told me he'd left but I reckon he fired him. I'd already worked out that Dad must have found out about Mom and Ed, or maybe she'd confessed. Either way things were really uncomfortable for quite a long time. In fact I don't think their relationship ever got better.

* * * * *

As I said earlier, I buried away my memories of that god awful time. I guess maybe I should have had some therapy. It might have helped me.

Anyway, I saw out my final year of high school. We won the Regional Cheer-leading Championship that year, which was a great way to end my high school days. It proved that hard work and dedication and loads of practice can pay off. And then I went to College.

Now normally you would expect me to tell you that I met a guy at college and we married straight after graduation. But I didn't. Sure I dated quite a few guys. I even had sex with a few of them, although never enough to earn a reputation.

When I graduated I had no real idea what I wanted to do so while I was making my mind up, Dad let me go work for him. I asked to start at the bottom. I didn't want any special treatment. He told me he was glad I'd said that because that's exactly where he was going to start me anyway.

To my surprise I really enjoyed it. It was great to work for my Dad and he taught me so much. After a few years of working my way through every possible department of his empire he put me on the board of directors.

Under his guidance I invested large chunks of my generous salary into property and that combined with dividends, stock options and shares eventually made me a millionaire in my own right. Well on paper I was. I was now twenty nine years of age and on top of the world. I had everything. Everything except someone to share it with. I wasn't married and I realised that I wanted to be. Of course I'd dated but everyone knew who I was and seemed to be more interested in my money than me as a person. Plus no-one matched up to my Dad. That was until Hunter Foxworth III entered my life.

Hunter was a magnificent specimen of a man. He had the physique and frame of a linebacker, a shock of blond hair and the chiselled good looks of a film star. He was regarded by the female population as sex on legs!

We met by chance at a charity fund raiser. Mom and Dad still went to a whole host of these and had taken to dragging me along too. I'd not been in any kind of relationship for over a year. Hunter it seemed had just ditched his latest paramour. He'd had the same problem with gold diggers as I'd had.

The attraction was fairly instantaneous and we were married within six months. The press, especially the tabloids and the gossip rags hailed us as a match made in heaven. According to them we were the golden couple, envied and admired by everyone. One even went so far as to proclaim that we were so glamorous that we were probably the best looking couple on the planet. We apparently had it all. And I suppose we did. Hunter was a multi-millionaire in his own right as well. We were invited to all the best parties, seen at all the best events. The public's perception was that all our friends were celebrities and high profile men and women of business although that wasn't altogether true. My best friend was still Tori from my high school days.

I loved Hunter. Not only was he ruggedly good looking, he was also a lovely, generous, compassionate man. He also had a fairly big cock and he certainly knew how to use it. We fucked a lot, we made love a lot. There was nothing we didn't do between the sheets. He was everything I'd ever wanted in a man. I was the luckiest woman in the world.

By this time I had also blossomed. Like my mother before me I now had a voluptuous, hour glass body shape. One year I'd even been voted as one of the best looking women in the world by the readers of a popular magazine. I could afford the best makeup and the best clothes and shoes but I tried not to flaunt it. But the magazines made it hard for us. We were pursued and photographed relentlessly by the paparazzi who didn't care where we were or what we were doing. Some incredibly revealing photos came out one time with me and Hunter in various stages of undress. God knows how they got the pictures.

The photos showed most of my now considerable 34EE breasts, which perch high on my chest with no sag despite their size. Unfortunately due to the fabric of my bikini top my large nipples were also clearly on view. And as if that wasn't bad enough there were shots of my curvy legs and thighs and numerous pictures of my very full and round ass with only a string bikini bottom to hide my embarrassment. I'd been wearing it for Hunter's eyes only.

The text with the photos was quite coarse, mainly expressing that my body was regarded by men as being very hot and that I was extremely fuckable, although they didn't exactly use those words.

The basis of the article was using comments purportebly made by the ex wife of a very famous rocker who stated that a woman should be a maid in the living room, a cook in the kitchen but a whore in the bedroom. They had deliberately misquoted her, adding in their own lurid interpretation of what we might or might not be doing in the bedroom and making suggestions of what I had to do to keep Hunter satisfied and to prevent him from straying. The inferences were perfectly obvious and certainly not nice to read.

Initially shocked over the photographs and then incensed by the disparaging comments of the article I fleetingly thought about suing them but was persuaded not to by the company lawyer. In his opinion it would only have added fuel to the fire and given the magazine a massive publicity boost, which would be a win, win for them. I found out much later that the photo of my boobs with my prominent nipples was the most downloaded picture the magazine had ever had. It was cold comfort and not a record I particularly wanted.

I was now fast approaching thirty four years of age. My biological time clock had ticked past the optimum time to conceive and I was definitely on the downward slope. Hunter and I kept trying. In fact we tried a lot. There was never a problem in our love life. Between the sheets Hunter kept me more than satisfied and fucked me to death. After a few painful years and false dawns we decided against using further IVF treatment to help us. We thought that if it was meant to be then it would happen naturally.

