Around The World In 80 Babes – Chapter 2: The Quest Begins

Around the World in 80 Babes

by: TRL

Chapter 2: The Quest Begins

January 9th, 2005

Outside Club Gestalt

London, England

Michael Burke watched silently from the front of his Limo as his employer, one Richard Stall, stepped out of the back and headed towards London’s newest Hot Spot.

“Can you hear me now, Boss?” Michael asked into the collar microphone he wore on his lapel.

“Sure can Michael,” Stall replied as he headed up the steps. “Are we sure there’s a target in here?”

“Absolutely,” Tom Lambert’s voice cut in. Lambert was the man who’d created
this video system Stall was now walking into the Club with, hopefully undetected. “I’ve spotted at least three hot celebs in there already.”

“Who’s the biggest name?” Stall asked.

“Uh, I’d say Jordan, but you might argue that Leilani Dowding is bigger.”

“Not particularly,” Stall replied.

“Certainly not in the chest,” Michael snickered from the car.

“Hey, what do I know about British chicks?” Lambert said. “So, you going for Jordan tonight, Boss?”

“Perhaps. I’ll give myself some time to see who else shows up. How’re things at the Steven’s Flat?”

“Not bad, not bad. We’ve got our cameras up and running, but no sign of the target yet. Of course, she could be at her husband’s place tonight-”

“A risk we’ll have to take, Lambert,” Stall muttered. “How many places can you keep bugged at once?”

“Six or seven, depending on if you’re using your necklace camera at the time. If you knew for sure you weren’t going to use it, I’d say we could top out at around nine, ten if I can increase the RAM in the backup hardrive.”

“We’ll keep it to six or seven for now,” Stall said.

“All this to win 25 million dollars,” Michael muttered.

“That’s 25 Million Pounds, Michael,” Stall corrected, “And, more importantly, it’s to NOT have to pay twice that out at the end of the year. We Timekeepers are very strict when it comes to money.”

“Huh. I thought you all just gathered around the wack off to pictures of naked chicks.”

“Our obsession with the beauty of the female body involved in sexual acts is far above mere masturbation, Michael,” Stall said with a hint of rebuke in his voice.

“Hey, I ain’t complaining,” Michael said. “You’ve never failed to show me the goods, usually before your Timekeeper buddies. But do you really think you can get video footage of Eighty different famous babes from all over the world by the end of the year?”

“Only one way to find out,” Stall said. “I’m almost at the bouncer. Keep me informed, but understand I won’t be able to talk to you unless it’s an emergency.”

“What’s that, getting turned down for a blowjob from Melinda Messenger?”

“Very funny,” Stall said in a tone that clearly said he didn’t find it anywhere remotely humorous. “Stall out.”

* * *

Richard Stall found clubs to be an eternal bore. What the average man found so fascinating in going out into an environment where one couldn’t hear one’s own thoughts, while getting inebriated beyond control, and generally wasting a great deal of time. Richard was no teetotaler – he’d certainly drank enough in his life to have lost a night or two in hazy memory – but doing so on a regular occasion was down right stupid in his mind.

Besides, Stall had always found pussy to be so much more intoxicating than alcohol.

That being said, so far his night was far more alcohol than pussy, and it was beginning to get on his nerves.

Getting in to the Club Gestalt hadn’t been a problem. Nor, really, was there a problem finding pussy. He’d actually been propositioned twice in the hour he’d been here. The problem was finding famous pussy that wasn’t so inebriated that they’d pass out before Stall could get into their panties.

If they were wearing panties to being with.

“Boss, we’ve got activity at the Stevens’ flat,” Lambert said in Stall’s ear.

Stall simply grunted in reply.

“It’s her. I’ve got the cameras rolling. Let me know if you’re about to score, ’cause I’ll be watching this.”

Stall sighed in response. It didn’t look like he’d be getting much tonight, anyway.

“Hey, Boss, don’t look now, but Melinda Messenger just left the building on some guy’s arm,” Burke’s voice suddenly cut in.

“Damn it,” Stall muttered.

“Shit, Boss, you’re way better looking than the idiot she’s got all over her ass. You want me to follow them?”

“No,” Stall whispered. “I may need a ride myself before the night’s out.”

* * *

January 9th, 2005

The Flat of Rachel Stevens

London, England

Pop Starlet Rachel Stevens entered her flat for the first time in more than a month. She kept the place for those night when living with her husband wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

Because Rachel wasn’t alone.

“Nice flat,” the young man walking in behind her said.

“Best money can buy,” Rachel replied flatly.

The young man pulled her to him and kissed her, hard. “I want you,” he replied.

“Not yet,” Rachel said, pulling away from him. “I need a drink first.”

