…Three’s a crowd, but four is… well read on and make your own mind up. But, please don’t ask me what I think, I’m still coming down and can’t think straight yet.

 

Erotica; Probably the best exhibition or show in London of the year. Usually held around the middle of November, when it is cold and miserable out, but the heat in the Grand Hall; Olympia, near Earls Court, South West London, goes off the scale.

 

I had managed to get two of the hottest tickets in town. You have to get them early, otherwise you will be disappointed. We got there early and waited by the main entrance doors until the place opened. Experience told us that if you got there on time, you would queue up for ages and that isn’t for me thanks.

 

The cavernous doors slid open and Jenni and I entered into a realm of fantasy and sexual charge, shared by every body else in the milling throng. We ditched our coats at the cloakroom and entered the halls dressed how we would love to be all the time. Jenni had a burgundy and black bustier, pushing her gorgeous tits up and together, exposing her nipples for all to admire, over a very short black leather skirt, under that was a spider-web body stocking that was open at the crotch. It would have pleased me to be wearing nothing more than a cock ring, but decency prohibits; I had a pair of cut-down jeans on with a carefully ripped tee shirt.

 

Erotica is the sex industry’s annual exhibition in the UK. Hundreds of stalls selling everything from aphrodisiacs to Zoot suits, cram together in the central hall. Toys from modest to gigantic proportions jostled for position on overloaded shelves. Lotions, potions and more lube than you could shake a stick at were being sold at an alarming rate. It is the clothing and costume sellers that hold my fancy though, but we had decided before we entered, that we would watch the first floor show before doing the rounds.

 

I wanted to get Jenni a leather neck collar with an elongated front, possibly with a metal ring for attachments and rings on the collar for her cuffs to clip onto. We were also looking for a brocade dress that had to be open at the front to her navel perhaps with flaps at the back that could be clipped up to expose her beautiful arse. It needed to be a heavy fabric, full length and beautiful to look at so it didn’t get over whelmed by Jenni’s natural elegance.

 

We found a table at the front, immediately before the slightly raised stage. Music softly played; Cameramen had positioned themselves to either side. The floorshows of Erotica are legendary and worth waiting half an hour for. It gave me time to get to the bar and buy us a couple of overpriced drinks. I sat Jenni down and was treated to a flash of her aureoles and hardened nipples poking over the edge of her bustier. I got an immediate hard on knowing that, if I could see her fantastic tits, then every man within a couple of feet would also be treated to the same view. Many men fantasize about their lady being serviced by some stud while they watch; just knowing that other, red-blooded men would be appreciating her gorgeous figure and assets was enough for me just then.

 

It took nearly all of the half-hour to fight my way to the front of the bar, grab some drinks then fight my way back to our table. I eventually got there to find Jenni engrossed in conversation with a redheaded woman who had claimed the other two chairs on our table, placing her bags on one seat while occupying the other.

 

“Sorry, didn’t know we had company, otherwise I would have got you a drink.”

 

The redhead turned and focused a pair of deep green eyes on me. She squinted a little from the stage light that most likely made me a silhouette.

 

“This is Sally”. Jenni introduced us and I checked her out, typically male you understand. Although not a raving beauty, Sally was quite trim in her halter necked top and short miniskirt. The dolphin tattoo on her breast kept drawing my eye, which then spread all too easily on her cleavage. Nice tits I decided.

 

“Call me Sal. Trevor will be over in a minute, he went to get us a drink.”

 

Further conversation was impossible; a sudden and loud blast announced the start of the floorshow with a pyrotechnic thunder flash booster from either side of the curtained centre backstage.

 

A Chinese girl, dressed up in a stylised military uniform and patent leather boots that stopped somewhere near her crotch, marched to the front, a scant three foot from our table.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen...” She bawled at the top of her very powerful lungs through the sound system.

 

“My name is Lucy, your host for the evening...” She waved and whipped up the crowd.

 

“Welcome to the fourth Erotica in London.”

 

The audience clapped, whistled and called in anticipation.

 

“After long and often painful negotiations…” She rubbed her arse in mock pain.

 

“We have, for the first time in England, obtained the first, the one and only, full nudity licence.” As she screamed the last few words, she grabbed her uniform and yanked it off, Velcro letting the garment part to reveal her complete nudity underneath. All that she had on while the tumultuous applause washed over her, was her boots that did indeed almost reach her upper thighs, a belly jewel and a clit stud with a coloured stone, sparkling in the harsh stage lights. I noticed as I took her loveliness in, that she was totally hair less, not even eyebrows, not a single hair on her body. God! I thought she is so fucking hot!

 

Lucy treated us to a very erotic dance with a black partner with a large shlong. Then the show went on, non-stop. A pair of American twins performed some dual masturbation techniques on themselves, parting labia and whipping clits as they simulated full lesbian sex. Too many others contributed to the show to mention here and far too many scenarios were offered for titillation to be described, except to say, the show was a blast and a veritable orgy of naked dancers.

 

Sally’s Trevor had slid into the chair next to me, but I had been so engrossed in the floorshow, that I hadn’t noticed his arrival.

 

“Wow!” He said, making me jump a little.

 

“That was fantastic.” I turned and smiled, partly still unsettled by his sudden outburst, but also because he had grasped Sally’s breast in an unconscious reaction to the stimulation of the show. I guess he realised when my eye was drawn to where his hand rested. He grinned sheepishly, jiggled her tits and then let them go.

 

“Robin.” I stuck out a hand, we shook and he introduced himself, not knowing we had already done the intro’s. We talked for a short while, letting the girls flick through the show magazine.

 

But, the lure of the merchandise and the need for some retail therapy was too loud to be denied, we left them to their personal tour. We visited every outlet, the poles held something of an attraction, doubling as they did as a coffee table, then extending from floor to ceiling, turning into a slick pole. The demonstrations added to the attraction of course, being a typical male, scantily clad women gyrating and performing have always had a certain fascination and the image of a pole in your front room helped.

 

We looked at the luxury shower cum bath enclosures. Turning into steam baths or all over needle showers complete with music, lights and whirlpool bath. As you can imagine, the price had an out of this world tag, but still, I had us in there, just imaginary though.

 

We toured the crowded stands, trying this and that as we went, seeing what it did for our libido. Gradually, our bags were filling with toys and top ups to our dwindling marital aids. Then I saw it! The very thing I had been hoping to find. A leather harness and then, on the same stall, a studded leather neck band with just the right shape with two loops for her cuffs and another for nipple clips to pass through. At fifty pounds it was a bit heavy, but worth every penny. The harness was something else and rather more expensive, it had to be tried on there and then.

 

Jenni stepped into a changing booth curtained off in a corner and poked her head around the edge of the curtain after a while, whispering for me to come and see. The place was crowded and I really couldn’t get near enough so I asked her to step out. Jenni is not an exhibitionist normally, but shocked me when she stepped out of the booth. The harness was a perfect fit, circulating her tits, holding them up and apart before looping back to meet at the back before passing in two straps between her legs, making her pussy lips pout. She looked fantastic and drew admiring stares from just about every guy in the store. I just nodded my approval and she, somewhat self consciously backed into the changing area.

Tired, foot sore and laden with full bags, we happily got everything together, collected our coats and made our way to the tube station to return home.

 

The platform at Olympia was damp and slick from the drizzle that steadily fell, fortunately, the wait for a train was mercifully short and hundreds of people carrying their white carrier bags with the Erotica logo got on and waited for the short link trip to Earls Court to get moving.

 

When we eventually got on the Piccadilly line, Trevor and Sally got in the same carriage and sat with us in a four-seat section of the carriage. Sally sat opposite me and next to Jenni while Trevor sat opposite Jenni, next to me. The conversation started up as the train rattled and bounced through the dark tunnels.

 

To our surprise, they only lived a few stops on from us in Orpington, small world I thought. Had been married for nearly twenty years and decided at an early stage, that children were definitely off the menu, preferring to enjoy themselves.

 

Trevor launched into a lengthy description of his job and I admit that I tuned out for a while, just nodding and making the right noises at what seemed to be the right places. By himself and allowed to ramble on, he could be considered to be very boring. The trip home had all the prospects of being tedious and I didn’t relish it one bit.

 

My wandering attention got snapped back into place when I noticed Sally’s hand on Jenni’s leg. Her sky-blue long coat had opened to reveal the spider-web body stocking and Sally had her hand resting about an inch from Jenni’s snatch. To make matters even more interesting, Jenni had swung around to face Sally and hooked her leg up on the seat. I knew that Sally would have an uninterrupted view of Jenni’s slit and so would Trevor who was diametrically opposed. They were talking animatedly, although I couldn’t quite catch what was being said. I guess Trevor saw where my attention had gone to because his words petered out and he looked down at his wife’s hand and where it was resting.

 

It was almost comical; the reaction of two guys when Sally realised that we had gone quiet and looked to see what we were up to. Trevor and I in unison, swung back to face each other, speaking at the same time in an effort to hide or interest. An observer would have thought it farcical and I admit to having a smirk spreading across my face. I also forgave him the occasional glance up Jenni’s skirt to see her twat through the slit of the body stocking and the proximity of Sally’s fingers. I glanced at Jenni who just smiled at me with a twinkle in her eye.

 

Eventually, we got to Charing Cross and got on the same train home. The seating arrangement was as before. Jenni and Sally seemed to have hit it off; a sneak glance from time to time had them touching each other in ways that seemed beyond what could be considered just friendly.

 

I heard myself invite them over for some supper and a few drinks. My car would be at the station and I could give them a lift home later if they liked. Trevor hesitated for a split second, but Sally answered for him in the affirmative; the evening was set.

 

Throughout the remaining journey, the two girls forgot about us and carried on talking, occasionally laughing out loud and enjoying each other’s company. I had plans and thought that the coming evening would be just great if I could just swing it.

 

 

Two’s Company…

 

Part two

 

The evening in.

 

 

The car sat forlorn and alone in the dark car park, waiting faithfully for our return. It was cold and wet, the drizzle hadn’t let up all day and a cold north wind had driven the moisture to soak into every nook and cranny.

 

It was only a short drive to our house, it took almost as long to get the girls in the back. The main draw back to owning a coupe is having only two doors and fold down front seats. There is an upside though; I got a wonderful view as Jenni folded herself in backwards. Her tits, being pushed up by the bustier were forced up even further as she bent at the waist.

 

The house welcomed us with warmth and the promise of food; drink and a whole lot more if I had anything to do with it.

 

Jenni took Sally and Trevor’s coats and hung them in the hall. They followed me to the living room and I waved a hand, indicating that they should sit on the settee. It was gratifying, seeing the involuntary intake of breath and a slight wince as Sally’s naked pussy made contact with the coldness of the leather. I wasn’t certain until that point, whether she had panties on or not. Try as I might, the angle to see up her skirt had never been quite right.

 

Pizza was ordered and I dug out a couple of bottles of Shiraz to go with the meal. I hit the remote for the player and music wafted from the multi-speaker system in the ceiling.

 

We settled and got comfortable, chatting about whatever came to mind. I wanted the ambient mood to be relaxed and the wine helped to create just the atmosphere I knew would be conducive to getting the girls to perform.

 

“So, what did you buy at Erotica?” I thought to get the ball rolling and as an entrée, it served as anything else would.

 

Sally started to unpack her bag, giggling as she put a rabbit to one side and a tube of silicon lubricant with it on the table. Then she brought out two pairs of leather handcuffs. I had an immediate idea for those. A lace trimmed blindfold followed and a paddle completed the set. We complimented them on their purchases and Jenni dived into our bag of goodies.

 

The leather harness came out first and I saw the envy in Sally’s eyes as she looked at it. Then the collar with the rings followed out of the bag, Sally almost grabbed it to try it on.

 

“Why don’t you girls model for us, show everything to its best eh?” The idea was just what Sally had been waiting for and she very nearly jumped up. “Why not show Sally some of your other gear babe?”

 

They left us to ourselves and went to the bedroom. I had a feeling they would be there for some time. Trevor and I enjoyed another glass of wine while we waited. It was some twenty minutes later that the girls re-entered.

 

Jenni had her new harness on, the loops holding up her breasts and pulling them apart with a strap that passed down the back before splitting around her anus to separate and pass between her pussy lips and the top of her legs. The effect was to push her lips together and make them pout in the most seductive way. She had also put on her silver nipple rings that clamp on to encircle her aureoles.

 

She had lent the new leather collar to Sally; it was all she had on. The collar looked great on her, but the most striking thing was her tattoo. I had seen the dolphin on the top of her breast, but naked, I could see that it was only part of a scene. Seaweed fronds had been tattooed from her mons, twisting and turning in curlicues up to her breasts. She looked fantastic and I guess my jaw dropped for a moment. It was more a work of art than a tattoo

 

Trevor’s eyes were large and round at the sight of these two beautiful women, virtually naked that stood before us. An extended moment passed until I took charge of the situation.

 

Come here Sally; stand in the centre of the room. She complied obediently, showing little hesitation. Jenni, get the whip and two blindfolds, bring the cuffs and do it quickly. Her training came to the fore and she hurried to fulfil my wishes. She returned in a within a minute with the things I had ordered.

 

Put a blindfold on Sally Jenni and then come here to me. Jenni put Sally’s new lacy frilled blind on over her eyes and then scurried to stand in front of me. Her years of training were paying off, but were about to be put to the test. She had never been treated as a slave in front of anyone before, but she seemed not to be too troubled by Trevor’s hungry gaze on her body.

 

I took the blindfold from her and placed it over her eyes. Then I looped her cuff link chain through the ring of her collar and fastened her hands, restricting her movements. The effect was to push her tits together and the harness bit into the soft flesh of her orbs.

 

I stood her next to Sally in the centre of the room while Trevor and I admired them. Then, with no warning, I swished the whip and flicked it across Jenni’s buttocks. She gasped, not from pain, it is a soft leather and if done properly, can be sensual in anticipation and the implied threat that it could be harsh if I wanted it to be.

 

My next swish caught her tits making them bounce a little and I growled. “You have tasted Sally haven’t you?” Jenni shook her head in denial, but we both knew it to be a lie and part of the game.

 

“Don’t lie to me bitch, you know I will find out.” And I lashed her breasts again, the sound realistic as if I was flaying her skin off.

 

“Steady on”. Trevor advised.

 

I motioned to him to follow me out of the room so I could show him that the whip did not hurt, it just sounded violent. I also told him that I wanted Sally to believe it would hurt and that he should follow my lead.

 

The girls still stood as we had left them. Jenni quivered in anticipation, Sally just quivered.

 

With a wink to Trevor I ordered him to strip in my best authoritative voice. It was important to keep the illusion of sternness as far as the two women were concerned. His clothes hit the floor in an untidy heap.

 

“Jenni; spread you legs and be prepared to be examined.” She complied, but was not quick enough and received a lash that hit her clit. She cried out and made sure her legs were wide. I could see Sally flinch at the sound, but she remained stock still.

 

“Trevor, make her wet, use your fingers and make her wet. Do it now.” He glanced at me and crawled across the floor, then knelt in front of Jenni and slid his hand over her crack. She moaned at the foreign touch and her knees almost gave out. She was already wet from the lashing she had received.

 

Sally said something, but I didn’t quite catch it.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“What’s happening?” She asked in a tremulous voice. She shook from head to toe.

 

“You do not speak until spoken to; is that understood?”

 

She nodded.

 

“What did I just say to you?”

 

“I..I mustn’t speak unless spoken to.”

 

“Remember it unless you want the same treatment as Jenni.”

 

Trevor had stopped rubbing Jenni’s twat I noticed and had been watching the interaction between Sally and me. I could see the gleam in his eye at the possibility of his wife getting a lashing. Instead, in one of those inspired moments, I lashed him across his bare back. He did exactly as I predicted and returned to rubbing Jenni’s swollen lips, spreading her slickness over his hand. I had three sub missives on my hands; this would be a night to remember.

 

“Push your thumb into her.” She winced as his thumb entered her vagina and cried out again.

 

“It’s a shame you are blindfolded Sally; you should see you husband’s hand rubbing Jenni’s cunt. It looks fantastic from here.” Sally shook even harder and looked in danger of falling over.

 

Silently, I stepped around the back of her supported her body and folded her knees until she was kneeling, I figured that she would not collapse in this position and was at the perfect height to receive my cock when I was ready.

 

“Kneel Jenni; kneel on the floor with your knees apart. Trevor, you keep on finger fucking her while she does it. Do it now.” The alacrity of her movement was gratifying to see, but it caught Trevor out a little and he received another lash across his buttocks for not staying up with the flow. He cried out in surprise and shoved his hand back in between Jenni’s parted lips and thumb fucked her some more.

 

I grabbed their new cuffs that were still on the table and gave them to Sally and told her to put one on each wrist and to leave the ends of them loose. She fumbled a bit with the catches, but managed to get the manacles on as I instructed.

 

“Put your hands behind you Sally.” She did as she was told and then wished that she hadn’t because I clipped the loose ends around her ankles. She looked fantastic, her breasts pushed forward where she had to lean back a little. Her knees had parted to keep her balance; she still trembled, not knowing what was happening. She could hear Jenni’s loud moans as Trevor’s thumb frigged her mercilessly.

 

Jenni would not hold out much longer, her breathing was becoming ragged and gasping. Much more of Trevor’s thumb and she would be gushing all over the carpet.

 

“Trevor, take your hand out of Jenni and get Sally to suck it clean.” His whole wrist and thumb glistened from Jenni’s juices; Sally obediently opened her mouth and had no choice in tasting the product of Jenni’s glands. Greedily, as if craving some attention, she sucked of Trevor’s thumb, licking of the excess and relishing the musky taste.

 

“Lay down Jenni, flat on your back and spread your legs wide.” She hastened to do it, but it wasn’t quick enough for my liking, so, her clit received two lashes of the multi-strung whip. She squealed and managed to lie as I had ordered.

 

“Trevor; guide Sally between Jenni’s knees and help her lay on her front. I want her to suck Jenni off.” Trevor carefully rolled Sally onto her stomach and helped her shuffle forward until her mouth closed over Jenni’s shaven mound. Sally’s tongue flicked out and stroked, making Jenni squirm with delight. I instructed Trevor to manoeuvre himself under Sally and fuck her while she feasted on the copious flow from Jenni. It took some doing, but he managed to wriggle under Sally’s parted and bound legs and then, bend his cock downwards and into the slick hole of his wife.

 

I stood back and admired the scene, pleased with the sight and allowed it to continue for a while. Jenni’s was almost drowning Sally with her noisy cum as she went through wave upon wave of orgasm.

 

But, good things need must come to an end. It was time to rearrange them and for some good old fashioned fucking to happen.

 

I draped Jenni over the arm of the settee and told her to stay there. Then undid the manacles from Sally’s ankles and laid her on the settee with her mound under Jenni’s nose. Trevor was next and I positioned him at Jenni’s crack with the head of his cock just poised at her entrance. For a second, they stayed motionless in a frozen tableau until, I cracked Trevor’s arse with the whip a little harder than before. He shoved forward in an involuntary reaction, driving his cock deep into Jenni’s cunt, the force pushed her forward so that her mouth encountered Sally’s waiting mound.

 

A few more cracks set the rhythm. Trevor pistoned into Jenni, making her ass cheeks quake with the brutal force of his thrusts. In turn she lashed Sally with her tongue and once again, I was pleased with the effect.

 

I left them to it for a moment and went to the bedroom for one more toy. They were still engaged as I had left them. Sally was thrashing her head from side to side in the throes of an ecstatic and explosive orgasm. Jenni’s tongue had nearly driven her out of her mind.

 

So engrossed were they had they didn’t realise I had returned, that is until I timed my moment and pushed a lubricated but plug into Trevor on a back stroke. His anus gave little resistance, but the effect was devastating. His thrust forward buried him deeper than he had been before causing Jenni to surge forward and bury her mouth on Sally’s mound.

 

Trevor’s thrust became urgent and staccato but I knew he would not be able to come just yet; the pressure in his ass would prevent that release. He groaned at the intrusion and thrust even harder. I allowed them the shared pleasure for a little longer while I retrieved yet another toy. This one was special in the effect I knew it would have on Jenni. It was a very small, but powerful vibrator, only four inches long and slim. When applied to her clit, she could not control her body and would shoot a stream of girl come in a long flood, just as if she were pissing.

 

“Stop now Trevor and stand up.” He hurried to obey, but found standing erect a little difficult. The pressure on his bladder from the plug would be uncomfortable, but I didn’t care. A swish from the whip had him standing to attention with his cock at right angles to his torso.

 

“Get up Jenni.” She stood a little shakily and waited obediently for her next command.

 

“Sally, get up from the couch and lay on the floor on your back.” She swung her legs around and searched for the floor. The blindfold was doing its job admirably. Slowly and uncertainly, she complied. I knelt beside her and then told her she was going to swallow Trevor’s spunk.

 

“I…I don’t.”

 

“Don’t what?” I asked incredulous.

“I don’t swallow.”

 

“I see.” I stood up and then as hard as I dared, lashed her beautiful tits just once. She had not expected the strike and squealed in surprise and shock.

 

“You will now bitch, and what’s more, you will from now on, when ever Trevor demands it, do you understand?”

 

She nodded, but I wanted to hear it, so she received another slash of the whip, hitting her pouting pussy lips in a vicious swipe that had her cry out, yes I will.

 

“Will what?”

 

“I will swallow whenever Trevor demands.”

 

“Good, now open your mouth.” She lay there with her mouth wide open, ready to receive whatever entered it.

 

“Jenni, you know what to do with this.” I gave her the tiny vibe. She knew and knelt with her pussy directly over Sally’s mouth. Then she started massaging her clit with the little demon we called the finger.

 

My cock out, I had to fuck this woman who was about to become a come slut and knelt between her parted knees and forced my length into her. She gasped and quivered as I slid into her and then again and again, fucking her deep and enjoying the slickness of her soaked pussy.

 

The vibrator buzzed like an angry wasp and I could see that Jenni was almost there, I didn’t want to miss seeing Sally’s mouth get filled with girl cream so scrambled around to get a great view.

 

Then it happened, suddenly and with only the familiar cry from Jenni as a gush of amber nectar rushed from her body and hit the back of Sally’s mouth. She could never hope to take the whole amount, but tried to get as much as she could. Her mouth filled to the brim.

 

“Swallow it slut, or do you want me to beat you?”

 

She swallowed in one huge gulp and then licked her lips. It was a divine moment.

 

“Trevor, you must jerk off into Jenni’s mouth. Jenni, 

You must not swallow, understood?”

 

“Yes master.” Trevor, began to rub his uncut cock, wanking it against Jenni’s tongue

 Until, he gasped and shot the first load right to the back of Jenni’s throat. Bravely, Jenni denied the automotive response to swallow and collected the next spurts until he was entirely spent.

 

“Now kiss Sally.” She bent and shuffled down so that she could connect mouth to mouth.

“Now give Sally the load.”

 

Jenni rose slightly so there were a few inches between them and allowed Trevor’s come to spill from her lips and onto Sally’s extended tongue. The globules slid slowly to the back of her tongue, collecting in a pool of milky white liquid.

 

“Watch Trevor, come closer and watch as Sally swallows you cum.” He crawled over and then watched fascinated as she swallowed his seed with an open mouth.

 

“So who wants my load?”

 

The question was answered with silence.

 

“Hmm, shall it be you Trevor? Or will it be Sally with her wonderful mouth or will it be Jenni?”

 

Then I answered my own question and turned Sally over. Her ass presented its self.

 

“Kneel back slut.” She did so with alacrity.

 

My cock was primed and aching to fuck something, her cunt was the object of my choice, but that was not going to be enough. I took the now quiet finger from Jenni’s hands, turned it on and pushed it into her anus as I slid into her.

 

She screamed in pleasure as my forward thrust pushed the small vibrator deeper into her ass. It slid out partially as I drew back and then popped back in as my stomach connected with the vibrating end on the return thrust. I set a regular pace that was just a little slower than her heart beat; it was one I could maintain for a while. Trevor had taken some initiative at last and was filling Jenni’s throat with his cock. She has the best technique and he had already grown rock hard. Seeing his wife double penetrated might have helped.

 

That familiar roiling in my balls started to build, but I wanted to fuck Sally’s ass so I pulled out both the dildo and my cock. It slid into her anus with no resistance and she screamed as she shot her own come across the floor. The application of the dildo to her clit finished the job; she was almost to the point of collapse. It didn’t matter though because my own explosion had arrived and I filled her guts with my seed. Spurt after spurt emptied into her, into the depths of her gorgeous ass.

 

Trevor had his cock all the way down Jenni’s throat now and he was just coming down from his second orgasm. Jenni wiped her lips and chin of his overspill and licked the residue off of her fingers before I instructed her to suck my spunk out of Sally’s ass.

 

We calmed down and eventually dressed. We had to sort out whose toys were whose but eventually it all got sorted out.

 

I drove them home, sally blew me as I drove which was nice and she made sure that not a drop was spilled.

 

I declined their offer of a repeat of the night, explaining that it is a rule with Jenni and I that we never revisit a couple. That way, no difficult liaisons occur and attachments cannot be formed. I did however, give them the number of a swinging club we occasionally go to and promised to introduce them when we next went.

 

Mary had had a strict Catholic upbringing. As a child, she had grown up in the tied cottages of Enniskillen, third daughter to her Guinness loving Father and sixth child of her god-fearing mother. They never had much of anything. The money her Da’ earned provided a meagre diet and just about kept a roof over their heads, although it leaked as did the second hand shoes, she and her siblings wore.

 

Mary somehow survived the afflictions that ravaged the population of Ireland and, apart from the inevitable tape worn and head lice, the skinny body grew into adulthood.

 

The transition from child to adolescence wasn’t without trauma. Mary had little in the way of formal education, only attending the Nuns charity classes at irregular intervals. Her knowledge of bodily functions, menstruation or anything at all to do with the mechanics of sex was sketchy, gleaned only from dirty photographs that did the rounds and innuendous conversations that alluded to the function of sex.

 

When her first period happened, she thought that her time was up, that God was punishing her for some misdemeanour. She thought she was going to die. It was a sister that noticed and tried to give her a quick biology lesson. Mary would rather have died than admit to her mother that she had a problem.

 

Approaching her seventeenth birthday, Mary visited her eldest sister in the Mercy Hospital after she had given birth to her third child. Teresa was only a year and a half older than Mary, but had developed a worldly knowledge of things carnal at an early age. She was cursed with good looks and found she liked the attention of the opposite sex. They may have been sisters, but there was a world of difference between them.

 

Mary had not inherited the striking eyes and hair, but looked dowdy, with mousy hair and a non-descript figure. It appealed to Tom, a porter at the hospital. Mary and Tom were married in a few months. All she had succeeded to do was replace her stern and often inebriated father with Tom who was also often inebriated and beat her for the smallest things.

 

The beatings were never too harsh, a few bruises perhaps and once, a broken wrist when she had fallen, trying to protect her unborn child by instinctively putting out her hand and falling on top of it from the recoil of his slap. She fervently believed that God was still punishing her and would come up with any amount of sins to justify the harsh treatment. She must have deserved it, she reasoned, otherwise, why would it happen?

 

By the time Eileen was six, Tom had gone, taken off with a woman from out of town. Last Mary heard, he was heading towards England. Stoically, she found fault with herself and raised the shutters in her mind. Her energies were spent entirely on Eileen and the child’s welfare.

 

They lived in the council flat that was a breading ground for cockroaches and every manner of ailment that a close community can engender. Mary worked part time, filling shelves at the supermarket and earned what few pence more she could, taking in laundry. Eileen was clean, her clothes were always clean and she gained an education of sorts at the local comprehensive. They were only separated once, shortly before Tom left, never to return. Mary suffered an miscarried pregnancy that resulted in the need for her ovaries to be removed. Mary blamed herself for the problem and thought that Tom had every right to leave as he did.

 

They managed to survive reasonably happily. Eileen grew into a striking young lady and then a beautiful teenager who found work and tried to ease the burden on her mother with a few pounds from her small wage.

 

But it all changed one day, it was this that the priest had listened to, hardly daring to breathe while it poured out from this woman he had known since his childhood.

 

Mary didn’t get to go on the supermarket checkouts too often because of her lack of schooling. Although the automatic reader totalled up the balance and electronically told her how much she should take and what change she should give, Mary still struggled to count the right money and often made mistakes. This day however, that was to change her life irrevocably. Mary was sat of once at the express lane for baskets only.

 

She glanced at the customer, noticing only that he was male and his shopping was for one. He was unremarkable she processed his goods through the scanner, packed then into a carrier bag as she went. Took his money and offered the change. She would have instantly gone on to the next customer, but a rich vibrato voice informed her she had made a mistake and the hand that belonged to the voice was trying to return some coins that she had given. Mary began to fluster as she always did in these circumstances and in her panic, couldn’t find the key to open the cash drawer.

 

Eventually, she fought for control of her senses and thanked him for his honesty while shutting the errant drawer. That was it really. Mary sat at the till for the rest of the day. Her unflattering light blue uniform covering her, with her hair savagely pulled back in a tight bun, unremarkable in her self and mostly unnoticeable to any observer.

 

Mary had taken to allowing herself the luxury of a coffee latte on her way home. It was perhaps, the only luxury she did have. Her usual table was empty and her conversation with the serving girl was restricted to her request for the foamy beverage. Mary revelled in her private thoughts and was oblivious of the rest of the world as it went about its business.

 

“Mind if I join you.” There was something familiar about the rich tenor of the voice, but Mary merely nodded her consent and didn’t look up.

 

“Looks like rain again.” He remarked causally, “I don’t know when summer is going to start do you?”

 

Mary looked up at the direct question and shook her head. She had never learned the niceties of conversation and preferred to stay quiet.

 

“Ah! I almost didn’t recognise you. You’re the girl at the checkout aren’t you?” His smile creased his eyes and deepened the azure quality of the blue.

 

Mary blushed furiously, remembering him now and then associating him with her error.

 

“I…I’m sorry for the mistake.” Her tremulous voice was barely audible over the hubbub of the coffee shop and nervously, she wrung her hands in her lap below the level of the table and beyond his sight. Her own eyes remained downcast and she wished that the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

 

Ah! No worries.” He said easily, “We all make them don’t we?” She caught the movement of his hands as he used them to emphasise his words. She flinched, thinking he was about to strike her, he noticed the involuntary spasm. He dropped his hands so they lay flat on the table and consciously kept them there.

 

“I didn’t get you name.”

 

“Mary.”

 

“Well hello Mary, it is a pleasure to meet you.” She looked up sharply to see if he was making fun of her with condescension, but she met a pair of smiling eyes that, although creased with a smile, were not cruel in anyway. Her flush of anxiety was becoming one of something else and she started to fluster again.

 

“Where does Mary come from I wonder?” His question could have been taken in a mocking sense, but his smile told otherwise. “And I wonder what Mary is like away from the Supermarket?”

 

“I’m sure I don’t know.” She answered and then continued, “I have to go now.”

 

“Ah! Now that is a shame so it is. Wouldn’t you stay for another and keep a lone man company?” He indicated her half empty coffee cup as he asked the question.

 

Mary was mortified. Her total experience of men talking to her was her father, usually angry; her husband, also angry and usually drunk; her priest and the doctor, but him, only when she absolutely had to go. The Manager at the supermarket rarely said more than one or two words and that was it for verbal contact with the male of the species. She rushed from the table, colliding with the next in her haste to get away and leaving behind, a carrier bag with that night’s dinner and a bemused man who wondered what on earth had gotten into the woman.

 

That night, as she lay in her bed, covered from head to toe in a flannelette nightgown and blankets pulled up to her chin, Mary dreamed. She dreamed of this stranger and in a completely naïve innocence, dreamt of his holding her in his arms, warm and protective. Sex was not part of her subconscious; it was an event that had happened on a few occasions when Tom stank of Guinness or whiskey. It had resulted in her lovely daughter and the removal of her ability to have children. Sex had never been a joyous explosion of feelings and nerve jangling climaxes. Sex was a sordid and shameful subject, only to be done to create a child. That was why Tom was right to leave. She couldn’t give him children. It was all her fault.

 

“Hail Mary Mother of god…….”. Even in her sleep, Mary was completely subjugate to her religion and fervently believed herself to be the most loathsome woman ever to have disgraced his garden.

 

But, a seed of doubt had been sown. Someone had taken enough interest in her to talk.

 

They saw each other once or twice over the next few days. He bought her a coffee and she returned the compliment the very next time. Their conversation was more than a little stinted. Mary couldn’t find the ways to articulate, unused to describing herself or her life, believing them to be uninteresting. She would rather have sat there, listening to him tell her of his travels around the world as a sailor in the Merchant Navy. Whole vistas of unimaginable scenes flowed around her mind as his narrative enticed and lured her out of her mundane and urban life to the tropics and the Far East.

 

Mary found herself looking critically in her bedroom mirror and realised that she was nothing at all to look at. Her clothing, although clean, was not fashionable in any century she knew of. She threw her blouse, skirt and underwear to the floor in disgust and then, hesitantly, looked critically at her naked body for the first time in her life.

 

Looking back at her was a slightly built woman, obviously approaching her forties, but had not been ruined by constant childbirth. Her hair, always a constant source of annoyance, was still pulled back and tightly wound into her normal bun. Mary pulled the pins and allowed her hair to cascade; pleased with the way it fell to below her shoulder blades and waved in natural curves. The mousy colour had deepened into a chestnut that had a rich lustre about it. She could hardly believe that it was her hair and was amazed at its length and vibrancy of colour. The only time it was unwound was when she washed it. Then, while wet, it appeared to be black and lank.

