All of my stories include descriptions of sex scenes that could cause offence to some people. Please do not read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual material, or if you are under the legal age of consent for your own country. These stories are pure fiction and are not based on anyone living or deceased.
 
“4 3 6 5 8 7”
After giving my number I paused to listen to who was calling.
“Hello, this is Mr Spencer.”
“Mr Spencer? Do I know you?”
“I’m assuming I’m speaking to Mrs Kendal?”
“Yes, I’m Mrs Kendal. But I’m afraid I don’t know any Mr Spencer.”
“Your husband works at D F H distribution? Well I’m his boss.”
“Oh yes. I’m sorry, the name never clicked. Oh my god! Has something happened to Gerry?”
“Well in a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Oh no. Is he alright?”
“Yes, he hasn’t had an accident or anything, but I have to talk to you about him.”
“Why what’s happened?”
“It’s too complicated to talk on the phone, I was just ringing to make sure you’d be in if I called around to see you.”
“Well yes, when will you be coming?”
“Right away if that’s ok, I can be with you in thirty minutes.”
“Ok I’ll be waiting.”

With that I put the phone down and began to worry. If Gerry hadn’t had an accident, then what else could be wrong? Then I thought about Gerry’s ‘perks of the job’. You see Gerry works in a distribution warehouse, and the products they store vary widely. And if a large pallet of, for instance, washing-up liquid slipped from a forklift whilst being loaded, then the whole pallet would be written-off as damaged, and should then end-up in the waste bins. But obviously, only a few of the bottles would actually be damaged, so it was common practice for the warehouse lads to share out the undamaged boxes, as freebies. This was what Gerry called ‘the perks of the job’. Now I know this is not strictly legal, but we never considered it stealing. But as I rushed around tiding-up before his boss arrived, I racked my brain to think what else he could be coming to talk to me about. And why me? Why wouldn’t he just be hauling Gerry over the coals?

As I was busy putting things into one of my kitchen cupboards, it struck me just how petty these so called perks of Gerry’s were. The top of this cupboard I’d opened was stacked full of bottles of vinegar. I’d given away bottles to various relatives, all of my neighbourhood friends, and even though Gerry is only 24, and I’m only 25, we’d still got enough bottles to last for the rest of our natural lives. That was the trouble with all his freebies, they were of little value, and always came in large quantities. So I’m busy trying to work out what this man will want to talk about, when I hear the knocker on the front door.

“KNOCK KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK. “
The sudden noise makes me jump, and then after a quick look in the mirror, I dash down the hall and open the door.
“Hello. I’m Graham. Mr Spencer. We spoke a few minutes ago on the phone.”
“Yes, yes. Err. What is it? What’s happened?”
“Well I was hoping we could talk inside.”
I backed away from the door, and as I did I ushered him into the hall with my open palmed hand.
“Oh I’m sorry. Come on in. We can sit in the lounge, it’s the first door.”
He walked past me into our hall, and then turned into the lounge; I followed and entered behind him.

He had made his way across to the sofa, but was stood in front of it as if ready to sit down.
“Yes sit there if you want.”
I sat opposite him in the chair nearest the TV. As we both sat down, we both were about to talk at the same time, but we both stopped. Then I said,
“No, you go first.”
“Well Mary. Oh, I hope it’s alright me using your first name.”
I had no idea how he knew my name, but I wasn’t about to get on the wrong side of him by objecting.
“No, of course not.”

“Ok then. As I was about to say, I’ve got a bit of a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Well just recently, I visited my sister; she lives just in the next street to you. Tudor Road.”
I nodded but didn’t make any comment.
“And she was talking with her neighbour, a Mrs Harris. Thelma; I think is her first name. Maybe you know her?”
Yes. But although I know her, and she’s one of my closest friends. Gerry and I often go to the pub with her and her husband Frank. But I didn’t want to admit too much to this man.
“I think I know who you mean.”

“Well she was telling my sister all about her friend whose husband gets all kind of knocked-off stuff from work. And being as the wastage; that’s what we call any goods at work that get damaged or stolen. Yes, being as the wastage levels for this last six months has risen by seventy percent; I was interested in what she was saying. So later when she’d gone, I asked my sister to surreptitiously find out who this Robin Hood character was.”
He paused, as if waiting for me to say something, but I kept silent.
“I thought maybe you’d have guessed his name, he lives in this street.”
Again He paused, waiting for me, but again I kept silent.
“I see the cats got your tongue.”

“Well this so called good Samaritan is called Gerry Kendal. So you see Mary, I thought maybe it would be a good idea to watch your Gerry a little closer. I’ve got CCTV cameras all around the warehouse, but most weren’t working and those that are; nobody ever looks at the hours of stuff they record. But last weekend I had all the cameras brought back into a working condition, and today I spent the day sitting watching your husband as he went about his job. Now what do you think I saw?”
“I I don’t know?”
“Do you like yoghurt?”
“Yoghurt?”
“Yes. Strawberry yoghurt.”
“Why?”
“Well I’ve got a premonition that when Gerry gets home you’ll be getting a box of 120 Strawberry yoghurts. So I hope you like them.”

It was obvious he had got Gerry, as they say, ‘bang to rights’ or ‘caught red handed’. So I thought maybe I could put in some kind of mitigating plea on his behalf.
“But please Mr Spencer. It would all have just been thrown in the waste bins. It can't do any harm us using them up. You know with all this talk of re-cycling and not wasting food, you could even say he’s doing his bit to save the planet.”
He took a small pen like object from his pocket,
“I assume you have a computer?”
“Yes it’s in the other room.”
“Do you think we could take a look at this video I’ve recorded?”

We went into the back room and I turned on the PC. I know it always feels like forever waiting for a PC to boot, but sitting here, with him holding what I now could see was a memory stick; one I assumed with incriminating evidence, it was like my life force was ebbing from my body. Then as the windows screen appeared, he said,
“Do you mind if I take over?”
I didn’t answer, I just moved to one side allowing him to sit in front of the PC.

He plugged in his memory stick and in seconds the video was showing a fork lift driving down an isle in between tall stacks of pallets. He kept moving the slider bar until we got to a place where the fork truck driver turned around, obviously checking in every direction to make sure he wasn’t being watched, and then he drove slowly backwards, getting ever closer to a steel girder that protruded from the floor and reached up to support the roof. As the edge of the pallet made contact with the stanchion, he slowly reversed until the pallet was dragged off the forks, and overbalanced. It slipped off as if in slow motion, and as it hit the floor, the boxes stacked on it slipped. Then the other side of the pallet dropped back to the floor, almost shaking the boxes back to their original position.

The driver then jumped down, and with a long steel bar from the back of his truck, he ripped open the banding holding the boxes, and pushed one of the boxes to the floor where it burst open. Then as he went back to the truck and began to fill in some paperwork, Graham said,
“I hardly think damaging a box of yogurts is going to help save the planet.”
The video was so clear my Gerry was instantly recognisable, and there was no way anyone looking at this video could call this accidental damage. But I didn’t reply, I just stood alongside him at a loss for words.
“Well my dear, nothing to say?”
“I I I’m sorry. I never realised. He just said it was a sin to see the stuff thrown away into the bins.”

“Well now you know how it’s damaged, what’s your opinion now?”
“I I’ll tell him as soon as he gets home.”
“Tell him what?”
“I don’t want him to bring anymore things home. And that it’s not right to damage stuff deliberately.”
“I think this is a little bit more serious than that. First its malicious damage; and I’m thinking if I check back on the recorded files from the other cameras over the last six months, I’ll find a lots more occurrences. Second it’s stealing, and not just the one box; I’ll bet over the last few months my car park cameras will have caught him loading his car plenty of times. Then there is fraud, filling in the insurance records as accidental damage. Fraud of that sort carries a prison sentence. And lastly, if that pallet had jammed onto the forks, he could have bent the girder; and that would have brought the whole roof down. Now that’s a health and safety issue, and these days, they’d lock him up and throw away the key for that.”

“Oh my god! But what can I do to help?”
“First, tell me, has your Gerry got a garden shed or workshop?”
“He’s got a shed, but he hasn’t got any of the stuff he’s brought home out there. For one thing it lets in water, and anyway it’s only just big enough for the barbeque, lawn mower and his tools.”
“I wasn’t thinking about where he’s stashed his ill gotton gains, I was wondering if that could be where he’d hang the free calendar I give to each of my staff at Christmas?”
“Do you mean the one with views of the Lake district?”
“Well that wasn’t the one I was referring to, but now you’ve mentioned it. What did you think of the pictures?”
“Ok, I guess. But I’m not much into mountains and lakes.”
“I was meaning more the camera work. Did it look professional?”
“I guess so, why?”

“I took those photos myself, it’s my hobby. But I was actually wondering if you’d seen the other calendar?”
As I realised which calendar he was talking about, I felt my cheeks get hot as I blushed bright red. Not that I had any reason to feel embarrassed, I wasn’t one of the scantily clad models displayed in the calendar he was referring to. But before I replied to his question, he said,
“I guess by your response, you’ve at least seen it?”
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Well from what I can remember, the girls’ weren’t leaving much to the imagination.”
“Do you know where your husband has put his?”
“Yes, it’s hanging on the back of the door in his hobby room upstairs.”
“So I can take it from your reaction that you didn’t think much of my camera work? I thought I’d struck the right balance; keeping it sexy, but not being too crude.”
So from this I gathered this was another example of his handiwork, and not wanting to get on his wrong side, I didn’t want to criticize what he actually seemed quite proud off.
“I didn’t mean it was crude, but looking at girls is even less appealing to me than mountains and lakes.”

“But I guess you're wondering what my obsession with photography has got to do with the predicament your Gerry has got himself into?”
In truth, I was beginning to think that he was maybe going to try to blackmail me into posing in skimpy underwear, like the models in his calendar, but not wanting to put unwanted ideas into his head, I just answered,
“Well yes, I was looking for some kind of connection between his foolishness, and your generosity in giving out free calendars.”

“Well it’s like this; I’ve got an idea for next year’s workshop calendar. That’s what I call the girlie version, cos it normally gets hung up in garages or workshops. I was thinking of a masquerade. You know, the girls faces concealed behind those masks on sticks like at the high class balls.”
I didn’t comment, but just nodded to show I understood what he was talking about.
“And then last week I saw your Gerry showing his holiday snaps to one of the lads, and the chap he was showing them to, passed them to me. Not that I was too interested in most of them. But there were about three of four with you in a bikini. And I have to say they got me to thinking.”
Again I said nothing, but by now his intentions were getting pretty obvious.

