Around The World In 80 Babes – Chapter 4: Wet And Wild

Around the World in 80 Babes

by: TRL

Chapter 4: Wet And Wild

January 23rd, 2005

The Timekeeper’s Club

London, England

Richard Stall wasn’t a huge fan at looking at his own naked ass up on the big screen. However, when said ass had female hands wrapped around it, and those hands belonged to one Abi Titmuss, he was willing to put up with it. When the image also showed the young Miss Titmuss giving him a rather pleasant blow job, and would soon show him shoving his dick between her impressive ass cheeks, he’d be more than happy to deal with it.

“Incredible,” Dr. Al-Qahtari
whispered.

“Bah,” William Neal said, with far more volume than was needed. “I had sex with Miss Titmuss just last year.”

“But you didn’t have video of it, did you William?” Jack Archer, another of the Timekeeper’s Club members said. “In fact, your photographs weren’t even digital.”

“Sush, both of you,” Al-Qahtari said. “We’re barely into this one.”

“Indeed,” Stall replied. “It only gets better from here.”

Neal shot Stall a look that, had it been lethal, would’ve scoured every cell in Stall’s body. There was no denying the hatred between the two men.

On screen, Stall could see the blonde Abi Titmuss shaking her ass unknowingly towards the camera in his watch. Abi was the sixth celebrity Stall had managed to catch on camera in a month, mostly thanks to his employee, Tomas Lambert. Lambert, an American who’s hobbies included digital video technology and an odd study on chemical reactions in the female libido, had proven invaluable to Stall’s efforts to wrest control of the Timekeeper’s Club away from William Neal.

On the screen, Abi moaned, calling out Richard’s name as he turned her around and pressed his manhood into the hot, wet folds of her pussy. Stall smiled as he remembered the way Abi’s lips had clung to his cock, milking it for several long minutes.

The funny thing about Abi Titmuss was that he hadn’t required any of Lambert’s chemical. Indeed, all he needed was the two drink minimum at the Club Gestalt and the promise not to tell anyone about the encounter. Well, Stall did buy the two drink minimum, anyway.

Abi was a true workhorse when it came to fucking. She forced herself back on Stall’s cock harder than he could force himself into her. They kept banging away like jackrabbits for some time. Indeed, Stall had thought himself more than worn out by the time she made her next request.

“Fuck my ass, Richard,” Abi said, her voice echoing into the Timekeeper’s Club watchroom. That had been an accomplishment Lambert was still crowing about – the addition of a high power, directional microphone located within Stall’s wallet. Stall had to activate the tiny, credit-card sized device before it could broadcast, and the proper corner had to be facing the direction the sex was going to be taking place in, but it added a level of realism to the films he could now present the Timekeeper’s Club with.

On the screen, Stall saw himself positioning himself behind Miss Titmuss with his cock level with her ass. With no lube other than the juices of her pussy, Stall slowly worked his way inside Abi’s rear entrance, making the young, nubile blonde moan in delight with every thrust. It was clear she was quite used to anal sex.

“You certainly never got in THAT hole, William!” Archer cried out with a laugh.

“Quiet!” Dr. Al-Qahtari said harshly.

Over to his side, Neal seemed considerably less than pleased. Indeed, he’d never gotten anywhere near Miss Titmuss’ ass when he’d fucked her. And even if he had, no one would’ve ever “heard” her demand his cock in her rear end.

“Hard, Richard! Fuck me HARD!” Abi screamed out, her voice coming across crystal clear over the TV. If Abi’s pussy had felt like velvet, her ass felt like velvet in a steel glove, gripping his cock like a vice, despite what little lubrication Stall still had on it. He remembered forcing himself deeper and deeper into her, hearing her moans of passion as he did so. It was a very nice memory indeed.

“Enough!” Neal said, standing up and hitting the remote, shutting the video down.

“Problem, William?” Stall asked.

“Yes, William, you know it’s against bylaws to interrupt a presentation before it’s finished,” Dr. Al-Qahtari said sharply.