 

She skipped her face, not wanting to be too critical in her appraisal and looked at her breasts, noticing for the first time in her life, that the left one was slightly smaller than the right, but not too noticeable. Her bra size had remained the same since her wedding, 34 B cup. It was a good size she thought.

 

Her stomach was still quite firm and flat. You had to really look hard to see any stretch marks. She noticed a dark brown mole on her left hip.

 

Mary’s pubic area had a lush growth of hair, darker than her head that formed an almost perfect triangle, with slightly curved sides. She spent little time admiring that part of her body, but travelled to her legs. They were good legs by any one’s reckoning. The skin was flawless and almost transparent in whiteness. Her musculature was clearly visible beneath the taut covering. Only a few hairs grew below her knee. Mary hated her feet. It was one of those irrational hatreds women have of their anatomy. With Mary, it was her feet.

 

All in all though, not a bad package she thought. She turned this way and that, trying to see what her behind looked like and marvelled in the swish of her hair as she turned and twisted.

 

Then Mary asked herself out loud to the reflection looking back at her. Why am I standing here admiring myself? What am I looking at? She didn’t know the answer to either question and in her naivety, she was not aware that she was in preparation for a sexual encounter and was merely checking out the validity of what she was offering.

 

She looked at her legs again, remembering the only time she had worn a short skirt. She had only got to the foot of the stairs when her father screamed at her and tore the clothes from her back, repeating over and over as he beat her. Ye harlot ye, I’ll learn yeah, ye harlot and Jezebel.  It took Mary several years more to find out what a harlot was and who Jezebel was supposed to be. That was one thing she never forgave her father for. The beatings she thought she deserved, but never to be called anything like that.

 

Mary dressed in her usual black or dark brown shapeless dress and cinched it together with a plastic belt effectively hiding any allure she might have had. But, she left her hair down.

 

A few days later, she met him again. Her confidence grew in exponential increments with every encounter. She was still to talk about herself and still did not know his name.

 

“Mary…” He had a way of saying her name that made it sound like the most beautiful word in the language. “Mary, I have sat here and told you al about me and not once have I asked you anything about you. Are you married? Where do you live? Do you have brothers, sisters anything or anything and everything?”

 

“You might have told me so much about you, but you never have told me your name.”

 

“Oh Bejayzus!” He threw his hands up and almost fell over backwards off the stools they were sitting on. Mary smiled at his actions and blushed at his profanity of the Lord’s name.

 

“So I haven’t. It’s Michael, Michael Donnelly and very pleased it is to be meeting witch yeah.” He lapsed into an Irish drogue that sounded peculiar from an Irishman and had Mary laughing fit to bust before she realised the spectacle she was making of herself and quickly brought herself under control.

 

“Ah Mary, Mary, that is a grand smile you be having there, ‘tis a shame to be hiding it.” His eyes danced in merriment and Mary felt her heart lurch.

 

Somehow, they sat there for an hour while she told him of her life to this point. He listened and made no comments while she spoke, just the occasional shake of his head, as if in disbelief. Mary talked and talked until she realised the time.

 

“Oh Mercy!” She wailed through her fingers as they covered her mouth in shock. Eileen will be after killing me or ringing the hospitals. I have to go home. She jumped up, spilling an empty coffee cup as her thigh caught the edge of the table. She grabbed her bags and was on the point of flight.

 

“I’ll drive you.” He said it simply, but in a voice that was not about to take no for an answer.

 

“I..I Couldn’t.”  She protested weakly, but it was already settled as he relieved her of her bags and guided her to the exit and his car waiting in the parking zone.

 

She directed him and observed the casual ease with which he negotiated the evening traffic. She also took the opportunity to appraise his form, features and body.

 

She guessed him to be a few years older than her. His years at sea had ingrained lines into his face, but wasn’t detrimental to the whole aspect. His black hair was swept back off his forehead was in need of cutting and flicked up at the nape of his neck.

 

His open necked sport shirt showed his torso to be quite well built, certainly not He Man, but well proportioned and powerful. His slacks gave nothing away, but were neatly pressed and clean. Mary liked his teeth. They had whiteness to them and uniformity rarely seen. She also liked his mouth; the expressive quirks and full lips did things to her imagination.

Mary noticed her curtains twitch as she and Michael ascended the stone stairs to her front door. He carried the bags and then left her with a cheery wave and a private smile that passed between them.

 

Eileen fairly gushed as her mother shut the door in an obvious reflective state of mind. Demanding to know whom the Hunk, as she put it, was and where did she know him from. Mary fended off the inquisition and prepared dinner in a distracted vortex of mangled thought.

 

She found herself preening, something she had never done before, but there she was, in front of the mirror, preening and primping her hair.

 

They continued to meet at the coffee shop. Daily, easily chatting and talking, getting to know each other until, one particular Friday. This Friday was different because Michael asked her out.

 

“Perhaps we could go to the pictures, dancing or how about a meal?” He asked; Mary accepted with out hesitation, but then the doubts crowded in.

 

What would she wear? How did you go on a date? She began to panic again and left hurriedly to the safe domain of the flat. Eileen proved to be invaluable, calming and then knowledgeable. Secretly, she was thrilled for her mother and pulled out all the stops. Although Mary couldn’t really afford it, they went clothes shopping, a first of many firsts to come. Mary ceded to Eileen’s dress sense and at the end of the wearying excursion, had to admit that her purchases looked fantastic.

 

Just before the appointed time of Michael picking her up; Mary cast an appreciative glance and twirl over her ensemble. She would never in here life, have picked out pastel colours, but had to agree that the subtle shades and fineness of the materials accentuated her figure and highlighted her hair. Another first was the introduction of makeup. Mary had never once worn anything on her face apart from a bruise. Eileen had once again, worked a magic that even Mary had to admit, was perfect.

 

Michael arrived punctually and waited in the living room while Mary touched up and preened with Eileen in attendance. Then, together they entered the living room and faced Him, One young girl presenting her prodigy for inspection, the other a middle-aged woman who was feeling very young and more nervous than she had ever been in her life. This was it, a first step on a path that she could have no idea of its destination.

 

Michael smiled that winning smile that lit his eyes as he turned from the mantelpiece.

 

“OH! I must be in the wrong house, I thought Mary lived here, but I must be wrong.” His teasing pleased Eileen and produced a playful punch from her to his arm.

 

“Mary, you look stunning.” The simplicity of his comment and the sincerity with which it was delivered went straight to her heart. If she wasn’t in love before with this man, she was now and she liked the feeling.  “Shall we go?” He offered his arm and they left to go to the movies.

 

Mary couldn’t remember the film; the actors or the plot, so wrapped in the attentions of Michael was she, that any peripheral stimulation was ignored. The film finished and they filed out into the cool night air. It must have rained, but she didn’t notice. They had a drink in a local bar and then decided to go home to Mary’s flat for a coffee.

 

They climbed the stone steps and Mary fished around in her purse for the keys. Eventually, she found them and began to unlock the door. Michael grasped her lightly, but firmly enough to turn her around to face him. Instinctively, she lifted her eyes to see what he intended and realised that he was going to kiss her.

 

It was a tender brush of lips, the first act of passion she had ever had and a moment that burned into her memory for always.

 

“I have wanted to do that for a long time Mary.” Michael breathed into her ear as he gently held her in his arms. Then he kissed her again, parting his lips, Mary responded and felt his tongue run across her teeth. Her knees very nearly gave way as her heart raced and thumped in her breast.

 

She had to break it off in case she feinted and turned to open the door.

 

“Goodnight Mary. Thank you for the evening.”  He was turning to go, but Mary almost squeaked her plea for him to come in for the promised coffee.

 

She put the kettle on the gas ring and scooted Eileen out who was lurking in the kitchen, eager to hear all that had happened on the night out. Tactfully, she withdrew to her bedroom when she learned that Michael was sitting in the front room.

 

After the coffee, they sat silently side by side on the settee, contemplating what was next. They had shared a first kiss, for Mary, her first real kiss. She didn’t know what came next because sex had only been for the procreation of children or the gratification of her husband.

 

Michael took her hand in his and twisted towards her. He could see the confusion running across her face like print on a page. She looked like a stricken mouse at the mercy of a cat.

 

“Mary, I would love to make love to you, but, knowing what has gone before, would prefer wait if that is what you want. I think you are an absolutely fantastic woman, so beautiful and I am falling in love with you and don’t want to spoil anything between us.”

 

Mary silently rose from the settee and wordlessly dragged him to the door and then up to her bedroom. It looked to be a confident action, but was far from confident. She thought she would stop breathing and couldn’t swallow her heart that felt like a lump in her throat. She couldn’t have spoken, even if she had known what to say.

 

He quietly closed the bedroom door and stood face to face beside the bed and kissed her again, gently on her lips with her face between his hands. He could feel her heart tripping against his chest and the trembling of her nerve wracked body. He took things slowly, kissing and licking her lips while he stroked the small of her back in a soothing massage. Gradually, she settled down and controlled her breathing.

 

His next move raised her heart rate again until it was almost painful. His fingers found the first button of her blouse and pried it through the buttonhole, then, the next down was undone revealing the tops of her heaving breasts.

 

He kissed her throat and neck, all the time massaging her lower back and manipulating the next button down and the next until the blouse fell open. Her new white bra was all that was between his hand and her untouched flesh. Somehow, the massage was keeping her upright; her knees had long since given up the unequal struggle of supporting her.

 

She heard rather than felt the zipper of her new skirt undo and the lined skirt fell in a halo around her ankles. Her semi-nakedness felt right, but she couldn’t help the self-conscious trepidation, would he like what he saw? She needn’t have worried, because Michael’s jaw almost dropped open before he gathered his wits enough to exclaim.

 

“Mary, you are beautiful. My god, but you are beautiful.”

 

He took his shirt off, baring his broad chest and muscular arms; they lay together on the bed.

 

After a short, but unhurried while, they lay, holding each other naked, face-to-face and side-by-side. He kissed her and Mary kissed him back. Her hands explored his skin, traversed his chest and held him close in an embrace of love. She could feel his cock, hardened, pressing against her lower abdomen and knew she wanted him inside her, wanted to feel the strength of his manhood spreading her from the inside. She wanted his seed and wanted his love.

 

His gentle hands felt her breast, slowly circulating her nipple, causing it to pucker and harden under his palm. She caught her breath and cried out a little as she mini-orgasmed. His lips found her nipples and drew the hard nub into his mouth and suckled. She grasped the back of his head and forced his face down in her desperation to feel the intense pleasure his ministrations were causing.

 

His fingers played her skin, tracing curves and following the contours of her body sending shivers across her body in tidal waves of mounting pressure that needed a release. Her own questing hands, found his buttocks and grasped in a strong grip, pulling his body into hers as if they would meld into one flesh.

 

He found her mons and gently pulled her hairs in a teasing circular winding around his fingers. It was almost too much for her; she arched her back and then thrust her hips upward. His kisses followed the trail his fingers had traced until his warm breath wafted over her pubic hair in a susurration of heated breeze.

 

He kissed her mound and flicked his tongue over her rapidly hardening clit. It had never been touched before in anything like an erotic manner. The explosion in her brain was electric and a gasp tore from her throat.

 

They made love in an unhurried way. He made everything he did a special event. His first thrust into her soaked pussy was a slow delivery of his muscle in an exploratory incision to prepare her for the next slow thrust. She felt every vein of his cock as it slid into her tight pussy and the slowness was an excruciating invasion of her inner self. Mary, who had never touched herself, believing it to be a sin and dirty, suddenly found a realm of feelings in her world that she had never before explored.

 

Unashamedly, she came and gushed her lubricant over his cock and hair while he pressed forwards again, burying himself into her. Instinctively, her knees came up and then wrapped around his waist, allowing him an uninterrupted entry to her very deepest parts.

 

In minute increments, he increased his pace, withdrawing almost all of the way and then pushing his powerful muscle into her waiting cunt. Imperceptively, he managed to increase his depth until his balls met the resistance of her upturned anus. He was as deep as his cock would go and he knew his own climax was not very far away.

 

“You are so beautiful,” He breathed into her ear and then, repeated it again and again, in time with his thrusting until, he exploded inside her. His teeth clenched and his hands drawn into tight fists as the spasms rocked him and her inner muscles milked his seed from him in a primeval hunger.

 

Sweat soaked, they lay enjoined and revelled in the act of love they had just shared. Mary clasped him to her breast, feeling the tiny receding shudders of his after shocks and spasms, thinking that she had never felt anything quite as beautiful as this moment; her lover still joined and twitching inside her, his seed seeping from her and trickling over her anus and her own heart pumping into a regulated rhythm.

 

Mary’s world had just expanded and she knew that this was her embarkation on a journey to some end, far in the future.

 

“I love you.” She told him needlessly. “I want to experience it all, explore the whole thing and please you. Help me in this Michael, please?

 

In her room, Eileen had listened to the actions of their lovemaking and rejoiced in her mother’s pleasure. Her own orgasm had come long before theirs and included the application of her best friend, as she called the big black vibrator she kept hidden in a shoe box under the bed.

 

The three slept in contentment, separate in their thoughts but joined in satiation.

 

Chapter two continues Mary’s sexual awakening.

Bless me Father for I have sinned….

Exploration

The change in Mary was remarkable and eminently noticeable. From being the shy diminutive figure, frightened of her own shadow and scared stiff of conflict and confrontation, she had become a confident and assertive woman. She faced the daily challenge of her limited education and overcame her painful lack of social graces. She had a voice and an opinion and was quite prepared to use them.

 

A bi-product of her newly attained persona was interest from the opposite sex. In her job at the Supermarket, she often came into contact with members of the public and, instead of shrinking and wilting before their questioning eyes; she looked up and faced them as an equal. Men, for some reason, find an assertive woman irresistible. Mary had the looks, which helped, but now, instead of hiding in a non-descript uniform, she openly advertised her body. Not in any overt way, but just by standing up and facing people with her chest and chin up.

 

Mary had also changed her hair style, allowing her luxuriant locks to flow and frame her face instead of being savagely pulled back and wound into a tight bun.

 

What had really changed in Mary though, beyond anything else, were her sense of self and an awareness of her sexuality. She exploited the situation mercilessly and was not beyond enticement to gain an advantage. Her Manager stood little chance when she asked for a raise. Somehow, inadvertently, a button or two had popped open just before she entered his office. Although she didn’t have large breasts, the well fitted wonder bra created a cleavage that he could hardly take his eyes from. It was her tits that scored the raise, and what’s more, she knew it.

 

She later told Michael and laughed as she described Mister Bingleys eyes almost popping out of his head as she leaned forward and almost had a popping out of her own.

 

She and Michael were now a very definite couple. Three months had passed during which, he had moved in and brought all of his better quality furniture and his companion Defor. Defor, not an original thought process to come up with Defor dog, was an adolescent Labrador who liked nothing more than resting before embarking on a prolonged rest period, followed by sleep. Mary’s remark that he should have been called cushion had Michael laughing too hard, ending up in a fit of coughing.

 

In the three months, Mary had learned of just about every possible position in which to make love. Given the limitations of their middle-aged bodies, they managed a fair proportion of the Karma-Sutra and even invented their own adaptations of the graphics.

 

Their lovemaking was sometimes frantic, tearing clothing off of bodies in desperation to get naked. Sometimes it was slow and careful, with caresses and tenderness. Other times, it was a more functional method of Mary learning techniques and what it was that got her engine running. They were not quite so choosey about location either. Whenever the fancy took, then the place seemed not to matter too much. Mary’s inhibitions had all evaporated after a few days of Michael’s passion.

 

Mary considered one of their sessions a little kinky though. He had visited her at work to share lunch. They ended up in the stock room with her sitting on a produce shelf while he fucked her into the dexion racking. Afterward, she pulled her briefs back up and had his semen collecting and drying in the gusset for the rest of the day. By the time he got home from work, she was so rampant that he didn’t even get the chance to put his keys on the hook, before she had stripped him and was sucking his juices out through his cock.

 

They had settled into a comfortable, although sexually charged, partnership. Each had no doubt of the others feelings and had no qualms in telling each other, just how much they loved. The whole world could know as far as they were concerned and anyone who knew them was under no uncertainties.

 

They had been watching a mildly erotic television play. The plot was about an older professor who was wrecking his marriage and career over a liaison with a student. Some of the scenes were quite graphic and included a scene of two men and the young student.  It sparked an interest in Mary, but she didn’t say anything until much later, just as Michael was shuddering his orgasm between her legs.

 

“I want to watch a porn film.” She announced. “I want to watch a porn film with sex, in all its forms. I want to experience the pleasure I know you get, from seeing films of sex.” She left the statement hanging in the heated air between them while Michael heaved his body off of her and lay panting from the recent exertion.

 

The air cooled as he laid next to her, thinking about what she had said. For once, he felt an uncertainty and wondered what kind of sleeping leviathan he had awoken. It was an exciting development, but he felt uncertain of her motives. It was a typical male ego trip, thinking pornography to be a singularly male trait. Mary telling him that she wanted to watch actors’ screw each other undermined his masculinity and also made him question whether he was enough for her.

 

Mary felt his trepidation, but allowed him to stew on it for a while as she enjoyed the feeling of his seed as it seeped from her body and pooled between her cheeks.

 

Their sex had been a revelation to Mary. For the first time in her life, she had discovered that it was a pleasurable experience and a wonderful way of expressing love. She gave her heart every time and was rewarded with his gratitude, consideration and love. Mary had found an outlet for pent up frustration, although she had no idea what it was she had missed until Michael turned up. Now, she positively anticipated his homecoming or the next chance they had to couple and mate.

 

There had to be more though. They had tried so many positions with varying amounts of success, but Michael was always the instigator of what they did and how. She loved the feeling of his tongue as it lapped her moistened sex and his sucking her clit into his mouth, drove her mad. But, it was always Michael giving her pleasure and her taking it. In a small way, it was a subjugation caused by her inexperience and naivety. She had had his cock in her mouth, but it was at his guidance and only as a prelude to sex. She wanted to taste him, wanted to feel his cock explode in her mouth. Mary knew that it was only his way of loving her and being gentle with her blossoming sexual repertoire.

 

One way to learn was to observe the professionals and the antics they got up to. Mary knew of pornography, although she had never seen any, but she knew of its existence and decided that it would be her passport to a sexual freedom and emancipation.

 

“Michael.” She began softly. “I love you with all my heart. Surely you must know this? But, I want to be able to do more and in learning, broaden our horizons. Porn films are merely a method of learning through visual stimulation. You have nothing to fear my love I will never do anything to spoil what we have.” She turned into his arms, and soon was sleeping the sleep of the satiated.

 

Several borrowed and rented films later, Mary had watched as many suck and fuck films, as she wanted. On many occasions, they experimented and learned even more about each other’s bodies. She found that she liked the taste of Michael in her mouth, but really got turned on when she sucked him until he was just about to cum, then take him from her mouth and rub him while she knelt facing him and frigged herself, until his seed spurted onto her waiting and willing tongue from as far away as possible without losing it. His reaction as she made a show of swallowing his fluids tipped her over the edge.

 

She also found that anal sex in limited amounts got her so hot that when he did eventually enter her vagina, her orgasm would flow over her in crashing waves and leave her almost bereft of will.

 

They had gone out and chosen a vibrator. A flesh coloured twisting cock that often joined Michael in her body. She especially liked it if he fucked her with it while she sucked his penis, imagining that she had two lovers. Once, they had tried it as a sandwich, the vibrator in her cunt while he fucked her arse. It was okay, but the pressure on the dividing membrane soon made it uncomfortable. She also used it on occasion when he was out at work while she was watching sex films on video.

 

The films fuelled her imagination. Instead of feeling revulsion as a woman sucked another in a lesbian clinch, she wondered what it would be like and felt what was becoming a familiar heat in her belly. She also wondered what it would be like to have two men at the same time one fucking her cunt while the other fucked her face. The idea of being tied and mock forced also intrigued her. Mary almost ached to have these experiences, but couldn’t be sure that Michael would allow it. Somehow, she was going to have to engineer an opportunity to broach the subject.

 

It came one day, from an unexpected angle. They had gone away for the weekend to visit his parents, leaving the flat to Eileen and her boyfriend. The weather was foul as they drove around the motorway and then the car sputtered to a halt with steam pouring out from under the bonnet. The rescue services towed them back to Enniskillen and pronounced the car ready for the scrap heap. Michael was heart broken; he had had the car since college days, but admitted that it probably was beyond its useful life.

 

Silently, they entered the flat and went to the kitchen to make tea. Mary heard Eileen sobbing in the front room her motherly concern was immediately aroused. She left Michael to the kettle and went to find out what was wrong.

 

Eileen was sitting on one of the settees, a pile of tissues around her drawn up legs. It was obvious that something had gone wrong with the boyfriend and he had gone.

 

Mary comforted Eileen, taking her into her arms and rocking the grief stricken girl. She glanced at the silent television and was mildly surprised to see that a porn film was playing on the VCR. She took no notice for a moment and comforted Eileen who was beginning to settle down.

 

Michael brought in three mugs of tea on a tray and set it down on the coffee table. Then he gasped as he spotted the scenes on the video. Mary, who looked to see what he was looking at, noticed his sharp intake of breath. In full view was Eileen with her boyfriend buried into her shaven cunt. It was obvious from the scenes that it had been shot in the room they now occupied. Then the digital Eileen sucked the quite large cock and deep throated him to orgasm.

 

Neither Michael nor Mary said anything or moved. They were stunned into watching the scene as it unfolded before them until Eileen realised their stillness and silence. Then she realised what had so transfixed them and rushed up to switch it off. They had seen enough to have nothing left to imagination.

 

“Um, where did you get the camera?” It was Mary that broke the spell. “Was that Martin on the film?” Keep it natural and calm, she thought to herself. Eileen was going to be embarrassed enough and it didn’t need any histrionics from her to make it worse.

 

Eileen told them how she had borrowed the camera from College. She and Martin had been dating for a few years and had been sexually active since her fifteenth year. At eighteen, she thought they would marry, but tonight’s revelation had destroyed that in a sword like cut. Martin had been selling copies of the film to his mates and had found someone else who was less of a slut to go out with.

 

“Mum, I ain’t a slut; Martin is the only man I have ever had sex with or even wanted, but he has killed that in one swipe. Making this film was his idea, had I known he was going to let his mates see it, I would never have agreed.”

 

She wailed again and collapsed into her mother’s arms while she sobbed.

 

When she had settled sometime later, they talked about her life and how she figured in their life.

 

“We love you baby and you belong here with us. Screw Martin.” The conversation drifted on until Mary said, in innocence.

 

“I wish we had done that with a camera. You looked so hot Baby and seeing you swallow him so deeply, just about tipped me over.”

 

“Really? You liked watching me on film?”

 

“You bet.” Mary felt the familiar heat in her loins and tried to control it.

 

Michael sat silently with his head twisting from side to side as the conversation passed from Mother to daughter. He looked like he was watching tennis and following the ball.

 

“Well, let’s all watch it then. Fuck it, everyone else has seen it, so why not us.” Eileen savagely hit the rewind button and then play.

 

The scenes on the screen showed that Eileen was something of a sexual athlete, getting into almost contortionist bends as Martins cock pounded into her shaved cunt.

 

“You keep it shaved?” Mary asked quietly

 

“Mmm yes, see?”

 

Mary looked at where her daughter had pulled up her skirt to reveal her naked mound. Without a second thought, Mary jumped up from beside her daughter on the settee and knelt on the floor between her slightly parted knees. Placing a hand on either leg, she pried open Eileen’s legs and clamped her mouth over the hairless clit, sucking it into her mouth as Michael did to her.

 

“Oh God.” Eileen gasped and shifted her self forward to allow a better access to her cunt. Mary’s tongue went to work, just as she had seen on the many films she had watched and how she like Michael to do to her. She pried open her daughters lips with two fingers and then pushed them inside, feeling the silken folds envelope her wriggling fingers in a hungry embrace.

 

It didn’t take long before she shot her amber cum straight into Mary’s mouth and then the aftershocks caused her to twitch in lessening spasms. She looked up and saw her Mothers lover, spell bound and transfixed by the scene. Eileen smiled at him as if it were her permission; he started to undress until he was naked with a raging hard on.

 

Mary shucked of her clothes and helped Eileen divest herself of her skirt, blouse and panties. The coffee table was shoved across the room to create space. Then, Mary lay on her back with her knees drawn up and parted. Her heart thumped as adrenalin coursed through her veins. At last, she would experience one of her fantasies, it mattered not one whit, that the other woman was her daughter. In fact, it was better to keep it in the family.

 

Michael knelt beside her and lifted her head, tilting it to one side so that she could get his raging cock in her mouth while Eileen nipped and suckled Mary’s Nipples.

 

A finger slapped wetly against Mary’s clit. Not painfully, but with enough force to make her jump from the sudden violation. In her involuntary jump, her mouth opened and Michael’s cock entered her throat, deeper than he had ever gone before. Then, a full slap hit her in the same place and sounded loudly in a wet resounding splat.

 

“I really like that. Do you?” Eileen was merciless in her slapping, each strike of her hand sending shock waves up to Mary’s neural receptors. Each strike forced Michael deeper into her, making breathing difficult until she regulated the filing of her throat and the desire to breath with the slap of Eileen’s hand. Her cunt was on fire, tingling and burning with desire and anticipation of the next blow.

 

Eileen shifted and planted a kiss on Mary’s fur covered mound. The touch of lips to her blood engorged and supersensitive lips was electric. She arched her back and then, in a reversal of movement, forced her hips upward to meet Eileen’s mouth.

 

Lips found Mary’s raging clit and sucked it into her mouth, flicking an expert tongue over the hardened nub of desire. A massive orgasm crashed through Mary, only to be quickly quelled with several fingers pushed forcefully into her vagina.  The fingers worked her, quickly finding her g spot and causing her to gasp around the base of Michael’s cock. She couldn’t keep him as deep and pulled her head back. He sensed her need for relief and gently laid her head to the carpeted floor.

 

Kneeling between her opened thighs, he pressed his cock head against her anal entrance while Eileen kissed her mothers mouth, forcing her tongue between the opened lips. He pressed forward and passed her sphincter and began to fuck her arse in a rocking motion. Eileen smacked her mother’s clit once more, which forced her hips up and Michael to delve deep into her tight passage. Their combined attentions had her cumming in waves of passion that seemed endless. She could take no more and began to collapse.

 

Michael withdrew from her and would have been content to wank his orgasm and spill his seed over her tits, but Eileen had other ideas. Her engaging mouth closed around his soiled head and then, dived onto his cock, burying him to the hilt in her warm mouth. He could not control his reaction and shot his load to the back of Eileen’s throat. She swallowed and smiled at him.

 

They slept together, wrapped in a tangle of arms and legs, replete in their excesses and united in shared love.

 

It was the first night of several over the next few months. They videoed one or two of their exploits for viewing when just relaxing.

 

Chapter Three will complete Mary’s emancipation.

Bless me Father for I have sinned….

Fulfilment. The end of a journey.

 

In the months since Michael had moved in, Defor had grown from an adolescent puppy into a fully-grown tub of lard. His liking for doing nothing at all and then sleeping like he had run a marathon after, was taking a toll on his weight. Labrador’s are not noted for there boundless energy, being more like a mobile fur rug most of the time, but Defor was a prize couch potato.

 

The weight gain was beginning to cause some concern. Breathing for the dog had become laboured where fat restricted the ability to expand his chest properly and so, put pressure on his lungs.

 

The Vet was adamant that Defor had to go on a diet, but not only that, an exercise regime to get some of the excess fat off of his frame and perhaps, prolong his life.

 

It fell to Mary to take the pooch out in the evenings. His food changed from the usual tinned processed fatty mush, to dry protein and fibre mix, tripe and cereal foodstuffs. At first, he turned his nose away and refused to eat the stuff, but when hunger eventually over rode his distaste, he managed to woof it down and even tried to boost some more. Mary’s resolve didn’t waver one bit. She measured out the correct amount and not an ounce more.

 

At first, their walks just took in the local park, just a gentle stroll around the grassed area. It took less than twenty minutes, but as his weight dropped, so his energy levels increased and they went further, wondering over into the wooded section at the back of the park.

 

Defor must have privately liked his owners girlfriend, even though she was half starving him and dragging him around this insane track. He must have liked her because he nearly chewed a would be attacker to death one day.

 

The scruffily dressed guy jumped out of the bushes and grabbed Mary. She screamed and started to struggle and flail at him. Defor, who was quite some distance off, heard the commotion and came running to investigate. The scene that he saw as he rounded a tree was of his mistress struggling with a stranger who was trying his best to rip her fur off. She was alpha female as far as he was concerned and, in a primeval regression towards instinct and the pack creed, he attacked the stranger.

 

Clothing and the guy’s blood flew before he ran away screaming blue murder. He would be nursing several deep cuts to his arms and legs. At least one was serious enough to need medical attention.

 

Mary hugged Defor in relief and thankfulness for his timely intervention. She sat on the damp grass, holding the dog, crying while her adrenalin leached away and the shivers stopped. In those moments together, alone in the park, Defor and Mary formed a bond that, up to now had only been a casual acceptance of each other.

 

Gradually, Mary calmed down and gathered her wits together, giving Defor a final hug, before returning to their home. Mary told Michael what had happened and how Defor had come to her rescue. The police found nothing and it lapsed into history, but the bond between Mary and the dog deepened until one crucial day. Mary was recovering from a bout of flu, which had kept her at home for a week; she had overcome the worst effects a few days earlier.

 

Feeling much better and very horny, Mary was reviewing some of the old videos they had made of sessions with Michael, Eileen and herself. She hadn’t looked at them for some time and was really getting into the scenes running before her on the screen.

 

Almost absent mindedly, she had pulled her panties to one side and had a finger rubbing her clit. She was hot and extremely wet, but an orgasm was some way off. Her mind was completely intent on the erotic scenes. She didn’t notice that Defor had come into the room and was watching her with his head cocked to one side.

 

The video came to an end with a scene, where Michael pulled out of her pussy having shot a load inside her. It was a close up of his semen, leaking out between her swollen lips, to run over her hooded clit and drip, drop by drop into Eileen’s mouth and then into her throat. Mary believed it to be one of the hottest closing scenes they had ever made. It was enough to tip her over the edge and, in a determined effort, she manipulated her clit with one hand, tweaking the throbbing bud, while pushing three fingers of her other hand into her soaked pussy. Her orgasm was building fast and breath became a ragged gasp in an effort to increase the oxygen in her blood stream. Suddenly, a cold nose had joined her fingers and then, a hot tongue lashed across her lips and clit in a long single swipe.

 

Shock registered in Mary’s already enhanced and heightened senses. Her immediate reaction was to clamp her legs shut and jump backwards into the settee. Defor remained exactly where he stood, wagging his tail and licking his muzzle. His dark eyebrows where raised in a comically quizzical expression as if he was thinking, damn! That tasted good, what was it?

 

His expression had Mary laughing when she realised what had joined her fingers. She grasped his ears in a playful wrestle and told him he was a naughty dog. Defor’s eyebrows only raised slightly more, further exasperating Mary. In fits of giggles, she collapsed in a heap on the floor while Defor stood over her perplexed by her actions.

 

He did what any subservient dog would do and licked Mary’s cheek. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him in a tight embrace. He licked her again and then licked her open mouth, his tongue passing between her lips and teeth in an act of complete trust and devotion.

 

Mary however, was instantly galvanised into a bout of elevated sexual tension and eroticism. She imagined what it would look like, her on her back with her clothing in disarray and a dogs tongue stuck down her throat. She gently sucked his broad tongue and returned the gesture, running her tongue over his canine teeth and flicking the side of his tongue. His breath smelled sweet and was hot. Breathless, she had to stop, needing cool air for a moment to revive a little and pulled away from his mouth.

 

“Did you like the taste of Mary, Defor?” His ears perked up at the sound of his name and he wagged his tail a little.

 

“Want to have another go?” Mary had overcome the initial shock and in the millisecond it takes to recognise and assess a situation, Mary had decided that she enjoyed the memory of Defor’s tongue on her exposed cunt and very much wanted it there again for an extended period.

 

She raised her hips and pulled her skirt up over her stomach, revealing her panty covered, but otherwise shaved mons. Her fingers pulled the wet, delicate fabric to one side so that the thin gusset rested in the fold of her inner thigh and pussy lip. She patted her soaking lips, encouraging the dog to approach and use his tongue again. Defor didn’t respond at first, just stood over her, wagging his tail. Then, as if teasing her, he lowered his nose slowly and sniffed her excretions before flicking out his tongue in an experimental taste.

 

Mary’s legs flew apart as if thrown by an unseen assailant. Her lips parted, exposing her sex to the dogs questing tongue. Defor stepped over her out stretched leg so that he was between her raised knees. The change of position allowed him access to her sweet smelling inner self and the centre of her pheromone producing attraction. He crouched a little and rewarded her with a long, languid rasp of his tongue that started at her anus and finished past her exposed clit.

 

The effect was surprising to both of them. To Mary, it was like a bolt of electricity, which caused her to scream suddenly. Defor jumped back in a fluid motion, skittish from her outburst and frightened he was about to be hit.

 

“Again my lover.” She demanded. Mary patted her sex again and resolved to control her reactions. It took a few minutes before the dog plucked up the courage to return to her. His olfactory senses picking up her pheromone charged scent and overcoming his reluctance. He licked her again, this time Mary managed to only gasp as his magic worked almost instantaneously.

 

Defor settled into a comfortable crouch and applied his tongue and nose, enjoying the heat and taste of his mistress. Mary was by now, thrashing her head from side to side with her hands drawn into fists that pounded the floor while orgasm, after mounting orgasm, rippled through her nervous system and adding to her impending, crashing ejaculation.