There was a silence for a few seconds, and then he asked,
“Well, what do you think?”
But still trying to play the innocent I answered,
“About what?”
“Well I thought you’d be a bit brighter than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ok, it’s your loss. If you think I’m going to make a proposal you can take to the police, then you must take me for a fool. I’ve given you a lifeline, and if you’re too dumb to take hold, then you’ll just have to suffer the consequences. I’ll wish you goodbye.”

With that he got to his feet, and I realised if I let him leave with things as they stand, my Gerry could soon be in real trouble.
“Please Mr Spencer, don’t go. I I didn’t mean to annoy you.”
He didn’t re-seat himself, but just stood there and said,
“Well?”
“I I I’m not sure what you are asking?”
“Young lady. Can't you understand? I’m not asking anything. It’s your husband who is in trouble. And I’ve told you about my hobby, and about a calendar I’m about to start shooting for next year. Maybe I didn’t make myself clear, but when I said seeing your photos gave me an idea, what I meant, was you have a body every bit as good as any of the models I’m about to hire. Now if you felt like making me some kind of offer, then I think you’ll find I’m not an unreasonable man. Even though your husband has been swindling me.”

“Are you saying if I was to agree to model for you, you wouldn’t report my Gerry to the police?”
“I haven’t asked you to model for me, so it’s not a case of you agreeing to anything. If I did ask, that would be bribery. But if you want to offer to model, then that’s your prerogative. And as I’ve said, I’m a reasonable man, and the last thing I’d want to see is a generous young lady being dragged down by a foolish mistake made by her husband.”

I thought for a minute or so, but I could see he was getting restless, and I sensed he was about to speak. Fearing he was again going to threaten to leave, I said,
“I’ll model for you on condition its just swimwear. I won't do topless or underwear.”
“Right my dear, what are you saying, you’d like me to consider you for a modelling job in my next calendar?”
“I I guess so. But like I said; nothing as revealing as that other calendar.”
“I don’t know what you take me for. But I can assure you, all the girls who model for me are free to accept or reject any of the costumes I select. Or for that matter, if they don’t feel comfortable with any pose I ask for, then it’s always the model who has the final say.”

“I I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply there was anything dirty going on. But I just don’t want you to think I’m agreeing to pose nude or anything.”
“Let’s forget this topic, if you want to pose for me, then there will be nobody forcing you to do anything you’re not happy with. Now to the details, have you anything planned for tomorrow?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I need a yes or no. If I’m going to arrange a makeover team, then it can't be just a ‘don’t think so’.”
“Well no, I have nothing planned at the moment.”
“Well you do now. There’ll be a car here at nine in the morning, and you’ll be at my place by nine-thirty. The makeup team should have you sorted by eleven-thirty, and by twelve we can start shooting. That’ll give me a good three hours. And you can be back here by four, ready to make hubbies tea. So is that settled?”

“I guess so. But what am I going to tell Gerry?”
“Nothing. Just let him go off to work as normal, and he’ll never know a thing about it.”
“But what about him? What if he does the same thing again, and damages any more stuff?”
“I don’t think he will; I’ve told the warehouse supervisor to give all the lads a talking to, and let them know all the cameras are now back in action. I can't think he’ll be silly enough to do it again.”
So with that he went on his way, and I began to wonder just what kind of situation I’d got myself into.

Gerry arrived home from work as normal, and as Graham had predicted, he had a box of Strawberry yoghurts. I was bursting to say something to him about this stupid habit, but knew it would only make the whole thing more complicated, and wouldn’t really solve anything. So the night passed without incident, and the next day after Gerry had gone off to work, I began to get myself ready for the car that was to collect me. If I tell you I was on edge and having second thoughts, then I’m sure you won't be surprised.

But at the stroke of nine a car arrived, and in I got. In less than thirty minutes I was being shown into a magnificent studio in the back of a very large country house. This was the kind of house you’d expect a Lord of the Manor to own, built inside a walled estate, with its own big iron gates at the end of the long drive. But once inside the studio, I was shown into a room which was obviously designed for the purpose; equipped with everything the team of three beauticians required. For the next two hours all three of them worked on every inch of my body, and when I emerged at around eleven-thirty, even I had difficulty believing the stunning girl in the mirror was actually me.

It was then that Graham appeared, and he escorted me into a changing room, where there were at least five racks of clothes. Ranging from full ball gowns, to jeans. With every other kind of garment with the exception of outdoor gear such as coats etc. I at this point only had on a dressing gown, and was completely naked underneath. He showed me along the racks explaining all of these clothes had been selected especially for me, and they should all be my size. Where there was a dress, along with it I would find the appropriate underwear that I was expected to wear. I would be expected to start at the first rack, and work my way along from one outfit to the next. But as we moved on to the final rack, the clothes had progressed onto first swimwear, and then from about half way along the rack I could see there were panties and bras, but no dresses, or skirts and blouses to go with them.

I stopped and said,
“You won't be expecting me to model these without wearing a dress on?”
“Not if you don’t want to. But let’s just start with the others, and if you still feel uneasy about modelling in underwear, then nobodies going to force you.”
“Ok. But I don’t understand, I thought you only wanted me to model swimwear, and that my face would be covered. I can't model any of this stuff if you’re going to put it in a calendar, I can't have my face recognised.”
“Today is nothing to do with the calendar, this is just to get you used to being in the bright lights, and letting you get acclimatised to the whole situation. When I shoot the calendar shots, I want you to feel totally at ease.”
“What so I’ve got to come back again?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“I guess not.”
“Ok, I’ll be out on the set; I’ll send one of the girls in to help you dress. Then when you’re ready, just come on out.”

The day went by with me in some kind of daze, and far from being sordid or sleazy, I felt like I was some kind of super-model. I was pampered and preened in between every change of clothes. And no matter how revealingly cut the outfit, I felt completely at my ease showing off my assets in any pose requested. And by the time the outfits progressed onto the swimwear, I was already so at ease with showing my underwear via splits in skirts and plunges in blouses, that the first of the one piece costumes actually felt quite unexciting. Gradually as we moved to the bikinis and thongs, I got a little more self-conscious, but I still posed in whatever was the requested position. Surprisingly, when all the swimwear was done, and all that was left were bra and panty combinations, the point I’d been dreading, I found the first of these to be so stunning, and relatively speaking modest, that I actually re-appeared on set with a feeling of elation and excitement.

It is difficult for me to now explain, but the whole experience of a professional set with bright lights, dresser to assist and preen, and a photographer with such a reassuring manner; they all worked together to melt my apprehension, and replace it with an inner glow of confidence. So strong was this self-belief, as the underwear got scantier, and even when I was expected to model the last few outfits which were just skimpy thongs, meaning I would be topless; I still walked out on set. Even if I did need a small silk shawl around my shoulder the first time I walked out with naked breasts. But once on set and the shooting re-started, I again just proudly displayed my body. And continued to do so with all the remaining thongs.

I left his house feeling so proud of myself, not only for overcoming my shyness to protect my husband, but I also a felt I’d displayed, if only to Graham, that I had a body as good as his professional models. Again that evening, as Gerry came home I wanted to tell him all about my day, but knowing my Gerry, this was obviously not something he’d understand, even if I had been drawn into it by his stupidity. One thing was noticeable though, was Gerry didn’t bring any freebies home, but I never ventured to ask, and he didn’t mention anything about the talk Graham had said his foreman had been going to deliver.

The next morning, I wasn’t expecting to go back to Graham’s studio, but he had said if he got time he might try to call round to show me some of the results of the days shooting, but no time was mentioned. I went shopping around nine, and when I arrived home around ten-thirty, Graham’s car was parked in the street out side our house. As I got closer, I could see it wasn't just Graham inside, but it looked like he had another man with him. As I approached my front gate, they began to get out of the car, and the man from the passenger seat, who was a total stranger to me; took the bags of shopping from my hands, and followed me towards my front door.

Once I’d opened the door, I just ushered them both inside, and after the stranger had put my bags down in the kitchen, we all made our way into the front living room, and sat down. The stranger sat in the arm chair by the fireplace, and Graham sat on the sofa. As he did so, he patted the empty space on the sofa to one side of him, saying,
“Come on, room for a little one.”
I turned and backed myself down, and as soon as I was seated, he moved up close alongside me, making contact leg against leg. Graham opened a folder on his knee and began to produce photos, placing them on my lap.

I know this sounds so boastful, but I’m telling you my honest feelings. And as I saw these pictures, my heart began to swell with pride. It was only the fact I know I was there, that made it believable that I was the model. I looked stunning. Yes I know the clothes give the first impression, but the way they made-up my hair and every other part of my body, I just looked so elegant. Gradually the photo’s moved on to the clothes with revealing splits or ones cut to deliberately show off my underwear. Even with these total strangers looking at photos showing so much of my body, I still felt a sense of pride. Then as they began to look at the underwear shots, and the almost naked thongs, I did feel my face beginning to burn.

But as the remarks they were making were all complimentary, I soon began to feel that even these were worthy of maybe a little pride. When Graham had shown the last of his selection, he asked,
“Well. It wasn’t so bad was it?”
I didn’t need to think of my reply, I instantly answered,
“It was like a dream. I’d never have believed I could do it. And your make-up girls made me look so good; I could hardly believe it was me.”
“So no regrets?”
“Oh no. But you have to promise me nobody will ever see any of those photos, especially the ones in the underwear.”
“Nobody? But we’ve both seen them.”
“Well yes. But I mean they won't be on a calendar, or in any kind of book. If my Gerry ever knew I’d done anything like that, he’d kill me.”

“I guess you could say that is one of the reasons I’ve brought Peter around with me.”
“What is?”
“Well the calendar idea, I’m not too sure about that now. But seeing how you look in the underwear, it brought another idea to mind. I have a couple of friends who own a lingerie company, and Peter here is their marketing man. They sell most of their lines through home parties. I’m sure you know the kind of thing?”
I nodded.
“They are normally run by women for women. But we were thinking that being as Christmas is on its way. There is a vast market out there for men who want to buy sexy lingerie for their lady friends’, but time or shyness prevents them from going into normal shops. They aren’t invited to parties run by women. But if we were to host parties for selected business men, and display the wear on a delectable model, I’m sure we’d make a killing.”