“This is rubbish, absolute rubbish!” Neal said. “Mr. Stall was supposed to bring us videos from around the world. Instead, he stays here in England, fucking the local strumpets and acting like he owns the place. He is not living up to the terms of the bet!”

“On the contrary,” Stall said, standing up as well. “I have the entire year to bring you eighty videos, William. Can you blame me for testing my system here at home first, before taking it abroad?”

“He’s right, William,” Dr. Al-Qahtari replied. “Richard has the entire year. We aren’t even through January yet. Plenty of time to hit the rest of the continents.”

“But will he?” Neal shot back. “William seems to feel quite comfortable here to home. Will his system even work overseas?”

“Only one way to find out, I suppose,” Stall said, nonchalantly. “I’ll make arrangements to travel abroad for a bit. See the sights of Europe and all that.”

“A wonderful idea,” Dr. Al-Qahtari replied. “Will that ease your fears, William?”

“I don’t fear anything,” Neal shot back. “Save the ruination of this club thanks to Mr. Stall overstepping his bounds.”

“Well, if he has, Mr. Stall will pay his debt to the club,” Archer commented. “Now, can we get back to the video. I rather enjoy watching little bitches like Miss Titmuss get fucked up the ass.”

“You all go back to the video,” Stall said, reaching for his coat. “It appears I need to make some travel arrangements.”

“Good luck, Richard,” Dr. Al-Qahtari said as he walked with Stall towards the door. “But be careful. Here in England, getting away with this sort of thing is comparatively easy. Overseas, that’ll be a fair sight more difficult.”

“Don’t worry,” Stall smiled. “I’ve got a plan.”

* * *

January 24th, 2005

The Pit

London, England

“I’ve got a plan,” Tomas Lambert said. “Admittedly, this is far earlier than I expected to have to go through with this, but we can make it work.”

Michael Burke, Stall’s driver, rolled his eyes. Lambert was the ultimate techno-nerd, as demonstrated by the video technology he’d assembled for Stall to do his little dirty deeds. And yet, even despite that, Lambert still seemed a little more nerdy than even he should be.

Burke chalked it up to all the time he spent looking at porn on the computer – Lambert, after all, was literally being paid to do so.

“But can you get the plan working quickly?” Stall asked. Burke could see the slight hint of desperation in Stall’s eyes – the millionaire was increasingly worried that Lambert’s video network might not work off the British Isles.

“Well, for now, I suggest you stick close to home – Europe only,” Lambert said. “Then, perhaps Africa. If you want to go to either the States or Australia, you’re going to have to wait a month or more.”

“Why?” Stall asked.

“Because, my plan revolves around setting up satellite Pits, so to speak.”

“Why does that sound like an oxymoron?” Burke muttered.

“Europe and Africa are close enough to us to guarantee the reception of the signals here in England. However, Eastern Asia, Australia, and anywhere in the Western Hemisphere are completely out of the question – the signal would degrade too much before it got here.”

“Can’t we set up some kind of relay system?” Stall asked. “Bounce the signals off a satellite or something?”

“Or use the internet,” Burke offered.

“We could,” Lambert conceded. “But it would increase the chances of someone finding out about all this. Using a satellite would mean sooner or later, whoever owned the satellite, would catch us. Most of those things are so task-specific any extra signals going through would make the actual task of the satellite slow down.”

“You don’t own any satellites, do you, Boss?” Burke said, only half-jokingly. Stall was one of the richest men in England – owning a satellite wasn’t actually out of the question.”

“None I could use this for,” Stall muttered. “I own half a telecom satellite, but I sense using that would risk a lot of people getting porn in their cellphones.”

“Too true,” Lambert said. “As for the internet, I could probably set something up and have it running in a week or two, but no matter how good my firewalls are, there’s someone out there who can hack them. Sooner or later, someone would find it. It would just be a matter of time.”

“More than a year?” Stall asked, hopefully.