“You sure you want to do this?” The young man asked.

“I need this,” Rachel said. “Thanks for helping out.”

“You’re asking me to sleep with you,” the man said. “Really, I should be thanking you.”

“Yes,” Rachel smiled. “You should.”

“So, you aren’t happy with your Marriage?” the man asked.

“I am. And, before you ask, I’m happy with the sex,” Rachel replied.

“Then why am I here?” he questioned.

“You’re here,” Rachel said, handing him a glass of wine, “because I need something different tonight. Someone different. You’re cute, I’m horny, and that’s the end of the story.”

He smiled at her and took a sip. “How do you know I won’t turn around and sell this story to the rags in the morning?”

“Because,” Rachel said. “You aren’t in this because I’m famous. You aren’t in this because I’m rich. You just want to get laid by a pretty girl, and I’m more than willing to put out.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” the man said. “But what if I want more?”

“I’ll give you a check for ten thousand pounds before you leave-” Rachel started, but he cut her off.

“Not what I meant,” He said, reaching down and pulling at the small belt holding up Rachel’s skirt. “I meant,” he said as the skirt fell to the floor, “What if I want more of this?” He indicated Rachel’s wet crotch, her black thong already soaked through.

She smiled, and put down her own glass, keeping a rather secretive smile on her face as she fell into the man’s arms and kissed him again.

* * *

January 9th, 2005

Club Gestalt

London, England

Richard Stall felt like he’d sunk to a new low.

“Lambert,” Stall whispered into his drink. “The chemical. Refresh my memory.”

“Now?!” Lambert said. “Rachel Stevens is getting it on with a guy who is definitely NOT her husband!”

“Tape it, I need to make a move here before I go crazy,” Stall said.

“All right, you’ve got your ring on, right?”

“Yes,” Stall whispered.

“All right, before you approach the target, press the ruby in. That’ll release a small stream of the chemical onto your palm. You might want to cup your hand while you do it.”

“Go on,” Stall said.

“Anyway, once your hand is coated, approach the babe and shake her hand, or touch her arm, or somehow find a way to touch her bare skin. You’ve got about a minute after you hit the button before the chemical becomes useless – this stuff evaporates fast. Once you’ve made contact with her, talk her up. Make sure that for the next minute or two, you have her undivided attention. The chemical works off short term memory, as well as sexual hormones. Hopefully, together, they’ll make her want to jump your bones so bad, she’ll do you in the limo.”

“Actually,” Burke cut in, “The limo would be nice. You can bang Leilani Dowding with her tits pressed against the window if you want.”

“Remind me to install some of these cameras in the limo,” Lambert replied. “Anyway, this stuff only works on women, so don’t worry about it that if you get distracted, you’re going to end up fucking some guy. You do, however, need to watch how much you use it. That ring only has two loads in it. You miss once, you can try again. You miss twice, and you gotta come back here and let me refill it.”

“That’d be a bitch,” Burke muttered.

“Oh, shut up, the both of you,” Stall said, almost too loud. “I’m going to make my approach to the target. Lambert, keep an eye on Stevens until I call for you.”

“No problem there, boss,” Lambert said.

“Let’s just hope Lambert can type one handed,” Burke muttered.

“Oh, shut up, Michael,” Lambert replied.

* * *

January 9th 2005

“The Pit”

London, England.

Back in The Pit, Thomas Lambert’s computer center, half the videoscreens were dedicated to the images coming from Rachel Stevens’ apartment – specifically, the bedroom, where a now naked young man lay on his back, getting what looked like the most intense blowjob he’d ever had.

Lambert grumbled at that. He couldn’t remember the last blowjob he’d gotten. His last girlfriend refused to give them, and when he tried to use one of his chemicals to make her want to taste dick, she’d ended up going lesbian on him. And, while to video footage of his formerly stiff and rather vanilla girlfriend getting her ass licked by a butch lesbian while her family waited in the other room, it had been more than a year now since he’d gotten laid.

Watching the monitor, Lambert saw Rachel sit up and remove her bra, exposing two rather impressive globes to the camera mounted in her headboard. The man reached up, as if to grab those wonderful tits, but Rachel swatter his hands away with her arm and laid back down, engulfing his cock once more with her mouth.

This was why Lambert took the job with Stall. It wasn’t for the money – though he was getting paid handsomely. It wasn’t for the chance to fool around with two of his passions – chemicals and video. It was the chance to explore his fascination with Voyeurism. Lambert had always found spying on people having sex to be the ultimate turn on. His first encounter with sex was when he’d been trying to steal his older sister’s diary when she and her boyfriend had come upstairs. Lambert had jumped into her closet, and turned around to peek out the slits in the door just in time to see his sister take her boyfriend’s cock out of his pants and start to jack him off.