They were both looking intently at me, but the thought of what he was proposing didn’t appeal at all.
“What do you think, we could say maybe ten parties would be pay back for all the thieving your husband has done?”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I couldn’t model that kind of revealing stuff in front of a group of strange men.”
“But you modelled for me yesterday.”
“That was different.”

“Well that does disappoint me.”
“I’ll do your calendar.”
“I told you, I’ve gone off that idea.”
“I’ll do it wearing just that little micro thong from yesterday, without wearing a top. So long as my face is covered, that is.”
“No. The calendar idea is dead now. What about if you let both of us fuck you right now?”
My head almost exploded! I instantly went red with embarrassment, and a fear ripped into my tummy as I realised just how unsafe I was sitting here with two men I hardly knew. I began to try to get to my feet, I felt sick with fear.

He reached his hand onto my shoulder and as he eased me back to the sofa,
“Hey, what’s wrong? I was only joking you. Come on, we wouldn’t force you to do anything like that.”
I looked at him, still trembling with fear,
“Please don’t say things like that. I I thought you meant it.”
“Don’t be silly. I didn’t do anything yesterday. Did I?”
“No.”
“Tell you what, you enjoyed posing for me. Didn’t you?”
“Yes.”

He put his hand in his pocket and pulled from it the skimpy thong I'd just referred to, the one I'd modelled yesterday. He took hold of my hand and placed the thong into it, folding my fingers closed. The thong was so minute, even in my tiny hand the thong was almost invisible. I shook visibly as I heard him tell me,
“You go out there and slip this on, and then come back and let Peter see what you look like.”
“Please don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“I I can't. You know I can't.”
“I think you can. You wouldn’t want your Gerry to see any of these pictures. Now would you? Come on, I saw you in it yesterday; so letting Peter see you in it should be no big deal. After all, you’ve just offered to model this for a calendar that would be ogled by thousands of men.”

“If I do this, does this payoff Gerry’s debt?”
“You are joking.”
“So what’s in it for me?”
“I just told you. I won't show Gerry these pictures, or anybody else for that matter. Come to think of it; I bet your mom and dad, or their neighbours might be interested in seeing them.”
The knot of fear again gripped my tummy, as the thought of my parents, or worse still their neighbours seeing me in those poses.
“Please, I beg you.”
“Well I’m not asking much. Peter here has driven a long way, on my say so, just to see you. And now you’re acting like a schoolgirl. Just be a good girl and go put that on. If you feel uneasy posing downstairs where people might be able to see into your windows, just give us a call when you’re ready, and we’ll come up to your bedroom. That way you won't need to draw the curtains; nobody can see into your room up there.”

It was obvious I had to comply with his wishes, so I got to my feet and made my way up to my bedroom where after locking the door I undressed, and put the skimpy little thong in place. I say in place, because you could hardly call it wearing it. It was just a narrow triangular strip of thin silky material about four centimetres at the widest part, tapering to nothing at the narrow end over a length of no more than five centimetres; held in place at the front of my crotch with a narrow ribbon. Yesterday, the dresser helped me, and I’d stood there open legged while she made sure it was strategically placed to cover the necessary area. But now using a mirror, I could see that no matter where I positioned it, it only served to cover the centre of my vagina, leaving the outer lips bulging from either side.

It was obvious yesterday when I saw the thing hanging on the rack, that I would be exposing myself. But, I'd just gone with the flow of the whole event. And even today, looking at the results of yesterdays shoot, as I mentioned earlier; their complimentary remarks made me feel proud, if somewhat nervous about my revelation. But now; knowing once I call them up, there wouldn’t be any camera or impersonal posing. It would be me posing for two men to look and mentally devour every centimetre of my flesh. But as the alternative was for my Gerry to see the pictures from yesterday, I knew I had no choice.

I walked to my bedroom door, pulled back the little bolt and as I opened it and went to step out onto my landing to call down the stairs to Graham and Peter, I almost jumped out of my skin. They were both standing there just outside my door. Before I’d even regained my composure, they were moving towards me, and I was backing into my room. By the time I was alongside my bed, Graham had reached behind me, and as I felt his hand touching my bottom I stopped. Then as I stopped, he brought his other hand up to cup my naked breast.

“Come on mate, you take the other one.”
I tried to make a protest,
“Please don’t do that.”
But they took absolutely no notice, and in seconds, Peter had taken up Graham’s invitation, and he was at my other side, with his hand cupping my other breast.
“Please no. I only agreed to model the costume. Please no touching.”
“Don’t be silly. Anybody would think you were a twelve year old behind the bike sheds. Just relax; we’re only having a bit of fun.”

I reluctantly just stood there, with them both fondling a breast apiece, when Peter said,
“Jesus Graham, I’m getting a stiffy.”
“You’re not the only one. And by the feel of this nipple, we’re not the only ones getting turned on. I bet her snatch is getting moist as well.”
“Please stop now; I’ve let you have a feel. If he wants to see the costume, let me just model it for him, and then I’ll get myself dressed again.”
“What say you Pete, do you want to check out the goods?”
“I’d rather she took care of this cock of mine.”

“You heard him. How about a quick blow job before you show-off your goodies?”
“No. I’m not doing anything like that. I didn’t even want to let you touch me, but I’ve gone that far, and I’m going no further.”
“You won’t fuck, and now you’re telling me you won’t even blow us. I don’t think you understand just how serious a mess your Gerry has got himself into.”
“I know all about that, but I’m not turning myself into a prostitute.”
“Ok. It's obvious you’re a nice girl who doesn’t go in for this kind of thing everyday, but a blow job is nothing.”
“I couldn’t. If I put my mouth on your thing, I could never kiss my Gerry again, it just wouldn’t be right.”

“Well one way or another, you’ll have to relieve both of our dicks, or your Gerry is going to be experiencing prison food.”
“Please don’t say that.”
All of this time they’d both been continuing their manipulation of my breasts, and Peter had also moved his other hand down behind me, and was stroking down over my bottom and gradually each stroke had been making its way deeper under my crotch. Just at that moment, his finger tip had reached the entrance to my pussy, and I squirmed my hips forwards in an attempt to prise him away. But Graham’s hand was stroking my pubic bulge from the front, and all I succeeded in doing was to remove Peter’s finger, and replace it with Graham’s.

“Come on, you can’t pretend you’re not getting excited by the thought of it. I can feel how wet your snatch is.”
“Please, let me get dressed now.”
“Ok. You heard her Pete.”
As Graham spoke he let go of me and stepped back one pace. Then as Peter looked and saw what he had done, he slowly and somewhat begrudgingly copied Graham.
“So is that your last word? You want me to take this video stuff to the police station?”
“No, you know I don’t.”
“Ok my last offer. Take our dicks out, get back on the bed, and you can wank us while we play with your snatch.”

I couldn’t see Gerry go to prison, and if rubbing their cocks was the price; then I decided I’d have to pay. But I knew if I allowed them free access to my pussy, I would be susceptible to my own desires, and the whole thing could end up with a major fucking session.
“I’ll wank both of you, and you can have me on my back on the bed, and fondle the top half of my body, but no touching down there.”
“No can do. I said that was my final offer. So unless you're going to play ball, I guess you’d better be prepared to loose your husband for a few years.”
Then Peter interrupted,
“Hang on Graham. She’s agreed to wank us, so let’s just give her a break.”
“Well if you’re happy with that. I just thought you wanted to get inside her snatch?”
“Obviously I still do. But after all, she's a married woman; and she has agreed to work off this errection.”

“Ok Mary, looks like Pete here has taken pity on you. So first of all you get our pants off, then we’ll have you on the bed.”
I looked across to Peter, and said, a quiet,
“Thank you.”
And then I began to loosen Graham’s belt. As I did, he removed his tie; both of them must have removed their jackets down stairs. As I started to lower his trousers, he was taking off his shirt, and so was Peter. So once I'd removed Graham's trousers, he stood there naked, apart from his socks. Then I turned and began to undo and lower Peter’s trousers to the floor.

Now we were all as good as naked. That is they were both still wearing socks. And me with only a slip of material about the size of an iPod that was called a thong. At this point I backed myself up to the bed and was about to lift myself back onto it. But Graham took hold of my shoulder and as he turned me around,
“No my dear, we want you up on your hands and knees.”
Although I’d agreed to lie on my back, it didn’t seen to make much difference which way up I was, so up I climbed, and they each climbed up one either side. As I was on my hands and knees, I couldn’t see how I was expected to be able to wank their dicks. I sat myself back onto my own legs, so I was now in a kneeling position.

A hand pressed into the middle of my back, as Graham’s said,
“No my dear, I want you back down there, I want to be able to see your snatch as it gets all excited.”
I didn’t resist his pressure, but now back with hands supporting my weight, I asked,
“How am I supposed to wank you?”
“Patience my dear. We’ll let you get to play with our cocks soon enough.”

With that they each resumed their breast fondling, and the arousal they had started while playing with me whilst we were standing by the bed, was instantly re-kindled. Graham moved himself around towards my head, reaching under me to hold and fondle one breast, but he was also knelt down low, and he brought his face up to mine, and started to kiss my cheek. He slowly moved around placing kisses from one ear across to the other, and covering all parts of my face in between. I resisted the kisses as he approached my lips, but as he was also using his open palm to caress and stroke my hair and neck, after a few minutes of this tender handling I could taste his tongue as my mouth began to accept his eager lips. Once my resistance had been thwarted, my pent-up passion just exploded, and our tongues danced in each others juices.

I’m not exactly sure at what point I became aware of Peter’s hands stroking the inside of my legs. But as Graham fuelled my arousal with his tongue, the effects became obvious as my hips began a spontaneous humping motion. I was aware of my action, but appeared either unwilling or unable to stop myself. I know that this was the point at which my movements trapped the intruding hand as it tried to gain access to my crotch area. And I guess it was my state of arousal, which gave Peter the confidence to take his part of my stimulation to the next level.