“You’d be lucky to get a month,” Lambert muttered. “The amount of info we’d have to shoot back and forth would attract a lot of hackers who look for top secret projects like this. I knew a guy at CalTech who discovered the Bush plan to invade Iraq three days before Nine-Eleven. Some pentagon high-up mucky-muck thought it would be important to go over some of the details with Powell before showing the new, revised version to Bushy. My CalTech buddy had a program scanning the internet for any really high-bandwith info packets that were off the beaten path, so to speak. Twenty minutes of hacking some of the US Governments top encrypts, and my buddy knew which units would be crossing which part of the border when.”

“So the internet’s out, too,” Stall said.

“So what’s the deal with Satellite Pits, then?” Burke asked, almost too confused for his own good.

“Simply put, I need to set up equipment like this in at least two other places in the world – preferably three. Then, when you’re closer to those sites, the video feeds can be sent there, and I can bring them home in a freight plane, no problem.”

“Which three cities would you need?” Stall asked.

“Well, Sydney, Australia is a must. From there, I can get most of the Pacific Rim, and into Japan, which should make Australia and Asia easier to do. And then, I’d need at least one in the US, but if you’re willing to spring for it, two would be better. One east coast, one west coast.”

“Why?”

“Because of all the cellphone traffic in the States. It’s bad enough here in England and Europe. In the States, everyone uses the damn things. They take up airwaves, and while none of them would get what we’re sending, they could interfere with the signal enough to loose quality. I’d also have to set up somewhere in the heartland of America to get both coasts properly, and I doubt the foulkes in Boise, Idaho wouldn’t notice a semi-foreigner moving in a mess of computer equipment next door.”

“He’s got a point, Boss,” Burke replied.

Stall thought for a long moment. “Would New York and Los Angeles do?”

“Perfectly,” Lambert said.

“Good. Then, get to work setting up New York, L.A., and Sydney. As soon as possible, please,” Stall said. “Meanwhile, I’ll be traveling through Europe, looking to snag some hot babes.”

Suddenly, there was a beeping on Lambert’s computer. Burke didn’t know much about computers, but he knew what that sound meant.

“We’ve got something?” Stall asked at once.

Lambert was already at his computer, keying away like a maniac. “Movement at the Hurley residence.”

“Hurley?” Burke asked. “As in Elizabeth Hurley?”

“Yep,” Lambert said. “Good thing, too. That’s where I’m testing the new cameras.”

“New cameras?” Stall asked. “What new cameras?”

“Waterproof ones in the shower,” Lambert replied. “I’ve got two on either side of the tub, one in the mirror, and one in the showerhead.”

“The showerhead?” Burke said. “Are you kidding?”

“Nope,” Lambert said with a smile. “Check this out.”

With a flip of the switch, a whole row of monitors came to life, showing a lovely pink bathroom. Most of the shots were from inside the tub area, though at least one was outside of it, showing the majority of the room. For the moment, the room was empty.

“I thought there was something going on,” Burke asked.

“She must have just stepped out. Give it a moment – there’s a towel on the toilet, she may be taking a shower.”

“Worth getting on tape then,” Stall replied evenly. “You did bug her bedroom, too, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but I wanted to try these new cameras, and thought this would be a good spot to try them.”

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom swung open, and in walked Elizabeth Hurley, clad only in a short, pink terry-cloth robe that left a significant amount of her chest visible. Moving casually, she stepped over by the edge of the bathtub and started the water running. Unconsciously, all three men leaned in closer as she tested the water with her hand.

Burke watched in quiet amazement as the former model-turned-actress slipped out of her robe and stood in her bathroom, completely naked.

“Damn,” Lambert whispered silently.

Damn indeed. Elizabeth was no spring chicken, Burke reflected, but she was now cow, either. The brunette’s tits still looked perky and her ass was down right squeezable. Burke watched as Elizabeth waited a bit longer for the shower to heat up, then stepped inside, allowing the warm water to coat her naked body.