 

Her cum hit Defor squarely in his nose, making him sneeze. It gave Mary a brief respite and time to collect her scrambled wits. She sat, leaning back on straight arms, her palms flat on the carpeted floor. The woman and the dog regarded each other in a long stare, neither able to read the others thoughts, but both sharing an excitement, neither had experienced before. It was a moment in which so much is promised; information passes between the partners and a moment when, an unspoken understanding is forged. It was a frozen tableau in time, of complete unification and realisation of each other’s intent.

 

“Oh Defor, that was fantastic.” Mary’s words were unintelligible to the dog, but he picked up the cadence of her voice and knew he had pleased her. Being a dog, he thought to please her some more, but Mary pushed him away, waiting to get her self under control and her heart to return to a more normal level. She petted him and stroked the shivering dog.

 

“What’s the matter?” She asked him, noticing his state of excitement. She ran her hands over his shoulders in a soothing massage without much effect. Then the notion to give him some of what he had her struck Mary. Carefully, so that she didn’t spook him, her hands travelled towards his cock in circular rubbing motions. He seemed to enjoy the sensation and even accepted her light grasp of his sheathed penis when she eventually reached it.

 

Mary gently stroked his cock through the sheath and was rewarded with the sight of his tip poking out, soon to be followed by the whole purple veined organ. His size came as a bit of a surprise to Mary. She had never really looked at him before. Something like eight inches was now protruding from the furry sheath, much thicker than Michael and finishing in a chisel shaped point.

 

Mary spat saliva onto her fingers and slowly stroked his throbbing tool. In a short space of time, Defor was bucking his hips as if fucking a bitch. Precum seeped from the sharp tip and lubricated Mary’s fingers, helping him to slide easily through her encircling fingers.

 

The urge to taste him crashed into her mind in an explosion of possibilities and ideas. With little forethought, She sucked his tip between her lips and then as much of him as she could into her mouth. Defor thrust suddenly from the warmth of her mouth and nearly choked her as the pointed end forced its way into her throat. She controlled his wild stabs by grasping him in her hand and preventing him from going too deep.

 

His higher temperature felt like it was burning her tongue and then a stream of precum almost scalded her tender taste buds. This was going to take some practice she reasoned and took him out of her mouth.

 

Her mind worked frantically, visualising possibilities and scenarios. They all led to one final conclusion and Mary thought to herself, Why not?

 

She turned over and crouched with her elbows on the floor while kneeling in the classic doggie position. It seemed that Defor didn’t know quite what to do with this new situation until she patted her cheeks and called to him, encouraging him to mount her.

 

He eventually got the gist of her motions and jumped on her back. His raging cock quested for an opening and his thrust made him miss her cunt by some margin, passing between the cleft of her arse. It took Mary a few attempts to grasp him and then guide his cock to its intended target.

 

There was nothing gentle about his entry into her body. His forepaws grasped her waist and he buried his cock into her in a single thrust, banging against her cervix and forcing the neck of her womb open. Her juices helped his forced entry, but could hardly prepare her for the depth of his thrust. She gasped and almost fell forward from the force and sudden pain. They had passed the point of no return though and Defor began the mating dance with his bitch.

 

He fucked her in a rapid blur of movement, each pelvic thrust merging with the next in a continuous assault of her body and in an effort to impregnate her. His cock expanded inside her, making contact and friction with the walls of her cunt until she felt a new sensation in the amalgam of sensory overload. His knot had grown and was banging against her lips, forcing its way into her body. Defor gave a huge shove while grasping her even tighter in his embrace.

 

Their combined lubricants eased his passage into her and his already engorged knot found its target, passing her outer muscles and becoming embedded inside.  Defor’s stroke became less frantic and shorter in length while his knot grew and expanded, locking them together.

 

Mary was now past the point of caring, her shattering orgasms had wracked her body into accepting him with ease. She had cum, splashing her amber nectar on the floor and over the dog’s genitals, soaking both. She was ready to be mated and was getting desperate to feel him spray her with his seed.

 

Defor’s feet left the floor as they finalised the act of locking and tying with her. They scrabbled for purchase until, in a white-hot stream of dog cum; he shot his load deep inside her, filling her womb with puppy making seed.

 

She felt every blast as it hit the walls of her insides. At last, she had what her body craved and the realisation blew her away.

 

They were still locked arse to arse and tied when Michael came home from work. Mary was kneeling on the floor, her head hanging, hair limp and dank from sweat, covering her face and a look of triumph in her eyes.

 

“Fucking hell Mary, that looks so fucking sexy.” Was all that Michael said. He sat and watched as the dogs cum, leaked from her around his knot. Eventually, they separated and Mary collapsed into a boneless heap.

 

She took a day or two to get over the soreness, but when she did, Michael fucked her all over the flat until she cried for clemency. Punished enough, he suggested that she do it again with Defor, but this time with him watching through a viewfinder on the camcorder.

 

It was a few days later, after her second session with Defor that Mary entered the confessional.

 

“Bless me Father for I have sinned.” She said aloud and told the priest of her adventure and emancipation, thinking as she told her tale, and I fucking loved every minute and cannot wait to see what happens next.

 

She left the dusty confessional booth, not waiting to her what penitence should be. She left the dark, former seat of her previous controlling influence to the Priest and to the echoes of her story, triumphant in her extraordinary transition to the woman she had become.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He moaned something unintelligible in response, turned over and covered his head with the duvet; sure in the knowledge that he could get at least another five minutes before his mother screamed up again.

Jean returned to the relative sanctuary of the kitchen and her tea cooling on the breakfast bar. She checked the calendar, crossing off Thursday with the marker pen on a string. Avril, her thirteen year old daughter had made and brought home the renewable calendar in ‘design technology’. It held pride of place on the wall, accessible by the whole family to mark significant dates like birthdays. Today had the words ‘lunch Judy 11.30’; a lifelong friend. They had grown up together, neighbours, gone to school together, dated and where really more like sisters than friends. They married within a few months of each other, had baby boys only a couple of days apart. Their lives had mapped out so closely throughout; they had the same problems, similar children and husbands. Jean was looking forward to her date.

Tea drunk, she set about getting her eldest child out of bed. Instead of yelling up through the banister as she had too many times, Jean marched down the passage, climbed the stairs up to the top landing, burst into Jamie’s bedroom, then without saying anything, yanked off the duvet. Jamie galvanised into action, covering his nakedness and jumping up as if stung with a hot poker. In the split second between his sudden uncovering and the reactive jump out of bed, the mother glimpsed his stiff fur covered cock, pointing at the ceiling. ‘That will please someone one day’, she thought to herself; not in the least excited by the sight, just proud of her son’s physique. At sixteen, he was very much growing into a man with all the right proportions.

“I warned you.” She told him over her shoulder as she left for the shower with a show of his dismissal. She heard his, whatever muttered softly to her retreating back. Well she had warned him countless times, even promised a bucket of cold water, his embarrassment would do for now, perhaps he would get up in the morning from now on.

Eventually, the house emptied of her children, off to school, leaving her the dishes and a pile of dirty clothing trailing from bedrooms towards the family bathroom. Somehow, the clothes never quite made it to the linen basket until she picked them up. Jean finished showering, dried and took time over her choice of clothing.

An hour and half later; Jean had tidied up, washed the dishes, put them away and chosen a simple white blouse over a black short skirt to wear; patent leather low heeled sling back shoes and minimal make up; just a light dusting of eye shadow, a quick brush of a blusher under a thin foundation. She looked critically in the full length mirror, noticing for the millionth time, the blemish of a small brown mole at the corner of her left eye. She was not pretty, she thought, couldn’t be described as a beauty by any standards, but she was passable, could hold her own in a crowd; at least Bill thought so when he joked it would need to be a large crowd. After nearly twenty years married, his jokes all sounded the same, worn and dated, same as their conversation, their sex life and pretty much everything else. She switched off that train of thought before it went too much further and left her crying as she did too often these days.

Her eyes were too wide apart, her nose not in proportion, being small and upturned; her skin needed help; her hair was always a struggle to control, being too fine and a russet brown that she wished was blonde. Jean shrugged as she usually did, tried to accept her plainness, not let the familiar pangs of a slight jealousness toward Judy, who was one of those lucky bitches who always looked fabulous, never seemed to put an ounce of fat on even after childbirth, who’s clothes always fitted straight off the rail and always looked as the designer intended; who made Jean feel second rate, an almost, a could have done better, type of person.

She left the semi-detached house, locking the door behind her. Her car waited on the drive, only a sensible Honda Civic, but enough for her needs and the occasional school run when the kids were running too late. She drove sensibly into town, parked safely in a designated spot, fed the machine the correct amount of coins, took the ticket and stuck it prominently in the screen. Bill had a thing about parking fines; he always went over the top if she collected a fine. It inevitably led into a row that ended incomplete when he shut down at her mention of some independence, a bank account of her own perhaps, a life that wasn’t solely wrapped around him and the kids. Bill couldn’t see that Jean needed something else, something that took her away from the house, away from family matters, away from total immersion; he refused to believe she would need to be someone other than Misses Gallaher, house wife; he would refuse to continue the argument as soon as she got into that area, would turn his back or simply walk out of the room.

She arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early; secured a table by the window and settled to wait for Judy who would be fashionably late as always. Jean waved the waiter away as he hovered at her shoulder and watched the passing people who all seemed to be rushing to somewhere important. The only ones ambling looked hopeless; aimless and without purpose entirely; she felt conjoined with them, had an empathy with their plight; understood the maudlin feeling of lack of direction, as if they were all just waiting to die with nothing left to look forward to.

Her mobile phone chirruped in her handbag after she had sat there for nearly half an hour. She hated the damned thing, but agreed with Bill, to keep it for emergencies.

“Hello”. She didn’t think to look at the screen to see who was calling her.

“Hi, it’s Judy”… the mechanically tinny voice announced “…Jean, I’m so sorry, I can’t make it today; something has come up. Can we make it next week? I’ll tell you all about it then; okay?. Thanks hon.”

“Oh! Okay.”

“Thanks; love ya.” The connection was broken at the other end.

Well bugger that, thought Jean; Judy was just like everyone else who she was associated with, never a thought for my feelings, no thought about what I might want, she didn’t even ask how I was or even where. She waved at the waiter and ordered a large glass of Merlot; told him no; she didn’t want to eat, just the wine thanks.

It was while sipping the deep red wine that Jean made the decision to take over her life, or at least, made the decision that would lead to the mastery of her immediate future. She had thought many times in the past about making some radical changes, Judy letting her down was the final tipper, her resolve was set.

Feeling completely new, somewhat rejuvenated, Jean left the restaurant to find a labour agency. She had decided to find a job, it didn’t really matter too much what it was, but something that would provide the first step towards her independence and a life she could call her own; to hell with what Bill had to say about it; it wasn’t like they could discuss it, he never wanted to know.

An hour later, she had an application form in her clutches. The initial interview with a girl a fraction of her age had gone well. Her typing speed and accuracy were pretty good for someone who hadn’t been in employment for the last fifteen years. She supposed the hours spent on her son’s computer, writing short stories and articles for the church magazine had helped.

She headed towards the park, it was a nice day, she intended to fill out the application on a bench and then hand it back to the too young recruitment consultant. Jean found a seat in the small, pagoda covered cafeteria and ordered a tea. The form only took her a few minutes to complete; she put it back into her bag and relaxed to enjoy the sunshine and steaming drink.

She noticed him sitting at another table no more than ten paces away. Her first thought was that he was beautiful; beautiful in a very male sense, his features conspired to create a picture of maleness that had all the attributes of Adonis. His dark hair, slightly silvered at the sides, was immaculately combed, cut into his nape. His suit was obviously expensive, well tailored and fit as it was designed; Paul Smith, she thought.

Jean appraised him, judging his age to be around middle forties. His brown leather shoes that complimented the rest of his garb were polished to a high shine, almost patent in lustre.

She realised he was smiling with an enigmatic lift of one corner of his sensuous mouth. Small creases at the edge of his eyes gave rise to the supposition he might smile often. Jean realised his smile was directed at her. Immediately self conscious, she withdrew her stare and studied her hands instead. After a few minutes, she chanced another glance in his direction. He remained exactly as he had before, smiling slightly, returning her appraising look. Again, Jean looked elsewhere and then smiled herself, at her own sense of the ridiculous; she was acting like a crush ridden school girl, the smile was as much for her own depreciation as the unfamiliar flutter in her breast, a feeling she had thought long gone.

She shrugged slightly when her next glance revealed that he no longer sat at the table. She felt a small disappointment, but dismissed it and prepared to return the completed form to the labour agency.

“Allow me.” He had come from behind, grasped her chair back and took her elbow; an old fashion courtesy. His voice matched him perfectly; cultured, with a vibrato that hinted a good baritone signing voice.

“Oh;” She jumped at his sudden appearance. “Thank you.”

He pulled the chair away from the table as she rose to allow her room to turn to face him. He was very close to her, perhaps too close for comfort, her personal space felt invaded. The unfamiliar flutter returned in her breast; suddenly she was nervous, but she couldn’t think why except perhaps his familiarity in closing down the gap between them.

“Frank.” He stood several inches above her, perhaps six foot she guessed. His cologne carried on the slight breeze, she didn’t recognise it.

“Um… Jean.” She felt confusion, but excited by his attention.

“Well Jean, can I walk you through the park? It’s a lovely day, some company would be nice.” Without waiting for her answer, her took her arm in a familiar manner and steered her through the maze of cast iron tables and chairs to the expanse of the pathway of the park.

They chatted like old friends as the scenery slipped by unnoticed. He was in town on business, ran an accountancy practice with three partners; was unmarried, at least not married after a divorce. Had three children, all of whom had grown up and left home. Lived in a small village in Buckinghamshire, loved dogs and kept a horse, but didn’t ride. Jean told him of her life, marriage, children, and then completed her story with the announcement of her immediate plans towards emancipation. As the time went by and they did a second circuit of the park, she found herself liking the man more and more. She felt relaxed, even a little relieved to have shared her plans with another human.

“Would you like a drink?” He asked, “My Hotel is just around the corner from here.”

Jean thought about it for a second. Then began to talk her self out of it, then; thought, why not? She answered, yes, she would love a drink. Privately, she thought it might lead to something else, something rather more dangerous than a simple drink. The realisation that she was being picked up came as a surprise to her normally safe and protected life, it made her feel wanton, but more than that, she found didn’t care. It wasn’t like her life was so full of excitement. Jean revelled in the wantonness of what she was entering into; she marvelled at her willingness to fall into this brief encounter; she considered the repercussions and then dismissed them all along with any guilt.

A short walk later found them in his Hotel room and ice melting in two glasses of gin and tonic. They sat opposite each other in arm chairs in the adequately sized sitting room of his suite, continuing the chat that harboured on nothing very much.

“I have to tell you Frank, this isn’t something I have done before. I’m not in the habit of going with a relative stranger into their room and, to be perfectly honest, don’t know what happens next.” Jean thought that she should be uncomfortable, should be ready for flight from the predicament, but she didn’t, she was quite taken by the ease she felt, was happily drinking a g and t with this beautiful man in his room, was perfectly comfortable in the knowledge that she would fuck him in a while and all this was just a prelude.

“Jean, if I thought for one second, that you were that type of woman, I can assure you, we would not be sitting here now.” His voice softened to a deep rumble, she liked it very much.

Jean got up from her chair and looked at him. Her hands found buttons and one by one, from the neck down, she undid them, leaving her white blouse open, but still tucked into her skirt. She kicked off her shoes and pushed them to one side with her foot. She reached around her back to undo the clasp and zipper of her short skirt, once released, it fell to the floor around her feet; she pulled her blouse off, laid it on the arm of the chair and stood facing him in her bra and panties. She felt no embarrassment at her near nakedness, but rather, bravery she could only dimly remember from her adolescence.

“Do I please you?” She asked coyly, hoping that he would say yes. Jean delighted in the sheer risk of what she was about, felt excitement at the prospect of fucking this stranger in his hotel room; she was experiencing something akin to euphoria at the lack of remorse and willingness to become almost sluttish for this one time.

“Yes you please me Jean, very much. You look beautiful standing there. I knew you had great legs, I could see them in the park, but the rest of you is just fabulous; you are beautiful.” His appraising look took in her whole body as she stood there before him, almost naked, one foot slightly in front of the other, knee bent across, her hands hanging limply by her sides, her shoulder length brown hair, shining in the sunlight streaming through the window, slightly mussed, partially screening the left side of her face, all in all, a wonderful stance, a picture of womanhood. He felt fortunate, grateful even, that she had consented to this liaison; had become a willing partner. He was well aware that this was possibly a first for her, probably, she had never strayed from her safe marriage, very likely had harboured deep seated thoughts of just such an occasion.

Frank stood to remove his clothes, but Jean came to him, took his hands and placed them at his sides. Looking up into his eyes with a steady gaze, she reached up and undid the top button of his shirt, then, with the same intense stare; she felt for and undid each in turn until they were all open. Her hands slipped under the loose flaps of cotton to run over his hairy chest, travelling outwards to brush over his nipples, then up to his shoulders to slip his shirt off. She had to undo the cufflinks so that it could be taken from him, this she did slowly, maintaining the eye contact all the while. When his shirt was draped over the arm of his chair, Jean again ran her hands over his chest, feeling and kneading, her fingers found his nipples and gently pinched them. It was an intense feeling and made him gasp softly.

She found the buckle of his belt, still staring intently into his eyes; she deftly flipped the buckle apart, and then manoeuvred the waistband button undone. Her eyes did not waiver one iota while she slipped the tab of his zipper down. His trousers fell into a crumpled heap around his ankles; he stepped out of them and kicked the discard aside. He stood, arms as she had arranged them, hanging loosely at his sides, in his boxers and socks.

Jean’s knees folded slowly, all the while, she kept her gaze into his eyes, her hand found the opening of his boxers, found his cock sheathed inside and pulled it out. She had knelt sufficiently enough now, that her face was below his cock, but her stare still held him in thrall. Slowly, as if with infinite care, she opened her mouth and took his head between her lips. His semi-harness was no problem to her; she sucked his length to the back of her mouth, working her tongue on the nerve centre at the base of his head. He thought it was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. The working of her tongue behind his cock head was almost painful in the pleasure it gave him, but the way she had managed to do this without once averting her stare, was a wonderful sight.

She withdrew him from the warmth of her mouth, licked around his head with the tip of her tongue and then slipped him back into her mouth to begin a rhythmic motion that took him slightly deeper with each bob of her mouth. She had almost all of him between her red lips; he could feel the back of her throat and tongue, working him deeper. The feeling it evoked in him was almost unbearable, but then she pulled him almost all the way out, then swiftly, sucked him back in until her lips met the base of his cock. He was deeper in her throat than he had ever been with any other woman and all the time, she had kept the eye contact, not even blinking, just a steady, determined examination of his face and the windows to his soul.

She worked him in her throat, feeling the girth of his cock expand as blood flowed to the call of his nerve endings. His length was manageable she thought, Jean was intent on swallowing him all the way down, she took it slowly, at her own pace, until she had his pubic hair tickling her nose. His heat and the slight musky sweat smell of his pubis were like an aphrodisiac to her. She did what she had always wanted to; get a man in his entirety into her mouth. Bill always came too quickly for her to be able to do it with him in the time it needed to achieve her goal; this man had a far better self control it seemed. She studied his eyes, watching for any tell tale signs that he was about to come. A corner of her mind noted the pleasure lines around his eyes and delighted in his reactions as she fucked him into her throat. Because she had been able to take it at her own pace, the gag reflex had been overcome, he was now all the way down her throat, that knowledge gave her a thrill that travelled up from her genitals to the top of her head in a wave of delicious pleasure that made her cunt leak it’s lubricants.

Frank took her face in one hand and pulled his cock from her mouth, the pleasure she was imparting would have him beyond the point of no return if he allowed her to continue. He cupped her chin as she kissed his head one more time, and lifted her up to a standing position. She continued to search his face with that steady gaze as he bent and lifted her into the crook of his arm. He carried her to the bed in the next room and gently laid her askance so that her feet hung over the side.

It was her turn to have him return the favour. Carefully he hooked the waist of her panties with his thumbs and, with her help, removed them to be left on the floor. She was not shaved he discovered, but certainly trimmed, her pubic hair was short, cut into a panty line. He could smell her aroma of lust, a heady concoction exuding from her organs, it served to heighten his need for her body. Frank knelt between her parted legs, supporting them behind the knees and descended towards his object of desire. His tongue flicked out, tasting immediately her readiness, brushing lightly against her hairy labia. She was intoxicating to him; he wanted nothing more than to plunge into her until he was spent, but he also wanted this experience to last for as long as he could, his self control took over.

His tongue tip worked between her lips, adding his saliva to her natural essence, questing for and then finding her clit. Lightly, he teased her nub with just the very tip of his pointed tongue, feeling her shiver and gasp as he increased the pressure and tempo of his attentions. Judging the time to be right, Frank sucked her clit into his mouth, gratified by her hardness, her taste and the sudden screech that issued from her mouth that seemed to be remote from his vantage point. Her knees jerked up, altering his angle somewhat and needing an adjustment from him. Finding the right position, Frank once again sucked her into his mouth, between his teeth and began to flick his tongue tip over the sensitive nub. Jean gasped and shivered her breathing rapid and shallow between clenched teeth. Without thought, her legs opened wider, as far apart as possible to allow him full access. The pleasure his mouth was giving her was electric, all consuming, an endless high that had her panting and coming in wave over wave of delirious, nerve jangling euphoria. The she did something that she had never managed before, the pleasure was so intense, and she came, in a torrent of amber fluid, coating his face in her warm excretion. She cried out at the total ecstasy of the moment and grasped his head in claw like hands to force him deeper into her cunt. He ignored her condition, just continued to punish her clit until she shuddered a second time, forcing him to swallow her come or let it dribble to soak his knees.

Jean could hardly breathe, the effort of automotive response and the intensity of her orgasm, confused her brain into making mistakes. Sensing her predicament, Frank withdrew from her clit, but only far enough to then bury his tongue into her wanting cunt. Slowly, he worked it building into a regular rhythm that allowed her to calm, before taking her to another, but different orgasm. The stimulation was quite different from that of her clit, but no less pleasurable. Fairly shortly, the pressure of another devastating climax built in her abdomen until it over spilled with a third flush of her come.

She was in no condition to continue for the moment and needed to rest. Frank lay beside her on the bed, crooking her head on his elbow, running his free hand over her breasts, marvelling at the hardness of her nipples and the smoothness of her alabaster like skin. He kissed her mouth and ran his tongue over her parted lips. They were dry from the incessant gasping of their sex. Wordlessly, Frank extricated himself from under her head, got up from the bed and fetched a glass of water from the mini-bar. He offered the glass to Jean who took it gratefully and gulped a mouthful then licked her lips.

He clambered back onto the bed as she reached across to put the glass on the side table. Her back was turned to him; he noticed the freckles across her shoulders, the muscles under her taught skin. He traced a finger over the humps of her backbone and watched the shiver it produced. He pushed her gently a little more so that she was lying completely on her side. He caressed her back, his hands travelling over her smooth, cool skin to her hips, then back to the nape of her neck. Unhurriedly, he shuffled across the bed so that his cock rested in the cleft of her buttocks. His arm slipped under her neck while his other hand reached around and found her nipples. His hardness restored, Frank slipped his cock between her buttocks as she bent at the waist to fit against him in a foetal position.

He eased her cheeks apart until his cock was positioned, then with a deliberately slow pelvic thrust; he pushed his cock head into her cunt and was rewarded with a wriggle of her hips to help him. Frank fucked her laying side wise slowly, while Jean pushed back on him, helping to make his thrusting reach deeper into her body. It was an easy rhythm, comfortable, something they could both keep up without it bringing them too close to orgasm. He stroked her hair, shoulders and back as his cock thrust into her, he marvelled at her beauty, at the smoothness of her flawless skin, at the litheness of her body.

Easily, he flipped her over so that, they remained in coitus, she lay with her back on his chest, her legs parted to either side of his. It allowed Frank to explore her stomach, her breasts and then a finger against her clit. At this touch, the comfortable rhythm increased to a wild rut she approached a rapid climax. Frank reached around to find one of her hands. He grasped her left hand and guided it to her soaked sex. Dexterously, he manipulated one of her fingers out and positioned the pad of it on her clit. With little encouragement, Jean rubbed and pinched her self while he continued to tease her nipples and fuck her from behind.

In a manner, Jean felt trapped, lying prostrate on top of him with her back on his chest, her legs, uselessly parted on either side of him; impaled on his thrusting cock. Her own fingers teasing her clit, the arm attached trapped by his arm as it encircled her. Her breasts at the mercy of his kneading hands and pinching fingers, her head resting against his cheek; the trapped feeling added to her enjoyment, she was aware of the now, familiar feeling of pressure of another devastating orgasm. She worked her clit harder, rubbing as hard and fast as she dared, all the time, feeling the onrush of her climax.

It hit her suddenly, the sudden confounding of nerves, the rush from her body of her come, the inability to control her arms and legs as the totally encompassing feeling washed over her. Her knees drew up to her chest, forcing Frank from her body as a stream of golden come squirted from her body in a parabolic arc to splash on the floor.

Jean settled in diminishing shudders while Frank stroked her shoulders. She wanted him to come, she wanted him to complete as she had so many times over the last few hours, and she determined that she would take him to completion in her mouth. Decision made and control of her limbs regained, Jean twisted around, kissed Frank on his lips then wriggled down the bed to engulf his wonderful cock.

It was her intention that he would come in her throat as deep as he had been before, but she knew that having him so deep could only be a fairly short thing before the need to breathe took over, so she grasped him in her hand and slowly began to work him. If she could get him close and then swallow him, she might, if she timed it right, get her reward.

Jean knelt alongside him, studying his rigid cock as she pumped him in her hand. She hadn’t realised just how big he was perhaps ten inches or so, more than she had thought. Frank moaned; he was getting closer; his cock was rock hard in her hand. Judging the time to be right, Jean bent at the waist and licked the pre-come from his slit. It was slightly salty to taste. Then she parted her lips and sucked his head between her teeth while her hand continued to pump him. She slowly sunk onto his hardness, allowing him to enter her little by little, she formed an ‘O’ with thumb and forefinger so that she could still work him while most of his cock was now in her mouth. Frank mini-thrust, not wanting to drive himself too deeply into her and spoil the magic she was performing. Jean sensed his need, knowing that it was the precursor to his climax, she stopped wanking him, instead; she slipped him from her mouth, then sucked him deep into her, lifted a little then descended to allow more of him to enter her mouth, taking him deeper and deeper. Jean took a deep breath and with only a few more of these mouth fucks, she had him completely down her throat, pleased that she had taken the time to do it at her pace, his cock was twitching violently. Jean fucked him into her throat, his pubic hair rammed against her nose. With a few more bobs of her head, she felt his first spurt of come hit the back of her throat. Now she thought, and buried him all the way into her. His seed spurted in long spasms as she kept him as deep as his length would allow; Frank yelled and screeched as his cock exploded it’s spend into Jean.

They lay entwined and slept the sleep of the sated for an hour. Jean woke first, found the shower and cleaned herself of the stink of sex. She felt totally satisfied, felt absolutely no remorse, no guilt, even pleased with her self. She dried and then dressed slowly, touching herself as she did so, relishing the delicious thrill of the memory of what she and Frank had done. Jean had never had such an all consuming climax before; having several in the same day was just fantastic, beyond belief.

Frank woke as Jean emerged from the bathroom.

“Thank you Jean; you are a remarkable woman; I can honestly say that was the best I have ever enjoyed.” The sincerity of his words was echoed in his eyes that took her in all over again.

“No thank you Frank. I have never known sex could be like that, have never felt so switched on. It is me who should be thanking you.” She walked over to the bedside and kissed him goodbye.

“Goodbye Frank. Thank you.” With that, she picked up her bag and slipped out of the hotel room to return to her life that was going to be very different now. She had a ticket in the windscreen of her car, but it didn’t matter, pretty soon, she would pay her own parking fines.

 

“Jay; get up, you’re going to be late.”  Jean shouted at the top of her voice over the edge of the banister. Jamie was a typical angst ridden teenage young man, lazy and disinclined to venture out of bed before the last minute, or he had been forgotten about.

 

He moaned something unintelligible in response, turned over and covered his head with the duvet; sure in the knowledge that he could get at least another five minutes before his mother screamed up again.

 

Jean returned to the relative sanctuary of the kitchen and her tea cooling on the breakfast bar. She checked the calendar, crossing off Thursday with the marker pen on a string. Avril, her thirteen-year-old daughter had made and brought home the renewable calendar in ‘design technology’. It held pride of place on the wall, accessible by the whole family to mark significant dates like birthdays. Today had the words ‘lunch Judy 11.30’; a lifelong friend. They had grown up together, neighbours, gone to school together, dated and where really more like sisters than friends. They married within a few months of each other, had baby boys only a couple of days apart. Their lives had mapped out so closely throughout; they had the same problems, similar children and husbands. Jean was looking forward to her date.

 

Tea drunk, she set about getting her eldest child out of bed. Instead of yelling up through the banister as she had too many times, Jean marched down the passage, climbed the stairs up to the top landing, burst into Jamie’s bedroom, then without saying anything, yanked off the duvet. Jamie galvanised into action, covering his nakedness and jumping up as if stung with a hot poker. In the split second between his sudden uncovering and the reactive jump out of bed, the mother glimpsed his stiff fur covered cock, pointing at the ceiling. ‘That will please someone one day’, she thought to herself; not in the least excited by the sight, just proud of her son’s physique. At sixteen, he was very much growing into a man with all the right proportions.

 

“I warned you.” She told him over her shoulder as she left for the shower with a show of his dismissal. She heard his, whatever muttered softly to her retreating back. Well she had warned him countless times, even promised a bucket of cold water, his embarrassment would do for now, perhaps he would get up in the morning from now on.

 

Eventually, the house emptied of her children, off to school, leaving her the dishes and a pile of dirty clothing trailing from bedrooms towards the family bathroom. Somehow, the clothes never quite made it to the linen basket until she picked them up. Jean finished showering, dried and took time over her choice of clothing.

 

An hour and half later; Jean had tidied up, washed the dishes, put them away and chosen a simple white blouse over a black short skirt to wear; patent leather low heeled sling back shoes and minimal make up; just a light dusting of eye shadow, a quick brush of a blusher under a thin foundation. She looked critically in the full-length mirror, noticing for the millionth time, the blemish of a small brown mole at the corner of her left eye. She was not pretty, she thought, couldn’t be described as a beauty by any standards, but she was passable, could hold her own in a crowd; at least Bill thought so when he joked it would need to be a large crowd. After nearly twenty years married, his jokes all sounded the same, worn and dated, same as their conversation, their sex life and pretty much everything else. She switched off that train of thought before it went too much further and left her crying as she did too often these days.

 

Her eyes were too wide apart, her nose not in proportion, being small and upturned; her skin needed help; her hair was always a struggle to control, being too fine and a russet brown that she wished was blonde. Jean shrugged as she usually did, tried to accept her plainness, not let the familiar pangs of a slight jealousness toward Judy, who was one of those lucky bitches who always looked fabulous, never seemed to put an ounce of fat on even after childbirth, who’s clothes always fitted straight off the rail and always looked as the designer intended; who made Jean feel second rate, an almost, a could have done better, type of person.

 

She left the semi-detached house, locking the door behind her. Her car waited on the drive, only a sensible Honda Civic, but enough for her needs and the occasional school run when the kids were running too late. She drove sensibly into town, parked safely in a designated spot, fed the machine the correct amount of coins, took the ticket and stuck it prominently in the screen. Bill had a thing about parking fines; he always went over the top if she collected a fine. It inevitably led into a row that ended incomplete when he shut down at her mention of some independence, a bank account of her own perhaps, a life that wasn’t solely wrapped around him and the kids. Bill couldn’t see that Jean needed something else, something that took her away from the house, away from family matters, away from total immersion; he refused to believe she would need to be someone other than Misses Gallaher, house wife; he would refuse to continue the argument as soon as she got into that area, would turn his back or simply walk out of the room.

 

She arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early; secured a table by the window and settled to wait for Judy who would be fashionably late as always. Jean waved the waiter away as he hovered at her shoulder and watched the passing people who all seemed to be rushing to somewhere important. The only ones ambling looked hopeless; aimless and without purpose entirely; she felt conjoined with them, had an empathy with their plight; understood the maudlin feeling of lack of direction, as if they were all just waiting to die with nothing left to look forward to.

 

Her mobile phone chirruped in her handbag after she had sat there for nearly half an hour. She hated the damned thing, but agreed with Bill, to keep it for emergencies.

 

“Hello”. She didn’t think to look at the screen to see who was calling her.

 

“Hi, it’s Judy”… the mechanically tinny voice announced “…Jean, I’m so sorry, I can’t make it today; something has come up. Can we make it next week? I’ll tell you all about it then. Okay? Thanks hon.”

 

“Oh! Okay.”

 

“Thanks; love ya.” The connection was broken at the other end.

 

Well bugger that, thought Jean; Judy was just like everyone else who she was associated with, never a thought for my feelings, no thought about what I might want, she didn’t even ask how I was or even where. She waved at the waiter and ordered a large glass of Merlot; told him no; she didn’t want to eat, just the wine thanks.

 

It was while sipping the deep red wine that Jean made the decision to take over her life, or at least, made the decision that would lead to the mastery of her immediate future. She had thought many times in the past about making some radical changes, Judy letting her down was the final tipper; her resolve was set.

 

Feeling completely new, somewhat rejuvenated, Jean left the restaurant to find a labour agency. She had decided to find a job, it didn’t really matter too much what it was, but something that would provide the first step towards her independence and a life she could call her own; to hell with what Bill had to say about it; it wasn’t like they could discuss it, he never wanted to know.