I hadn’t noticed his hand was no longer working my breast, but I did feel the pressure as he used both of his hands, gripping my legs tightly just below the knees, as he spread my legs open wide. Whilst his hands still restrained my legs I felt what was instantly recognisable as his tongue as he lapped the exposed lips of my pussy, first one side then the other. My first deliberate action was to try to pull my mouth from Graham’s. But he was far too strong, and my attempt was futile. But worse was my involuntary reaction to his licking. I felt my tummy clench, and as it drew in, it pushed my whole genital area, bulging it into Peter’s face.

This he took as an endorsement of his method, and he released my legs, giving him a free hand to pull the meagre thong clear. Then he began to devour my clit; sucking, rolling it around, and even a light nipping and tugging. Once he’d homed in on the approach that gave the best response, he relentlessly worked back and forth between rolling my bulging button, and then curling his own tongue which he then pushed as deep up inside me as he could. Then it would withdraw, unfurling as it slowly slipped out; to return to my eager clitoris. This onslaught of stimulation took me to heights of arousal the like of which I’d never experienced.

And then as Peter’s tongue slipped from my hole but didn’t arrive at my waiting clit, I felt his hands taking hold of my waist. It was at this point as I waited for the inevitable; that I realised somewhere in this journey of discovery, Graham’s cock had replaced his tongue, and he was now gripping both of my breasts as he thrust his cock hard at my throat. Then I felt it. Peter’s cock! As it touched my hole, my tummy again clenched, and this drove my hips back. My hole opened as his cock plunged in to the depth of my reflex thrust, but just this first few inches stretched my hole open wider than it had ever known. I tried to let out a cry, but the cock in my mouth just pushed deeper and began to enter my wind-pipe.

Then his hands released my hips and I felt him take hold of a handful of my hair. He just tugged gently, and at the same time gave a steady push. I could feel it slowly swelling my tummy as it entered uncharted territory, making its own path as it drove deeper and deeper inside me; not unlike the relentless advance of a gang of bodyguards, as they escort a celebrity through a dense crowd of photographers. Eventually I could feel his groin as it made contact with my bottom, and at that point I knew I taken his full length. From then on the whole event just took on a new dimension, I knew both of them were pumping, one at each end of my body, but that very same body of mine was experiencing sensations at such a level and frequency, I just lost all conscious control.

I had several of what up until this point in my life I’d called orgasms, but all the time there was something else I couldn't explain building inside my tummy. Something I’d never before experienced. They both fucked for what seemed an hour, but I guess in reality couldn’t have been more than quarter of that time. And then Peter pulled hard on my hair, almost lifting my head off Graham’s cock, and at the same time, his strokes which up until now had been long steady thrusting, became erratic. Then as he thrust what I could feel was his first load of cum, he ripped my hair backwards violently.
“Oh fucking yes!”
Again he thrust, and again he tugged at my hair.
“Fucking hell yes!”

His first violent tug had pulled me off Graham’s cock, and now in front of me, he was wanking his cum shots directly into my face and hair. But did any of this worry me? No fucking way! For as my pussy had sensed Peter’s first load of cum, it had exploded with a kind of convulsion. It was alternately dilating and contracting. With each dilation it was spraying out love juices. From what I can remember Peter gave a good ten or more plunges depositing his cum, before he slipped from my pussy. But as they both finished there relief and lowered me back to the bed on my side; I carried on writhing and pumping cum (mine and some of Peter’s) for at least a minute after they’d both finished. (You might be wondering; if I was so far out of my head, how on earth could I know or remember so much about who did what, and where and when. Well, I’ve written my feelings and the parts I could remember; but how I came to know the rest, you will find out soon.)

When I returned to normality, I could hear the shower running, and I was lying in the most disgusting mess on my bed. Neither of them were in my room, but then I heard their voices coming from the bathroom, where I supposed they must both be taking a shower. I got to my feet dragging the sheet from the bed with me. But the sheet I’d been lying on was so disgusting, I bundled it into a heap and dropped it on the floor. Then using the sheet from the mattress, I wrapped it around myself and made my way to the door where I again slipped the bolt into place, locking them out. I returned to the bed and began to wipe myself down as best I could using the sheet.

After about five or ten minutes, I heard the shower stop, and a few minutes later I heard their voices out on the landing, as they made their way to my door. The handle on the door rattled as they attempted to open the door.
“Mary. Are you alright? Have you locked the door?”
“Yes. I’m not coming out until you've gone.”
“But our clothes are in there.”
I hadn’t thought about that.
“Well go down the stairs, and call back up. When I know you’re out of reach of the door I’ll throw them down to you.”
“You’re being silly. Come on open the door.”
“No. I don’t trust you.”
“Don’t be silly. We’ve had what we wanted; all we want now is our clothes.”
“Well go to the bottom of the stairs, and then I’ll throw them to you.”

I then heard Graham say to Peter,
“Come on mate, it sounds like she’s gone all shy again.”
Then he said in a louder voice,
“We’re going down now.”
A few seconds later the voice sounded like it was coming from downstairs,
“Ok. We’re in the hall. You can throw them down.”

I slowly slid the bolt back, and opened the door, a quick peek told me they weren’t on the landing, so I dashed to the banister rail and threw their clothes down the stairs, and then returned to my room locking the door. I waited until I could hear their voices coming from the room below me, and then I made my way to the bathroom and had a soothing shower. But the warm water didn’t just clean and refresh me, as the warmth engulfed my naked body; from deep inside my tummy I felt a glow. This was unlike anything I’d ever known, and as I stood there my body began to tremble. The feeling built, until I had another orgasm. This was not as overwhelming as the gusher I’d just experienced, but it was far and away stronger than any other so called orgasm I’d had previously, and it did result in me sinking to my knees in the shower.

I’d intended to shower without wetting my hair, but as it was, I now looked like a bedraggled rat as I limply stepped from the shower. After a quick attempt at removing the bulk of the water from my hair, I wrapped my head with a towel. Slipped on a towel robe and after a quick dry down I slowly made my way downstairs. When I got to the living room door I called in,
“I’m coming in, but if either of you attempt to get anywhere near me I’ll scream the house down.”
“Stop acting like a drama queen. Just get your pretty little snatch in here, and take a look at this.”
As I walked gingerly into the room they were both on the sofa looking at a porn video on the TV.

“I don’t think you two will be so cocky if I phone the police?”
Graham froze the screen and looked at me,
“Police? Why on earth would you do that?”
“Rape! Don’t think you can do something like that and get away with it. What my Gerry has done doesn’t even come close to your crime.”
He gave a stifled laugh,
“Ha Ha.”
“What ever makes you think we’d want to rape you?”
“Think! I don’t need to think. You pair of bastards have just done it.”
“Oh you mean your little fucking session up stairs. But that wasn’t rape. That was what we were watching when you came in. I videoed it, it makes good viewing. In fact,”
And at this point he snatched out and grabbed a handful of the towel robe I was wearing, and as he pulled, the loosely tied belt slipped off, allowing the rope to pull wide open.
“It’s given me an appetite for a piece of that snatch on my dick.”

I leapt sideways to get out of his reach, and only succeeded in ripping the robe exposing myself completely.
“You bastard! Get off me!”
Peter then spoke, in a somewhat calmer voice than Graham’s,
“Come on Graham. Enough is enough. Let her cover herself up.”
Graham loosed his hold, and I attempted to wrap the torn towelling as best I could to cover myself. Peter got to his feet and began to walk towards me. I backed away, and I guess the look on my face told him I wasn’t happy being backed into the corner of the room. He held his hands up open palmed,
“Calm down. I’m not going to touch you. Tell you what, how about you sit there and I’ll go and make us all a nice cup of tea.”

By now I was almost in tears, and I half spoke and half sobbed,
“Tea! You don’t think making me a cup of tea will get you out of this. You’re the one who’ll go down for rape!”
“I can tell you’re fraught, but maybe when you have time to relax you might see things differently. I’ll make that cup of tea anyway. Do you want one Graham?”
“I guess so if you’re doing the honours.”

He left the room, and Graham said,
“I’ll start this from the beginning; Peter has already seen the start, so he won't be missing anything.”
“No need to on my account. I don’t want to watch your dirty movies.”
“I think you should. If you have some silly idea about being raped, I think maybe you should see the real evidence. This is video footage as it happened.”

The video began at the point where I’d just resigned myself to the prospect of having to wank both of them. All the conversation and my protesting up to that point hadn’t been recorded. So the first thing I see is Graham and Peter stood with their backs to the camera and me in front of them. To be more accurate, it could have been any two men stood there; but I knew it was them. I could then be seen to be doing something to Graham, and as his pants began to drop, it was obvious; I’d been loosening his belt, and was then removing his trousers and pants. At the same time both of them could be seen removing their shirts and ties. In short, it was a recording of the episode I’ve just related, taken from some point behind where they had been standing; my dressing table would be my guess. (So now you know how I managed to fill in; who did what, and where and when; while I was so far out of my head.)

As I sat there watching, without diverting his gaze from the screen, Graham said,
“The camera work isn’t what you’d call professional, but being as I only had seconds to plonk it down on your dresser, I guess I couldn’t expect much better. But even without the close-ups, and the fact we’re not always fully in frame, the audio seems to have captured every sigh and whisper. And so far, I haven’t heard you say no, or cry out for help.”
Then he turned his head and asked sarcastically,
“Are you sure it was in this session that you got raped?”

Before I could answer, Peter arrived with a tray with our cups of tea. He passed one to me,
“Do you take sugar? Or are you sweet enough already?”
I guess the five or so minutes he’d been out of the room had given me time to reflect, and the hostility I had been feeling had subsided slightly. Instead of giving him a curt reply, I managed a slight smile as I replied,
“No thank you.”
He then gave Graham a cup, and sat himself back down next to him.
Graham again tried to goad me,
“I was just asking her if this was the fucking session where she thinks she got raped.”

I could see this kind of remark didn’t sit easy with Peter, and he gave Graham a black look as he said,
“Ok Graham, I’m sure she isn’t going to pursue that route. There’s no point in rubbing it in.”
I was sipping on my tea, and by now on the screen, we’d arrived at the point where Graham pulled his tongue from my mouth, and manoeuvred himself into position in front of me. As he brought his cock up to my mouth, I could hardly believe my eyes. I could be seen lifting my head, and opening my mouth, not just allowing him access, but you could almost say, encouraging him.