“Watch this,” Lambert said, hitting a switch, and bringing up the image from inside the showerhead. Sure enough, the picture changed, and Elizabeth’s body was now framed with falling water all around the edges of the picture. The men could see the water cascading down her breasts, leaving her nipples decidedly hard, despite the heat. Steam rose around the woman, adding to the air, but not fogging the cameras.

“No fog lenses?” Stall asked.

“Sorta,” Lambert said. “The lenses aren’t really glass – there’s not enough room in these micro-sized things for glass. So, instead, there’s a very fine line of plastic that allows the digital imager underneath to stay dry.”

“Nice,” Stall replied, though Burke couldn’t tell if he was commenting on what Lambert said, or the fact that Elizabeth had turned around, exposing her ass to the water stream. Personally, he was far more interested in the ass shot than any of the camera mumbo-jumbo.

They watched in silence for several moments, viewing Liz Hurley’s shower routine with mixed interest. No one cared what kind of shampoo she used, or how much later she placed on her body – though it made for a fantastic shot when she brought her soaped-up breasts into the water stream and washed them clear again.

Suddenly, Burke noticed a change. Though she’d washed her body off and shampooed her hair, Elizabeth was still in the shower, she still continued to stand under the hot water, allowing the cascade of wetness to coat her body. Slowly, ever so slowly, it became clear that the hardness in Elizabeth’s nipples were not brought upon by coldness, but rather, a very different kind of heat.

“Is she doing what I think she’s doing?” Stall asked.

As if in response, Liz raised her left hand to cup her right breasts, slowly kneading the ample flesh with her fingers.

“That’s a yes!” Lambert cried out, pumping a fist. From the camera angle from the shower nozzle, they could easily watch Elizabeth Hurley started to masturbate.

“One of these days,” Burke replied slowly as Liz ran her right hand down between her legs, “Your luck is going to run out, you know that boss?”

“Not today, it seems,” Stall smiled. “Not today.”

“Crap, the speakers!” Lambert suddenly said, reaching across and hitting a button on one of the three different keyboards laid out before him. Suddenly, the room filled with the sounds of a shower, and the sounds of a moaning woman.

“Uuugghhh!” Liz moaned, clearly enjoying herself. Her fingers danced across her chest, going from nipple to nipple and back again, casually pulling and pressing on them, eliciting pleasure where she could. She was clearly an expert at her own self-pleasure, and knew all the right buttons to push. Soon enough, she was leaning up against the side of the shower, actually covering one of Lambert’s hidden cameras. She continued to work her fingers deep into her crotch, eliciting more and more moans.

“Incredible,” Stall muttered.

“This is great,” Lambert said. “The anti-fog technology is working perfectly. The audio pickups aren’t even bothered by the sounds of the shower! Every angle is working perfectly!”

“Well, except for the one she’s leaning up against,” Burke said quietly.

“Shut up, Michael,” Stall said.

Suddenly, Elizabeth reached up towards the camera in the showerhead.

“What’s she doing?” Stall asked. “What’s she doing?!”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Lambert said, scrambling to get to his keyboards, as if that would help anything.

Suddenly, the camera moved.

“We’re sunk,” Burke said, his voice hollow.

On the screen, the image moved closer to Liz’s body, showing off her luscious skin as she slowly ran the water down her body, over her breasts, across her stomach, and coming to a rest right in front of her crotch.

“Oh my god,” Lambert said.

“No,” Burke replied, looking at the image.

“She’s not…” Stall said, watching as Liz angled the water into her crotch and started moaning like a banshee. The water was hitting directly on her clit.

“She is!!!!” Lambert screamed aloud. “She’s getting herself off with the removable shower head, and my camera’s looking right at her twat!!!!!”

All three men cheered aloud as Elizabeth Hurley relied on some waterworks to help reach her orgasm. Within seconds, the former model was squirming in pleasure, her breath a ragged pattern of desperate draws. From another angle, it was evident that her nipples were so hard, they looked like they might burst forth from her very breasts.