 

An hour later, she had an application form in her clutches. The initial interview with a girl a fraction of her age had gone well. Her typing speed and accuracy were pretty good for someone who hadn’t been in employment for the last fifteen years. She supposed the hours spent on her son’s computer, writing short stories and articles for the church magazine had helped.

 

She headed towards the park, it was a nice day, intending to fill out the application on a bench and then hand it back to the ‘too young’ recruitment consultant. Jean found a seat in the small, pagoda covered cafeteria and ordered a tea. The form only took her a few minutes to complete; she put it back into her bag and relaxed to enjoy the sunshine and steaming drink.

 

She noticed him sitting at another table no more than ten paces away. Her first thought was that he was beautiful; beautiful in a very male sense, his features conspired to create a picture of maleness that had all the attributes of Adonis. His dark hair, slightly silvered at the sides, was immaculately combed, cut into his nape. His suit was obviously expensive, well tailored and fit as it was designed; Paul Smith, she thought.

 

Jean appraised him, judging his age to be around middle forties. His brown leather shoes that complimented the rest of his garb were polished to a high shine, almost patent in lustre.

 

She realised he was smiling with an enigmatic lift of one corner of his sensuous mouth. Small creases at the edge of his eyes gave rise to the supposition he might smile often. Jean realised his smile was directed at her. Immediately self conscious, she withdrew her stare and studied her hands instead. After a few minutes, she chanced another glance in his direction. He remained exactly as he had before, smiling slightly, returning her appraising look. Again, Jean looked elsewhere and then smiled herself, at her own sense of the ridiculous; she was acting like a crush ridden school girl, the smile was as much for her own depreciation as the unfamiliar flutter in her breast, a feeling she had thought long gone.

 

She shrugged slightly when her next glance revealed that he no longer sat at the table. She felt a small disappointment, but dismissed it and prepared to return the completed form to the labour agency.

 

“Allow me.” He had come from behind, grasped her chair back and took her elbow; an old fashion courtesy. His voice matched him perfectly; cultured, with a vibrato that hinted a good baritone signing voice.

 

“Oh;” She jumped at his sudden appearance. “Thank you.”

 

He pulled the chair away from the table as she rose to allow her room to turn to face him. He was very close to her, perhaps too close for comfort, her personal space felt invaded. The unfamiliar flutter returned in her breast; suddenly she was nervous, but she couldn’t think why except perhaps his familiarity in closing down the gap between them.

 

“Frank.” He stood several inches above her, perhaps six foot she guessed. His cologne carried on the slight breeze, she didn’t recognise it.

 

“Um… Jean.” She felt confusion, but excited by his attention.

 

“Well Jean, can I walk you through the park? It’s a lovely day, some company would be nice.” Without waiting for her answer, her took her arm in a familiar manner and steered her through the maze of cast iron tables and chairs to the expanse of the pathway of the park.

 

They chatted like old friends as the scenery slipped by unnoticed. He was in town on business, ran an accountancy practice with three partners; was unmarried, at least not married after a divorce. Had three children, all of whom had grown up and left home. Lived in a small village in Buckinghamshire, loved dogs and kept a horse, but didn’t ride. Jean told him of her life, marriage, children, and then completed her story with the announcement of her immediate plans towards emancipation. As the time went by and they did a second circuit of the park, she found herself liking the man more and more. She felt relaxed, even a little relieved to have shared her plans with another human.

 

“Would you like a drink?” He asked, “My Hotel is just around the corner from here.”

 

Jean thought about it for a second. Then began to talk her self out of it, then thought, why not? She answered that yes, she would love a drink. Privately, she thought it might lead to something else, something rather more dangerous than a simple drink. The realisation that she was being picked up came as a surprise to her normally safe and protected life, it made her feel wanton, but more than that, she found she didn’t care. It wasn’t like her life was so full of excitement. Jean revelled in the wantonness of what she was entering into; she marvelled at her willingness to fall into this brief encounter; she considered the repercussions and then dismissed them all along with any guilt.

 

A short walk later found them in his Hotel room and ice melting in two glasses of gin and tonic. They sat opposite each other in armchairs in the adequately sized sitting room of his suite, continuing the chat that harboured on nothing very much.

 

“I have to tell you Frank, this isn’t something I have done before. I’m not in the habit of going with a relative stranger into their room and, to be perfectly honest, don’t know what happens next.” Jean thought that she should be uncomfortable, should be ready for flight from the predicament, but she didn’t, she was quite taken by the ease she felt, was happily drinking a g and t with this beautiful man in his room, was perfectly comfortable in the knowledge that she would fuck him in a while and all this was just a prelude.

 

“Jean, if I thought for one second, that you were that type of woman, I can assure you, we would not be sitting here now.” His voice softened to a deep rumble, she liked it very much.

 

Jean got up from her chair and looked at him. Her hands found buttons and one by one, from the neck down, she undid them, leaving her white blouse open, but still tucked into her skirt. She kicked off her shoes and pushed them to one side with her foot. She reached around her back to undo the clasp and zipper of her short skirt, once released, it fell to the floor around her feet; she pulled her blouse off, laid it on the arm of the chair and stood facing him in her bra and panties. She felt no embarrassment at her near nakedness, but rather, bravery she could only dimly remember from her adolescence.

 

“Do I please you?” She asked coyly, hoping that he would say yes. Jean delighted in the sheer risk of what she was about, felt excitement at the prospect of fucking this stranger in his hotel room; she was experiencing something akin to euphoria at the lack of remorse and willingness to become almost sluttish for this one time.

 

“Yes you please me Jean, very much. You look beautiful standing there. I knew you had great legs, I could see them in the park, but the rest of you is just fabulous; you are beautiful.” His appraising look took in her whole body as she stood there before him, almost naked, one foot slightly in front of the other, knee bent across, her hands hanging limply by her sides, her shoulder length brown hair, shining in the sunlight streaming through the window, slightly mussed, partially screening the left side of her face, all in all, a wonderful stance, a picture of womanhood. He felt fortunate, grateful even, that she had consented to this liaison; had become a willing partner. He was well aware that this was possibly a first for her, probably, she had never strayed from her safe marriage, very likely had harboured deep seated thoughts of just such an occasion.

 

Frank stood to remove his clothes, but Jean came to him, took his hands and placed them at his sides. Looking up into his eyes with a steady gaze, she reached up and undid the top button of his shirt, then, with the same intense stare; she felt for and undid each in turn until they were all open. Her hands slipped under the loose flaps of cotton to run over his hairy chest, travelling outwards to brush over his nipples, then up to his shoulders to slip his shirt off. She had to undo the cufflinks so that it could be taken from him, this she did slowly, maintaining the eye contact all the while. When his shirt was draped over the arm of his chair, Jean again ran her hands over his chest, feeling and kneading; her fingers found his nipples and gently pinched them. It was an intense feeling and made him gasp softly.

 

She found the buckle of his belt, still staring intently into his eyes; she deftly flipped the buckle apart, and then manoeuvred the waistband button undone. Her eyes did not waiver one iota while she slipped the tab of his zipper down. His trousers fell into a crumpled heap around his ankles; he stepped out of them and kicked the discard aside. He stood, arms as she had arranged them, hanging loosely at his sides, in his boxers and socks.

 

Jean’s knees folded slowly, all the while, she kept her gaze into his eyes, her hand found the opening of his boxers, found his cock sheathed inside and pulled it out. She had knelt sufficiently enough now, that her face was below his cock, but her stare still held him in thrall. Slowly, as if with infinite care, she opened her mouth and took his head between her lips. His semi-harness was no problem to her; she sucked his length to the back of her mouth, working her tongue on the nerve centre at the base of his head. He thought it was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. The working of her tongue behind his cock head was almost painful in the pleasure it gave him, but the way she had managed to do this without once averting her stare, was a wonderful sight.

 

She withdrew him from the warmth of her mouth, licked around his head with the tip of her tongue and then slipped him back into her mouth to begin a rhythmic motion that took him slightly deeper with each bob of her mouth. She had almost all of him between her red lips; he could feel the back of her throat and tongue, working him deeper. The feeling it evoked in him was almost unbearable, but then she pulled him almost all the way out, then swiftly, sucked him back in until her lips met the base of his cock. He was deeper in her throat than he had ever been with any other woman and all the time, she had kept the eye contact, not even blinking, just a steady, determined examination of his face and the windows to his soul.

 

She worked him in her throat, feeling the girth of his cock expand as blood flowed to the call of his nerve endings. His length was manageable she thought, Jean was intent on swallowing him all the way down, she took it slowly, at her own pace, until she had his pubic hair tickling her nose. His heat and the slight musky sweat smell of his pubis were like an aphrodisiac to her. She did what she had always wanted to; get a man in his entirety into her mouth. Bill always came too quickly for her to be able to do it with him in the time it needed to achieve her goal; this man had a far better self control it seemed. She studied his eyes, watching for any tell tale signs that he was about to come. A corner of her mind noted the pleasure lines around his eyes and delighted in his reactions as she fucked him into her throat. Because she had been able to take it at her own pace, the gag reflex had been overcome, he was now all the way down her throat, that knowledge gave her a thrill that travelled up from her genitals to the top of her head in a wave of delicious pleasure that made her cunt leak it’s lubricants.

 

Frank took her face in one hand and pulled his cock from her mouth, the pleasure she was imparting would have him beyond the point of no return if he allowed her to continue. He cupped her chin as she kissed his head one more time, and lifted her up to a standing position. She continued to search his face with that steady gaze as he bent and lifted her into the crook of his arm. He carried her to the bed in the next room and gently laid her askance so that her feet hung over the side.

 

It was her turn to have him return the favour. Carefully he hooked the waist of her panties with his thumbs and, with her help, removed them to be left on the floor. She was not shaved he discovered, but certainly trimmed, her pubic hair was short, cut into a panty line. He could smell her aroma of lust, a heady concoction exuding from her organs; it served to heighten his need for her body. Frank knelt between her parted legs, supporting them behind the knees and descended towards his object of desire. His tongue flicked out, tasting immediately her readiness, brushing lightly against her hairy labia. She was intoxicating to him; he wanted nothing more than to plunge into her until he was spent, but he also wanted this experience to last for as long as he could, his self-control took over.

 

His tongue tip worked between her lips, adding his saliva to her natural essence, questing for and then finding her clit. Lightly, he teased her nub with just the very tip of his pointed tongue, feeling her shiver and gasp as he increased the pressure and tempo of his attentions. Judging the time to be right, Frank sucked her clit into his mouth, gratified by her hardness, her taste and the sudden screech that issued from her mouth that seemed to be remote from his vantage point. Her knees jerked up, altering his angle somewhat and needing an adjustment from him. Finding the right position, Frank once again sucked her into his mouth, between his teeth and began to flick his tongue tip over the sensitive nub. Jean gasped and shivered her breathing rapid and shallow between clenched teeth. Without thought, her legs opened wider, as far apart as possible to allow him full access. The pleasure his mouth was giving her was electric, all consuming, an endless high that had her panting and coming in wave over wave of delirious, nerve jangling euphoria. The she did something that she had never managed before, the pleasure was so intense, she came in a torrent of amber fluid, coating his face in her warm excretion. She cried out at the total ecstasy of the moment and grasped his head in claw like hands to force him deeper into her cunt. He ignored her condition, just continued to punish her clit until she shuddered a second time, forcing him to swallow her come or let it dribble to soak his knees.

 

Jean could hardly breathe; the effort of automotive response and the intensity of her orgasm confused her brain into making mistakes. Sensing her predicament, Frank withdrew from her clit, but only far enough to then bury his tongue into her wanting cunt. Slowly, he worked it building into a regular rhythm that allowed her to calm, before taking her to another, but different orgasm. The stimulation was quite different from that of her clit, but no less pleasurable. Fairly shortly, the pressure of another devastating climax built in her abdomen until it over spilled with a third flush of her come.

 

She was in no condition to continue for the moment and needed to rest. Frank lay beside her on the bed, crooking her head on his elbow, running his free hand over her breasts, marvelling at the hardness of her nipples and the smoothness of her alabaster like skin. He kissed her mouth and ran his tongue over her parted lips. They were dry from the incessant gasping of their sex. Wordlessly, Frank extricated himself from under her head, got up from the bed and fetched a glass of water from the mini-bar. He offered the glass to Jean who took it gratefully and gulped a mouthful then licked her lips.

 

He clambered back onto the bed as she reached across to put the glass on the side table. Her back was turned to him; he noticed the freckles across her shoulders, the muscles under her taught skin. He traced a finger over the humps of her backbone and watched the shiver it produced. He pushed her gently a little more so that she was lying completely on her side. He caressed her back, his hands travelling over her smooth, cool skin to her hips, then back to the nape of her neck. Unhurriedly, he shuffled across the bed so that his cock rested in the cleft of her buttocks. His arm slipped under her neck while his other hand reached around and found her nipples. His hardness restored, Frank slipped his cock between her buttocks as she bent at the waist to fit against him in a foetal position.

 

He eased her cheeks apart until his cock was positioned, then with a deliberately slow pelvic thrust; he pushed his cock head into her cunt and was rewarded with a wriggle of her hips to help him. Frank fucked her lying sidewise slowly, while Jean pushed back on him, helping to make his thrusting reach deeper into her body. It was an easy rhythm, comfortable, something they could both keep up without it bringing them too close to orgasm. He stroked her hair, shoulders and back as his cock thrust into her, he marvelled at her beauty, at the smoothness of her flawless skin, at the litheness of her body.

 

Easily, he flipped her over so that, they remained in coitus, she lay with her back on his chest, her legs parted to either side of his. It allowed Frank to explore her stomach, her breasts and then a finger against her clit. At this touch, the comfortable rhythm increased to a wild rut she approached a rapid climax. Frank reached around to find one of her hands. He grasped her left hand and guided it to her soaked sex. Dexterously, he manipulated one of her fingers out and positioned the pad of it on her clit. With little encouragement, Jean rubbed and pinched her self while he continued to tease her nipples and fuck her from behind.

 

In a manner, Jean felt trapped, lying prostrate on top of him with her back on his chest, her legs, uselessly parted on either side of him; impaled on his thrusting cock. Her own fingers teasing her clit, the arm attached trapped by his arm as it encircled her. Her breasts at the mercy of his kneading hands and pinching fingers, her head resting against his cheek; the trapped feeling added to her enjoyment, she was aware of the now, familiar feeling of pressure of another devastating orgasm. She worked her clit harder, rubbing as hard and fast as she dared, all the time, feeling the onrush of her climax.

 

It hit her suddenly, the sudden confounding of nerves, the rush from her body of her come, the inability to control her arms and legs as the totally encompassing feeling washed over her. Her knees drew up to her chest, forcing Frank from her body as a stream of golden come squirted from her body in a parabolic arc to splash on the floor.

 

Jean settled in diminishing shudders while Frank stroked her shoulders. She wanted him to come, she wanted him to complete as she had so many times over the last few hours, and she determined that she would take him to completion in her mouth. Decision made and control of her limbs regained, Jean twisted around, kissed Frank on his lips then wriggled down the bed to engulf his wonderful cock.

 

It was her intention that he would come in her throat as deep as he had been before, but she knew that having him so deep could only be a fairly short thing before the need to breathe took over, so she grasped him in her hand and slowly began to work him. If she could get him close and then swallow him, she might, if she timed it right, get her reward.

 

Jean knelt alongside him, studying his rigid cock as she pumped him in her hand. She hadn’t realised just how big he was perhaps ten inches or so, more than she had thought. Frank moaned; he was getting closer; his cock was rock hard in her hand. Judging the time to be right, Jean bent at the waist and licked the pre-come from his slit. It was slightly salty to taste. Then she parted her lips and sucked his head between her teeth while her hand continued to pump him. She slowly sunk onto his hardness, allowing him to enter her little by little, she formed an ‘O’ with thumb and forefinger so that she could still work him while most of his cock was now in her mouth. Frank mini-thrust, not wanting to drive himself too deeply into her and spoil the magic she was performing. Jean sensed his need, knowing that it was the precursor to his climax, she stopped wanking him, instead; she slipped him from her mouth, then sucked him deep into her, lifted a little then descended to allow more of him to enter her mouth, taking him deeper and deeper. Jean took a deep breath and with only a few more of these mouth fucks, she had him completely down her throat, pleased that she had taken the time to do it at her pace, his cock was twitching violently. Jean fucked him into her throat, his pubic hair rammed against her nose. With a few more bobs of her head, she felt his first spurt of come hit the back of her throat. Now she thought, and buried him all the way into her. His seed spurted in long spasms as she kept him as deep as his length would allow; Frank yelled and screeched as his cock exploded it’s spend into Jean.

 

They lay entwined and slept the sleep of the sated for an hour. Jean woke first, found the shower and cleaned herself of the stink of sex. She felt totally satisfied; felt absolutely no remorse, no guilt, even pleased with her self. She dried and then dressed slowly, touching herself as she did so, relishing the delicious thrill of the memory of what she and Frank had done. Jean had never had such an all-consuming climax before; having several in the same day was just fantastic, beyond belief.

 

Frank woke as Jean emerged from the bathroom.

 

“Thank you Jean; you are a remarkable woman; I can honestly say that was the best I have ever enjoyed.” The sincerity of his words was echoed in his eyes that took her in all over again.

 

“No; thank you Frank. I have never known sex could be like that, have never felt so switched on. It is me who should be thanking you.” She walked over to the bedside and kissed him goodbye.

 

“Goodbye Frank. Thank you.” With that, she picked up her bag and slipped out of the hotel room to return to her life that was going to be very different now. She had a ticket in the windscreen of her car, but it didn’t matter, pretty soon, she would pay her own parking fines.

 

 

 

But, for a large slice of the populace, we fail entirely to teach moral values. Our children are introduced to sex at an early age, shown the mechanics of reproduction, but we rarely explain the emotions that go with the act. We show them how to screw each other and make babies that they cannot cope with, creating more social problems in an insidious spiral of descent. We fail to teach them, because we don’t know ourselves.

So is it any wonder, that the youth of today has little in common with their parents? Is it any wonder that they rebel, or please themselves, given the lack of moral guidance we, as a generation, offer to their development? How can we expect compliance and conformity when we seem to discard or ignore our kids after they get to school age?

This following story alludes to under aged sex. I am not someone that subscribes to sex with minors, so please do not think that the case; I abhor it. It is mentioned merely as a background comment or rather, a painting of how real life is these days.

One last comment; for the American readers, in the UK, our age of consent and legality is two years less than yours. At sixteen, it is legal to screw your head off, if you want. I have no feelings either way about that, just wonder at the preparedness of such a person to handle the often harsh and consuming emotional rollercoaster of human interaction. At my advanced age, I still find emotions a confusing and dangerous area of our persona.

 

 

 

Abigail

 

 

At fourteen years of age, Abigail had left the straight road, dropping out in a spiral of self-loathing, mixed with more than a small amount of defiance and rebellion. A heady concoction that took her to places only the truly down and out would ever visit.

 

At fifteen, she had turned her back on the education system. The rules and regimentation of an orderly day did not fit within her chaos of life. Resolutely, she refused to go to school, sparking off furious rows with her mother, who in exasperation, washed her hands of her daughter and threw her out of the family home and into the clutches of the welfare state.

 

The fights were not all about school. Two women in a small space with convergent ideologies is a match made in the suburbs of hell. Increasingly, the close bond that had been mother and daughter eroded until the inevitable crash. It was predestined that they would clash in spectacular style, their characters being so close that it could be thought Abigail was cloned from her mother; it was predestined as an outcome, but vastly hastened by the sudden departure of her father.

 

Neither mother nor daughter had any inkling of his intention to up stakes and run from their lives and not leave a forwarding address. What he left were debts that amounted to twice their annual income, the hangover of his gambling, a house part owned by the bank, an ancient car with more curiosity value than ability to run or realise any money and an envelope on the table with two words scrawled in haste on the outside; I’m sorry.

 

He had left with all of his clothing, what money was in the house and Abigail’s piggy bank that might have had twenty pounds in loose change in it. Her mother’s paste jewellery had been tipped out of her box over the bed so that he could take his birth certificate and some commemorative coins that had been collected and stored with her rings. They never heard from him or had any idea where he might have fled. For the two women left behind, there was no closure, it was as if he had suddenly died, they were emotionally and financially destitute and, because he hadn’t died, had no income as such from a pension or insurance.

 

It wasn’t just their meagre valuables he took, just as effectively, he took from them the bond they had shared, leaving them bereft of even the ability to turn to the other in solace and comfort. They blamed each other and themselves simultaneously, drawing lines and barriers that neither had the tools or inclination to ever remove.

 

At sixteen, Abigail was on a fast track to oblivion. For some short time, a guy she met on the road someplace, had fed her, then introduced her to drugs and then put her to work on the streets. She had been popular at first, a nice fresh face, an unblemished teenager; blonde haired and firm breasted, she had been all the rage. It lasted for a short time at least, but then, as drugs always do, her body started to show the rigours of abuse and deprivation of food.

 

In a matter of months, Abigail was totally on her own, relying on handouts and whatever she could scrape from the back streets. Tricking where she could to raise enough cash for her next hit, then crashing wherever she stopped until the craving for heroine woke her and the process started all over again the next day.

 

That was how Paul found her. Alone in the street, soaked through by incessant rain that had steadily drizzled all day and hardly able to stand from enforced DT’s. He was pretty much the worse for wear him self; the party he had left a little earlier was taking its toll, or at least the amount of alcohol he had consumed. He weaved an erratic path through Bermondsey, blindly staggering his way to his converted warehouse beside the river.

 

It was not how Abigail liked to remember it in later times; instead, she concocted a story of how he had entered the smoking room at the office, nervous and unsure of his new surroundings and the people he found himself in company with. First days had that effect on most; she liked his vulnerability and struck up a conversation. They had gone out for a meal or something; he was new to the area and had yet to find his bearings. She couldn’t be certain, but it was either the third or forth date that they fumbled around in bed, hardly a momentous occasion and somewhat less than memorable. It almost finished the relationship there and then, but they got to know each other and sex gradually got better. A more acceptable story than the truth; She even got to believe in it and covered up the past effectively, but that is some way ahead.

 

She was curled up almost into a ball; perched on the kerb with her arms tucked around her knees. Abigail rocked slowly back and forth, waiting for the cramps to subside before trying to find some shelter and if she could, hook up with one of her street outlets for her daily trip to a less painful place.

 

Oblivious of the rain that had soaked through his jacket, shirt and everything else he wore, Paul sat beside the girl, even matching her rocking motion with his own.

 

“Twenty pounds for French,” She informed him without looking up. “Or twenty five for sex; thirty for Greek.”

 

“What?”

 

“I said, twenty for French, twenty five for sex or thirty for Greek.” She still hugged her knees to her chest, but glanced at him, waiting for his choice and the exchange of money. She needed the cash.

 

“I ain’t got a clue what you’re talking about.”

 

“Listen mister, do ya want to fuck me, get sucked or what? It’s gonna cost ya whatever.” She impatiently asked him, pausing her rocking and reinforcing each syllable with a nod of her head.

 

“Don’t want to fuck you.” He was somewhat confused and more than a little affronted at the same time, he was trying to make some sense of how the conversation had started so badly. “I don’t want to fuck you.”

 

“Well if you ain’t here for business, are ya carrying?”

 

He shrugged, both shoulders almost touching his ears in an exaggerated expression. It seemed a safe way to answer her question that he didn’t understand at all.

 

“If you ain’t carrying and you ain’t here for business, you can fuck off. Okay?” She turned and looked at him full in the face, her lips curled back in a snarl as she mouthed the words.

 

Paul was almost sobered by the vehemence of her voice. But, more than the viciousness of the sound was her dead eyes. She looked at him, but the expression of her words didn’t reach her eyes. It was as if he was looking into two pools of dead, grey water. They stared back at him, utterly lifeless, but at the same time, unfathomable in depth. He realised that she might have been pretty once, but was now emaciated, her skin sagging like curtains around the sockets of her eyes and cheeks where the fatty tissues under had been used up by her body. Her hair hung in lank strands, dirty and uncut or cared for and he became aware of her smell for the first time. Involuntarily, he shifted away from her a few inches, shuffling his bottom along the quartz of the kerbstone.

 

If he were to be asked later, it would be quite likely that Paul would not be able to provide a good reason for his actions, but without any thought, he grabbed her arm, painfully aware at how his hands easily encircled her, then yanked her to her feet and began to drag her like a rag doll along behind him.

 

She started screaming and feebly trying to tug her arm away from his grip.

 

“I ain’t got no money, so it ain’t worth robbing me.” She screamed at him, spittle flying from her lips and adding to the rain already seeping through his clothes to his skin. Paul didn’t answer her, but just continued to drag her unceremoniously by the arm towards his home.

 

“If ya gonna rape me you bastard, you might as well do it right here and now and let me get on with things.” But, Paul ignored this as well.

 

Eventually, they made it to his recently moved into apartment in the converted riverside warehouse. She had continued to scream and rage at him loud enough to wake half of London. At three in the morning, anyone on the street was far more interested in their own private business and disinclined to intervene with what was probably a domestic spat, so their progress was completely unimpeded and not noteworthy.

 

He adjusted his grip on her arm to unlock the security deadlocks and punch in the numbers for the alarm. Then adjusting his grip, he shoved her from under the armpits up the staircase and into his new residence. At the top of the stairs, Paul paused and took a second to think, now that he had her here, where to put her. Throughout the trek to his apartment, he hadn’t given too much thought to why or what he was going to do with this skeletal girl, just a singular, unexplainable purpose of rescuing Abigail from the street.

 

He opted for the spare bedroom. It was unfurnished as yet and he could lock her in behind a stout door. There was an old loft access where the floor sacks were hauled up, but it was two storeys up and concrete below so escape was not feasible through there.

 

Unceremoniously, he dragged her to the room and pushed her inside, pulling the door shut even as she span to claw at the closing portal. The key turned and her yelling was muffled to a tolerable level.

 

So began her slow and painful break from the monkey. Days when Abigail couldn’t control her body, shaking and going into spasm. Unable to keep food down at times, even when she could be forced to ingest anything solid, what ever she swallowed was ejected from her, forcefully.

 

Abigail could not control her temperature, alternately shivering and sweating. She had no control of auto-functions and really, became child like or incontinent as an aged person might after their reasoning leaves. He threw away most of her clothing, replacing it from items bought in a charity shop then, throwing them away as well when she soiled them beyond redemption. He found that tracksuits were easiest to clean and lasted longer than pretty much anything else. He would remove her dirty clothing in the early days, dispassionately looking at her emaciation and the needle tracks in her arms, feet and groin. He was as far from sexual interest as it was possible to be; the sight of her body made him cringe and renewed his resolve to heal her.

 

After four or five weeks that seemed like years, she began to settle down, managing to take sustenance and process it in the normal way. Her violent moods subsided and, gradually, like the regeneration of scar tissue, she became a person again, even holding conversations with Paul, but always as a long-term hostage might talk to their keeper. She held back and would not open, even on mundane topics, giving only enough information to be an active party in the dialogue.

 

Paul still kept her locked in the room, knowing that at the first opportunity, she would bolt and be lost for ever with an inevitable outcome, one needle too many perhaps or a violent death in an alley. He still didn’t know why he was doing this for her, someone he didn’t know at all, a complete stranger. But, he recognised in her, something of the wounded animal that triggers an emotive response occasionally; he put it down to that.

 

Paul decided after eight weeks of captivity that she could be trusted to have the run of the warehouse apartment. He left the door to her room unlocked and open. Abigail didn’t emerge from the safety of her cot for two days, but then stepped timidly over the threshold at his encouragement. She still had something of the trapped animal about her; each step could be considered furtive or exploratory, keeping her escape route firmly fixed and ready for flight, straight back to the familiarity of her room with its cot and bucket.

 

The worst of the cold turkey was over to a degree, at least the physical part was, but deep mental scars take far longer to heal, if ever fully. Abigail was scared at a fundamental level, leaving her unable to rationalise or function properly.

 

They began to eat together. Simple food that he thought she would be able to digest; soups and pasta being their staple diet. There were beneficial side effects; Abigail began to put on weight, filling out bit by bit while Paul lost some of his excess and felt the fitter for it. But, often as with television or music, her attention wandered until she sat there, almost catatonic in a far away place, her food left to cool into a congealing mass. Over a period of weeks, the vacant spaces became less and less often and diminished in longevity, while her cognitive state became longer. She chose to be in her room for longer times, but with the door open and not as any kind of barrier. Paul bought her a television and a radio so she could be on her own if she wanted. He bought books for her to read and allowed her to do as she pleased, but insisted that they eat together, cook and wash up.

 

He was pleasantly surprised to find that Abigail was a good cook, inventive and adventurous with everyday ingredients. She continued to regain the flesh over her bones.

 

She had been with him for nearly six months now.

 

Although they were sharing time and talking, Paul still didn’t fully trust her, believing that her full recovery was still a long way off in all probability; that the emotional scars were only scabbed over and could be reopened at any time. He had to go to work. Each day he took great care in dead locking the entrance door so that she couldn’t open it from the inside. It became something of a ritual, turning the key once, hearing the tongue engage then a second turn that locked the door and disabled the latch on the other side. So it was a shock for him to find his door wide open and swinging one day after work. Fearing that the bird had flown the nest, Paul ran into the building, yelling her name, with a sinking feeling, knowing she wouldn’t be there. Abstractly, his mind took in the fact that the lock or door hadn’t been damaged in anyway. His calls went unanswered; the apartment was empty, he stood in the middle of the living room, lost and alone.

 

For an hour or so, Paul wandered around feeling an acute sense of loneliness and failure. She had been making such good progress. Her body had pretty much recovered from the rigors of drug abuse and the regular intake of food had regained much of her natural body mass and skin tone. He put the television on then turned it off again. Inserted a CD in the player, but didn’t press play. He couldn’t settle into any one place, his mind in turmoil; should he go out and look for her or stay and hope she came back?

 

Abigail had the advantage of him where the street was concerned. She would know the hidey-holes better than most of the city dwellers and certainly better than he would.

 

He was still dithering when the entrance door banged shut.

 

Abigail’s tousled head appeared over the banister with a smile plastered across her lips. Wordlessly, Paul rushed over to her as she reached the top tread and threw his arms around her in a bear like embrace. Relief and other emotions coursed through his veins, mixed with a large helping of adrenalin.

 

“I thought I’d lost you he managed to breathe into her hair.” Then, without waiting for her to respond, he kissed her mouth, crushing her lips against his teeth and taking her breath completely. Paul picked her up from the floor, her weight easily distributed in his arms. He continued to kiss her, breaking only to gasp and then cover her with his mouth again as they traversed the floor to his bedroom.

 

Her head hit the doorjamb, but neither was really aware of it, the moment too consuming for external stimuli to have much effect. Her clothes were almost ripped off of her slender body as his hit the floor in a blur of motion and desperation to become naked. They collapsed on the bed in a tangle of arms, legs and hands that grasped and gripped. She wriggled and managed to lie on her back while manoeuvring him between her parted thighs.

 

There was no nicety about their coupling. Abigail thrust her hips forward in unison as Paul thrust into her body in a union that had one common goal. He fucked into her as she fucked him back in a riot of rhythm. It was sex in its rawest state that culminated in their respective explosion of orgasm, she first, then Paul, feeling her wetness splash against his inner thigh, shot his seed with a final pelvic thrust that had her head hitting the wall.

 

The act was completed in little more than a few minutes, but the intensity of emotion and urgency had made it an experience that left them bereft of the ability to talk for a while. Instead, they lay together, her head in the crook of his arm while he stroked her neck, shoulders and breasts as they calmed down from the initial frenzy of lust and then they laughed. They laughed until laughter became a little crazy, resulting in hiccups that had them giggling all over again.

 

“What is Greek anyway?” Paul asked after the expression she had used when he first met her popped into his mind.

 

Abigail lifted her chin and looked into his eyes as she told him that Greek was in the ass and that it was something she had endured on too many occasions. It was time for her to bear her soul and tell him just what it was like on the street. Abigail let him know of the times she had been fucked by many men at once until cum was dripping out of every orifice. How she was used and abused then discarded like a Christmas puppy. She told of how some guys liked to beat up on her or how they shit and pissed over her nakedness while her pimp looked on and applauded the bestial use of his girl. Abigail told him that after a while, she didn’t care what they did to her, that pain hardly registered and her holes were only entries into her body that fed her need for more drugs. She told him of a pregnancy that was beaten out of her by the pimp. She told him all of it; the worst times and that all she had to look forward to, was death from an overdose. Killing herself would have been easy, but the craving for heroine kept her alive for the next hit.

 

During her sad tale, Paul had stroked and caressed Abigail, soothing and supporting her as it unfolded. He paused as she concluded, his hands ceasing movement. She took it as rejection, thinking that he would was too disgusted by the deprivations she had sunk to. She cried, tears coursing over her cheeks. She sobbed in despair, unable to articulate her utter desolation. But, then he resumed his caress and turned her head to face him. Gently and with great care as if she were a fragile doll, Paul kissed her mouth and drew her body to him. Relief flooded her; she clasped him and kissed him back, forcing her tongue between his teeth to explore his mouth.

 

“One day,” She murmured, “we will do Greek and it will be the right time, but for now, I think French is the language of the day.”

 

With those words, she bit his lower lip and then shoved her self down, kissing his chest, stomach and then his cock. Paul relaxed back, tucking a pillow under his head so he could watch. He pulled her blonde hair away from her face, studied her lips as they slowly parted and swallowed his shaft.