Like my dad, Hunter's family were also big supporters of charity and they too had a keen interest in the social problems that affect so many people, especially those in the deprived and neglected areas of our inner cities. They were particularly keen on social housing issues and were presently deeply involved in the projects. Their main involvement was in raising public awareness and funds for a housing association that was looking to renovate and update some apartment blocks and houses in a run down area of the city.

Hunter, knowing my families involvement in similar areas asked me if I would assist him in theirs and join him on the committee. I was delighted to accept.

Within a matter of weeks I was one of the committee members who went along to meet the developers at the site. It was a photo opportunity devised to spark up some much needed public interest. The Mayor had promised to be there, so we were pretty much guaranteed television coverage too. The site visit was a prelude to a fund raiser dinner and dance in the evening.

Whilst we visited several homes in various stages of renovation, the TV cameras and press were mainly focused and set up in just one house. It was presently occupied but clearly in desperate need of some work. It was felt that it was the ideal property to showcase.

I tried to dress down as much as I could without it appearing that I was trying too hard to look like I shopped at the discount stores when clearly I didn't. After all I didn't want to insult people. So my carefully selected attire was a smart pair of trousers and a sweater. I didn't realise until we got to the site what a mistake I had made.

The first part went fine. We started the visit by looking at one of the apartment blocks.The problem was when we went to walk to the house where the main event was going to take place in front of the cameras. It appeared to be only a short walk but due to the amount of folk who'd turned out it took us much longer than anticipated. It then started to pour down. It was only a sudden, sharp shower but by the time we got to the house everyone was soaked. And that's where my problem became evident.

My sweater was so wet it moulded itself to my body like a second skin. My large nipples got even larger due to the cold and could be clearly seen poking through the fabric of my bra as well as the sweater. In fact it was so see through you could make out the size of my aureoles. I was absolutely horrified.

It got worse when I was unceremoniously thrust to the front to make a short impromptu speech. I became the centre of attraction for the crowd all of whom, well mainly the men, seemed to have their eyes glued on my large breasts.

I could feel myself blushing with embarrassment especially as I became aware just how many of the men ogling my boobs seemed to be dressed in filthy clothing and looked so scruffy. I had a sudden flash back to Ed Harris as a certain foul odour perpetrated it's way up to my sensitive nostrils. I baulked at the smell as my memory of him seared across my brain. Where had that come from? It was over fifteen years since I last clapped eyes on that disgusting man. My body reacted and I gave a little gasp, which just served to push my breasts further forward. I felt my nipples harden.

I swallowed hard, quickly ended my little speech and stepped back out of the limelight. The smell cleared but I still glanced nervously around me expecting to see Ed Harris glaring back at me. I was grateful when I didn't and I was so pleased when we left the building. I couldn't wait to get away. I was a bag of nerves and wished that Hunter had been there to support me.

On my arrival home I got a call from him. He'd been called away on urgent business and wouldn't be able to take me to the charity fund raiser that night. Although I begged him not to make me go alone he insisted. It was a big deal and one of us had to be there he told me bluntly.

I dressed accordingly. The black cocktail dress fit like a glove. My large breasts were securely held inside although there was a fair amount of my deep cleavage on display. The mid thigh length was long enough to cover the tops of my stockings and suspenders as long as I didn't bend over too much. I'd finished off the outfit with a brand new pair of 5" Christian Louboutin heels. Like my mom before I'd developed a strong liking for high heels and although I also liked Jimmy Choo footwear my preference and first choice was always Louboutins.

But it was whilst dressing that I suddenly realised my bracelet was missing. My heart sank. I couldn't believe I'd not noticed it wasn't there before now. I checked my car and then tore our home apart looking for it. Panic set in as my search grew evermore frantic. It wasn't as if it was valuable because it wasn't. It was the huge sentimental value that made it irreplaceable. The bracelet had belonged to Hunter's great, great grandmother and had been handed down through the generations. The Foxworths had been delighted for me to have it and now I'd let them down. I just had to find it, no matter what.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to compose myself enough to try and figure out where I might have lost it. I racked my brain trying to recall instances during the day that I had touched it or realised I was wearing it. It wasn't until I came to the afternoon that I began to narrow down my options.

And then came the realisation. There was only one place where it could be. It must have come loose when I was in the dilapidated building down in the projects. It had to be there. I was pretty sure now that I'd still had it on my wrist as we walked towards the house from the apartment block. If I'd lost in the street, then there was no hope of finding it. In fact even if I had lost it in the house the chances were it was now in a pawnshop somewhere. But I had to try to find it.

I finished dressing, grabbed my bag and ran downstairs. I snatched up my car keys and was out the house in a flash. The drive downtown took a while due to the traffic and then I became disorientated when I got into the maze of streets that made up the projects. Time was pressing now if I wanted to make it to the charity dinner on time.