It was obvious to me, and would be to anyone who watched this video, that there was no way I could claim he abused me forcefully. I sat there completely numb, as Peter could be seen to lift his head from my crotch, and he positioned himself to give me a doggy fucking. Yes his hands were on my waist, but I didn’t fight or attempt to struggle. And yes Graham was pulling at my breasts, but again, this wasn’t, or didn’t look like an attempt to restrain me. So as Peter was seen to push himself up towards my bottom, and he grabbed a handful of my hair, it looked like I was a willing participant.

When it got to the end, and I saw myself writhing around long after both of them had dismounted, I turned bright red, and unknowingly lifted my hands to cover my face. I sat their mentally squirming in my seat so ashamed of my disgusting performance. But as soon as Graham turned the video off, Peter said,
“Well my dear, I can honestly say, I’ve never had a girl fuck as good as that before. You have a real talent.”
I didn’t reply, and indeed, I think I actually blushed even redder. But Graham again brought up my accusation of rape,
“Come-on then Mary. Are you still considering reporting us to the police?”
I didn’t speak, but with my head hung low, I just shook it from side to side.

It was as I sat there sulking, knowing I had no bargaining point to free myself from this state of affairs I’d been drawn into, that I suddenly realised something. I lifted my head, and said to Graham,
“So I won't have to do any of those underwear parties now.”
He gave me a curious look, and then turned to look at Peter. As if to ask if Peter knew what I was talking about. Peter just shrugged his shoulders, and Graham turned back to look at me and asked,
“And what makes you think you’ve got out of paying me back for your stupid husband?”
“You gave me the option earlier, if I didn’t want to do the parties, I could...”
I paused, and then as I felt I was now in a position to be bold, I continued,
“You said if I didn’t want to do the parties, I could fuck you both. Well if that wasn’t rape, then I’ve done what you asked. So now Gerry’s debt is paid in full.”

Peter looked at Graham and said,
“She has a point.”
Graham didn’t look pleased at Peter siding with me, but after a few seconds silence he came back with,
“Ok little miss clever clogs. But when I watched that video, I only saw one of us fucking you. If you want to take up that offer, then I want to see you on your hands and knees on the floor now, robe off, and ready to fuck. And then once I’ve spunked up inside your snatch; then I’ll call it debt paid.”

I knew he’d again got the better of me. I'll bet as you read this you're thinking, ‘you’ve already fucked one, what does one more matter’? But I’d never have let Peter go that far knowingly. And now ‘in cold blood’ so to speak, there was no way I could get down and let him take me. But a kind of determination, or if you will, pig headedness came over me.
“I don’t care what you say or do. I’m not modelling that stuff, and neither of you are going to get anywhere near me again.”
Graham looked more than a little annoyed, and he sprang to his feet and stomped across the room towards me. As he got within reaching distance he took hold of the ripped towelling robe, and started to pull it from me, ripping it further.

“SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!!!!”
I let out the longest and loudest scream I could muster, and even though Graham tried to subdue it with his hand I kept up the noise. He stepped back and brought an open palmed hand across my face,
“SLAP!”
It stung like hell, but in less than a second, as I overcame the initial shock I resumed my scream. I saw his hand rise again, and mentally prepared myself for the pain. But it never came, Peter had now sprung to his feet, and he grappled with Graham restraining his hands.

“Enough of that. I agreed to the sex stuff because I thought she was gonna be easy. But I’m not gonna be a party to any rough stuff. At this point Graham grabbed the remote, ejected the video, and stomped off out of the room. As he went through the door he said,
“You haven’t heard the last of this.”
Peter took hold of my hands, and then as he gently stroked my face he said,
“I’m sorry about all that. And as for what happened upstairs, I meant what I said, you were the best. And if you do ever want a job modelling, just get in contact, and I’ll find you work instantly. And I don’t mean as a prostitute. Bye love, and take care.”

And then they were gone. I sat there for a good hour just crying, I’m not sure why. Was it because Graham might still cause trouble for Gerry? Or because I’d been raped? Or because in reality it hadn’t actually been rape, but I had actually let them fuck me? I don’t know myself, but when I eventually stopped crying, I realised it wouldn’t be long before Gerry would be home from work. I dashed upstairs and did whatever was necessary in our room to remove all signs of what had taken place, and I’d just walked into the kitchen to start on the evening meal when I heard a key in the front door.

It had to be Gerry, he was the only one besides me with a key, but it was a good half an hour before he was due home. Then I heard his voice,
“Hi honey, it’s me.”
As I walked from the kitchen I said,
“You’re early.”
And then I saw Graham walking down the hall directly behind Gerry.
“Err Mary, can you come and sit down a minute; I’ve got a bit of bad news.”
My mind was racing, Gerry’s reaction wasn’t what I might have expected if he’d seen the photos Graham had taken of me, or for that matter the video. So what was it? I didn’t have long to wait to find out, as I sat down in the chair, Gerry sat on the sofa with Graham; Graham sitting in the same position he’d been in just a few hours earlier.

“I’ve been caught out by the CCTV cameras at work.”
I knew I had to play innocent, so I asked,
“Caught, doing what?”
“Well it’s the stuff I bring home; they've got evidence of me deliberately damaging pallets so that I can scrap them off. And if they take the evidence to the police, I could go to prison.”
“So what happens now, have you been with the police?”
“No they haven’t reported it yet.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Look Mary, you know I love you. Don’t you?”
He looked so embarrassed saying this, especially in front of his boss.
“Yes. Of course I do.”

“I don’t really want to ask you this. But it’s the only way I can save my job, and not end up in prison.”
I obviously knew what Graham was playing at, but I couldn’t tell Gerry what had already taken place. And even if I did, it wouldn’t help. So I just answered as I thought he’d expect me to,
“Ask me what?”
He passed over a catalogue, the company name across the top said, ‘Erotic Nights’ 'Sexy lingerie to spice up the long winter nights'.
“If you’ll model this stuff for Mr Spencer’s friend who owns that company, then he says he’ll let me keep my job, and he won't go to the police.”
I opened the catalogue, and the kind of stuff in there was as you might expect. I asked Gerry,
“Have you seen this stuff?”
“Yes. I know it’s a bit skimpy. But you will be on a stage, and nobody will be able to get near enough to touch you.”
“A stage? What do you mean?”

“He’s explained it all to me. It’s all above board. You’ll have someone to help you dress, a female of course. And it will be in a private club, with only selected guest. They’ll be a hired security man, so you won't be in any danger.”
“So you’ve already discussed the details before you even asked me?”
“Well yes, I couldn’t ask you without knowing you'd be alright.”
“And you want me to appear on stage in front of a load of strange men, wearing this?”
I at this point held the catalogue open showing a thong similar in size to the one I’d modelled earlier for Graham and Peter.
“Please Mary. I know they don’t cover much, but if you don’t, then I’m in real trouble. I wouldn’t ask if I could see any other way out.”

What could I say? Here was my husband begging me to do the very thing I’d told Graham just a few hours earlier that I wouldn’t consider. I looked at Graham, and as I said,
“Ok, you’d better make the arrangements, and let me know which night you want me,”
I gave him my most angry scowl. It was Graham, who now spoke,
“I think you made a wise choice there Mrs Kendal. Oh that does sound so formal, especially as I expect I’ll be seeing so much more of you in the future. Do you mind if I use your first name?”
Gerry about burst himself to get his answer out before me,
“No of course not Mr Spencer. Her name is Mary.”

“Right Mary, have you prepared Gerry’s meal yet?”
I wondered what on earth he wanted to know that for, but I just replied,
“Well no. I was just about to start on it when you arrived.”
“That’s good. Now Gerry lad, it’s your call, but I know you and the lads were talking about the match tonight."

(Apparently there was some football match being shown on TV)

At this point Graham took out his wallet, and pulled out a £20 note, as he offered it to Gerry he continued,
“Here’s a twenty, order yourself a take-away, and some beer, and while you settle down to watch the game, I’ll take your little lady out for a meal.”

I spoke before Gerry had chance to accept,
“No it’s alright. I don’t feel like going out; thank you.”
“Oh that is a shame. I know Peter Harris is in town today, he’s been to checkout a new model,”
Then he looked at Gerry,
“He’s the advertising man for the undies firm. It would have been an ideal time to get this sorted. If we miss him, it could take weeks before we get him down here again. And you know what that means? Until we get something agreed, your head is still on the chopping block.”

Gerry looked at me,
“What’s wrong? Don’t you feel well?”
“I’ve got a bit of a headache.”
Then he came right up close and whispered in my ear.
“Please. You don’t know what I’m going through. I’ve got more than just a bit of a headache, I’m sick to the bottom of my guts. Please do this, just for me. I just need to know where I stand.”
Again I was trapped; Gerry needed my help, so how could I say no.
“Well ok I’ll meet this man, but can't he come here?”

“Not wanting to offend you or anything, but look around you. This guy heads up a big advertising firm, he’s used to doing his business in posh hotels. I can hardly invite him to your semi-detached two-up two-down. What I’ll do is go and make a few calls, and I’ll get back here for seven.”
I thought to myself, 'That's rich; he wasn't too posh to come here this afternoon and fuck me into a state of oblivion'. But I obviously didn't say anything. Then again he deliberately turned and looked at Gerry,
“Can you make sure she’s dressed up to the nines? I know she’s a stunner in any clothes, but I’ve hyped her up to be a real bombshell. You know the kind of thing, low top, high hemline, and lots of naked leg. Definitely no tights (panty hose).”
Then as Gerry grovellingly replied,
“Yes Mr Spencer, I know just the dress.”
Graham gave me a look as if to say,
‘That’s you sorted’.

With that Graham left and as soon as the door was closed behind him; Gerry took hold of me and gave me a hug.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to bring him home with me. And I hate myself for asking you to do this, but there is no other way of keeping me from prison.”
“Wouldn't it be worth going to a solicitor? Maybe it isn’t as bad as he says.”
“That would cost money. And anyway, we haven’t got time. And even if a solicitor said it wasn’t as bad as Mr Spencer is making out, I’d still be certain to loose my job, and then be black listed. So we’d be in real trouble with the mortgage. Please do this for me, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. But I'll do what ever you want.”
I resigned myself to what was now becoming my inevitable fate,
“Oh well, I suppose if I’ve got to go out to somewhere posh, I’d better go and try to make myself look respectable.”