But none of the men noticed, for they were focused on the one screen that showed hot water pulsating directly onto her pussy. The camera shot was so clean, so vivid, so perfect, that it was as if the men were in the shower with her, mere inches from her crotch as she masturbated towards climax.

And then, as if bidden by the very thought, Elizabeth Hurley cried out as orgasmic sensations cascaded through her body just as the hot water covered her outside, leaving her well spent indeed.

It took several minutes for any of the three men to even comprehend what they’d just seen. Liz had already stepped out of the shower, having rinsed off once more, and now all that was left on the cameras was the empty bathtub.

“Astonishing,” Stall muttered.

“So,” Burke asked. “What now?”

“What now?” Stall asked, regaining some of his composure. “Now, we get ready to travel the world. We’ve had seven celebrities caught on camera so far, leaving us with but seventy-three to go. But we’ve only got British Celebs so far. I think it’s time we went international.”

“Cool,” Lambert said.

* * *

January 26th, 2005

The Mansion of William Neal

Outside London, England

This was not his first trip to the Neal estate, nor, he suspected, would it be the last. William Neal was a powerful man, with powerful enemies. And, when dealing with powerful enemies, one needed to keep sufficient protection close-at-hand.

Neal did not know his name – his real name, anyway – nor would he ever. Very few of his clients knew who he was in his past life, and those who did either owed his too much to risk his wrath, or wouldn’t be around long enough to do him any harm. Such was the nature of his business.

He was ushered into Mr. Neal’s personal office by a rather weary looking maid – one who’s uniform was too short in the skirt to allow her to bend over without revealing everything she had to offer; no doubt, Mr. Neal used her more than just for cleaning. That seemed to fit Mr. Neal’s rather hedonistic view of life.

“Ah, come in, come in,” Neal said as soon as his guest entered the room.

“William,” the man replied. “It’s been a while.”

“Indeed,” Neal said. “Two years? Three?”

“Three years, six months, one week, and four days since you hired me to kill Takahasi Nomosoto for you over that bad stock tip he gave you.”

Neal’s face paled only momentarily. It was a not-too-subtle reminder that his guest had more than enough dirt on Neal to risk betraying him. Not that he expected Neal to do so, but one couldn’t take chances.

“Charming as ever, I see, Blackbird,” Neal muttered.

The man known only as Mr. Blackbird, an alias not known even to the best detectives of Scotland Yard, smiled. “You didn’t ask me here to be charming, William. You asked me here to kill someone for you. Dare I ask, another bad stock tip, or is this about a woman you shouldn’t have been fucking?”

Neal scowled at that. Two other occasions he’d hired Blackbird had involved the husbands of women he’d been having affairs with. Not that he’d be seen in public with either woman ever again, but just the fact that Blackbird so casually referenced Neal’s past sins was enough to sting.

“No woman of mine this time,” Neal said slowly. “I have a competitor I need you to eliminate for me.”

“A competitor? Usually you handle them yourself,” Blackbird muttered. “Am I to take it this man has far too much money for your taste?”

“He has far too much good luck,” Neal snapped back.

“Whatever. You have the details I need?”

“Right here,” Neal said, sliding over an envelope filled with information.

“How soon?” Blackbird asked.

“Not too soon, but before the year is out. He mustn’t be allowed to see 2006 under any circumstances.”

“Fine. I’ll put my best team on him at once,” Blackbird said.

“Your usual fee?” Neal asked.

“Hardly,” Blackbird muttered. “I’ll want an extra Twenty Percent for this, William. Tokosoto wasn’t in competition with you. If you don’t want to be a suspect, it’ll cost more.”

“He’s not a direct competitor of mine,” Neal said, then shook his head. “Fine, whatever. I’ll pay you whatever you want. Just kill him for me.”

“No problem,” Blackbird said, holding up the envelope. “Before the year is out, Richard Stall will be dead, and whatever threat he is to you will be gone for good.

To Be Continued…

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