 

Abigail expertly sucked him into her mouth, drawing her cheeks in to create a vacuum as she lifted; then blowing them out as she descended again. Gradually, she increased the depth of his penetration, allowing a little more of him to pass her lips in a slow, tantalising rhythm, feeling him stiffen and leak small globules of pre-cum. She adjusted her position and sat on his legs so that he would not thrust, she wanted to make all the movement so that the exquisite sensation would be magnified.

 

Paul hardened at her insistence. The warmth and sucking of her mouth drew blood into his organ, building the pressure, but oh so slowly. It was almost a delicious pain between feelings of relief as she sank back down his shaft. He could never remember having a woman give him so much intense pleasure from fellatio before. It wasn’t a first for him, but certainly was a first in the delicious thrill it was affording his neural network.

 

By now, she had him in the back of her throat, still keeping the slow but insistent tempo, just longer strokes. She could feel his imminent release and ignored his feeble attempt to lift her off of his pulsing cock. Abigail was intent on taking him to the edge and beyond; she had every intention of swallowing his cum. The trick was to know exactly when he would explode and make sure it was on a down stroke that had him right at the back of her mouth. Paul made it easier for her to judge the precise moment, he groaned and mini thrust. Abigail lifted her head and then began a long descent down his shaft, feeling him dry heave first and then shoot the first of three or four spurts. She didn’t stop sliding him into her until his cock was fully down her gullet and her lips grounded against his pubic bone. She was rewarded by his final spurts that she swallowed comfortably. She lay still, keeping him in her mouth until his tremors subsided and he was totally spent.

 

So began their life together in a loving relationship. Their sexual partnership developed in a fruition of learning and awareness that progressed from the one two one sexual exploration, to them joining a club.

 

The journey for them was not so long perhaps, but had many twists and turns until they had exhausted every conceivable position and scenario between two people. Abigail gave herself to Paul in love and implicit trust. Paul accepted her love and returned it as fully. Together, they set off on a voyage of sexual discovery.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Club.

 

Their invitations arrived in a pink envelope in Monday morning’s post. Neither of them had really expected their application to be successful, but now that it was and had become a reality, their excitement was tinged with some trepidation.

 

Paul and Abigail had visited many on-line sites, spending time in front of a web cam, sharing their sexual appetite with anyone in the world who wanted to watch. It is a fast growing network of like-minded people who enjoy performing to an audience of anonymous faces whose web cams were on at the same time. They didn’t need the extra incentive of knowing that sometimes, hundreds of people were watching them screw each other. They didn’t need the buzz, but it made for some really hot sessions and, for some reason, made Abigail all the hotter in her performance.

 

Neither had too much by the way of inhibitions, she, because of her past abuse where she was used so badly and emotion had been non-existent in her liaisons, Paul, because he found in Abigail, someone who was not afraid to express herself sexually in the knowledge that he cared deeply for her.

 

They could monitor how many viewers they had, a simple counter ran alongside the images of their bodies on the seventeen-inch screen and a tool bar at the top of the page showed instant messages from the observers. They rarely answered the messages, preferring to remain in the room to converse, unless they were too busy with each other to type.

 

They liked to surf the net as well, sharing the excursion into lust and porn as a partnership. They shared fantasies where another was introduced into their play, but these were just fanciful notions that added to the spice of their lovemaking.

 

Abigail was flat on the divan, her head propped by two pillows as Paul thrust between her parted thighs in a classic missionary position. Her knees were drawn up to give him a greater access to her body and allow their pubic bones to grind against each other. The session was already well into the latter stages, with both coming towards the reward of orgasm.

 

The web cam faithfully recorded the action scenes and relayed them around the world, bouncing their heaving bodies off satellites in orbit at eight frames per second. Perhaps as many as three hundred registered accounts were at least watching in part, or had their cam open on a screen somewhere. As the passion mounted towards the inevitable conclusion, so the amount of voyeuristic viewers increased; they were oblivious, too intent on each other to notice.

 

Her hands drifted from her breasts and clasped Paul’s waist, digging nails into the soft skin of his back. Perhaps she dug a little more than customary or her nails were a little sharper, because Paul yelped and grabbed her hands in his, while he supported himself on her lower torso. Bringing her wrists together, Paul clamped them in his large hands and pushed them over her head to hold them there, away from his back and under his control.

 

It was as if a switch were suddenly hit. Abigail, realising she was virtually pinned and restrained, went into overdrive, her hip and pelvis came up and crashed into Paul, she dictated the pace and urgency, driving him deep inside her body as if in desperate need of his length and seed. She thrashed her head from side to side, screaming his name over and over as she smashed through a climax and orgasm of proportions hitherto unknown between them. He held her wrists in a strong grip and tried to stay on top of her as she writhed and bucked under him in a frenzy of motion.

 

Abigail came in a gut wrenching spasm that had her pull up her knees to her chest. Her teeth gritted together in a rictus like grin, every muscle taut and bunched as another wave passed through her, then another, slightly less, then more, in diminishing ripples like period cramps that squeezed and let go.

 

Paul withdrew from her sex, but held her hands still, locked above her head in his grip. He knelt beside her and slowly rubbed himself with his free hand until he reached his own climax and sprayed her body with his secretion.

 

He was somewhat startled by Abigail’s sudden frenzy, but didn’t say anything, preferring to just enjoy the fervour and exhilaration of the moment. He retrieved a towel and cleaned her off. It wasn’t until later that she broached the subject, giving him the opportunity to ask what had happened to cause her to react so violently.

 

“I had this sudden image of being tied up when you clasped my hands together.” She told him. “It just did something to me and as you could see, all hell broke loose. It was like an electric current was passed through me.”

 

Subsequent excursions of mild bondage had similarly devastating effects on Abigail. They experimented with tying her hands, feet or knees using his neckties at first, then buying soft braid lanyard lines from a chandlery. The marine ropes were soft to the touch and didn’t abrade her skin or chaff. Each step took her to new places and heights of ecstasy, gradually setting the lines of submissive and domination.

 

They shopped for the paraphernalia of S&M, visiting the sex shops of Soho and Anne Summers. In a matter of months, Abigail was the possessor of several leather harnesses and bustier outfits. They found nipple and labia clamps, trying them out gingerly at first, but then getting into the swing of it with a passion. She loved the sensation of being restrained with cuffs and a choker collar that had loops for chains or rope to pass through. Some of the toys they acquired bordered on pain; she liked a leather look whip, but shied away from a riding crop. They established the boundaries of her endurance and enjoyment thresholds by trial and error, experimenting and then evaluating the effects caused by the vast array of toys.

 

The ultimate for Abigail was reached with a newly bought set of labia clamps with soft rubber inserts. The clamps were attached to a chain that they passed through one of the loops on her choker. Two further clamps, also attached to a chain, pinched her nipples in what looked to be a cruel grip, but was in fact, quite comfortable. The chain to these was also passed through a loop on her choker. The effect of any movement on her part pulled her lips apart to expose her delicate clit and simultaneously tightened the chain attached to her nipples, pulling her breasts up and tightening the grip of the clamp. Paul added a blindfold to the ensemble and then tormented her sensitive nub with the tip of a dolphin vibrator, causing her to squirm; adding torment to her nipples and cunt by pulling on the chains. It was a delicious torment that had her screaming a climatic spasm. She soaked the bed with a torrent of cum that splashed all over Paul’s face and shoulders. Had the sound been up on the computer, they may have heard a collective sigh from the watchers of their cam.

 

Abigail and Paul’s surfing habits changed to reflect their newfound interest. Together they discovered bdsm sites, viewing the images and then applying some of them to their own play. A natural progression was for them to join and chat with other people who shared their sexual predilections.

 

Over a period of time, they had developed a network of cyber-friends from around the globe, sharing fantasies and scenarios that were mutually rewarding. They conversed while appearing on web-cam and acting out various configurations at the behest of viewers whose suggestions sometimes bordered on the outright bizarre. Abigail’s sex was simulatedly abused, being whipped and tortured by Paul who was taking instruction from the anonymous voyeurs on the other side of the cam. Not knowing where they were going to be led or in which direction the requests would take them served as a teaching method for them both. Paul found himself doing things to Abigail that would never have occurred to him, taking her to limits that he might have been fearful of otherwise, for Abigail, it was a delirium of sensual and torturous delight of discovery. She found in her body, a capacity for pleasure that by far exceeded her wildest dreams and all in front of an anonymous audience.

 

It was having an audience that realised their liking for exhibitionism. They discovered that they both enjoyed the fact that they were there to be watched; it added to the overall excitement and enhanced both of their climaxes, knowing that their essences were shared with so many people.

 

A tentative invitation came from one of the sites they regularly visited. Would they like to attend a private party in Milton Keynes; of members who held a common interest in Bondage and sado-masochistic tendencies? The club was established some ten years ago and had irregular private functions, usually at someone’s house. It wasn’t a huge leap for them both; they accepted the invitation and waited for the printed version.

 

The party was arranged for the following weekend, it would give them the whole week to prepare, pack and make sure all of their toys were charged and cleaned. Neither really knew what to expect when they arrived. Obviously, they would be an attraction, having been the subject of many of the club member’s favourite entertainment for some while now on the Internet, but they had no experience to draw from of exactly what happened at these gatherings or what they would be required to do. Both Paul and Abigail were looking forward to participating, but were somewhat unsure at the same time.

 

Saturday came at last. The invitation may have only arrived five days before, but the time in between had dragged, feeling like five years. The house, when they eventually found it, was set in its own grounds of half an acre or so, surrounded by a stone wall and wrought iron gates that interrupted the gravel drive.

 

A footman in full livery took the keys of Paul’s M3 and asked them to wait on the marble steps while he parked the car. They turned in unison to take in the massive portico at the top of the steps and then, both jumped when the footman cleared his throat behind them.

 

The huge oak doors at the entrance, led into an equally impressive hall lit by a crystal drop chandelier hanging from the ceiling several floors up. Twin stone stairs rose in front of them in sweeping arcs that led to a first floor landing which was almost as big as Paul’s converted warehouse apartment.

 

The interior of the building was grandiose, each level and room decorated and panelled in what appeared to be a Regency style, but the main hall where the rest of the guest were already seated around a long dinning table was by far and away, sumptuous. The carpet threatened to swallow feet whole in its pile. The walls had panels of raised plasterwork female figures, painted white and blue to resemble Wedgwood. The ceiling was slightly vaulted with flutes coming together at six lighting points where chandeliers hung from ornate plaster roses.

 

The Footman, who had shown them up the curved staircase, closed the tall doors behind them and announced to the room; “Paul and Abigail are among us.” He reopened the doors and left, his tails almost being caught between the door edges.

 

Paul nervously stood with his weight on one hip, something he had done since his childhood when he was in trouble, and regarded the sixteen pairs of eyes that, as one, had swung around from looking at the only figure standing at the opposite end of the table.

 

“Ah; welcome our guests my friends.” He waved his hands in an upward motion, indicating that everyone around the table should stand. Although no one was looking at their host, they stood in silence as one unified body and then sat at his command of an opposite motion of his hands.

 

“Pray, be seated.” He indicated the remaining two chairs closest to Paul and Abigail. The mystery of how the other guest knew when to stand and sit was solved. A large mirror was hung, angled down, over the double doors into the hall.

 

“You are punctual, I like that.” Their guest fixed them with a stare then, as if in dismissal, his attention took in the whole table. “To conclude our business before dinner is served, the thirtieth of November is to be our grand ball, we shall have space for all of our members and twelve guests only, so please make sure you announce them early. Unless there is any other business, I propose we dine.” He paused to see if any one had anything to say, then satisfied by the silence that was returned to his suggestion, picked up a brass bell beside his place setting and rang it.

 

After countless courses of food, the meal at last finished, the ladies were asked to retire to their own room. As one, the eight ladies around the table rose and lightly grasped Abigail’s arm to lead her into an adjacent room.

 

The men left the table to the servant’s ministrations and headed in the opposite direction to the women, passing through an ornately carved door into another sumptuously decorated drawing room. Lounges were arrayed in a rough semi-circle around what appeared at first glance to be a giant hooker that steadily bubbled over a small flame. The men arranged themselves in no particular order and drew from the pipes. Paul found the smell unattractive and declined gracefully when he was passed one of the smoking tubes.

 

“So, for tonight’s entertainment we have Paul’s young lady Abigail. The usual rules apply, but one word of warning, it is her first time, so, please my friends, be especially understanding of her nature.” The host had at some point donned a smoking jacket such as would have been fashionable in the nineteen twenties perhaps. Having said his piece, he sat and drew heavily on the nearest brass ferrule.

 

Paul felt somewhat bemused by the turn of events. They had gone to the club expecting to be engaged in sex games involving some bdsm, but hadn’t considered this old fashion style of reserve. Neither of them really had much in the way of expectations based on facts, but this seemed at odds, totally.

 

A few minutes later, the doors to the drawing room opened and, with a flourish, the ladies entered. They had changed clothing to long dresses of varying dour colours that would have reached the floor, but had been pulled up in panels and attached to a belt. Splits between the panels gave a tantalising glimpse of the bare legs and thighs under the heavy brocade like fabric. The necklines plunged to below the breast line, in each case; the women’s breasts were exposed, pushed up and separated by bones or under wire support.

 

All of the women were similarly dressed except Abigail. She was totally naked with her hands and arms secured behind her with a criss-cross lattice going up to the elbow, effectively forcing her small, high breasts forward.

 

Her mouth hung open as if in a silent scream, but Paul could sense her heightened excitement by the slightly up-curve at the corners of her sensuous mouth. He saw the reddened welts across her buttocks and lower back and guessed that she had been the recipient of some correctional treatment. As far as he was concerned, she had never looked lovelier, immediately, he wanted her; more, he felt a need of her that was almost painful.

 

“Ah ladies! Excellent, bring the child to the front.” Their host directed the positioning of Abigail so that she stood in the centre of the circle of seated men.

 

Abigail’s head sunk to her chest as if in abject shame, but Paul’s intimate knowledge of her body told him by the hardness of her nipples, that she was as aroused as he was and was performing for the delight of her viewers.

 

The host stood and addressed Paul.

 

“Paul, would you please be up-standing to introduce us to this delectable woman. Please take her to each of the guests in turn for their inspection.” He sat in the chair Paul had got up from.

 

Gently taking her bound arm, Paul led Abigail to stand in front of the first guest to the right of their host’s position. He had her stand with her feet slightly parted and lifted her chin so that she could not look directly at her admirer. The Guest’s hand snaked out and cupped her breast, weighing it as he might a ball. Seemingly, he was satisfied with the result, his fingers pried at her labia, brushing the side of his hand over her sex; then he lifted it to his nose to savour her mustiness. She shuddered at his touch, but stood firm and waited for instruction. He nodded his release; Paul led her to the next who also inspected her, probing at her lips and tasting her wetness.

 

In turn, each of the men examined Abigail’s body; one had her turn around so that he could closely examine her anus, pushing the tip of a finger into her forbidden entry until he signalled his satisfaction. At last, Paul had Abigail stand in front of their host. He cast an appraising eye over her form, taking time to study her in total from toes to the crown of her hair, his fingers steepled together in concentration. Soundlessly his gaze traversed her body, seemingly taking every facet and flaw without any outward show of emotion. Abigail was starting to fidget, wondering what he though of her. His question, when it came, surprised her.

 

“You are clean now?” It was asked in a soft voice.

 

She nodded, knowing that the needle tracks had given her away. They served as, and would always be a reminder of her tragic past.

 

“How long?” He demanded to know

 

“Over a year.” She replied nervously.

 

 “Good.” In that simple one word, he had signalled her acceptability. “Kneel.”

 

Awkwardly, Abigail knelt at his feet and waited for his command.

 

“You do not wear the mark of an owner I see. As such, you are the property of all in this room, to be used by those in this room as they see fit. You will comply with their instructions and be glad of the attention. You will not be harmed in anyway and, should you wish it, can leave at any time, but only as you are now, naked as you were born. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes…Master.”

 

He pulled his smoking jacket apart and undid his zipper to expose a hooded cock. His hand rasped the top of her head and tilted it back a little. She parted her reddened lips to accept his length. Slowly and insistently, he tilted her head back to its normal position, impaling her on his cock as it slide into her throat. Then he began an excruciating slow mouth fuck that went from the tips of her lips to the base of her tongue. The pace was agonisingly slow, relentless and insistent, until she felt him twitch. Soundlessly, her pushed her head down on his shaft and came in her throat. It felt impersonal, as had the tricks in her old life and in some ways, was as if she had been used only to be discarded like so much trash, just as her customers had abused her body in those days.

 

Her next partner was more interested in satisfying himself in her cunt. With little ado, he was inside her body, thrusting and grunting like a pig in rut while she impassively lay on the leather chesterfield settee. He lasted for a short while only before coming inside her and passing her on to his neighbour.

 

One by one, the men either fucked her, had her suck them or just masturbated over her skin. By the end of a full circle, Abigail was dripping with semen from her mouth, sex and body. She was returned back to their host somewhat the worse of wear, but completely unsatisfied herself.

 

At a signal of his hand, the circle broke up and people stepped away, hooking up with the ladies who had remained in the background, silently watching Abigail’s progress around the room.

 

She was laid flat on a settee, her bounds released and legs spread wide. Before Abigail had a chance to organise her thoughts, Juliet, one of the ladies who had prepared her, had attached her mouth to Abigail’s sex, drawing her clit between her teeth and sucking blood into the hardening nub. A cock, she didn’t know who’s, was pushed into her mouth and unknown hands kneaded her breasts and pinched her nipples. She did her best to swallow the cock, but was hampered by the lack of available space; also, the sucking of her clit was lessening her volition to be determined at anything else other than the onrushing climax of her own.

 

Before her climax had fully subsided, she was flipped over by strong hands, her knees placed either side of some one’s head lying beneath her and another cock forced into her mouth from someone standing at the end of the settee. Another cock was edging at her anus, trying to find entry; Abigail could do nothing about it, either to prevent entry or help. She swallowed come and flooded the face below her with her own secretions.

 

The cock was at last successful, the bell shaped head passing her sphincter and entering her passage. She cared less about the entry, being as she was, swept along on a tide of euphoric highs as each of her lovers entered her or licked at her most sensitive parts. Gradually, she became aware of the thrusting her anal passage was getting. It was almost savage in pace and relentless in the depths it plunged. Paul had fucked her in this position before, but always with a care that bordered on over caution. She was being reamed hard and by an experienced cock. She felt her body open up for her lover, felt her muscles relax in acceptance of his ownership, as she relaxed, so he found new depths in which to delve until she could feel his balls banging against her coccyx. He exploded inside of her, having brought her to a shattering climax. His cock slid out of her, bringing with it, most of his seed to pool on the leather between her knees.

 

Over the course of the evening, Abigail was used by anyone who wasn’t currently engaged, some times, even those already coupled, pulled her into their clutches and invaded her body with fingers, tongues, cocks or whatever was available. She was treated as a whore might be, by one or many at a time. Abigail loved the abandonment of what she had become her body, somehow took the invasion and violations and responded many times over.

 

She was aware of Paul at the periphery of her vision and consciousness, but would not have been able to say if he had touched her since taking her arm and standing her in front of the host.

 

AT last, the night ended. Paul took her home but either, didn’t have the energy left, or was being considerate of the delicacy she was inevitably suffering from to do very much more than hold her tenderly as they slept.

The gift

 

 

The leather mask he wore seemed to be seamless. The only breaks in the smooth black leather were slits for his eyes and holes to breathe through, no mouth. She could hear the whisper of his accelerated breathing as he bent over her prostrate, naked body.

 

Abigail noticed the definition of his musculature as his skintight suit rippled with his movement. His biceps accentuated by the refraction of light as it bounced of the shiny material. Somewhat abstractly, in a corner of her mind, she thought he had to be extremely hot, trapped in the encompassing embrace of his costume. 

 

His two accomplices were similarly dressed, but wore carnival type eye masks. As with his suit, their breasts and form were there to be seen, not at all hidden by the material, but rather enhanced. The two female acolytes hovered closely, acting as aides to him, checking on her ritualistic bonds, that although were not terribly strong, served to restrain her in a classic spread eagle position over the cross shaped wooden altar. They were only in her peripheral vision, never staying in one place long enough for her to really study them. Not that she was very much interested in the two women; her attention was fully focused on him as he stepped between her parted and bound legs. Her neck was beginning to strain at trying to hold it up without support.

 

He had not touched her up to now; it wasn’t necessary, just the anticipation and implied threat were enough to have her quivering. The uncertainty of what was to happen, only increased the nervous quickening of her heartbeat and each lungful of air was chased by another as if the first was unsatisfactory in volume.

 

Abigail was determined though not to weaken and utter the agreed words that would stop the ceremony instantly. What was the word anyway? Amber, Amethyst? Something like that she thought, a semi-precious stone she was sure. Then she remembered; it was of course, her birthstone, sapphire. She committed the word to memory and then as quickly dismissed it because she had no intention of using it.

 

“Abigail, you can stop this at this moment or you can see it through. What is your choice?” The leather muffled his voice. She watched the mask move with the working of his jaw, but the question was clear enough for her to understand exactly what he was asking.

 

She only nodded in answer and caught the movement out of the corner of her eye of the blonde acolyte as she wheeled a stainless steel instrument trolley to his left.

 

“You desire the mark of your master?”

 

Again she nodded her assent, mouth unable to form the words in the mixture of fear and excitement. Her heart beat a little harder and faster, knowing the moment was approaching quickly.

 

“You remember the word?”

 

Her mind wandered and distractedly, she watched the play of the strong spotlight on the shiny leather as it moved with his speech. It was as if she had switched off somewhat, a preservation of sanity perhaps, a detachment, so that she didn’t have to realize the enormity of what the change in her life would be.

 

“Do you remember the word Abigail?” His disembodied voice sterner this time, as if not used to repeating himself.

 

“Sapphire” She pulled the name of the stone up and repeated it to him as quickly as she could.

 

“The next time you say that word, this will stop. You do understand that don’t you?” His voice had softened a little, but still held a timbre of authority that brooked no nonsense.

 

“And you are prepared to wear the brand and mark of your master?” His questions seemed annoying more than anything, but she supposed he had to be sure, because once done, it was irreversible.

 

“I understand and comply. Please mark me the sole property of my master.” It was the pre-planned and practiced response required in the ritual. She had learned the words and now repeated them verbatim.

 

He nodded once and then turned to the instrument trolley that was within easy reach of his left hand. Idly and still in a detached corner of her mind, she wondered if he was naturally left handed. Abigail couldn’t keep her head up any longer and lay back to watch him in the mirror on the ceiling.

 

Her mind wandered again, remembering the time that she and Paul had met. Although it had been only eighteen months now, the time had flown in one sense and felt like a lifetime ago in another. He had entered the smoking room at the office, nervous and unsure of his new surroundings and the people he found himself in company with. First days had that effect on most; she liked his vulnerability and struck up a conversation. They had gone out for a meal or something; he was new to the area and had yet to find his bearings. She couldn’t be certain, but it was either the third or forth date that they fumbled around in bed, hardly a momentous occasion and somewhat less than memorable. It almost finished the relationship there and then, but they got to know each other and sex gradually got better. This was the story she had concocted and overlaid on the truth. It was a happier event and effectively blocked out the realities of her formative life.

 

It was accidental really, that they discovered her penchant for the stronger form of sex. She could picture clearly how it happened, an innocent clasping of her wrists together, above her head in one of his large hands as he pushed into her that evinced her first really devastating, whole body climax. That was all it took to set them on a voyage of discovery and truth towards the end result that was today’s ritual. They searched for and found some Sadomasochistic and bondage videos that were watched intently before copying the action, as far as possible, given the limited resources of his flat. Eventually and to take their sex to another level, they joined a private members club of like minded individuals, where almost anything went. The access to costume and equipment helped in the development of her sexual awakening and his earned mastery of her body and mind. The bond they wove was based on mutual respect for each other and a shared desire for her to blossom into fulfilment.

 

The club was fine, but had one drawback, as an unmarked slave; she was there to be used by anyone who wanted her it proved to be too near her unhappy child and young adulthood. Being fucked, whipped or beaten by others had a certain thrill for both of them, but also started to drive a jealous wedge between them. They decided to explore her sexuality alone once more.

 

Her mind snapped back to the present, she realized she had missed nothing while she had been on her flight of memory.

 

He picked up a cloth that was covering something on the tray of the stainless steel trolley. From her changed perspective, it was as if she were watching the preparations of a surreal operation, where the surgeon had swapped his green scrubs for leather. He laid the cloth aside, but only partially uncovered the tools of his trade below.

 

An attendant leather clad nurse picked up a large pair of scissor like clamps and gripped white gauze in their pointed jaws, locking the handles together on the ratcheted device. She passed them to him in his left hand that appeared to be his right in the mirror image. Disturbed, the aroma of surgical spirit pervaded the small room.

 

She gasped sharply at the coldness of the cloth as he wiped it over her mons, soaking her downy hair, making the dark blonde hair appear black, then it was manipulated into her vulva, cleaning and de-contaminating her sex. She watched his latex covered hands and thought, how slender they were, almost feminine with long thin fingers. The spirit stung a little at first as alcohol very often does in her most sensitive does, something she and Paul had discovered accidentally one day when he had gone down on her with alcohol in his mouth.

 

Her masked surgeon placed the used clamp and cloth on another trolley to his right, her left as she watched. The arrival of the trolley had escaped her, but Abigail didn’t miss the anticipatory lick of lips his attendant on that side unconsciously did. She wondered what was going through the woman’s mind and tried to imagine what the view to the acolyte would have looked like.

 

Coldness made her gasp again and snapped her attention back to the main attraction. He was applying water from a kidney dish with another pair of clamps and a soft material that looked like cotton wool. Just as a surgeon, he held his gloved hand out and had an old fashioned soaping brush slapped into his waiting palm. He dipped it into the water and then into a soap dish, swirling it around until the bristles were laden with lather.

 

Carefully with a finger, he moved her labia to one side as he brushed the rich suds over her sex, taking extra care to make sure he caught the whole of her surface. Then he swapped hands and repeated the procedure, equally as careful to rub in the lather. Finally, he brushed her pubic vee and turned her dark haired pussy into a white swirl of foam.

 

He held out his open palm again after placing the used brush on what was now obviously the discard side. A closed cutthroat razor was slapped into his palm. Each stage completed in practiced ease and total silence. Deftly, he flicked open the blade and turned back to Abigail’s sex. She had an irrational momentary panic that he would cut her, but it passed in a fraction of a second. Her muscles had tensed at the same time and relaxed as the panic receded.

 

The first pass of the cold steel removed a sliver of foam and the hair that had been worked into it leaving what looked like a scar to one side of her mons. He worked in silence, slicing off foam in sure passes, manipulating her lips to one side or the other as he removed the hair between her labia and inner thigh where leg joins torso.

 

Satisfied, he stood back to view his handiwork, peering through the slits of his mask to make sure all hair had been removed. Obviously from his placing the cutthroat on the discard tray, he was satisfied with the result. Abigail was not one of those who like to shave her pubic hair too much, preferring the natural look and the musk her sweat soaked hair produced on her fingers when she frigged herself. It was odd, looking at her recently shaved pussy in the mirror, in a way it made the experience slightly more disembodied, as if it were someone else on the cross shaped table instead of her.

 

Her nasal receptors registered the smell of surgical spirit as he again wiped her with a soaked swab between the jaws of yet another pair of clamps. It stung rather more this time as the spirit permeated into open pores recently exposed by the razor. She involuntarily tensed and flinched as the spirit burned. He looked up and into her eyes, watching for her reaction and pausing in his operation to see if she would yell Sapphire. Abigail raised her head and stared into his blue eyes, almost defiantly and clenched her teeth as the burning sensation slowly passed. She let her head fall back and continued to observe in the mirror as a student might in a training hospital.

 

Content that she was not going to cry out the stop word, he turned to the tray and removed the cloth completely, placing it on a shelf under the top tray. Her eyes followed every movement, concentrating on the long thin, latex covered fingers. She realized that her mind was wandering a little, but his next movement had her attention in sharp contrast. He picked up a small wooden rounded tool that resembled a mushroom. It was transferred into his other hand when he picked up a wickedly curving sliver of steel, similar to a suture needle, but with no thread attached.

 

The attendant on his right approached and held the wooden tool while he pulled her labia forward, pinching out her clit to expose the hidden treasure. She placed the rounded end against the side of her teased out clit and waited.

 

Abigail knew she was leaking her feminine juice, any foreign touch to her female vestigial cock almost instantly had her creaming and his fingers pinching her most sensitive nub had her fluids flowing over her puckered anus.

 

He paused again and once more, looked at Abigail. This was her last chance to back out, but all it did was prolong the inevitable. No words passed her lips, but she signalled her consent with a slight nod of her head.

 

He knelt, his nose level with her open and soaked sex. With infinite care, he placed the tip of the needle on the opposite side of her clit to the block, still held in place by his aid. Abigail tensed in anticipation of the pain that she was expecting, but her determination did not waver in the slightest. This was her ultimate sacrifice to her master, the irrevocable wearing of his mark.

 

Trying to be dispassionate, she observed in the mirrored ceiling and waited for what seemed to be an interminable length of time for him to make the fatal stab. In the blink of an eye, he had pushed the deadly sharp needle through and against the block. Abigail waited for the pain, but it didn’t come. The second swab must have carried a localized anaesthetic or something. She watched as a bead of blood welled around the needle and was quickly wiped away by the other attendant.

 

Her hooded surgeon picked up a silver ring that was opened. Equally as carefully and considered as all of his movements had been, he pushed the end of the wire loop into a socket on the end of the needle and pushed both of them through her clit. He discarded the needle and locked the silver loop with a small snap as the two ends closed and connected with no obvious join.

 

Once again, he lent back to survey his handiwork while his aids put the instruments away and silently wheeled the trolleys out of sight. He nodded his satisfaction and stood up. Abigail was able to clearly see how she looked, manacled with her master’s ring in her most secret place. She liked the sight of her naked pussy and the way the silver ring shone in the reflected light. She was now and forever, his property, too late to back out now, even if she wanted to. The surgeon had made sure that the ring was far back on her clit, effectively pushing the nub forward and keeping her hood open. It looked fantastic and the culmination of hers and Paul’s desire.

 

But, it wasn’t to be the end of the ritual. Abigail had also chosen to be branded. Such was her dedication to her master Paul that she had decided to show him her devotion and service with the ultimate mark, his initials burned into her skin. Really, there was no choice though. Since she had met Paul and had been introduced to servitude and mutual love through their shared sexual practices, she knew that she would eventually show her master just how much he meant to her in this fashion.

 

They had discussed this ritual many times. The biggest problem they had experienced in the club had been her lack of ownership. Unbranded or marked, she was public property once passed the doors. Although they had enjoyed her debasement at the hands of some skilful masters and mistresses, they preferred to remain loyal and monogamous. Occasionally only, dabbling in group, or voyeuristic practises on their increasingly infrequent visits to the private club. They had seen the ritual in one of their collection of videos and fantasised her marking to the extent of buying a clit clamp and indelible markers to paint his initials on her breast.

 

The last time they had visited the club, Paul had mentioned their fantasy to someone who made the introductions to the Surgeon Master and after a few consultations they were now at this point.

 

She felt the heat of the brazier as it was pushed silently to her side. She had been pleasantly surprised by the lack of pain in her piercing, but knew this ordeal was going to be extremely hard to endure. Her resolve wavered a little; the word sapphire almost escaped her lips, but was stifled as she bit her lower lip. The surgeon noticed her trepidation and peered into her eyes, waiting to see if she would cry out the terminal word. He waited and was then satisfied that she had overcome the brief anxiety attack.

 

Wordlessly, he moved to her side and picked up the branding iron. She and Paul had had it made for them out of wire shaped into his initials PS that stood for Paul South. He inspected the lettering and then placed the iron in the hottest part of the white-hot coals to heat it up. In morbid fascination, Abigail watched the wire smoke a little as the protective oil was burned off. She watched as it went from black to cherry red into bright red as the heat of the brazier raised its temperature.

 

His fingers wrapped around the insulted handle of the iron and brought the glowing end up to his eyes, satisfied that it was hot enough; he turned back to Abigail and place one gloved hand on her breast and slowly brought the red hot end towards her white skin. She couldn’t look and turned her eyes away. Paul looked back at her through a glazed partition. Their eyes met and locked just as the intense pain of the burn registered in her brain.

 

She cried out, screaming his name through clenched teeth and saw his tears roll over his cheeks and the light of pride in his eyes. Her own eyes squeezed tightly shut and her muscles went into spasm, causing her to shiver violently. She desperately wanted the smell of her cooking flesh to pass, the shock and stink was making her feel sick.

 

She hardly noticed the removal of the brand or the slap of a cooling lotion and gauze over the burn. Gradually, the pain became bearable, but she was unable to see the result where it had been covered. Shamefully, she realised that her bladder had vented, the piss being mopped up by one of the leather clad acolytes.

 

“You have done well daughter.” His voice was still muffled by the mask, but was clear enough for her to hear. Abigail could only nod in acknowledgement.

 

 

Paul rushed to her side whispering words of endearment. He wanted to throw his arms around her and take her away. He had watched the whole operation from beginning to end never taking his eyes from her throughout.

 

“I love you.” He breathed into her tear soaked ear. Her bonds were removed and Paul was advised that the gauze should stay on for a day or two, but then should be removed so that a scab could form. Once that had fallen off, his initials would be forever emblazoned on her left breast, just above her heart and his silver ring would stay through her clit, forcing the sensitive nub forward to rub constantly on her clothing and make her perpetually ready for him.

 

“I love you too Master. May I get down from this altar now?” He was thrilled that she had asked in the correct manner, but knew he wouldn’t have punished her, not now that she had given herself, body and soul to his and their shared desires.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sal picked up the wall phone on the second ring and tucked it under her chin.