On screen, Lambert saw Stevens stop giving her blowjob, obviously to the dismay of the man. Lambert could only guess how good that blow must have been. Stevens now stood up next to the bed and shed her skirt, leaving her clad in the smallest of thongs. Lambert considered himself extremely lucky that when she’d shed that skirt, her bubble-shaped butt had been directed almost exactly towards another of his cameras. The Timekeepers would love that shot.

Lambert loved all forms of Voyeurism, but video really did the trick for him. Being able to sneak a camera into the most private of areas was a challenge he happily accepted. He remembered his junior year of high school, he’d managed to put a hidden camera in almost every shower head in the girls’ locker room. God, for that first month, he’d had so much great footage on videotape, he’d nearly chaffed his dick from all the masturbating he’d done.

On screen, the man had pulled Stevens to the bed, and yanked off the thong. Looked like he wasn’t going to wait another moment. His rock hard dick, lubricated with Rachel’s spit, quickly penetrated the Pop Star’s pussy. Rachel moaned – at least, it looked like she moaned; Lambert really needed to develop some high quality microphones. Soon, the young woman was rocking back and forth atop her new young stead, riding him for all he was worth.


The man’s hands went up to Rachel’s breasts, and this time there was no resistance. He pinched and kneaded those impressive globes, clearly enjoying the feel of them in his palms. At the same time, Rachel reached down and grabbed his shoulders, using them as leverage to push herself harder and harder onto her new lover.


“Huh?” Lambert said, suddenly realizing he was being spoken to.

“Dude, wake the fuck up!” Burke’s voice cut through. “The boss is about to make his move. Turn on his cameras!”

“Right, right,” Lambert said, pulling his eyes away from Rachel long enough to double check that all of Stall’s cameras were up and running, and that the computers were saving everything they saw.

“We’re good to go Boss. Go get ‘er.”

* * *

January 9th, 2005

Club Gestalt

London, England

Stall was sick and tired of being inside this stupid club already. He’d spent the last ten minutes working closer to the nearest famous babe he could find, and now it was time to make his move. Now, with his target less than five feet away from him, he decided to go for it.

Pressing the small ruby on his ring, Stall felt a quick wash of coolness hit his palm. He quickly moved forward, hoping to get at the girl before it was too late.

“Excuse me,” he said to his target, “Aren’t you Katie Price?”

Katie Price, known to most of the rest of England as the supermodel Jordan, turned towards stall and gave him an appreciative glance.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she said.

Stall offer her his hand. “Richard Stall. President of Stall Industries.”

She took his hand, and as she shook it, Stall felt the coolness wear off. Stall hoped she’d gotten enough of the chemical.

“Stall Industries, eh?” Jordan said. “Never heard of them.”

“We’re one to the top fifty companies in England right now, top Three hundred in the world.”

“You don’t say,” Jordan muttered.

Stall smiled. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure. Sex on the Beach.”

Stall waved over the bartender and put in his order for one Sex on the Beach, and one scotch. It would be his third drink of the night, usually far more than he’d prefer to have, but if this worked, it would be worth it in the morning.

“So,” Jordan muttered, “I suppose you’d like to chat me up.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Stall asked.

“Is it? So far, all you’ve done is buy me a drink.”

Stall smiled. “I thought I’d liquor you up, first.”

“Good choice,” Jordan said, taking a long sip of her freshly arrived drink.

Suddenly, Stall thought he saw something change in the large-breasted woman’s eyes. As if they’d gone out of focus for a second, before returning to clarity. Was her drink THAT stiff? Or was Lambert’s chemical actually working?

“Listen, let’s cut to the chase,” she said suddenly. “You obviously want to sleep with me, and I’ll be honest with you, you’re the best looking guy I’ve seen tonight. For some reason, I’m really horny all of a sudden, so unless you’re really enjoying all this crap, I’m willing to get the fuck out of here and do you if you’ll pay my tab.”

Stall thought for a moment that Jordan probably just wanted him to pay her tab, but made no comment as he handed the bartender three fifty pound bills and told him to keep whatever was left from his and Jordan’s tab as his tip.

Jordan wasn’t wearing much – a simple black tube top and a skirt that looked smaller than her top – but it was evident that she wasn’t lying about her arousal. Her impressive nipples were making an appearance, actually stretching the fabric of her top enough to expose more cleavage – if that was physically possible.

“I can’t wait to get to your flat,” Jordan whispered in his ear. “I need you sooner.”

“My limo’s out front,” Stall said, smiling at the thought that Michael might actually get his wish.

“No. Sooner!” Jordan hissed. She was starting to sweat a bit, Stall could see. Lambert’s chemical was working fast – almost too fast.