He took hold again and gave me a kiss,
“That’s my girl.”
And then as he gave me a wicked grin,
“Not too respectable. You heard what Mr Spencer said. Lots of leg and tits on show. Wear that little black dress you got for my sister’s wedding.”
The dress he referred to was low cut at the top, high cut hem, thin silky material, held with two thin strings across the shoulders. It couldn’t be worn with a bra, and with the thin material, even normal panties showed through; so a thong was the best option. But not a thong as skimpy as the one I’ve already been talking about.

“Are you sure you want me to go out with two strangers, wearing that dress?”
“Yes. You heard him, I think the more you show the better he’ll like it.”
“And you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Last time I wore it you moaned at me for weeks. If I remember rightly, the phrase you used was, ‘You looked like a slut’. Is that what you want? The more I show, the better you’ll like it?”
“Well no not usually. But on this occasion, it’s what he wants.”

I stomped up to our bedroom, and I guess I was angry on two scores. One Graham had won. And second, Gerry seemed not to care how much of me his boss got to see. As I moved the dresses in my wardrobe looking for the dress Gerry had asked me to wear, right next to it was another dress, one I’d bought at the same time as the black one. Both of these dresses were sexy, and I’d bought them whilst in a kind of strop. It was over a remark his sister had made to one of her friends while we were out on her hen night. We were all in the ladies, they were both busy touching up their makeup in front of the mirrors; but what they didn’t know; was that I was in one of the cubicles behind them, and I overheard every word.
“Gerry’s wife. She’s a jumped up little cow. If she hadn’t got her hooks into our Gerry, she’d still be sucking cocks on that council house estate.”
She obviously didn’t know I’d overheard her, and I didn’t tell Gerry what I’d heard. So I just thought, ‘Right; I’ll show you’. I went shopping, and bought the two most risky outfits I could find. I didn’t show Gerry, and made sure I delayed being ready to go to her wedding until the last second. Even I'd backed out of the second choice dress, a little red number. But by the time I came down wearing the black dress, Gerry was waiting in the taxi. He about blew a fuse, but it was too late to tell me to go back and get changed. The dress had the desired effect; all male eyes were on me, and his sister Audrey was fuming.

But now seeing the red dress, I lifted it off the hanger and held it up against myself. That was it if he wanted me to show flesh, I’d show flesh. This dress, like the black one, was thin silky material, but the cut was supposed to represent a dress made of small scraps of odd shaped cloth. So both the bust line and hem were uneven. Resulting in the nipple on one breast being precariously close to exposure with every movement made. Whilst the hem had triangular pieces missing, so if viewed from certain angles you would be allowed a glimpse of my crotch from either front or back. There were also pieces in the bodice missing, revealing the lower part of one breast, and my belly button. In the back of my mind, apart from annoying Gerry, I hoped he’d again blow his top, and order me to put something more decent on.

Once I’d done my hair and makeup, I slipped the red dress on. I was just selecting some panties, when I had a thought. The infamous little thong! I’d hidden it, of all places, in my jewellery box; amongst my other cheap trash. Not one piece was worth over a tenner (£10); not that that’s got anything to do with my story. Back to the point, I placed the slip of material on my pussy, and tied the ribbons. Then I opened my legs and held a mirror down there. A few pulls to the back and over to the left a bit, and that was it. If Gerry wanted slutty, I’d give him slutty with a vengeance.

I walked out to the top of the stairs, and with one leg straight, I then turned the other so my foot and knee were pointing slightly outwards. And then I called down,
“Gerry.”
I waited about ten seconds, and was about to call again, when the hall light turned on. About two seconds later Gerry appeared at the foot of the stairs with a pint glass of beer in his hand. It was a little like a cartoon character. He looked up, and then his eyes almost popped out of his head. But even if he did retain his eyes, he didn’t retain the mouthful of beer he’d just taken; as he coughed and spluttered to get some words out, he sprayed the contents of his mouth.

He put down his glass, and began to scramble up the stairs. As his head got level with my knee height, he stopped, and stared. And he stared some more. He was totally mesmerised, and I’m sure he was there like a statue for at least a minute. In the end I broke his trance by putting my hand on his forehead and as I tilted his head back I asked,
“Well; is that showing enough flesh for your Mr Spencer?”

“My god Mary. You look amazing!”
“Where on earth did you get that dress?”
“And those knickers. My god they look like the ones in that catalogue.”
“Well, is this how you want me to be dressed when your Mr Spencer arrives?”
I was feeling quite smug, thinking the effect I’d had on him would be certain to result in him telling me to go back and put something less revealing on. But he just said,
“Fucking hell yes. He’ll be knocked out when he sees you like that.”

I wanted to go back to my room and at the very least put the black dress on, but when I attempted to suggest that,
“Are you sure this isn’t going too far, I’ve got plenty of time to put the black one on.”
All I got was him grabbing my wrist and as he began to pull me down the stairs,
“No way. That one is perfect. His Mr Harris will be gob smacked. I know I am.”
Even when he’d got me down stairs, he sat me back on the sofa, knelt on the floor in front of me and lifted my legs up onto his shoulders while he sat there ogling my crotch. In fact he was still knelt there when we heard the door knocker,
“KNOCK KNOCK.”

He jumped to his feet and almost ran to the door. He returned seconds later followed by Graham. I had already stood up, not wanting Graham and Peter to get the view of my crotch afforded by my sitting position. Why I bothered I don’t know, because even I knew that some time during the evening, both of them would be bound to get an eyeful. As Graham followed Gerry into the room Gerry said proudly,
“There you are Mr Spencer. Is that the kind of dress you wanted?”
“Well my dear. It looks like your husband knows how to pick your clothes for you.”
Gerry again was bursting with pride as he said,
“No Mr Spencer, it wasn’t me who chose it. She selected that all by herself.”
“And I’m glad to see no tights.”
“Never mind no tights. Come on Mary, lift your foot up onto the chair and spread your knees so Mr Spencer can see those knickers.”

As I say I’d got up from the sofa, but as I’d moved towards the door, I was stood alongside a dining room chair. And so that meant the seat base on the chair Gerry was asking me to lift my foot up to was a good eighteen inches high.
“No Gerry. I don’t think Mr Spencer would want to see me do such a rude thing as that.”
“Come come Mary. They can't be that bad. After all, we are going to talk about you modelling our naughty knickers. And while we’re about it, call me Graham, Mr Spencer sounds so formal.”

I stood there not wanting to lift my leg, but Gerry gave me a nasty look and then said,
“Come on Mary. You chose to wear them.”
I thought fuck him, I’ll show his fucking boss, what do I care. So I lifted my foot up and plonked it on the seat of the chair, and then spread my knee open. Gerry stooped down, and then reached across, not touching Graham, but signalling to him to stoop close and have a look.

“Well done Gerry lad. She’s got a cracking little snatch. I bet old Peter Harris’s mouth will be dripping when he claps eyes on that. By the way, you do realise he’ll probably want to see her try one or two of his samples on?”
He wasn’t asking me, he was talking directly to Gerry, who answered for me,
“Yes. But that's alright. Mary won't mind,”
Then looking up to my face,
“Will you?”
“No dear. If that’s what you want.”
“And the other thing is, this meeting with Peter, it won't be like the actual modelling. There won't be a dresser or bodyguard.”
“Well they’ll only be you and him there, so she won't need that kind of thing.”
“And while we’re on the ticklish stuff. I’ve got a single hotel room for the interview, but it hasn’t got on-suite, so she’ll have to undress in front of us, you won't mind that will you?”
“Of course not. I’m sure we can trust you.”
“Good lad. We’ll be off now, but I want to ask you just one more favour.”
“Ask away Mr Spencer.”
“Just try to reassure her that it’s ok with you for her to let go. Let her know she’s allowed to be sexy. You know the kind of thing, while she’s changing, it wouldn’t hurt for her to use that little snatch to clinch the deal. A bit of flashing and maybe accidentally bumping it into contact with Peter’s hand could work wonders.”

By now both of them had finished looking at my crotch, and were standing right next to me. So while he might have been talking to Gerry, it was as if he was trying to show me I didn't have any say in the matter. Then Gerry gave me his pitiful look.
“Please, just for me.”
“What you want me to flash it and then put it in his crony’s hand?”
“It’s only this once, just to get him to accept Mr Spencer’s proposal.”
I looked at Graham and said,
“Well it looks like you’ve got yourself a whore for the night.”
“Mary! There was no need for that. I’m sorry Mr Spencer; she didn’t mean anything by it.”
“No problem lad. If your little lady wants to play the whore, I’m sure we can show her what the job entails.”

The look on Gerry's face was classic. In some ways it was poetic justice, and just seeing that frightened expression was payback for his toadying to Graham. Then Graham said,
“Don’t look so worried lad. We’ll bring her back in one piece, I’m sure her snatch will be able to cope with anything Peter and I have got in our trousers.”
With that Graham’s arm went around my back and settled on my bottom (on the outside of my dress), he then whisked me out of the house and down to the waiting car. The car was in fact a big stretched limo, and as he opened the door to the back, Peter was already seated inside. As I ducked my head to step inside, Graham slipped one hand up under the back of my skirt, and his fingers slid into contact with the lips of my pussy. As if this wasn’t bad enough; before I had chance to attempt to pull myself off his hand by stepping quickly into the car; his other hand hooked over my shoulder, and he pulled, attempting to turn my head around. As he did so asking,
“Aren’t you going to give hubby a kiss before you go?”

Gerry had followed us down the path to the car and was stood just slightly behind and to one side of Graham. So as I turned my shoulder, Gerry lent forwards, and kissed me. It was obvious he must have been able to see where Graham had his other hand. Then as Graham loosed my shoulder, I stepped into the car and off his fingers. But as I looked back towards Gerry, Graham was shaking his hand (now wet with my pussy juices),
“Don’t worry lad. She’ll be in safe hands with us.”
And as he released Gerry’s hand, I saw Gerry looking at his palm, and he even touched it with the fingers from his other hand; as if to be sure the sticky substance was what he had suspected.