 

“Hello.” Her hands were covered in flour and a stray lock of hair got pushed back with her wrist.

 

“I know what you did last summer.” The heavily disguised voice announced through the earpiece.

 

“Josh! Hi how are you? Where are you?” Her pleasure at hearing his voice was evident in the immediate flush to her cheeks and breathlessness he always caused.

 

“Hi-ya Sal; I’m downtown and around for a few days; Just wondered if you fancied a meet sometime over the next day or two. I still know what you did last summer though.” He laughed in his easy manner; oblivious of the effect he had on her.

 

“Well you should, it was your fault and you were there, you bastard!” She laughed a little nervously and felt a thrill travel the length of her spine in a shiver as the memory flooded back.

 

“I’d love to see you; Tomorrow?” She suddenly knew a desperation that he would say yes.

 

“I’ll pick you up at seven. Keep it moist until then babe.” He dropped the receiver and the line went dead with a brrrrrr.

 

Sal replaced the handset and returned to pressing out the ginger bread men and placing them on a baking tray. Her concentration was shattered after the call, but somehow, she managed to bake the cookies for her charges at Kindergarten where she taught the four to five year olds.

 

Later that same night, she trawled through her wardrobe, tossing clothing over the bed in dismissive piles. After almost emptying the cupboard and rejecting everything, she sat back on her haunches and sighed. A long overdue shopping trip was going to have to ensue if she was to make the impression she hoped. Since his call earlier in the evening, she had flitted and flapped, unable to settle on anything. She blamed his not saying where they would go for her inability to do very much constructively, but in truth, her heart was fluttering in her chest and it was likely she would wear out the batteries in her vibe tonight, but before she could relax with her pacifier, she had to think of what to wear.

 

If they were going out to dinner, then she could wear a simple black cocktail dress with a matching shoe and bag set. It could be a downtown joint, in which case jeans and a shirt would be ideal. It occurred to her that she could call him, but then she remembered that he wasn’t at home, he was in town and staying at any one of the hundreds of hotels. She got as far as dialling the number recall on her phone, but the only information it gave was number withheld.

 

“Shit!” She spat the word out like it was a particularly unsavoury chewing gum. “Shit! Shit! Shit and damn that man.” She at last, settled on a black cocktail dress, cut to the knee with a little lace trimming around the hem. Critically, she held up a pair of silver sling backs and matched them to a small purse.

 

She knew the dress fitted and accentuated her hourglass figure. The neckline was loose enough to hint at her beasts and show enough cleavage to attract a man’s attention.

 

“Let’s face it girl, she muttered to herself, you need a man and all’s fair blah blah.”

 

It had been eight years since Sal graduated from College. Eight years in her apartment and eight years looking for a man to rock her boat sufficiently to become something of a partner. She had had lovers, temporary boyfriends, but none seriously. These guys had varying sized egos and equipment; it seemed the larger the dick, the bigger the ego, the more of a pain in the ass, a proven equation. Sal had even dated guys of other races, but only one guy had lit her fuse and he had called this evening to make a date. Some of her conquests had managed to make her come, managed even, to get her to orgasm, those that could be bothered, but Josh had knocked her right off her feet. They had fucked like wild animals last summer and her body had responded in a way she hadn’t known was possible. What they had done could not be called making love, it was far too intense for that. It had in truth, been rutting, in the purest sense; fucking themselves to a standstill. They hadn’t even really messed around with foreplay or the niceties of sex, it had just been groin-to-groin screwing in every conceivable position, all the way, like his cock was an umbilical chord; that suited her desperate need at the time.

 

Afterwards though, when the holiday was over, he had left her behind, she had been devastated, the overwhelming sexual charge was replaced by a feeling of bereavement. She had thought that this was it, her life partner had arrived, never to leave; she couldn’t understand why it hadn’t been the same for him.

 

Time to worry about the hair and of course the make-up if she was to make the impression she hoped to. The rummage though her bag of collected hues and colours left her wanting, but it would have to do.

 

Sal showered and flopped into bed, her thoughts crowding one on another and preventing sleep, until her fingers found her sex and then the buzz of her vibe did the rest. She slept with her drying hair in rollers.

­­­­

Josh put down the phone and lay back against the headboard of hotel bed. His room was like any other of the millions of hotel rooms, comfortable enough, clean, but lacking soul. He clicked off the TV with the remote, the sound had been down anyway and he had no interest in the soap running on channel 10.

 

His laptop running on the top of a sideboard announced that he had mail with a chirrup. It was nothing important and was quickly read then deleted. He checked his web site and answered a few enquiries about his newly launched software package. When would it be on the market, was it upgradeable, what did it do. Those kinds of enquiries all easily answered and killed.

 

He thought about Sal and wondered if she had changed in anyway. His mind’s eye recalled her body and, with difficulty, her face. He recalled the small brown moles on her right shoulder and the downy skin of her flattish stomach. Her smell would always be with him he thought and the way her body reacted to his touch was indelibly etched into his memory, but better yet was the memory of how she would come in a gushing torrent, screaming the place down while her sex ejaculated it’s golden stream.

 

They first met when he had been taking an enforced break. Two weeks by the sea, rest and recuperation from overworking and stress. Getting his baby over the final hurdle of marketing and completion had taken almost two years of incredibly hard work, after which, he was completely burned out. The soft ware package to revolutionise the accounting industry had nearly done for him, the money didn’t seem worth the chunks of his life he had invested into it. Now it was out there against the opposition, the users who bought the licence didn’t seem to have the intelligence or aptitude to really make the programme sing as he had designed it to do. It left him feeling somewhat deflated or disappointed in the end result, but knowing fundamentally, that it was the customer who failed to grasp the nuances of his work; Their loss.

 

During the latter stages of completion, Josh had become quite ill, his Doctor referred him on to a psychiatric consultant who had warned him; vacation for a couple of weeks or a permanent rest from a complete breakdown; his choice.

 

He had collided into Sal on the second or third day of his enforced break, literally knocking her off her feet as he blundered around a street corner. Her touch as she took his proffered hand to help her up, was electric and he instantly knew that he wanted to know her, body and soul.

 

Their first date had been okay, McDonalds and a drive in movie, and then they sat and watched the moon slide across the water of the bay, talking about their lives and introducing each other. She had a self-depreciating manner of telling her life history, it was infectious; Josh found himself playing down his accomplishments in sympathetic accordance.

 

He had taken her home to her rented apartment, drank the coffee and then, by mutual agreement, screwed both their brains out with little or no preamble. He remembered wondering how it hadn’t happened on the street corner or the drive through movie. The attraction and sexual chemistry between them was undeniable, neither of them denied the other. Thank God she had been taking the pill, because he would have knocked her up several times over, during the rest of their inseparable holiday.

 

Josh fell to sleeping, but had his hands tucked into his groin as he curled in a foetal position and dreamt of her. The sheets in the morning told of his restlessness and a familiar stain reported the rest.

 

Her day at Kindergarten dragged. Perhaps the kids picked up on her jittery inability to concentrate, or they sensed something in the wind, but even the normally quiet kids joined in the riot and cacophony of noise. It passed over her and she didn’t really notice until Anne from the next classroom popped her head in and asked if she could keep the noise down a bit.

 

“Sorry.” She said distractedly. “I’ll just kill them and have them for dinner.”

 

“Ha ha! See you at lunch.” Anne was just removing her head and shutting the door when she stopped and asked Sal.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Hmm? Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.” She waved in a shooing motion and Anne pulled the glass door to with a frown on her face.

 

The frown turned to total absorption when Sal told her about Josh and their holiday romance of last year. A little jealousy was also in evidence and when Sal brushed over the sexual episodes, more than a little flush crept into Anne’s features.

 

Anne had a husband, or rather, her husband owned Anne. Her devotion was misplaced, because he used her as a doormat. Sal and she had had several heart to heart conversations during their meal breaks; it was always Anne who ended up crying in misery. The irony wasn’t lost on Sal, she was the one without a man, but it was Anne who was the more miserable of the two friends.

 

“So what you gonna wear?” The question was an abrupt change of direction in the flow of conversation.

 

Sal described the cocktail dress she had planned on, but her very description and her lack of enthusiasm told her she would be out shopping on her way home; the cocktail dress was confined to the wardrobe until further notice. Anne offered to help her with the retail assault, but she wouldn’t be able to stay out long.

 

“Trevor will want his dinner and he gets grumpy if I’m late.” It was apparent that Anne dearly wanted to go with Sal to hit the shops by the animated way she used her hands to enforce her words.

 

“Screw that! No man is going to own me. I ain’t a feminist, but I am a person in my own right, not an extension of Mister Partner.” Her vehemence spat the words out. Sal’s recollection of how her father had ruled her mother sprang to the forefront of her mind

 

“Your man, Trevor, needs to get a job and start looking out for himself a bit. One day Anne, you are going to wake up and it will be the last day of your marriage.” She continued.

 

“I guess.” The shrug of her shoulders indicated her acceptance of her lot, at least for now.

 

After school, they hit the town and walked the Mall, stopping in several shops until they settled on a small independent store that sold exclusives. Anne suggested an off the shoulder printed chiffon that looked like oil on water, but Sal chose a plain, dusty pink silk A line dress, with a square cut dropped neck. It cost a small fortune, but when she tried it on and looked appraisingly in the mirror of the changing cubicle, decided it was worth every penny.

 

They coffee’d at one of the many new outlets that littered the mall, then went their separately ways to their respective homes. Anne, hurrying to prepare her husband’s dinner, hurrying because she was likely to be late, Trevor hated her being late; Sal, to pretty herself up and create a vision. She had every intention of knocking Josh off of his feet. Both of them hurried to satisfy the hungers of a man, but in very different ways.

 

She was ready by six thirty and spent the nervous minutes waiting by preening and touching up her make up. Her heart was fluttering in her breast and it felt like the butterflies in her stomach had hobnail boots on.

 

He was fashionably late; Ten minutes past seven; blaming the delay on traffic and the scarcity of a decent cab. Sal made him wait for a little while longer, ostensibly just finishing up, but in reality, sitting on her bed and shaking from head to toe in nervous anticipation of her evening ahead.

 

She had melted when the door chime announced his visit and then, almost jumped into his arms when she opened the door. He looked tanned and totally at ease. A complete contrast to what she was going through.

 

“Where do you want to eat?” His laconic question filtered into the bedroom. It got her moving and she joined him in the living room.

 

“I’m easy.”

 

“Well, looking like that, I guess we should find some class.” His compliment struck a chord in her privately egotistic home. They left her apartment arm in arm, down the quasi-ornate stair well to the street.

 

He hailed a cab and they ended up at an Italian restaurant that had been recommended by the driver. Luigi’s was far better then the name or the outside appearance suggested. After a very good meal and a couple of hours later, they emerged with handshakes and cheek kisses from Luigi, on to a damp pavement and cool air.

 

Conversation during dinner had flitted from subject to subject and had, for the most part, remained light. Until he mentioned the summer holiday and then, the whole evening became a prelude to the sex they knew was inevitable, the mood of the evening changed at that point, recharging the sexual energy passing between them.

 

“Shall we walk for a little while?” He asked and offered his arm like an old fashion gentleman might have to a crinoline dressed lady.

 

“Sal…” He started, but then stopped.

 

“Spit it out Josh. What’s on your mind?”

 

“When I first met you, I was knocked out by the way we fit together. It was like we knew each other for ever and the um… well you know, was out of this world. But, when the holiday was over and I had to finish getting my project out, I thought I would never see you again. I kinda thought that you would look at it as a holiday romance and nothing else. I couldn’t get you out of my mind for a long time.” He had stopped walking and turned to face her, see what her reaction would be.

 

She looked up into his eyes and smiled, then kissed his lips gently.

 

“You were more than a holiday romance and you know it.” She breathed between his lips. “Shall we go home?”

 

“I like the sound of that.” He stressed the word like.

 

“What?”

 

“I like the sound of that word when associated with you; Home, It has a ring to it.” Her already fluttering pulse quickened.

 

They caught a cab and arrived at her door some twenty minutes later.

 

“Drink?” She called from the sanctuary of her bedroom.

 

“I’m okay.” His disembodied voice filtered through the door.

 

Sal undressed quickly, carefully hanging the new dress on its hanger and throwing a robe over her semi-nakedness. Josh had obviously found the hi-fi, music; she could hear something soft playing.

 

He was sitting, relaxed and at ease on the cream leather settee when she came back into the room. Her mouth was dry and she was still shivering a little from nerves. Sal fixed herself a watered Scotch and offered one to Josh. Then, she at last sat down opposite him and studied his face for the millionth time that night.

 

Sal...” He started “There is something you should know about me.”

 

“You’re married!” Fucking typical she thought in a nano-second, I meet the guy of my dreams and some bitch has already got her claws into him. It didn’t occur to her that she might be considered the bitch in the triangle.

 

“Ha! No Sal. It’s a bit weird, well a lot weird really, but you should know before this goes very much further.” He looked at her, spitting her eyes with an intensity that made her feel like she might if impaled on a spike.

 

“You’re gay then, or bi-sexual or a woman. Come on Josh, spit it out.” She felt a dread at the suspense and wasn’t at all sure she really wanted to know, especially if it meant they would not go any further than there were at tonight.

 

“No baby, it’s nothing that normal, it’s…well kinda difficult to explain really, but I um…”

 

“For Pete’s sake, will you just come out and say it. That is of course if it isn’t you’re a monk and sworn to celibacy or have had it cut off.” She laughed nervously; trying to lighten to mood and alleviate the tension his difficulty to articulate was creating.

 

“I change a bit.” His statement couldn’t have been any vaguer.

 

“So you cross dress? Is that it?” Sal was getting a little alarmed at what her imagination was offering as possible answers.

 

“I…I mean…I change physically…sort of when the moon is full; that kinda thing.” He glanced at her to see if she would cringe or run screaming.

 

“Ha ha ha! So you’re a fucking werewolf are you then?” The laugh carried no mirth.

 

“Well…yes as a matter of fact...” Dread flooded him and he wanted to cry suddenly. It wasn’t his fault that the slaver girl had ravaged him, all those years ago. It wasn’t like she looked strange or anything, just a black girl who was offering to screw his head off. Fuck it; he hadn’t even felt the bite at first until she started to suck him dry. He had a choice, drink from her or die. At the time, he was still inside her and pinned under her hips with little strength left. It hadn’t really mattered very much until he had met Sal, but now he wanted to be like any other man with a normal relationship and a life.

 

“…As a matter of fact, that is exactly what I am; A werewolf. I have never told anyone before Sal and if you want me to leave, well, I will understand and never come anywhere near you again.”

 

“You’re serious aren’t you…?” She knew the answer from the angle of his shoulders and the way he was studying his feet to avoid looking at her.

 

“…So, why me Josh? Why are you telling me?”

 

“I have never wanted to get near to anyone before Sal. But, then I met you and something clicked inside, like a light being turned on for the first time. Don’t get me wrong, I have had several lovers before you, but none I wanted to really get to know, none I wanted to be more than casual lovers with. Until you, there has been nobody I wanted to watch grow old and grieve for when they die.” He sat bonelessly in a settee opposite her like a condemned man, waiting for the Priest to offer prayers for his soul as he made his way to the gallows.

 

“What do you mean, watch them grow old?” Sal was some way off of getting a handle on what Josh was trying in his fractured way, to tell her.

 

“I was born in eighteen ninety two Sal. My parents had a sugar plantation in Jamaica.”

 

“That means you’re…” Her mental arithmetic wasn’t up to the sum.

 

“I’m a hundred and sixteen, give or take a month or two. A young black girl turned me from the slave workers on the plantation. She turned me and then disappeared soon afterwards. No one knew where she went, but her family didn’t seem to mind that she had gone. She bit me and then gave me the option of either drinking from her or dying right there and then. Ever since, I have had to move around, never staying in one place more than a few years. I have seen most of the world, been in the wars and seen the worst that man can do. By comparison, what I am is nothing. I am considered a horror, but what this world has to offer is pure evil; by comparison, I’m a minor offence.”  He picked up his forgotten scotch and hid behind the sanctuary of the glass.

 

“Well…” Sal puffed out her cheeks while she struggled to sort through the jumble of thoughts.

 

“…So does this mean you will rip me apart and eat me?” She knew it was a stupid question and regretted asking it immediately.

 

“I would never hurt you Sal. I could never hurt you, you see, after last summer and meeting you; I couldn’t get you out of my head. I found myself wondering what you were doing and I must have dialled your number a hundred times, but I didn’t know what you would say when I told you, Oh, by the way Sal, I grow four legs and a full coat of fur during the full moon and eat live food, but don’t let it worry you. But, you wouldn’t get out of my head. Sal, God help me, I love you and have, ever since we first met when I knocked you on your ass. You cannot know what it took to come here.”

 

“Every guy I’ve dated seems to have a problem or carry a shit load of baggage, but this one takes the prize.” She said dryly. “It’s going to take me a while to get a handle on it Josh. I need some thinking time here.” Her thoughts jumbled and swirled in a maelstrom that had no hope of order.

 

“Do you want me to leave?” He rose from the settee, placing his half drunk scotch on the table between them.

 

“I want you to take me to bed Josh. I want you to fuck me until I pass out. The rest… I can think about later...” She lifted her eyes to search his face.

 

“…But I swear, you bite me and I will haunt you forever and I make a bad enemy, believe me.”

 

He laughed and felt the tension slide off of his shoulders. At last, he could relax for the time being, but knew that he would be facing an inquisition some time soon, if she didn’t throw him out. Josh reached down, taking her hand that she had lifted for him to pull her up by, then, he circled her waist and took her off her feet in an easy, fluid motion and carried her into the bedroom. Her Chanel No 5 perfume faintly caressed his sinuses; she steadied her self with an arm draped around his neck.

 

“I really trust you Josh; don’t hurt me.” She whispered to him as he pushed the door with his foot.

 

_____________________________________________________________________

 

 

Josh gently placed her, standing, on a sheepskin rug she had on the floor, at the bottom of the bed. Then, with consummate care, he slid the robe from her shoulders, allowing it to fall from her arms by her side. He placed in as neatly as possible on the back of a chair she used to sit on at her dresser. With a dextrous twist of one hand, he undid the clasp of her bra as he faced her and looked into the bottomless liquid pools of her eyes. With much care, he slipped the straps off her freckled shoulders and that too, was allowed to fall from her still arms and placed on top of the robe. She was almost naked now, with only her lacy panties and her dignity covering her. Sal shivered a little and he noticed a slight nervous tic at the corner of her mouth.

 

He took her chin in his hands that seemed huge by comparison to her smallness; he lifted her face to meet his lips. His kiss was almost chaste in its touch on her forehead. Sal made to move into him, but without words and just a little pressure, he made her stand exactly as she was.

 

He kissed her nose and felt it wrinkle as it does when she laughed. Then his lips and the tip of his tongue brushed her glossed mouth before passing to her chin. He bent his knees a little and kissed her throat, noticing the sudden stiffness in her as she realised what he was capable of. But, he didn’t tarry and continued the travels of his lips and exploration. His mouth traced her chest bone and passed between her breasts. Her heart bounced against her ribs, he was gratified by the steady thump.

 

Bending now, almost into a kneeling position, Josh kissed her body just above her belly button and flicked his tongue out to taste her. His thumbs hooked into the elasticated waistband of her panties and pulled them over her hips at the same rate that his tongue and lips gradually travelled to her sex.

 

He stopped at her pubic line and lifted one foot so that she could step out of the panties, then he lifted her other foot and placed the garment with the bra and robe. Josh sat back on his heels and looked her perfection. She had taken to shaving most of her hair away, leaving just a line of black, short fuzz to point to her stomach or her secret places, depending on which way you were going.

 

Her reddened nipples had hardened slightly, not enough to be painful or uncomfortable, but just enough to define their existence and stand away from her dark tan coloured aureoles. He could hear her blood coursing through her veins and watched as her heartbeat made her chest palpitate slightly. Veins faintly tracked in a blue maze across her breasts, it was here that the slight whoosh of pressurized and oxygenated platelets could be heard the clearest.

 

He knelt back up and placed a hand on either hip and lifted still in a standing position as if she were no more than a feather. He continued to lift her, raising her above his head and then, parted her legs with his forehead. Sal lifted one foot at a time and draped them behind his neck. He lowered her, still in an upright position, pushing her legs apart as his face got nearer to her wanting body.

 

She could feel the slight stubble of his cheeks as he brought her down into a sitting position with her weight on his shoulders. His hands caressed her buttocks and supported her back. Then, a flicked tongue parted her labia and found her clit. Sal was totally helpless as he drew her musk-scented lips into his mouth and suckled on her nub of desire.

 

This was so different from their previous sexploits. Before, they would have been connected and fucking at a furious rate by now, but Josh hadn’t even got his clothes off yet and already she was feeling light-headed from the attention her nerve centre was getting.

 

His tongue parted her slickened lips and darted into her deeper recesses. It was like a light bulb had exploded in her brain and Sal rewarded him with her come as she orgasmed. He drank her in and savoured each drop as it passed into his throat to be swallowed and ingested.

 

Still supporting her back, he lent forward and laid her on the bed. His nose was rubbing against her clit as his tongue darted in and out of her wetness. He was driving her to another climax and she needed to feel the rush again as if she hadn’t been there before.

 

Her fingers grasped his hair and she pulled him into her, delighting in the sensations of his nose and tongue. Josh kept a rhythm going, breathing through the side of his mouth so that he didn’t lose contact with her swelling lips. He gauged her climax and as she gripped his hair with claw like fingers, plunged his whole tongue as deeply as he could at the point of her release. It drove her over the edge and she wailed as her body shot her essence into his waiting mouth. 

 

Her legs jerked uncontrollably and her abdominal muscles spasmed as he drained her of her come. Sal had never reached such a place before and almost collapsed from the sheer delight and over stimulation her nerve endings were experiencing.

 

Eventually, when she had subsided, Josh extracted himself from her legs and stood up. Deliberately and slowly, he removed his shirt and pants, all the time looking at her and drinking her beauty in with his luminous eyes. Even this simple act caused Sal to quicken and want him inside her and a desperate need rose within her loins. She had to have him thrusting into her, driving her to distraction and another climax.

 

He stood naked at the foot of the bed between her parted knees that hung over the edge. Sal marvelled at his proportions, at the well-defined musculature of his body. The thought came unbidden, not bad for a body over a hundred years old. She almost giggled at the quip.

 

Then he leant forward and placed his knees on the edge of the bed, balancing on the mattress, before completing the movement and placing his weight on her body.

 

“Let me return the favour.” She whispered, but Josh shook his head and pushed himself into her willing body. She could not deny his entry and in truth, wanted and desperately needed him to fuck her.

 

Josh wasn’t build like a stud stallion, he had an average cock and he wasn’t any kind of sexual athlete, but what he had, he knew how to use. In a short while, Josh had settled on a satisfying pace that would not bring him to climax too soon, but would not last for hours either.

 

It was Sal’s desperate need that drove the coitus and her thrusting up of hips to meet him that set the pace. He adjusted and buried his cock within her depths. Deftly, Sal flipped him over, relieving her stomach of his weight and sat astride him. She felt impaled and rode his member with pelvic rocks and thrusts that had little to do with lovemaking. She wanted his seed to spill inside her and she needed to feel him stiffen and sigh his release. In her need, sensory perceptions were put aside, if he had entered her womb, she would not have known, just the need to have him explode was all she craved. Her pelvic thrusts were happily rubbing her clit on the coarse hair of his genitals, this she could feel, it was an undeniable extra sensation and was taking her to another summit of orgasm.

 

Her need was answered as Josh grasped her hips suddenly and lifted his torso to kiss her lips as he came. His pulling on her lower half drove him deeper and Sal’s own body responded with her third orgasm, which felt almost like a period cramp in her lower abdomen. She fell forward, hair slicked with sweat; her breath short as mini waves pulsed through her body and gradually receded. She was sated and hoped against hope, that Josh was as satisfied as she was.

 

Josh’s own climax reverberated and spasmed as his desire and need retreated. He clung to her waist, gripping her tightly, as if never to release her again. Then he cried in wracking sobs against her breasts. His emotions spilled out in a torrent of saline tears and mucus. She held him to her and gently rocked to and fro. Neither of them felt his cock shrivel and exit her body. It didn’t matter. His soul was bare to her; he was lost.

 

It took him several minutes to calm sufficiently for them to lie side by side. Neither knew who fell asleep first, but for Sal, it was the first time in too long that she had slept the sleep of a fully sated woman.

 

For Josh, it was the first time in his long life that he could sleep safe and warm in the arms of someone who wasn’t to be afraid of, someone whom he could love without reserve or secrets.

 

Her dreams were violent and woke Sal at four in the morning with a start. She was covered with a fine sheen of sweat, even though they had lain over the bed covers, it wasn’t particularly warm. The details of her dream quickly dissipated like water between fingers, but the gist of the dream was blood. Hers or someone else’s she couldn’t remember, but blood had been a major factor.

 

Josh was snoring softly, lying on his back with his legs still dangling over the edge of the bed and an arm slung out where she had rested her head through the night.

 

A wane, early morning light came through the chintzy curtains, enough for her to study his features in repose. Sal knew that she loved this man, knew it with all her heart and the realisation hurt like a brand. What was she to do? It had broken her, last summer, to think that she might have merely been a romance for the brief few holiday weeks. The pain of believing that they would never see each other again came flooding back in all its acuteness. She could not lose this man again, not for a second. But, he wasn’t a man was he? Not like an ordinary regular nine to five guy. He had another life, a separate part of him that didn’t include her. Almost like an illicit affair.

 

She could no more lose him than exist as a part time lover. Either they were to be a partnership for life, her life, she reminded herself, or they would not be anything other than far apart and totally separate. Josh had taken a huge risk in telling her she knew; now it was for her to decide what the future held for them.

 

While most people were still in the loving arms of Morpheus, Sal was sitting up with a coffee, rationalising what her and Josh’s life could be like. Could she allow that other life to co-exist with their erstwhile normal affair? Could she even admit that it would happen, time and time over; she did the math, twelve times per year for what… fifty years if she was lucky enough to live that long. Five times twelve equals sixty add a zero for the multiplication of tens; six hundred times he would be away from her.

 

And then there was the nature of his time separate from her, what would he be doing then? She of course knew the answer, but the enormity of killing to satisfy an animalistic need was, by far, too vast and horrendous for her to touch upon too deeply.

 

She was still pondering when Josh woke. She watched as his eyelids fluttered and then, one by one, opened. He turned towards her and a beautific smile lit up his eyes. Sal’s mind was made up there and then in that instant between sleep and recognition.

 

“Hello.” He croaked, his throat parched from laying on his back and air being sucked over his tongue. “You okay?” He raised himself, to lie on his side his head set on one hand while the other reached for her.

 

She smiled back at him and wordlessly, got up to refresh her coffee and pour one for him.

 

By the time she returned to the bedroom, Josh had been to the toilet and pulled on his pants.

 

She set the coffee down on the dresser and watched to see what would happen next, not knowing what to expect.

 

“Sal…” He began. “…We need to talk I guess.” But, she held her hand up palm out to quash that particular line.

 

“I need to know one thing Josh, that’s all. The rest we can work through some other time, okay?”

 

“Well, what is it you want to know?” She saw the fear of the unknown question in his eyes and the fear that it might be critical to their lives.

 

“Josh. Are you around for good and all, or are you going to leave me like you did last summer?” She thought she knew the answer, but had to hear it from his mouth, rather than assume it.

 

“Sal, I took a risk telling you…”

 

“I know that.” She butted in.

 

“…But you don’t know how much of a risk. For everything, there is an opposite. Heaven only exists because of hell, evil because of goodness, light as opposed to darkness; in my case, werewolf and slayer.”

 

“Buffy strikes again.” She laughed mirthlessly.

 

“It isn’t funny. I know my slayer, I know them and I know where they are, and they are the scariest person I have ever known. I am frightened beyond belief of them Sal.”

 

“So who is this person?”

 

“My nemesis is you. I knew it when I first touched you last year. I knew it from the very first second, it was like an electric shock, but I also knew I had to know you, the real you. Sal, if you so desired, it is you who could destroy me, not the other way around. So you see; I took a huge risk to my very existence last night.” He watched her intently, waiting for some reaction.

 

Her voice softened.

 

“I know you did Josh. I know you did” He reached for her, grasping at her waist to pull her to him, but she twisted away, flapping at his hands.

 

“I got work Buster and I need a shower.”

 

Sal went to work, but not before he had made her dirty again and made a mess of the sheets.

 

It was two and a half weeks later that the eve of the full moon occurred.

 

Josh prowled the apartment restlessly, unable to settle, his senses heightened and a nervous tension tightened him into a coiled spring.

 

Sal couldn’t fail but to notice Josh’s unease and wondered what was to come. She knew it would happen and had even romantised about Josh’s change from human male to male wolf. She had seen the movies and it was those images that she transposed into what for her was likely going to be real life.

 

But, Sal wasn’t to see Josh’s transformation. Instead, he told her he had to be away and excused himself long before nightfall. She couldn’t help the feeling of exclusion. A certain desperate loneliness crept in after he had closed the front door. She knew this was the first time, had even anticipated the awkwardness of the situation, but she thought that he would trust her enough to allow her to be a part of his alternative life, even if it was only his transference.

 

Sal went to bed, dejectedly and fretted sleeplessly. Their lives over the few short weeks had settled into a routine of sorts. She worked during the day, he looked after his business interests, they ate, either in our out and then fucked each other senseless at night.

 

But, tonight, she was not part of the equation and it hurt in an acute stab to her vitals.

 

It all changed though a few hours before dawn. For some, probably maternal based, reason, Sal had placed a candle in the window facing the street and got up to check that it hadn’t burned down or was setting fire to the curtain.

 

She turned once satisfied that the candle was still burning and the curtains still fluttered in the slight breeze with out scorching, but a shadow caught the corner of her eye, a darker space than the pitch blackness, passed the window and beyond view in a blink. Sal paused on her way back to bed and turned to see the huge grey wolf crouching on the cill. The window was open and there was nothing but empty space between her and it.

 

Neither of them moved, just stared at each other wordlessly, sightlessly in her case, she hadn’t the capability to discern from what meagre light there was. The space between them was a barrier of difference; two separate worlds entirely. It was Sal who broke the trance and turned back to her bedroom, leaving the animal alone.

 

She closed the door, but didn’t latch it and soon after she had settled into the warm spot where she had lain, she heard soft pad falls approach the door and then cross the carpeted floor.

 

Sal turned to her side towards the side of the bed nearest the door. At first, he was beyond her spectrum of colour, blending into the darkness of the room, and then she saw the darkness of his bulk as he closed the space between them. She held her breath, believing, trusting that he wouldn’t hurt her, but at the same time, knowing she was in the presence of a wild thing and there was no protective barrier to save her. No silver cross or bullet or what ever it was that gave protection from such an otherworldly thing.

 

He smelled of earth, of dew and of blood. The cloying smell of blood was the worst and she thought the hardest to ignore. She opened her mouth to speak some words, perhaps of welcome, but his tongue passed her lips and found her own tongue in a caress so surprising and instantly erotic that she didn’t respond in any way for a few seconds, transfixed to the spot.

 

Almost as an automotive action as most people do with a pet, she reached out and scratched him behind his ears and stroked the coarse fur on his neck. She felt the weight of his paws on the edge of the bed and then a further depression as his hindquarters followed his front.

 

He lay alongside her, still kissing her mouth, licking her lips to part them and then, passing his tongue into her mouth in an ever frenetic and insistent demand for response. It was working; Sal’s own mating instincts were being fostered into urgency. Pheromones exuded from her very pores, her heart rate doubled, then tripled, adrenalin coursed through her veins and the pressure of desire mounted within her breast.

 

Breathlessly, she broke the umbilical contact of tongue and mouth, but only momentarily to shift her position, embracing the huge wolf’s torso with encircling arms.  They kissed again; Sal sucked his tongue into her mouth and tasted blood. It excited her in a feral way, she found it strangely exhilarating and stimulating, knowing that he had the wildness to kill, was ruthless enough to be indiscriminate in his choice of prey, but he was here and they were about to mate and he had eaten his fill somewhere.

 

Her fingers massaged his back, feeling the muscle under the coarse fur. She found that place just above the tail; that when rubbed the wrong way, sends dogs into a delirium. He responded with involuntary humps of his pelvis, she felt him bump against her stomach and then could feel his growing hardness probing at her pubic bone.

 

Sal reached down and found his cock, already unsheathed and passing precum as a lubricant, which slicked her palm. Gently, she circled his thrusting and throbbing cock and guided it to her labia. In this position, he would not be able to enter her, but his thrusting would rub his pointed shaft over her waiting clit. From the first touch, she felt a fire being stoked in her guts; the subsequent friction of cock and clit fanned the flames as they thrust against each other until her body was a raging inferno of need and animalistic desire.

 

Sal broke contact; unable to stand the torment her body was suffering any longer. She slid down and enveloped his shaft in her warm mouth, tasting his precum as it slide over her tongue. At first, it was okay and a very pleasant experience for both of them, but her sucking and bobbing were taking him to a point of no return and she was in danger of getting all of his pointed cock into her gullet with his seed at the same time. He could not control the urge to hump and, although she tried to control the depth by circling him with her fist, it was getting to the point that neither of them would be able to handle.

 

She rolled away from him and spun over to her hands and knees in an open invitation for him to mount her and consummate their union.