“What do you want to do?” Stall asked.

“The club’s got some private rooms out back. Let’s find one and get to fucking!”

Stall was about to protest, but Jordan simply yanked on his arm and dragged him deeper into the club.

* * *

January 9th, 2005

The Flat of Rachel Stevens

London, England

“Harder!” Rachel called out. “Fuck, YEAH! HARDER!”

She was bent over the bed now, her new young lover’s rock hard cock in her snatch, pounding away like only a horny young man can. She allowed herself to sink into the realm of pleasure she got when being fucked.

She loved her husband, but this was different. Primal. Lustful. Wrong. And that’s what made it great.

“Harder, you ass, I’m going to cum!” Rachel scream aloud, feeling his manhood slam even deeper into her folds. She was close, so very close to reaching her goal.

“Oh, god, here I come!” The man shouted.

“FUCK!” Rachel cried out as her orgasm hit, a wash of almost painful pleasure shooting out from her crotch and sending her head spinning. It wasn’t like this with her husband. Hell, it was rarely like this with anyone. But every now and then, she found a guy who could get her off just right.

The young man shot hit load deep into Rachel’s pussy, and the singer was suddenly quite thankful she’d been lying to her husband for a month now about coming off the pill. They wanted a child, but it wouldn’t due for someone else to be the father. Better Rachel stayed on her birth control until she was ready for a child.

“That was amazing,” the young man whispered into her ear.

“Thanks,” Rachel said.

Above her, the tiny, almost invisible camera lens recorded the whole event.

* * *

January 9th, 2005

Club Gestalt

London, England

Anyone who’s ever seen Jordan naked – and that’s a large portion of the Earth’s population – is immediately focused on her almost-impossibly-large breasts. The two monumental mounds of breast flesh were impossible to ignore when clothed. When naked and hovering within arm’s reach, no man can resist them.

Richard Stall certainly wasn’t able to resist them. In fact, at that very moment, he was running his lubed-up cock between those massive pillows, titty-fucking the ultimate pair of breasts.

“Oh, yeah, spew that big rod of your’s all over my face,” Jordan moaned, her eyes locked on the tip of Stall’s penis as it occasionally poked out between the folds of her breasts. Stall had never in his life felt under-endowed with his eight-inch rod, but titty-fucking Jordan was rapidly making him wish he had an extra three or four inches. He supposed any man would feel that way.

Or maybe they’d just enjoy titty-fucking Jordan in the backroom of a club. There really wasn’t much of a difference, was there?

Stall really didn’t care too much at this point about who he was fucking. Sex was sex, and when it didn’t seem to involve penetration, it was little more the masturbation. Still, one didn’t get to titty-fuck someone this large that often, so the least he could do was enjoy it.

He had two cameras in the room. One was in the pendant around his neck – currently feeding the computers in The Pit perfect close-ups of Stall’s dick sliding between the giant mountains of Jordan’s tits. The other one was located in Stall’s watch – which was across the room and directly facing the action in a not-to-distant wide angle, showing who Stall was doing.

“Rachel’s done her part, boss. We got some great footage there,” Lambert’s voice entered Stall’s ear, almost ruining the mood.”

“Shut up, Lambert, the Boss is busy!” Burke’s voice shot back.

“Oops, sorry Boss,” Lambert replied. Stall just wanted to get them both to shut up.

“Fuck my pussy!” Jordan said, suddenly. Stall blinked, almost reluctant to pull his cock out from between those big, beautiful breasts. But with the offer of pussy to come, he did so. Soon, he was sliding his cock deep into Jordan’s muff, and suddenly, her realized something – when his dick was buried in her snatch, his eyes were almost directly level with her nipples. Bending over as he slid himself deep into her warm, moist folds, Stall was able to take one of those impressive nipples in his mouth and start sucking on it.

And almost at once, Jordan came. The model started bucking and writing, her massive breasts bouncing like they’d been hit by an earthquake. Stall blinked, shocked. He’d heard of sensitive nipples before, but this was rediculous.

And then, his own needs screamed out. He slammed his dick into her harder and harder, enjoying the way those giant jugs jiggled in response. He tried to hold back, hoping to prolong the event, but there was no holding back now.

With a gasp, he shot his load deep into Jordan’s snatch, collapsing atop the model, his head landing just above her massive tits.

“Boss?” Lambert’s voice cut in a moment or two later. “Boss, you’re covering the camera. You gotta move if you want us to get any more recorded.”

“Two for two, Boss,” Burke’s voice cut in. “Should have some good stuff.”

“Good stuff, indeed,” Stall said, smiling as he pinched Jordan’s nipple gently with his finger. Three down, only 77 more to go. They might just pull this off, after all….

To Be Continued…

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