I’d sat myself on the seat across the back of the car, alongside Peter, and as soon as Graham climbed in, he sat at the other side of me. As he reached out and pulled the door shut, the car began to move. In the back of this limo it was very spacious, but although there were other seats that could have been used, we three sat across the back seat together. Graham looked straight past me and asked,
“What do you say now Pete.”
“I don’t know how you do it. I was convinced this afternoon that she wouldn’t come across.”
“Well she’s just told her hubby she’s gonna be our whore for the night. So I guess that means you’ll get another stab at that little snatch you’ve been raving about.”

I’d just sat there in between them saying nothing. Then Graham looked at me,
“No comments from the little lady?”
“Don’t keep teasing her. Come on Mary. Don’t let him get to you. Just look on this as a kind of adventure or fantasy. Most of you girls have fantasies where you get to do things that as a respectable married woman you wouldn’t do. Well now’s your shot. What ever we do, I promise it won't be forced on you. Like earlier. We didn’t force you, we maybe tricked you. Or even misled you. But you fucked, and at the time you loved it. It was only afterwards when you felt guilty that you got upset. Well your hubby knows you’re with us, and he knows what for. So just let yourself have fun. If you want a few drinks first to loosen you up, that’s ok. Or maybe you want to be wined-and-dined in a high class restaurant. The choice is yours. Come on now; let’s see just a little smile to show we’re not enemies.”

I looked at him, and he did look genuine. Also a lot of what he said made sense. So even if somewhat begrudgingly, I did manage a little smile. And then I said,
“I think I would like that little drink you mentioned.”
Graham lent towards a cabinet and brought out a big champagne bucket with a bottle already being chilled.
“Bubbly ok?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
Then Peter said,
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, and I have no problem with how much you drink. But if you’re not used to that stuff, you’ll take my advice and just stick to one or two glasses. If you want something to take the edge off your nerves, which won't make you sick or numb your senses, then just slip one of these in your first drink.”

He was holding a little innocent looking yellow tablet.
“No thanks I don’t do drugs.”
“This won't get you high, and taking one tablet just this once won't get you hooked. But like I said, it will help you overcome your worries and shyness, without taking away any of the pleasures of the sex. If you try to do that with champers, then even if you don’t throw-up, the sex will be just a blur.”
I swallowed a mouthful from the glass Graham had just handed me, and after a mild coughing fit I replied,
“Maybe that’s the effect I’m trying to achieve.”
“Please Mary. Don’t be like that. This could all be something you could look back on as a wonderful memory.”
I took another swig, but this time without the cough afterwards,
“Wonderful? Getting raped by two strangers who my husband is in cahoots with.”

“Honestly Pete, I don’t know why you’re bothering to make it easy for her. Her old mans given us the ok to fuck her. And she knows if she kicks up a fuss, I can get him sent down. So if she wants to get drunk and miss the fun, that’ll just make it all the simpler for us to do what ever we want to her.”
“Christ Graham, sometimes I don’t know why I get involved with you. That kind of attitude makes me sick. I sometimes think you get more pleasure from the control thing than you do from the sex.”
“I guess I do. You can get a fuck any day of the week for a few pounds. But when I’ve got a nice girl like this one who doesn’t want to fuck, it makes it all the better knowing I can belittle her and make her my slave.”

Peter looked into my eyes, and said quietly to me,
“Don’t let him beat you. That’s all you’ll achieve by getting drunk. Stay sober, and then take this little tablet to help you relax. That way you’ll be in control, and I promise you won't get forced into anything.”
I didn’t reply, but I held my almost empty glass out towards him. Peter took the tablet from his pocket, and dropped it into my glass,
“Ok Graham; fill her glass.”
Then he again looked into my eyes,
“And make this your last.”
“Yes master.”
I said sarcastically. Then as Graham picked up on my meaning, he looked at Peter and said,
“Now who’s the control freak giving orders?”

Just at that moment the car stopped and the driver’s voice came through the speaker system.
“Island Hotel. Do you want me to pull up to the front foyer?”
“Graham lent across to a little grill on his side of the car, obviously the microphone,
“Right up to the front doors.”
Then as he turned and looked back towards Peter and I,
“I want to see how she handles being in the bright lights in public.”
Peter again came to my defence,
“You don’t have to do this. If you want us to use the side entrance, we can take you straight up to our room without anybody seeing you.”

Don't get me wrong, I didn’t want to put myself on show, but it was like Peter had said earlier, and I felt if I chose to parade myself in this dress, then I would be lessening Graham’s hold on me. I downed the last of the drink in my glass; complete with the now dissolved little yellow tablet, and then said,
“Come on then big boy. Let’s see who feels the more embarrassed?”
Graham climbed out and I followed him, Peter then stepped out alongside me.
Graham stood to one side and using his open palm said as he ushered me forwards,
“Go on then, I’ll walk a few paces behind you.”
I gritted my teeth (metaphorically) and began to walk towards the big revolving doors. I hadn’t taken the first step before I felt Peter's arm slipping around my back, and settling across my shoulder.
“Come on my dear. I think you look stunning, and I’m proud to have you on my arm.”

I wanted to get one over on Graham, if only in a small way, and I guess you might think this was a stupid way to do it. But at the time I felt it was something that would show Graham he wasn’t in control of my actions. But I’m not sure whether I’d have gone through with it without Peter’s help. As it was, we waltzed into that hotel as though we owned it, and every eye was focused my way. Peter just guided me into the centre of the foyer, and a little of his air of superiority, must have rubbed off on me. Because as we stood there with what must have been more than twenty people all staring my way, he asked,
“Straight to our room or would you like to dine first?”
“Well I haven’t eaten yet.”
Then contradicting my reply, Graham said,
“To the room, we can always get something sent up.”
But I ignored his words, and turned to Peter and said,
“I’d love to be dined, even if I take your advice, and forget about the wine.”

I could see Graham was uneasy about the attention my clothes were causing, or to be more precise, lack of clothes. But Peter was un-fazed, and he just escorted me past gob-smacked hotel guests, and into the plush restaurant. The head waiter who assigned the tables suggested a booth, I guess to get me out of the eyes of the rest of the diners. But Peter was having none of it, and he knew how to put underlings in their place. So it was we were seated right centre of the room, and that was where we were for the next hour and a half.

After what was the most expensive meal I’d ever had, we made our way to the room Graham had booked. For my part, this evening was turning out to be one of the most enjoyable I could ever remember. I think in hind sight, maybe a little of the euphoria was due to that little innocent looking yellow tablet. But what ever the reason, as Peter pointedly made a show of hanging the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the hotel room door; I could feel my tummy in full turmoil. And I don’t mean I had stomach ache from the meal I’d just consumed.

So here was I, not in the same situation as earlier; resigned to accepting the task of wanking these men. No, this time I was eagerly waiting for the moment when they’d order me into the bedroom, and then they'd both fuck me. But to my frustration, Graham was busy looking at the telephone, and he asked Peter,
“How do you make this work as a speaker phone?”
Peter walked across and took hold of the phone, and after flicking a switch on the underside,
“I think that should work. Why who are you going to phone?”
“The match will be in the second half by now; it’ll annoy the hell out of him to have to answer the phone.”
“Match?”
“Yes her stupid husband will be watching the big match on TV. Hang-on I’ll give him a call.”

He dialled a number,
“Here we are, it's ringing.”
And as he was using the speaker, we could hear the ringing, and also Gerry’s curt angry response as he picked up the phone.
“Hallo!”
“Are, Gerry lad. Mr Spencer here.”
“Oh sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”
“That’s alright lad. I’m not disturbing anything, am I?”
“No, it’s ok. Just the blues where looking like they’d make an equaliser. But what’s happened. Is Mary ok?”
“Yes. She’s fine; but things this end look like she might need to sweeten the pot a bit more than we first thought. Hang on I’ll put her on the phone.”

At that point he pressed the mute button, so Gerry wouldn’t hear anything said at our end,
“Ok girl. Ask him if he wants you to fuck both of us.”
Although I’d already decided that was what I was here for, asking Gerry if he wanted me to do it seemed very awkward.
“Hello.”
“Mary. Is everything ok?”
“Yes. But it looks like this man will only agree to Graham’s deal if I let him go all the way.”
“What? You mean fuck you?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think?”
“It’s up to you.”
“You’d do it if I asked you?”
“Yes.”

Then there was silence, it must have lasted nearly a minute. I began to think we’d been cut-off.
“Gerry? Are you still there?”
A very subdued voice came back,
“Yes. I guess if it’s the only way, and you don’t mind; then the sooner you get it over with the better.”
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Like what?”
“You said ‘I don’t mind’. I do mind; but I’ll do it for you.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. Just do it, and then tell Mr Spencer to bring you home.”

“About Mr Spencer.”
“What about Mr Spencer?”
“I‘m getting signals from him, to say he wants to do me as well.”
“Oh Jesus. This is getting silly.”
“Do you want me to tell him no?”
“That would be even more stupid. If you let Mr Harris fuck you and Mr Spencer then says no deal, it will all have been for nothing.”
“So I let him do it as well?”
“I guess so.”

Graham took the phone from my hand,
“Are Gerry lad. Your good lady has just told me your decision. And she says you’ve also offered to let me fuck her as well. That’s very generous of you. Now you go back and watch the rest of your match, and we’ll make sure your little lady gets well looked after. Oh, and don’t bother to wait up, it might be late when we get her back home. And you wouldn’t want to be late for work in the morning.”

As he put the phone down and turned back towards Peter and I, with a big satisfied smile on his face, Peter said,
“You’re a twisted sod. You’ll get more pleasure from that little wind-up than you will out of the rest of the night.”
“Maybe so; but each to his own. Now Mary love; I think it’s about time you made your way to the bedroom.”

As I was walking into the bedroom followed by these two men, my sexual senses began to go wild. As every step I took gave my breasts an almost imperceptible bounce, something you’d not normally be aware of; I could feel my nipples being rubbed by the material of my dress. But more than this, was the turmoil going on down below. On many occasions before, I have been sexually excited whilst walking into a room knowing I was about to have sex, maybe the most memorable being when Gerry and I went away for a dirty weekend six weeks before our wedding. But I can never before remember feeling my pussy pouting, and feeling the wetness as it actually started to run down the tops of my legs. I didn’t feel ashamed of my heightened state of arousal, just worried that the men behind me might see the glistening sheen appearing.