 

The wolf approached her, using his sensory perceptions to gauge how ready she in fact, was for him. An exploratory lick over her labia and anus brought an immediate torrent of heated come from her. It gushed in a short blast, catching him in surprise as it flooded his nose and mouth. He sneezed and then went back for more. Her pheromone charged aroma was diving him wild with need. He mounted her, forelegs wrapping in a vicelike grip with locked forepaws around her waist. His hindquarters pistoning of their own volition. He was missing her entrance by some margin, but the friction of her fur covered mound against the delicate skin of his nerve packed shaft was almost as good.

 

She reached back and helped him home in on her vagina. In a blur of motion, he was buried inside her before either of them knew much about it. An adjustment of his hold and stance allowed for a greater depth and he sunk the entire length of his cock into her warm and willing recesses.

 

Sal gasped as his pointed head nudged her womb entrance and keep up an assault on her reproductive organs. His point entered and she was being fucked into her own delirium. She was past coming, past orgasm, both of which had been rapid and frequent since he had started this. Now it was a question of surviving and getting him to climax before passing out.

 

His knot was deep inside her and growing at a rapid rate. The pressure on her bladder and inner walls increased as his tempo started to diminish. His strokes decreased in rapidity, but lengthened. Her own natural reaction was to tighten her vaginal muscles and successfully lock him in. It was this action of her subconscious mating instinct that triggered his release.

 

Sal screamed as the first spurts of hot semen flooded her womb. It didn’t burn, but filled her with immediate warmth that seemed to radiate from her depths in a glow of triumphant success. He kept pumping spurt after spurt, filling her body with his seed.

 

They stayed locked, Sal with her sweat soaked hair-hanging limp from her head. He was now turned ass-to-ass and panting hard from the exertion. His panting caused him to move slightly and the movement was keeping Sal over the edge in small orgasms that had all the hallmarks of epileptic seizure.

 

The first light of dawn touched him and, still in a kneeling position, his now flaccid cock dribbled from her body. Somehow, he managed to find the strength to turn around and flop almost in a dead feint, flat out on the bed. Sal fell beside him; they slept in each other’s arms as his seed seeped from her body and slowly dried on the sheets and their skin.

 

The same thing occurred the next month when he returned from his hunt. It occurred to Sal that she was adjusting to his nightlife and sleeping in daylight on that night/day of the month. No big problem except when she was teaching.

 

Once or twice over the next few months, she had to call in sick, saying that she had a bad period, not strictly untrue in a sense, but she felt guilty about it. She was also missing her friends. Making plans to see them and then, cancelling at the last minute.

 

They were settling into a routine of life partnership. But, their lovemaking during the days between full moons was waning a little into purely functional sex, a mechanism for cementing their relationship and gratification when the need arose.

 

The time for a decision was fast approaching; Sal knew it, could feel the impending moment approach and had no answer prepared.

 

She waited until he returned from his nighttime excursions and had fucked her in a frenzy of lust until the morning light returned him to human form.

 

“Josh…” She began, having thought it through, agonised and then made her choice.

 

“…I want to be like you. I want to hunt with you, run alongside you and I want your children, if that’s possible.”  She was surprised at his lack of reaction and thought he hadn’t heard her, so she repeated it closer to his sweat soaked ear.

 

“I hear you Sal.” Was all he had to say before he either fell into a deep sleep, or feigned oblivion, so her question might not need to be answered.

 

She was badly hurt that such a momentous decision should be treated so lightly, and instead of sleeping along side him, got up, dressed and went into the street where her anonymity would help her grieve for his lack of interest. She walked the freshly washed streets, observing the early morning people, ones she never saw normally. She savoured the smells of the new day and found a coffee at an all nightstand. She had to fend off an advance from a couple of drunken kids who were obviously returning from a party. Her head cleared and she resolved to corner Josh into telling her his true feelings.

 

She let herself back into the apartment and found him sitting on a chair in the window box with his feet propped up on the railing.

 

Neither spoke, waiting for the other to make the first sortie. It was Josh who gave in first.

 

“Sal, have you really thought about what you have asked?”

 

“Of course I bloody have.” She exploded. “I mean, it ain’t like getting married is it?”

 

“Yes, but do you understand the full consequences?”

 

“What like you and I would be together forever? No I hadn’t thought about it much.” Her derisive words smacked into him and she saw his wince, but he rallied and looked at her as he spoke.

 

“If you were the same as me, there will be two new slayers in the world, one for each of us, they will be driven into finding us and killing us, because we are different, an abhoration to the norm. You will become an outcast Sal, all of your previous life will alter, everything. We will not be able to stay here, but move and then move again and again. Is that what you want? Can you give up your life? It isn’t just for the moon once a month, but for the rest of your life. It fills every day; it is a whole life change. Do you…can you love me enough?”

 

Sal looked at him straight into his eyes, and then rushed at him as if to attack and hurt him. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his lips before breathing into his mouth.

 

“Yes you fool, I want it. I want you and you had better not ever forget it.

 

The next full moon found two werewolves prowling the fields for prey. One huge, almost black, male and his lifelong companion, a sliver grey female in the first flush of pregnancy.

 

Back in those days of our early marriage, when we didn’t have the encumbrance of children or a mortgage or money worries, we just enjoyed ourselves, discovering each other and growing up. Halcyon days they were indeed and in truth, somewhat missed now.

 

Back in those days, Jenni’s figure was 34” 22” 36”. Her hair was, and still is, dark blonde. Her skin was flawless and glowed with vigour. Dark blonde lashes and a ready smile framed blue eyes that seemed to see beyond the norm. She was slender with medium sized breasts high on her chest. One has always been slightly larger and higher than the other. It is her deformity, as she laughingly puts it. She has and had what are called child bearing hips. She proved that to be wrong, never able to carry to full term. It proved fatal to our child on one occasion, but the other two have survived to be parents themselves. Jenni’s hips were a feature of her figure and, given the overall package, in no way detrimental to the vision she was then, but they might be considered out of proportion, Jenni is only five feet tall. Although her hips are a feature, it is her smile that I find so devastating; being self conscious, she rarely laughs out loud, but her smile can carry so many meanings, but there is one special smile that melts my heart. It carries a promise of delights, of knowing exactly what it is that I want, knowing that she can provide exactly that.

 

It took me some time, years perhaps, to learn how, but I have and still do, love that woman more than words could ever justify. In those days, we were just getting to know one another and fancied each others bodies to distraction, and why not? Screwing like the proverbial rabbits and discovering our bodies and what they were capable of.

 

We didn’t have the encumbrance of children as I said earlier, neither did we have a car or very much money, but it was enough. Our weekends were spent going out, anywhere that took our fancy. Just pack some food in a rucksack, buy a couple of train tickets and disappear for the weekend.

 

This particular weekend was just one of those times when we left the rigours of work behind and explored the freedom of the country. I still have some old instamatic photos of our trip to Dorking in Surrey, my birth place. Occasionally, I look at the old and curled pictures and remember the day. One of the pictures is of her crossing a style into a cow field. The River Mole in the background. She was laughing her head off because she couldn’t work out how to get her leg over. It is a great shot. She had a red and black collared top on that was closely fitted and accentuated her wonderful form. Her dark blue corduroy shorts showed her fantastic legs off to the full, but the smile radiates from the acetate and glows. It is a treasured photo.

 

We laughed all through the day. She got scared by the size of the Friesian cows that looked disinterestedly in our direction while we crossed their field. We made love on the bank of the river and as usual, it was over before it began. I suffered badly with premature ejaculation. It was a real problem then and very frustrating, fortunately, and filled with the clamour of youth, I was able to reload and the second time was far more gratifying, but hardly rocked her boat. Jenni admitted years later that she often wondered if that was all sex was about and wondered why she had been so scared as a girl.

 

We were still laughing on the train home, sitting in a musty carriage that smelled of British Rail’s very own brand of staleness. It was one of those carriages that were connected with a side corridor and had separate booths along the length with blinds on the window. It is a shame that modernisation has caught up with us, those carriages had real potential, the new open plan things are no fun at all.

 

I remember the conversation. I don’t have a naturally retentive mind, but some things stick out through association. We laid a stupid bet, one that neither of us had any real intention of wanting to win or even try out, but as an argument will escalate to spiral out of control, so this bet gathered pace and fed on its own velocity. I bet Jenni that I could get the phone number of a complete stranger of the opposite sex before she could. It had to be a member of the opposite sex and a five pound wager was placed between us. Five pounds was half of my weekly wage in those days.

 

The train stopped at East Croydon which was a terminus then. Long seconds turned into even longer minutes and it looked as if we were to sit on the train for some time. The bet was set during that wait and opportunity being the mother of invention, was immediately taken up by both of us.

 

I admit to leering at the young girls who patiently waited for our train to pull out so they could catch a later one. I leered, cajoled and tried my best to attract any girl to become even remotely interested in me. My failure was spectacular especially when two girls openly pointed at me and laughed derisively. I even resorted to whistling at some ugly girl, desperate to win the bet. Her scorn was palpable and hit me hard. A man’s ego is a fragile thing and so easily dented or even mortally wounded. I was wounded by the failure and gave up on the venture.

 

Jenni on the other hand, not only had a guy’s phone number, but was entertaining another guy in the carriage. She told me later that all she did was flash her eyes at him and that was all she needed. My deflated ego had a hard time digesting that.

 

I really don’t remember him too much. Probably, he was covered in spots with badly fitting clothes and halitosis. See, even now I am jealous.

 

They were deep in conversation, facing each other on opposite bench seating. She was leaning back with her arms crossed over her breasts; he was leaning forward and sat on the edge of the musty seat. If I knew then what I know of body language, I would have recognised her withdrawal from him, while he was exuding his willingness to get to know her rather more closely.

 

I slid the door open and in the split second it takes to assess the scene, smiled at her. Jenni smiled back and flashed her eyes in triumph. She had won the bet in spades and knew it, but wanted this guy gone.

 

I sat next to her and put my arm around her shoulders. He got the message when she leaned into me and kissed my mouth. With no further word, he left us to the relative peace of the carriage and its eddying dust motes that swirled in the shafts of sunlight coming through the brown stained windows.

 

Unforgivably, I challenged her to double or nothing. I mean; how stupid can a bloke be? The answer is right here on the other side of the keypad of my laptop. Here it stupidity in all its glory.

 

The result was a forgone conclusion and I had no chance at all. By the way reader, I should say that I am not ugly by any means. That isn’t a boast on my part, please believe that. I was a reasonably good looking guy, slender and clear skinned with good hair. But, I may as well have been Quasimodo. In fact, he might have even scored before me.

 

So, I returned to the carriage, once again deflated in the ego department and found that once again, Jenni had scored and was entertaining another young guy. Instead of sliding the door open, I watched her at work on the poor sap. He was obviously smitten by her loveliness and it was obvious that he was having trouble keeping his hands off of her. For her part, she seemed to be rather more interested. She leaned forward towards him and her hands were animated as she spoke. He was also leaning forward with his hands clasped together, a scant inch from her bare knees that she held together. His eyes were almost a big as saucers as he took her face and body in.

 

I really cannot remember what he looked like except that he wore faded jeans and a jacket over a chequered, open necked shirt. I do remember the shoes though, because I have always wanted a pair of tan coloured suede dessert boots.

 

She looked over to me and smiled a conspiratal wink and I signalled that I would stay right where I was, observing the scene as it unfolded before me.

 

They continued to talk, their voices muffled by the grimy glass of the partition. Both of them expressing their points in pronounced flurries of expansive hand gestures that punctuated speech. Then he got up quite suddenly and sat next to Jenni and smiled her assent to his closeness. She turned to face him and glanced at me over his shoulder momentarily, then concentrated on his face. I watched as she folded one leg under her and stretched the other in a languid fluidity of motion. It was an open invitation, albeit subconscious, but an invitation none the less and he read it as such. His hand lightly dropped onto her knee and stayed there.

 

The train lurched into motion with much creaking and the sound of shunting buffers. It picked up speed and left the station platform behind. I hardly noticed; my attention was totally enthralled at my wife and this guy whose hand was travelling ever so slowly up the outside of her thigh.

 

I could see her lips were parted and moist. They had become coloured slightly as they always did when she got excited. It acted like a beacon to me in our sex life, knowing that she signalled her readiness to couple in this way as well as other obvious signs.

 

They were still talking, although I couldn’t hear what was being said, but her smile and the way she studied his eyes told me that his advance was not entirely unwelcome. His hand had continued to traverse over her thigh and was now resting on her waist. Then Jenni surprised me. Her animated hands suddenly grasped his face and drew him forward into a kiss that must have done similar things to his nervous system as it was doing to mine.

 

Her breast was cupped in his large hand and she leaned back against the wall of the carriage, unfolding the leg she was sitting on so that it passed behind him along the seat. He was between her parted knees, massaging her breast through the stripey top and bra underneath. Involuntarily, her hips thrust forward in readiness to mate. He knelt up on the seat and lay against her, blocking my view a little with his jacketed torso.

 

They continued the embrace, kissing with a passion that was quickly becoming out of control. He had pulled the bottom of her top from out of her shorts and he had managed to grasp her breast under the fabric. It was perhaps the hottest scene I had ever witnessed, made all the more exciting by the knowledge of how she felt in my hands and knowing that her nipples were extremely sensitive to touch. It also added to my increasing arousal, not being able to see exactly what he was doing.

 

Jenni broke the kiss and gently pushed him back. She said something to him and started to come towards the sliding door. I stepped back out of sight so that he wouldn’t see me as he followed her progress with hunger in his eyes.

 

Once out of the carriage, she slid the door shut and came to me. Her arousal was plainly obvious in the bruised colouring of her lips and her heat as she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply.

 

She breathed into my mouth, asking me if I like what I had watched and if I wanted her to stop and not go back into the carriage.

 

I told her just how hot she and the guy looked, how sexy I found her and watching as she was getting it on with this stranger, but I warned her to be careful, we didn’t know the guy.

 

Jenni reassured me that she had it under control and then dropped a complete bombshell, would I like her to take him home and fuck him properly with me watching. God only knows where she got that idea from, but it took me less than the space of a blink to whisper in her ear, God, yes.

 

She had told him she was going to the toilet and should get back quickly, but that she loved me, that she was having the day of her life and wanted this more than anything.

 

With that, she slid the door open and returned to the carriage and his waiting and eager arms.

 

I let them settle back into an embrace before resuming my voyeuristic vigil. The train pulled into Norwood Junction and halted briefly for alighting and departing passengers. Then, the journey to Forest Hill continued and their love making or at least, the overtures to it began again.

 

He had her top pulled up, exposing her bra covered breast. It was so sexy, seeing his hands kneading her flesh while sunlight glinted through the window and played over her alabaster coloured skin and flashed on the whiteness of the lacy fabric.

 

Deftly, he unclasped her brassiere with one hand and freed her tits from confinement, only to be confined by his hand on one and his mouth on the other. I knew that it would drive Jenni wild and saw the effect his ministrations were having as she arched her back and gasped.

 

I was aware of another person beside me and looked as my viewing had been joined by another guy. He acknowledged me with a wink and then craned his neck to get a better view. I guess my position at the window didn’t help and in a comical way crawled across to the other side so his view would be uninterrupted.

 

My gaze returned back to find that He was standing in front of Jenni. She was slowly unzipping his trousers while looking up into his eyes, her head tilted back and her dark blonde hair cascaded down her back in careless profusion of curls.

 

Her hand quested inside the aperture and brought forth his cock. Her eyes widened at the size of his uncut and engorged cock, just as mine did. He was enormous in comparison to me and a moment of concern crossed my mind. He was likely to hurt her with such a huge weapon.

 

Slowly, Jenni’s hand encircled his rigid member and her lips parted in a wicked smile as she licked the end and passed her tongue over her lips. I knew she was doing this as much for the show as for her own pleasure and blessed her for the effort she was putting in.

 

 She pulled back his foreskin and gradually, the distance between his twitching cock and her mouth closed. It was like watching a docking of space capsules in slow motion. Her mouth opened and his exposed head passed into the warmth of her moist mouth. I watched fascinated as inch by inch, she took him into her throat until she must have enveloped five inches or so. Worryingly, there was still another three or four that was wrapped in her fist.

 

Her head began to bob, her cheeks puffing as his length slipped backwards and forwards in an increasing pace. She kept it up for a while, alternatively sucking and licking him, running her tongue around the ridged end. He was having difficulty in standing, the motion of the swaying carriage and her mouth conspiring to upset his balance. Jenni pulled him from her mouth and adjusted her position in front of him, then smiled up at him while she allowed his re-entry into her waiting haven. Only this time, she took her hand off of his cock and grasped his buttocks, controlling his movement and helping him to stay steady. In an amazing act, she plunged her head forward and took his whole length into her throat.

 

The guy standing opposite me groaned and sprayed his semen over the floor in an unabashed hand job. He grinned sheepishly at me and said this was the hottest thing he had ever seen. I nodded my agreement, a little shocked at his casual attitude to masturbation, and returned to the unfolding act.

 

He was buried deeply into her, rocking his hips and fucking her throat. I could see the progress of his cock as her neck expanded and contracted with the motion. Jenni had sucked me on a few occasions, but it didn’t look anything like this and I wished I could measure up to his length.

 

He grabbed her head and gently pulled his cock from her mouth, it was obvious that he was in danger of flooding her with his seed. Jenni had other ideas though and grasped his purple ended dick and swallowed it in a furious motion of fucking him into her throat. She had every intention of taking him all the way and savouring his come.

 

He threw his head back, his eyes clenched tightly and a rictus like grimace pulled the corners of his mouth tight. Then he came and shouted something as the first wave of his ecstasy exploded from him closely followed by shudders of ejaculation as he filled her mouth. Jenni withdrew him, licked the last drops from his glistening gland and then opened her mouth wide to show him his seed as it played across her tongue. He said something I couldn’t make out, but his reaction as she swallowed the whole amount was unmistakable, it didn’t need a lip reader to see him say “Oh fuck me.”

 

The other guy who had joined me in our voyeurism shook his head in awe and said what a lucky guy her partner was. My reply foxed him for a moment when I said that indeed, I truly was a lucky man.

 

Forest Hill came up shortly afterwards, just enough time for them to adjust her clothing and for him to calm down. I realised I had the tickets and needed to get one to Jenni, luckily, the platform was on her side of the carriage. I managed to drop her ticket as I wordlessly passed between them and stepped onto the platform.

 

She was going to take him home and I needed to get there first.

 

Fortunately for me, a bus was just leaving the bus stop; I ran full tilt and jumped onto the platform. It would give me a head start and allow me to prepare.

 

The lesson

 

Part two (The bedroom)

 

I managed the trip to our house with no events. Shutting the door with a slam, I raced around the house, desperately thinking of where I should be when they came in. I was still trying to work something out when her key opened the door and their laughter drifted up the stairs.

 

I risked a peek over the banister and watched as they ripped clothes off of each other. Jenni had her leg hooked around his waist and her mouth planted on his. Gasps and grunts punctuated their frantic efforts to kiss, screw and divest their clothing, all at the same time. He lost balance and fell to the carpeted stair with her on top of him. She giggled as he pulled her top over her head and off of her raised arms. His shirt parted from her pulling at it and dropped to the floor to join her bra and discarded top. He managed to stand again and undid the button of her shorts. They too dropped to join the detritus of shed layers. He was about to yank her panties down, but she stopped him saying breathlessly, upstairs. She raced up as he followed closely behind.

 

Silently, I backed into the spare bedroom, but left the door open enough to be able to see their progress along the passage that led towards the two rooms. His hand had grasped her ass and she was giggling hysterically, almost running along the passage, her breasts jiggling deliciously. I had a moment of panic, thinking that she might chose the wrong room, but was instantly relieved as she headed into the bedroom. The door stayed open.

 

We had a large mirror opposite the bed, that topped and huge old chest of drawers. I had angled it so that I would have an uninterrupted view of their play. Not wanting to miss a single thing, as soon as the springs groaned with their weight, I took up a position in the doorway, protected by the opened door and watched as the last of his clothing sailed into a corner, leaving him with only a pair of pants on.

 

They embraced, with Jenni on her back and he lying on his side with her head supported on his arm. He was tracing the veins that always showed under the alabaster coloured skin of her breast. The frenetic pace had calmed now that they were horizontal and almost naked. He kissed her, murmuring into her parted lips, professing his desire for her body. Jenni in turn, Mmmed and ran her hands through his hair and down his back, pulling him against her lithe body.

 

He raised and cupped his head while his free hand travelled in achingly slow swirls, ever towards the prized of her sex. A thumb hooked the elasticated band of her panties and eased them over her thighs, working alternate sides, gradually exposing her blond haired mons. Her hips raised and the panties also became airborne as they sailed across the room like a discarded sweet wrapper.

 

He was taking his time now, savouring each moment and movement as it developed. It was a form of foreplay that had not occurred to me and the effect it had on my wife was duly noted and logged.

 

He kissed the nearest nipple to him, gripping the hardening nub between his teeth and pulling and drawing it upwards. It looked painful, but obviously wasn’t, instead, she squealed and gasped as he suddenly released the trapped nerve ending and flicked his tongue over the sensitive nub. It was the only contact he had with her body, just his tongue and mouth. His hands were either supporting his head, or lying impassively along his length. I had to admit, her choice was good to look at, even though he was a man.

 

He nuzzled her neck, one of Jenni’s erogenous zones and always bound to produce a result. She responded as I thought she would, grasping his head and shoulders in what looked like a desperate attempt to hurry him along. He had his own agenda and was not to be hurried now that he had her under his control.

 

He kissed her throat and planted small kisses between her breasts, then slightly lower, pausing at her navel and spreading a slick of saliva on her skin and a trail of goose bumps. She shivered and writhed as his tongue and lips traversed her skin, always heading towards her sex, but in his own time. Even I was getting a little impatient with his performance, until, in a sudden surge of sinuous movement, he swung a leg over hers, parting her knees and planting his mouth against her silken mons.

 

She groaned as his tongue flicked out, parting her lips and seeking her desirable centre. He then began sucking and licking her clit and labia, bringing her to a brink and then halting in a sensual tease, just keeping her shy of release. I watched and learned every nuance of his technique and marvelled at the way he played her nerves and body as a virtuoso might a grand piano.

 

His fingers joined his mouth, prising open her lips and gently pushing into her, looking for that magical “G” spot. He knew just where and how to manipulate and caress her, keeping her on the edge of orgasm, but just far enough away for it not to spill over. She had been to the threshold several times and each withdrawal raised the need and desperation until she cried out for release.

 

The combination of tongue, teeth and finger tips combined to drive her almost delirious with want until he relented and took her to the brink and then beyond. In amazement, I watched as a stream of come sprayed from Jenni while she screamed, raised her shoulders and shuddered. Unable to take any more, she pushed him away in a defensive action, but already too late. I had never got her to this point, but could hardly be surprised. I was watching a master at work and the results of his practiced art splashed against his face and soaked into the quilt.

 

Jenni was coming down in receding shudders and quivers of uncontrolled nervous energy. Over the initial amalgamation of overly stimulated nerves, she collapsed back to laying flat. She had the back of her hand clenched between her teeth and her breath rasped in a ragged staccato between her lips whiles her legs spas med in uncontrolled twitches. She was obviously experiencing a total climax, a shattering of her normal aplomb and equilibrium. The invasion of her body had driven her to a point of incapacitation that, to the observer, looked like the effects of an electric shock.

 

He allowed her to calm. Laying beside her and gently massaging her stomach and ribs as if helping her breath. Jenni was gasping, but managed to say in a gruff voice that it had been fantastic. She clasped his neck, locking her fingers together and drew him to her lips. She kissed him and took the occasional gasp from the side of her mouth. In a much less frenetic pace, his hands took her breast and teased her nipples to erection. Once again, her breathing became rapid and she squirmed under his ministrations. His mouth left hers and suckled on her engorged nubs.

 

As if in slow motion, her parted her knees with his knee and slid between her opened legs. Carefully and deliberately slowly, he positioned his cock at her entrance and agonisingly slowly, pushed the head past her outer muscles to rest just inside her. In the ultimate tease to Jenni and the voyeur, he ceased the push and just stayed inside while he kissed her tits and kneaded her flesh, finding erogenous zones at her arm pits and the inside of her elbows. She hardly moved, looking transfixed like a rabbit in the head lamps of an onrushing car.

 

He was playing her again, plucking at the taut strings of her nerves and raising her already heightened condition. He maintained the position and manipulations, bringing her to a crescendo and teasing her with the promise of fulfilment. He kept it up until, the waiting and desire overcame her and she cried out in readiness. He waited until her cries became desperate, then, when he judged her to be ready, plunged his rigid shaft into her in one fluid motion that made her scream in pleasure and release from the waiting. Her knees instinctively rose up and she gripped him with her ankles crossed behind him and with her own lower body strength, pulled him even further into her body.

 

He set a rhythm that was uncompromising and insistent, but unhurried. His cock drove into her in long strokes. His mouth found her neck, one of the most productive erogenous places, with the added stimulation, Jenni took over the pace and forced him even deeper into her by raising her hips and rotating her them a little to accommodate his angle. Her free hand found her clit and massaged in time to their thrusting.

 

She wouldn’t last too long I knew, not fully recovered from her last climax. Watching them fucking was a fantastic experience. I watched and learned his technique, how he played with her and kept her on the brink of orgasm. He looked impassioned, but knew he must be enjoying every second of this beautiful woman and her body.

 

Jenni was crying, tears slipping down her cheeks and sobs wracking her body. She was rapidly reaching another shattering climax. He breathing rapid and her movements becoming jerky and uncoordinated and then it hit her like a tsunami, a tidal wave of emotion and nervous energy. Her come sprayed under pressure from between her and his pubic meeting point. Jenni screamed and her legs thrashed as it washed over her, soaking her tits and stomach. It sprayed in a fountain of liquid and acted as his signal. His pace increased and he adjusted slightly and buried himself to a depth he had not been before. In rapid and savage thrusts, his cock drove into her in repeated thrusts until he yelled himself and emptied his sacs of sperm into Jenni’s womb.

 

Statuesque, he remained motionless as spurt after spurt liberally coated her insides. Then he pulled himself upright and knelt at her face for Jenni to take him in her mouth and clean him of their combined juices.

 

He laid along side her as she twitched and jumped in small charges of nervous tics, holding her as if she might jump off the bed from her energy being expended.

 

Dumfounded by the action and Jenni’s reaction to his ministrations and with a hardest cock I had ever had, I crept away from the doorway and noiselessly went downstairs to the front door and opened it. Then I slammed it shut and called up the stairs, as if just coming home, then went into the kitchen and rattled the kettle.

 

I heard his hurried escape, and saw his retreating back as he, comically, was trying to put on his Jeans and shirt while carrying his jacket and shoes. The door shut behind him quietly and Jenni came to the kitchen, her knees unsteady, her face and lips flushed. She collapsed into my arms and I carried her to the front room to lay her on the sofa.

 

She was soaked and the smell of sex and sweat exuded from her. We didn’t make love at that time, she was far too exhausted, but, when we did the next day or whenever it was, my own performance was all the better for the master class. I had a much better understanding of how her body worked and so did Jenni. We had both learned from the experience and it was the start of our satisfying and beautiful sex life. Neither of us needed to use another in our play and fortunately for me, Jenni never wished to revisit sex with another man.

 

That was over thirty years ago, but the memory remains as vivid as if were still playing before my eyes. Remembering has been a wonderful reminder of how beautiful my wife is and both she and I will be going to our bed to remember the feelings of lust and love together.

The door opened and my owner poked his head around the edge. It felt like I had been staring at the closed portal for most of my life, but of course, knew that it had only been an hour or two.

 

“Cujo; Come boy.” His head disappeared from the left open door and unfamiliar scents wafted from the room beyond. I knew that he was not alone and that the other person was female. Her perfume had leeched through the gap under the door. The chemical mixture may have been attractive to his somewhat limited olfactory senses; to mine it was repugnant and did not improve when I followed him into the room.

 

John had introduced me to one or two of his lady friends and had even got me to play with them to the point of giving them the benefit of my tongue. Of course, it depended on how I liked them. I have to say that his choice in women had its flaws and most of them were no more than skin covered skeletons with little more life than a marrow bone. We had had some fun with some of them though and even had one or two come back for a re-run. I guess John liked his bachelor status because he rarely had them come back to our pied-e-tere more than twice.

 

This woman had all the hall marks of being a bimbo. Blonde hair, too much make up and cheap perfume all contributed to the supposition. Unfair I guess, the fact that my introduction had her at the distinct disadvantage of being completely naked, prostrated across John’s leather sofa. I noticed a tattoo on her hip of a dolphin, jumping from a splash of water. It looked like the rest of her, cheap. Equally unfairly, I took an instant dislike to the girl and sat down resolutely, out of reach and disinterestedly scratched an ear.

 

John sat beside her; his hand caressed her thigh and then spread her legs so that he could access her sex. She was hairless, but thin stubble showed where she was in need of a shave. Her hair, if had been allowed to grow would be dark, so she wasn’t a natural blonde. I notice things like that. If a dog could communicate with humans, it would tell you that humans rely too much on cosmetics and unnatural stimulants and far too much messing around with your natural state. I often wondered what you would be like kept away from baths and razors for any length of time.

 

His fingers had found her sex, parted her lips and with the dexterity of those digits, were frigging her while rubbing her clitoris with his thumb. I had heard her moans through the door; it was a familiar sound in John’s apartment. The ministration of his right hand and then his tweaking her nipple with his free hand soon had her writhing as an orgasm, real or faked approached. She exuded little by way of pheromones, so telling her actual sexual state wasn’t possible.

 

I will let you into a secret, a female, regardless of species, carries a powerful aphrodisiac in her natural lubricant. Her sweat glands will have provided the initial attractant, but as she lubricates her sex, secret pheromones are released that no male animal can resist. For most of the animal kingdom, it only happens during their season or productive cycle, but the female of the human race has this hold over her mate, being able to enthral almost at will. He is totally unaware of this though, being unable to discern the chemical concoction through limited olfactory senses.

 

He must have been hitting the spot, because her scent wafted on the slight breeze.

 

My own receptors registered her readiness to mate in a clarion call that spoke to me as loudly as if she shouted an inch from my ear. It is an undeniable attractant to me and, as her impending orgasm approached, proved to be a scent trail that irresistibly drew me forward.

 

John’s fingers were buried inside her and his thumb was pressed firmly against her clit, rubbing in a circular motion. That’s all very well to sex her up, but what a woman really wants is to be caressed with a warm and insidious tongue, especially as she squirts her most potent fluids.

 

I had to nudge his questing fingers away and then gave her a long and luscious lick that collected her essences in a single lash. She tasted better than she smelled and of course, her natural juice did its wonders to my taste buds. The next taste of her was followed by rapid tonguing that entered her sex and covered her clit. Her heat and smell were intoxicating, providing a heady mixture of scent that had my tongue slavering against her flesh.

 

The rasp of her stubble was actually quite nice as it irritated my top gum, but it was quickly becoming uncomfortable. To avoid the rough contact, I had to get up on the sofa and tilt my head back to get my nose out of the way and curl my lips back as if snarling into her depths. It had a salutary effect; my tongue passed her outer lips and found her inner being. She was hot and very wet from her own secretions and my saliva. I kept lapping at her, tasting her and knowing that she was climbing a crescendo of lust and wantonness. Her hips were raising, knees spread wide, and she was granting me full permission of entry and screaming her compliance in the act.

 

Then suddenly and with no warning, her knees snapped shut, trapping my ears between her thighs as her climax forged its way through her. A tide of her come flooded my throat and nose from the sheer force of the torrent. Trapped, I could do nothing about it for a moment except swallow her and try to clear my airway.

 

Just as suddenly, her back arched and a spasm rippled through her, releasing me and throwing her off the sofa onto the floor on her back. She twitched and writhed as if she were in seizure. Her lips pulled back in a rictus grin, hands forming fists on either side of her forehead, her breathing rasped between her even white teeth that were locked together. Her climax rippled and folded her, come leaked from her sex, to pool on the floor between her parted legs.

 

Gradually, she regained control of her synaptic senses, her breathing settled and her lips covered her teeth in a tight line. She gasped something unintelligible and grasped John’s arm in a vice like clawing grip. He kissed her and pried her fingers apart. The force of her grip had left bruises.

 

She fumbled for his cock, still on her back, her eyes tightly shut and screwed. Her eye paint had run in two dark stains to her ears. I cleaned up her come that had puddled on the floor. The salty tang was like a beacon to me and had my cock throbbing from its sheath. Her pheromones acted like a narcotic to my receptors, I had to have her beneath my chest while my forelimbs clasped her to me.

 

As if obliging or indulging me, she had turned while I was cleaning up and was now sucking John’s cock. In turning, her knees had drawn up and her swollen and ready sex was there, just in front of my nose. To my canine instincts, this was an open invitation to copulate and I was more than ready to impregnate this bitch.

 

My first exploratory thrusts missed the mark and stabbed her anus and the folds of labia, I guess in my eagerness, I was not being too careful, but I had a mission and so took it a little more carefully, adjusting my self to fit her contours until I was sure of connection. Then, when I was certain, drove my shaft into her and buried the whole length up to my balls.

 

Once inside her, my forelegs grasped her hips and pulled her back onto my shaft, the position triggered the automatic response and I began to thrust in a rapid and frenetic blur.

 

John said something, even shouted it, she shook her head and sucked him into her throat.

 

The friction of her rippled vaginal walls and the pounding of my dick soon had my knot growing, I would not be able to keep up the furious pace, but needed to, to cause the locking mechanism that would signal my release of seed into her. As the bulbous swelling grew, the friction also increased until I was unable to pull it out of her. Then her muscles contracted, trapping me inside, it was the moment I had been working towards. Instead of pulling back, I pushed forward as she thrust back onto me. My forepaws had locked around her waist as I drove the last bit into her, feeling her insides open up to receive my seed.