As soon as I neared the bed, I stopped and turned around, and before either of them had chance to speak, I knelt and began to loosen their trousers. They at first looked a little surprised at my eagerness, but they didn’t complain and almost immediately began to strip their top half. In no time my mouth was sucking from one cock and back to the other, whilst my hands had a balls-sack apiece. They had released the shoulder straps from my dress, and it had just slipped to the floor where it lay in a crumpled heap around my knees. They played with my breasts, and my nipples felt fit to burst. But the sensations powered buy the cock sucking coupled with the breast fondling, had now driven my pussy to a point where I could no longer ignore it.

As I rose to my feet, the dress remained in a heap on the floor, and my hands slipped the meagre thong from my waist, letting it join the dress. Then as I launched myself back onto the bed, and spread my legs wide, I begged,
“Fuck me. For god’s sake, fuck me.”
My arms were outstretched with open palms, and I couldn’t feel a morsel of shame. Graham and Peter looked at one another, as if in amazement, and then as if deciding who would be first. But either way, from the point at which I’d begged for a fucking, until the moment Peter’s cock entered my pussy couldn’t have been more than five seconds.

He mounted me, and even with his cock being bigger than my Gerry’s by a good two inches, my pussy not only took it, it almost ate it! I’m sure it sucked it in, and with the help of my reflex hip humping, I fucked him as hard as he fucked me. I was eventually aware Graham was around my top end, pushing his cock to my lips, and I did attempt to suck it, but my body just wanted pussy treats, and I found the cock in my mouth a distraction.

Then Peter rolled over onto his back, and I followed his lead, mounting him and riding myself hard down onto his shaft. It was now somewhat easier to suck Graham’s cock, as I was the right way up for him to push it into my mouth without Peter’s head being in the way. And speaking of Peter, he now started to enhance my exhilaration, by reaching down and rubbing my clit. This manipulation didn’t confine itself to just my clit, he was soon sliding his fingers around my bulging pussy lips, and up into the crevice of my bottom.

I think most people will consider this naive, but I’d never done anal, and at this point, I never even thought that this massaging might be a fore runner to my initiation. Silly me, I just felt the fingers as they poked, stroked and probed, and thought this was the greatest turn-on I’d ever known. As I’ve just said, I knew they were probing, but as he did it so gradually, in minutely increasing steps, even when I eventually realised he’d got his finger up to full depth, it didn’t faze me.

Then he whispered in my ear,
“I’m almost there; can I finish you doggy style?”
I felt flattered that he’d even asked, and I just lifted myself up off him, and moved to his side, stopping the same way up. He got up from below me, and as he came up behind, he began to rub his cock up and down the wet valley. As I felt his cock was about to line up with my pussy, I heaved back, wrapping my pussy around his shaft. He lunged forwards, and after just a couple of thrusts, he pulled it out, again resuming his stroking of my valley with his knob-end.

Then I felt him push at my bottom. It was a funny feeling. Not funny ha ha, but different. I can't say it hurt, because my whole body was relaxed, and my bottom was so wet and juicy from his fingering. But as the big bulbous head of his cock slipped in, I felt my ring close and grip his shaft, as if to say, ‘you’re not coming in here’. My first thoughts were, ‘he’s slipped in the wrong place by mistake’. But instead of pulling it back out, I felt him grip my hair. Then as he pushed slowly into my bottom, I felt everything stretching. Oh my god! I don’t know if it was good or bad. It hurt, but it wasn’t really hurting. Oh I can't explain exactly. I wanted him to stop, but my pussy was revelling in the sensations it was now going through.

He didn’t stop, and I didn’t struggle or fight. And although he kept hold of my hair, it wasn’t needed to keep me in place. As he thrust his long strokes deep into my bottom, I sensed he was nearing his climax. Then as his pumping moved to his erratic cum strokes, my hips spasmed like they had done earlier today on the video I’d seen. And like this afternoon, I lost my conscious control and memory. I came to my senses, lying on my side, with Graham lying behind me. One of his hands was on my breast, just gently working from one breast to the other, but his other hand was gently stroking my fore head.

At this moment of awakening, I didn’t know who it was that I was laying with, and as I turned, to see Graham’s smiling face, he asked,
“Are you ok?”
“Yes.”
He pulled his arm from underneath me, and then turned me fully onto my back. As he lay alongside, propped up on one arm he asked,
“Is it ok if I try to arouse you now, or do you need a rest?”
I know this sex session was being forced upon me, but this man had such an approach, it made me want to please him.
“Yes, you can take your turn now.”
He planted a kiss on my mouth, and our tongues intertwined. His hand was first caressing my breast, but slowly it worked its way down my body. His fingers stroking my torso, as he worked down over my tummy. As they neared my pubic mound the turmoil I’d being feeling in my tummy just a few minutes earlier, was once again bubbling. In anticipation of his fingers slipping into my crotch, I let my legs fold open, and lifted my crotch up, as if to invite him. His hand did slip down, but not to my pussy, his fingers ran through the juices in the hollows at the tops of my legs, and then he proceeded to stroke the inside of the top half of my legs.

He moved himself down to my lower half, his mouth and tongue following the same route his fingers had just travelled. As his mouth firsts glided up my left breast, I felt my body shiver with anticipation, and then as his mouth latched onto my nipple, my hips lifted. He sucked for what seemed like an age, his tongue circling my nipple and all the time he was sucking, I had my weight supported by my heels and shoulders, with my knees open, and crotch spread high and wide. The fingers of his hand were still stroking my legs, and my pussy was burning with desire for attention. I reached one of my hands down to my crotch, but he used his other hand to intercept mine.

“Ah ah. That pussy is mine. You can play with it any time you want. If you want something to occupy your hands, my cock is getting lonely.”
I didn’t answer, but I did reach for his cock, and attempt to stroke it. But with my body in this position it wasn’t so easy. He had now moved to my right breast, and he was repeating his sucking. As he did so, my hips which had dropped back to the bed, once again rose, as his sucking sent wave after wave of exhilarating sensations to my crotch. As he moved from my breast I again dropped to the bed, and his tongue made its next stop, this time at my bellybutton. This he circled, and then with a parting kiss, he moved over the flatlands of my tummy, and climbed my hairless mound.

As his lips parted to encircle my clit, I heaved up and he brought his hands one under each buttock. His sucking, licking and probing just sent my body crazy, and it was only by holding himself tightly to my crotch that he managed to stay in contact. Not that I was in any way trying to kick him off, but his stimulation had taken away any conscious control. I couldn’t even attempt to work his cock, I just lay back with my hips going wild, and my mind blown away. The next thing I was conscious of was he had now moved into a position in between my legs, and his cock was entering my pussy.

As he pushed it up inside, his body loomed over the top of me, and his head came down. He first gave me a kiss, and I responded, with our tongues both probing deep. I could tell he was pushing his cock in to its full length, but it was also obvious, his cock was no bigger than my Gerry's, which meant a good two inches shorter than Peter’s. But this fuck wasn’t like Peter’s had been, an onslaught, or invasion of new territory, this was more like love, or at least romance. It felt nice, warm and safe. We lay in each others arms, fucking and kissing, all the time my arousal just gradually building.
 
Then he lifted his head from mine, and as he half sat back, he took hold of my legs below my knees, lifting them up and pressing them back to the bed alongside my body. His cock slipped from my pussy, and it began to push at my bottom. As it slipped in, and he began to ram it deep, he brought his head back down, but this time he went to my breasts. As he fucked, I knew he would soon be shooting spunk, and as he began to nip at my nipples, my pussy again started to spasm. I was conscious of his warm cum in my bottom, and then the overload of my own sensations just took me to a higher plain, where I drifted in the clouds.

As I came back to the reality of my situation, Graham was busy packing his camera and all its accessories into his little bag. Peter was nowhere to be seen.
“Please tell me you didn’t take photos of me whilst Peter was... doing it?”
“Photos! The camera has been running from start to finish. Mind you, your first fuck with Peter won't be that good; we didn't have a camera-man. But Peter took over for my fuck, so he'll have got some good close-ups. Not just of your snatch, but that goggle-eyed expression while you were cuming.”
I never for one moment thought they’d been doing something like that. Then just as I’m turning over the thought of what he has captured on his video camera, Peter comes waltzing out of the shower-room. Totally naked, and as he walks past Graham and the bed where I lay, he says,
“Shower’s free if you want it.”

I looked at Graham, as if to ask if he wanted to be next, but didn’t actually speak. He put down his camera bag, and as he turned and walked towards the shower,
“Ok, I won't take long.”
Then he glanced over towards where Peter was now getting dressed.
“Keep your eye on my camera; I don’t want her getting any silly ideas about erasing that last file.”
Peter didn’t reply, but he looked my way, and just smiled.

I sat there, not able to do anything about my messy state; but give Graham his due, it was only a few minutes before he to was walking naked back into the room. I walked, or should I say waddled my way to the shower room; and it felt so good to wash off all that now stale remnants of their session. I came from the shower-room draped in a towel, and sat myself in front of the mirror. I’d only had about five or ten minutes to try to do something with my face and hair before Graham was standing up behind me.

“How much longer are you going to be?”
I didn’t know exactly what the time was, but I knew it couldn’t be gone mid-night. And he’d told Gerry he wouldn’t be bringing me home until late; so I was wondering what his hurry was.
“What’s the rush, you told Gerry I’d be home late?”
“Who says were taking you home? I know a little club we can go to, somewhere you can show off in that little dress.”
“Oh no. I’d rather go straight home now.”
“I wasn’t asking you. Now hurry up with your tarting-up, we want to get going.”

So I made the final touches to my make-up, got my hair somewhere near tidy, and then went and picked up my dress. Within a few minutes of Graham’s hurry-up call, we were leaving the hotel, and climbing back into the big limo. As we were being driven to the club, Graham began to explain what kind of club it was.

At this point I think I’ll draw part one of my tale to an end, and if enough people are interested in knowing how my life worked out, then I’ll post part two. Thanks for reading, and please feel free to email me at Lord_John_Thomas@hotmail.com
It is only the feedback from readers that make the effort of writing worthwhile, and I will answer all mail received (eventually). To ensure I accept your mail, make sure your mail has ‘Story Feedback’ as a subject, all other mail to this account is deleted as spam.