 

I came. Flooded her womb with my hot fluids and heard her scream again as her own body worked in powerful contractions that milked my testes of all I had to give her. I wanted to bite her neck while in the throes of completion, but her head hung down and rested on the floor between her arms. I could smell John’s semen and my own as some leaked from her bruised lips.

 

My dismount from her quaking body came quickly. Although we had been only briefly tied, it had been enough for my complete ejaculation and satisfaction. I cleaned her up and retired to my bed exhausted and happy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Abigail.

 

 

The two lines hit fast. It had been some time since I had done a line or two, but tonight, fuck it, who cares? Not me for sure.

 

I was going out, something else I hadn’t done in the longest while, all the time I had been with that asshole Deacon. Three fucking years I had devoted to the piece of shit; never once even looking at another guy; waiting home for him while he was out screwing every whore in town; well fuck you Deacon, I hope you rot.

 

I touched up the make up, knowing it made me look cheap, it was an effect I wanted and to help with the personality flip, had bought the smallest black number I could find with the lowest neckline and the shortest route to my cunt. I was going to get laid tonight come what may and I wasn’t that particular about whom it was going to be either, just so long as he was breathing and had a cock that worked.

 

I pulled on my new diamante thong over my ass, feeling the string nestle between but cheeks. Where the gusset and the thong joined was a thickness that rubbed seductively against the base of my pussy.

 

Jesus, I was already wet and I hadn’t even gotten in the cab yet. God help whomever I should meet tonight, his balls are going to shrivel before I let him go.

 

Checking my purse, eyes and hair, I closed the apartment door and exited out onto the street. A Yellow had been waiting for me, the driver already tapping his watch, but hey, screw him, the price was fixed, so he could just go and blow me for the difference. He drove like a fucking lunatic through the dark wet streets and it was with a sense of relief that we eventually pulled up in a squeal of rubber outside ‘Luke’s’.

 

I used to party here before Deacon showed up, God rot his cock, I used to party here with my friends on Saturday nights, but he changed all that and then, drove them all away with his smartass mouth.

 

I flipped the driver the bird, he had already been paid by the controller, but was looking for a tip. The only tip he was going to get from me was advice on taking lessons in social etiquette and driving courses.

 

‘Luke’s’ had changed, well at least the décor had. The layout was basically the same, but lighting had been introduced along with a zillion speakers all on full blast. I think the ear shattering music was called grunge or house or some shit like that, not to my taste. I decided to down one vodka and anything with ice and see if I could find a more acceptable hunting ground. God, was I so out of touch in the last few years? Had it all changed so much? Or was I just older? Even the barkeep was spotty and several years younger than me. Little creep perved on my tits as I made my order, so I jiggled them and told him to make it a large one, with the emphasis on large. He got the message and filled a tumbler with vodka and dripped some blue syrup as a mixer; just how I like my vodka.

 

Glass in hand, I scoped the dance floor and immediately felt ancient. These were kids that gyrated in disjointed patterns. Some little bastard pinched my ass and was just about to get the standard issue back of the palm under the nose treatment that always resulted in lots of blood and a satisfying crunch; when he went down as if pole axed.

 

I hadn’t noticed the guy who just saved the kid from a busted nose before. He smiled as he stepped over the prostrate kid and took my arm, leading me to the end of the bar and a quieter corner.

 

I finished my drink while appraising him over the rim of the glass, deciding he would more than do for the purposes of tonight’s escapade. A white tee shirt struggled to hold all of his tanned and muscular body in and his blue jeans revealed a tight ass. Typical Californian beach jockey I thought and testosterone fuelled; perfect.

 

He bought me another drink and we struggled to make conversation, getting really only as far as exchanging names. Then he lightly grasped my elbow and tossed his head towards the exit by way of invitation to go someplace else. I wasn’t about to argue.

 

The music was cut as if by a knife when the doors closed and we found ourselves outside, like stepping from one world into another, much quieter one.

 

Another bar and another two lines in the john had me mellowing. John was kind of cute in a masculine way and his offer of coffee came at the right time. We laughed when he told me about his dog Cujo and I asked if that wasn’t the one that ate people in the film. He almost creased when he told me he only ate pussy. I guessed it was his favourite line. Personally, I thought it crass, but allowed him his little joke.

 

We fell through his apartment door, kicking it shut and ripping clothes off all at the same time. The mixture of coke and vodka had done their combined magic, rendering me as horny as all hell and back. At least he had the good grace to fold my dress and whistle his appreciation of the thong before locking his mouth over mine and kneading my tits as if tuning in his audio system. But, do you know what? I could care less how he treated me. He had permission to use me like the tramp I looked like, fuck me into the ground and then do it all over again. I was here to be used and wanted it more than anything. This was after all, my rebound revenge on the asshole I had been saddled with, so getting dirty was all par for the course.

 

Jesus, but he had a large cock and his fingers had my cunt creaming from the first minute. In what seemed like no time at all, I was impaled on him and riding an orgasm straight down the stretch. His leather sofa was cold on my back, but I hardly noticed, my own internal heating had been turned up to full and this guy was getting three years of pent up desperation in one go.

 

Suddenly, he got up, the mongrel, leaving me crawling over the ceiling, and then his fucking dog comes into the room and sits down like some voyeur, watching from his vantage point in the middle of the room.

John, bless him, got those fingers going again and then started on my tits at the same time. I’m a sucker for that; two centres of operation simultaneously; brings me off in record time. John had two or three fingers frigging my soaked twat, but the damage was being done by his thumb as it pressed and rubbed my clit. A crashing orgasm was well under way when the weirdest thing happened.

 

A cold wet nose shoved John’s fingers away to be replaced by a hot, very hot tongue that rasped over my lips and hit the panic button dead centre. Then the action was repeated and I was passed the point of return. The dogs tongue fucked me inside out in rapid strokes that had me gasping and then, God almighty! I climaxed like I had never ever before. The poor animal’s head was trapped between my thighs as I went through orgasm and into climax, soaking everything in a rush of come. The pleasure and feeling the dog was giving me was too much all at once and I don’t know, but the next thing was I found myself on the floor, twitching and shivering like I was connected to the electricity supply. I’ve had many orgasms in many different ways and situations, but I ain’t ever felt anything like that before. It was like death and birth all in a single moment.

 

John asked me if I was alright and I guess I said I was. Somehow I found his cock in my hand as the tremors subsided.

 

It took me some time to regain control and I wanted to reward John for showing me this experience, so I did the natural thing any self respecting whore would do, I turned over and sucked that lovely cock of his straight into my mouth. I was getting into it as well, setting up a nice rhythm, allowing his head to get deeper with every nod. I was going to blow him straight into my guts if I could.

 

I wasn’t prepared for the next action though. Dammed dog jumped me; before I could properly react, he had what felt like a cucumber rammed in my twat. Worse, it withdrew partially before being rammed straight back in and then fucked me in a blur of speed and force.

 

Jesus! But, it was so fucking big, and then dammed me if it didn’t start to thicken, causing all kinds of sensations as it pummelled into my cunt.

 

Fucking hell Abigail I heard John shout, but I was too far gone to worry about words, just the primeval need to mate. His cock went further than I had intended into my throat, but it didn’t matter too much because he couldn’t last and his spunk liberally coated my oesophagus.

 

The dog had slowed down now, his thrust shorter and deeper. I could feel his knot splitting my walls open and I wanted his come deep inside. His paws had cut ribbons into my sides in his haste to fuck me, but that too hardly mattered. John’s semen leaked onto the floor as I put my head down and shoved back on the dogs cock with all my being.

 

Something happened then, like a blossoming, a flower opening, because Cujo entered a place I didn’t know existed in my body. As soon as he found it, his scalding come bloomed inside me, filling my guts with a warmth and glow of mutual release. I came around his bulb as he shot copious dog come deep inside me. Then, his completion attained, he sort of slid from my body, his short hair rasping on the base of my spine and his cock creating a vacuum that felt as if my insides were being drawn out through my hole.

 

The beautiful dog then did something no man had ever done for me, he cleaned my bruised labia of his and my fluids, taking care to get every last bit. The sensation was soothing rather than sexual and I fell in love with the animal then and there.

 

I stayed the night with John and ate breakfast with him in the morning. Cujo, it seemed, was not a morning dog. I missed him as I said my farewells. John had my number and I hoped he would call me some time.

 

I took my sore and battered fanny home and gave it the pleasure of a long soak in a hot bath.

 

 

 

John.

 

It was a nothing out of the ordinary Saturday night. Jimmy asked me to drop by his club and pick up some money he needed banked. Jimmy didn’t use the same kind of banks that most people do, if you get my drift.

 

The club was humming; packed to the gills with spotty teenagers jumping and twisting to the DJ’s house crap he insisted was the best thing since Liberace. I wanted to get in there and out again, get shot of the money and then relax on the beach with Cujo. It was a warm night, a little grass and a stroll sounded just about right.

 

I saw the kid’s vicious pinch of the broad’s ass and recognised her attack strategy. In one of those instinctive reactions I downed him with a straight fingered kidney punch, figuring that he might get sick a little for a day or two, but she was likely to drive his nasal bone straight into his brain if she did it right. The kid went down, lights out which was gratifying, I still had the touch and she had been to defence classes and looked as if she knew all about it.

 

So as to diffuse the situation, I grasped her arm and steered her away from the kid to the other end of the bar. She looked as much as it was possible to be out of place. In fact, she looked like a fucking whore on the pull, but a good looking whore at that.

 

We managed to get each others names. Who ever heard a whore called Abigail? She was juiced, her dilated eyes jumped all over the place, never settling and the huge vodka she had been nursing slipped down her throat like it was no more than water. I bought her another which didn’t last too long either.

 

Thinking that she ought to be out of the joint, I grabbed her arm and motioned to the door. I swear; all that was in my mind was to rescue the poor girl, nothing more than that. I could tell she thought I was okay, her eyes, when they did settle, smiled and it was a nice smile. I thought she might be pretty good looking under all the crap on her face. Certainly, the body was fit and the dress hid absolutely nothing at all. Her tits were just about perfect and no bra.

We dropped into Mike’s, a much quieter place and had one or two drinks there, chatting and stuff. She went to the ladies and came back wired. I suppose that was the moment I thought about taking her home. I told her about my dog and came up with the gag, that he only ate pussy. It always produced a laugh and broke the ice on many occasions.

 

By the time I got her to my apartment, she was zinging. The coke had scored a home run and she fairly buzzed. I somehow got her up the stairs and through the door before she had my shirt off and was making a determined effort on the jeans. To be honest, I don’t really like women who act slutty and were only half interested in getting jiggy.

 

The dress came off and my assessment of her tits was quite accurate. 34 B’s I guessed, nice and palm sized. The panties, or thong, whatever there’re called was class though; all sparkling with fake diamonds and obviously expensive.

 

The hell with it I though, why not fuck her and chuck her out? She would probably flake out anyway.

 

She lay out on the couch and giggled a bit at the coolness of the leather after I had laid her dress to one side and had myself a feel of those pert little tities. Her breath smelled stale from the vodka when I kissed her, but those breasts made up for it.

 

Ah, but then I found her fanny, it hadn’t been shaved for a day or two. Normally, I would have eaten her, but I hate stubble on anything, least of all a cunt. So it was going to be frigging time, I had no intention of getting friction burns under my nose; fuck that!

 

She was off and away, the combination of coke and booze had her squealing and creaming in no time. Nice size clit; couldn’t fail to find it and she responded quite nicely. I slid into her and started up with the old two step rock and roll, pumping up the jizz and she just came right there and then. Cute; but not a great big turn on for me.

 

I thought I would give her some breathing space for a minute and remembered Cujo had been locked in the bedroom. Left in the lounge, he would tear up the sofa and wreck the place. So I got up and let the sad bastard in.

 

We had shared a broad or two in the past and I had no problem him watching the master screw some chick into oblivion. Cujo followed me into the room and then sat like any regular audience, waiting for the main event.

 

Abigail was still steaming and wanting more, so I sat on the edge of the sofa and frigged her again. Two or three fingers were inside and my thumb rubbing her pleasure zone. I had to play with her nipples; her tits were just perfect and topped with large nipples that must have looked great in a bikini on a cold day.

 

I didn’t hear Cujo or even know he had moved until he nosed my hand out of the way. Kinky bastard loves the taste of woman.

 

Fuck me if she didn’t respond like a scalded cat. Almost as soon as he licked that pussy of hers, then she was creaming. Then, he jumped up on the sofa, between her legs and slurped on her muff like his life depended on it. The effect it had on Abigail was stunning. She screamed and creamed and clamped his head in a vice like grip, then she just sort of spasmned like she was in shock or something and flipped right off the couch and landed on the floor on her back. Fuck but she could come, there was a puddle of her on the floor and Cujo was licking it up. Always was a tidy dog.

 

I might have asked if she was alright or something, but the rampant bitch grabbed my cock and then spun over and started giving me head in the best way. She sure could get that baby down.

 

Well then it got really weird. Right out of the blue and never before seen, Cujo jumps on her back and begins fucking her. He and I was eyeball to eyeball as he pumped her cunt and I pumped her mouth. Dammed if it wasn’t the hottest thing I ever did. Given the situation, I admit to losing my load in a short time and I shot the whole bolt right down her gullet.

 

Cujo was really going for it by now. The boy was ramming into her faster than a steam train, then, he slowed down, making it a longer and deeper stroke. I was transfixed and Abigail was moaning like a banshee.

 

Abigail’s head hit the floor and she pushed right back on that dog’s dick right at the same time as he pulled her to him. I will never forget the look of pure bliss on his face as he creamed her insides with a few final thrusts. I swear he was grinning at me like a loon.

 

When he had finished, he slid off of her and gave her fanny a good old clean out. I think she was too well fucked to respond very much.

 

Anyway, she stayed over the night and left the next day. In my shirt and with none of that shit she had plastered all over her face, Abigail is very pretty and really does have a fantastic body. I plan on calling her in a day or so and who knows, we may just have ourselves a regular little party.

As a sledgehammer has an after pain, she began to relive the events of the day and of the manner of her violation. The waves of thought crashed into her brain, as would the throb of agony after the initial blow from the tool.

Her mistake of taking the right fork in the road had led her to this. Trying to read a map and drive at the same time is not recommended, especially in the tight lanes of rural England. A snap decision to bear right at the junction seemed for a short while, to have been the right one. The road was well maintained, with clipped hedges lining the steep banks that were only relieved where a gate into fields coincided. But, then the hardtop suddenly ran out and the banks that had prevented her from seeing any more than the road, also stopped. The view that greeted Alanna through the screen was of a dirt track that bent around a low hill and disappeared.

She had thought to turn around in the field immediately in front of her. It would probably been okay, but she had not seen the cattle grid over the bonnet of her clapped out Ford Escort. The first part of manoeuvring had gone fine. Going forward was never a problem to her, but reversing always caused her some anxiety. She managed to get a tyre stuck fast between two bars of the grid, bending one a little to allow the tyre to pass through. It was terrible luck really, but seemed to happen to her every time she selected the reverse gear. Something would always happen, get in the way of her. It was always unlucky, a million to one chance, but she had accidents in reverse as often as some people drink tea.

The smell of a burning clutch soon let her know she had no chance of driving out of this one. But, had a more than good chance she would completely fuck the decrepit machine beyond even the magical skills of Brian, her mechanic, who was starting to get rich from her various adventures with automobiles.

Alanna left the cooling heap still stuck in the grid. She decided that the track had to lead to somewhere, and that the somewhere, was possibly populated. If she really got lucky, they may even have a phone, though God knew how long it would take to get a tow truck out here.

Twenty minutes of solid walking took her around the edge of the low hill. Two buildings only spoiled the panorama of undulating green fields. A white painted silo stood next to a small pond. Probably for storing grain, she had thought. The other building might have been white once, but so much paint had fallen off, it was hard to tell. A six-year-old child, judging by the condition of it, had put a paddock together. The gate that hung on only its bottom hinge stood open. The old looking horse ignored the chance of freedom and possibly stayed out of habit more than anything else. The stables that almost inevitably lead on to the paddock were obscured from view by the house. It had also seen better days. Paint, shingles and weatherboards were all peeling away from the structure as if trying to escape.

Apart from the tired looking horse, no other signs of life could be seen. But Alanna thought that there maybe someone inside. A curlicue of smoke drifted haphazardly from a chimney toward the back of the house. She decided to try and raise some life from what really looked like a forgotten place in history. Her feeling that time had skimmed over the hill and missed the house and surroundings looked as if it might be accurate. The chance of a phone being installed in this backwater dump diminished with every step that took her nearer.

She Knocked on an almost paint devoid door. No letter flat she noticed, or bell push or anything that might be considered modern. Silence almost deafened her. The quite had a palpable solidness to it, making it almost touchable. She knocked again, but didn't wait to see if anyone would answer the summons. Alanna walked around the side of the house, stepping over cut logs and various rusted parts of machinery. Close up, the paddock looked worse than from a distance. The wooden rail mostly stayed attached to posts through belligerence and little else. The horse she had seen from a distance hadn't moved and stood like a palace guard over the water trough which seconded as a breading ground for mosquitoes. The horse eyed her suspiciously, but made no effort to recognise her appearance in any other way.

Alanna stepped over a low rail and entered the paddock. Even the flies seemed lazy as they circled the head of the still horse. It didn't seem to have the energy to blink or flick its tail at them. A twin set of doors stood open at the back of the house. It was obvious to her that the stables would be inside. Alanna gentle knocked on the doorjamb and entered the cool semi-darkness of the stable.

In complete contrast to the rest of the property, the stables were immaculate. A centre aisle of packed earth and clean straw, stretched away from her. Horses and ponies mostly occupied stalls on either side. Tack hung from hooks on many of the stall frames. White paint had been carefully applied to the woodwork.

"Hellooo". Alanna called, but only the nearest horses acknowledged her with a whicker. She slowly walked down the aisle, looking at the animals on either side, admiring their stately heads as they watched her pass. A tuneless whistling was coming from the far end. She called again without any response.

There must have been some thirty stalls, not all occupied, but those that were looked extremely clean. Equine smells had ingrained themselves to the timber, but a scrubbed and washed cleanliness also made a presence. At last, she reached the end room. The double door stood open and she could see the white tiled walls inside. The whistling was coming from here, but she couldn't see the whistler at first. Then he emerged from behind a screen and stopped in a shocked stance, looking at her. My God! Thought Alanna, it's the original slack jaw from the Deep South. The gangling youth bore a remarkable resemblance to the hillbilly. Her thought became even more positive when he answered her first question with a simple "Yarr." She had asked him if there was a phone she could use.

"Look, I am stuck in a cattle grid up by the road and I need to call a tow truck to pull my car out."

"Yarr." A little drool slipped from the side of his mouth and joined the stains on his coveralls.

Alanna was saved from further frustrations by the clatter of hooves in the stable behind her and a man's voice shouting Tommy.

She turned to see who the owner of the voice was and nearly fell to the floor. Her knees almost gave way at the sight of a devastatingly handsome man of about six four, all dressed in riding boots, jodhpurs and a red coat.

He spotted her and tilted his head, waiting for her to introduce herself or at least make some kind of effort at speech. Alanna thought her tongue had been removed. His hair waved blackly off his forehead and framed a face of clear skin, tanned but unlined. His shoulder shrugged as he gave up waiting for her.

"Can I help you?" The question dripped into her brain like hot silver.

"Um, my car..." She began, but got no further.

"What about your car?"

"It's stuck. Um, it's stuck...". Coherence was not really with her at that moment. "In the cattle grid."

"Ah, I see. And you need help to pull it out do you?" A smile creased his eyes and melted her heart. "I'm afraid Tommy here is a little slow, but he keeps the place good and clean, don't you Tommy?"

"Yarr." A giggle escaped Tommy and he rushed out of the room to some errand.

"See to Caesar will you?" The man shouted to Tommy's retreating back. A muffled yarr was the answer. "Sorry about Tommy, I keep him on to clean up. He does a good job and really loves the animals. I'm Ray by the way." He stuck out a massive hand.

"Alanna". Her hand disappeared between his fingers.

She told him about her problem with the car. He would get it dragged out by the tractor and get her on her way, but in the meantime, why not stay for lunch or something. An hour slipped by and Alanna became more and more interested in this huge, but gentle man. They very quickly drew up a friendship, talking about anything and everything. Soon, Alanna didn't really want to carry on with her journey, besides, her sister wasn't that important and she would be able to find her way tomorrow.

Ray showed her around the place, skipping over the ramshackled house. They had slack jaw saddle up a couple of horses and rode around the stud farm. Alanna admitted that she knew nothing about stud-work and expressed an interest in learning more.

"Well... we are going to inseminate a brood mare this afternoon." Ray informed her and invited her to watch as they extracted the semen from his lead stallion. Alanna, not sure what would be involved agreed.

Later that day, a beautiful white Arabian stallion was lead in to the room where she had first met Tommy and the object of her desire. Ray matter of factly described the process of milking the stallion and then inseminating the mare that was to receive it. The method sounded quite ordinary, but the actuality of the deed caused her to almost faint with an overwhelming need to fuck this guy into next week.

The stallion was led to the mounting stool that was vaguely shaped like the rear end of a mare. The leather hide had been smeared with something that Alanna guessed was from an in heat mare. The stallion needed little encouragement and mounted the stool. His enormous cock waved around, stiffening all the time until it found the hole that was prepared for him. Powerful hip thrusts shoved his two-foot long cock into the waiting bottle hidden inside the stool. He bit the stool and screamed his ejaculation, eyes wild and teeth bared. Alanna could not believe the amount of seminal fluid the animal had shot. She could not believe just how much she had let go herself. Her panties were dripping and she thought she might have had a quiet orgasm just from the excitement of watching this beautiful creature fucking the leather-covered stool.

The fluid was transferred to a vial with a plunger in it, similar to a syringe, kept warm and then inserted into the mare who was tethered in her stall. Rays arm traveled into the mare's cunt up to his elbow. He had to work it in and out for a little while. It seemed that the mare could only be made fertile by getting her aroused. Alanna couldn't help herself, seeing this gorgeous man with his arm in a beautiful mare, giving it the frigging of a lifetime. Her hand traveled to her crotch and began working the fabric of her panties across the proud clit, hidden beneath...

It took no time for her to get herself to pitch point. Oblivious to anything, she took her orgasm to its fulfilment and beyond. Closing her eyes, she almost screamed as wave after wave rocked her body.

"It often gets people like that." Ray remarked. He had completed his task and had observed Alanna bring herself off. "You would be surprised the amount of times I have seen someone just do themselves while watching. Thing is, it rarely satisfies them. I guess as an ice breaker, it is a little unusual, but very effective."

Ray gently grasped her arm and lifted her from the stool she had been sitting on. Somehow, her dress was unbuttoned and taken from her body. Panties and bra joined the dress on the floor. Ray covered her mouth, stifling any complaint she might have made, not that she would have. His giant fingers found her mound and quickly had her shuddering as he expertly finger fucked her where she stood. She lasted a few seconds before she sprayed him with her cum.

Deciding she was ready, Ray turned her in his arms, lifting her feet completely off the floor, and only being supported only by the strength of his arms. He slowly pushed her forward so that she was dent over like a broken shotgun in the crook of his elbow. He lifted her slightly and then lowered her while guiding his cock between her lips. His entry into her body seemed to go on forever. Once he had fully opened her cunt with his ramrod prick, her fucked her. Still her feet didn't touch the floor.

Alanna cried, she screamed and eventually, she just could do nothing. Her nerve ends jangling and reason all shot to bits as wave after wave of total orgasm rendered her body and mind devoid of the capability to control herself. Suddenly, Ray stiffened, his cock forced its way beyond anywhere it had reached before and he shot his white-hot seed so deep inside her, she thought she ought to be able to taste it.

"Damn! That was good." Ray said. "You okay?"

Alanna could only nod and wave a hand at the seat, indicating she needed to sit down or something. She needed to relax and get control of her body back. He gentle sat her on the stool and pulled his jodhpurs up folding a huge cock inside. It was her first look at the thing that had so effectively, fucked her into oblivion.

"Would you like dinner?" Ray asked, bringing her clothing to her. "I'll get Tommy to cook something up if you like. Without waiting for an answer, he turned and shouted to Tommy. The look on his face told Alanna that he had watched the whole thing and by the redness of his face and stains on his coveralls, had had knocked one or two off from his wrist.

Dinner had been a simple affair and then it was back to work for Ray. Alanna stayed with him for the afternoon, observing the animal husbandry and marvelling at the care and deliberate way Ray treated the animals. She found his movement to be graceful, almost beautiful for a big guy. He talked to each of the horses and calmed them with soothing words and gently blowing into their nostril.

"Now old red, as we call him, is a bit of a flirt. For a small pony, he has to be the randiest bastard going and will shag anything that has a hole in it. Tried on me and Tommy a few times."

Alanna thought that would be fun to watch and then thought it might be even better to try.

"So if I was on that mounting stool, he would have a go at me then would he?" Her imagination pictured the scene and she wet herself again with the mental image.

"Yep. Reckon he would." Ray grinned at her. Might want a bit of stoking first, but I reckon he would jump at the chance, dirty old sod that he is." Ray looked as if he had just shared the same mental picture. "Ain't got the biggest donger in the world, but I reckon he could stretch most girls to maximum. Wanna try it?" He asked the question as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Isn't it dangerous?" Alanna could foresee permanent damage to her insides.

"Nah, we put a ring on the old boy. Have to in his case 'cos he gets so excited, would do himself some damage. Once he got stuck up a mare where he shoved it in so far, took hours to free him. But, as I aid, he would need a bit of encouragement first, just to bring him on a bit.

Alanna rose from the seat and stroked the wary animal. His eyes were wide and apprehensive from the approach of a stranger. She ran her hand over his nose, like she had seen Ray do, allowing the animal to smell her. Gradually, he calmed down and relaxed. She stroked him more, working her way down his neck, shoulders and haunches, and then his under belly, nudging against his sheath. Slowly, the pink tip of his cock emerged from the sheath; Alanna gripped it and coaxed the rest from its furry haven. She could see the dappling of colour along the length and was amazed by the strength and circumference of what was still a flaccid weapon.

Alanna didn't know why, but she had an overwhelming desire to suck the beast, see how much she could stuff into her mouth. The taste of horse mingled with the slight smell of equine as she enveloped his stiffening rod. A couple of inches were all she could accommodate, but it was enough for the horse to get the idea. Alanna sucked and then released him, sucked and released him, every time she drew him into her mouth, his flanks heaved and she felt his mounting need to lose his load.

Ray, who had been holding the horse by his bridle, told her to stop. The horse could not take too much of that and unless she wanted to drown, it was time to fit a ring on him. The rubber ring slid over the mushroom shaped head of the animals cock. He seemed to know what was about to happen, because he became restless. Ray had to calm the animal again before he could continue.

"Are you going to suck him off, or do you want to be fucked by him?"

Alanna looked at the size of him and decided that getting fucked by this beautiful animal was just about the epitome of her desire. Ray led her to the mounting stool, took her dress and under garment off of her, then gently arranged her so that she was comfortable.

"Alanna, I have to tie your hands to the straps. Please don't be alarmed. This is just in case you shift too much or slide off. If that happened while Red and you were coupled, one or both of you could be seriously injured..."

Alanna had already placed her trust in this guy, so had no qualms about following his advice. Her hands were securely tied with leather thongs to a strap either side of the stool. She could feel the leather against her bare breasts and stomach. Her own mounting excitement was starting to slick the leather between her legs.

Ray led Red by is bridle over to the stool where Alanna was quivering in anticipation. He massaged the already hard cock and ordered Tommy to get the Vaseline and put some over Alanna's cunt. Tommy moved faster than she thought was possible for him. He got the jar and liberally applied it to her lips, smearing it all over hr mound and even slipping a couple of fingers into her. Alanna was cumming on the feel of Tommy's fingers and the thought of what she was about to do.

Suddenly, Red reared up and his front hooves narrowly missed her shoulders. His cock banged against her vulva, searching for her entrance. Several times, the horse tried to get his aim right, but it was Ray that took charge and positioned the massive rod just inside her. Red needed no other help; a massive shove from his haunches forced his cock straight into her womb. The sheer size spread her inner walls as if she had engulfed a man's fist and arm. Then it felt as if her insides were going to be pulled out of her cunt as the horse drew back. Another massive thrust rocked her forward and she screamed her pleasure.

Red was starting to pump at her now. Each thrust drove him deeper as she relaxed and allowed his great cock to enter her body with less resistance. Several more thrusts took her right out of orbit. She almost lost conscience as her body gave its self to the onslaught and gripped the massive tool inside her. Red screamed his triumph over her and with a final thrust, filled her whole body with his seed.

Alanna could have taken no more. The effort of the horse had taken her to a height she had never been to before. It was then that the realisation of what she had achieved hit her and she relaxed in her thoughts.

Ray took the horse away to his stall, then came back and untied her. Helping Alanna to a comfortable chair, all the while praising her for what she had done. Alanna smiled and fell asleep in exhausted and gratified rest. She didn't feel Ray put her in her car or drive her to some place out of the way where she would never find his stud farm again, but could find her way to her sister or wherever she had been going.

The next morning, disorientated, Alanna woke in her car a long way from where she had been. All she had to remember yesterday by was a bruised cunt, a headache and nine months later, Ray's bastard, slack jawed son. She could never find the place again. It was as if it had never existed.

 

At sixteen, Linda had been so small in stature. Her tits hadn’t begun to fill out much more than pimples that would have looked under developed on a twelve year old. Her snatch had the downy fuzz of a young girl and she was virtually hairless everywhere except her head, which had a shock of carrot coloured and shapeless hair on it. She and I started going out then, but she was so scared of losing her virginity and getting pregnant, that it soon fell flat. We split up and went in different directions. I left home for University, studying law, while Linda went to college and further education. She had always had this affinity with animals so, naturally I suppose, she decided to go into farming, or more particularly, ‘Animal Husbandry’, What ever that means. So our spheres of life never crossed. We said our goodbyes and parted friends. That is until we met again.

 

My career had gone from strength to strength; rising through the ranks at an unprecedented rate. Luck played a major part in my development. Somehow, the right cases landed at my office doorstep. Prestigious affairs, that carried headlines and created citable rules and precedents for future generations of Lawyers, fell regularly into my lap. Money, which had always been something of a bane as a child because of its scarcity, was now no more than a luxurious hindrance. Having money presents problems, but money can always get you out of it as well. I had married and divorced twice. No children were produced, thankfully. Neither wife managed to get anything from me because I had engineered grounds for divorce, claiming adultery in both cases. The right photo-manipulator and a couple of grand can make some pretty damning evidence.

 

At thirty-four, I was loose and fancy free. My workload had decreased to a level where I only went to the office once or twice a week, leaving the dross of cases to my employees. I could pick and choose the cases I took on. The background legwork to each case was left to the foot soldiers to do.

 

It was a Monday when it landed on my desk. I was looking at the Thames through my prestigious office windows. Watching the tourist launches ply their trade, stopping at ‘The Tower of London’ and ‘HMS Belfast’ so the Japanese could exercise their camera fingers. A knock on my door broke the reverie.

 

“I have a Mrs. Reid at the desk Sir…”. Joanne’s voice trickled like running water, she always sounded as if she was smiling and, usually was, I paid her enough.

 

“…Says she won’t speak to anyone but you. What should I do with her?”

 

“Do we know her?” I didn’t bother with formalities like names and didn’t turn.

 

“Don’t think so, but she is pretty persistent and tells me she is an old friend.”

 

I thought for a moment, casting through the Rolodex of my brain to see if I had any Mrs. Reid’s lurking in there. I couldn’t recall any.

 

“Get rid of her. Tell her I am busy, in a meeting.”

 

“A meeting of one is it?” A different voice asked of my back.

 

“Hello James, been a long time.”

 

Curiously, I turned on the axis of my heel and observed Joanne trying to hustle out the owner of the voice. Dark glasses hid the eyes of the newcomer and the clothes she wore didn’t help at all in her identity. Raven black hair framed a thin face stopping at shoulder length. Her neck and upper arms were bare, supporting a gypsy style blouse that puckered over the tops of breasts which were obviously free of a bra. She removed her glasses and stared back at me.

 

“Linda?” I recognised the eyes.

 

“Is that you? You look so…. different.” It sounded lame, but I was thrown by the transformation. I had an instant picture of the thin and underdeveloped body that had been Linda, the last time I saw her. Clothes hung on the picture like old brown trousers on a scarecrow, but now; Armani and Versace were possibly her ‘Aide de Couture’. She had filled out in the right places. Not in anyway large, but in a cultured and sophisticated poise that had bearing and confidence as its basis.

 

“What can I do for you? What are you doing here?” My eyes roamed over her and she registered the fact.

 

 “James, I need you’re help.” It was a simple statement, but one that carried a note of desperation.

 

“You don’t look like you do. Christ! You look so different, amazing!” I became aware of repeating my self.

 

“You had better come in, please take a seat. Joanne, please bring some refreshments.”

 

Joanne asked Linda as she sat in the leather Chesterfield and adjusted her jeans, what she would like. Tea was arranged.

 

“So, what do you need my help with?” I sat opposite her, drinking in the shape of her body that was hardly hidden in the clinging jeans she wore. Her shoes were overtly Gucci. The logo was not too discreet, advertising the make by a small metal tab on the instep. Her make-up was complimentary to her complexion. The glossed black hair added to her demeanour of wealth and well-being.

 

“It’s a long story James, I would prefer we did this over lunch, but the crux of the matter is I am about to be charged with indecent behaviour as well as lewdness and bestiality. I cannot afford the scandal, much less the publicity or even being found guilty.” She blushed prettily as she spoke the words, but her eyes didn’t waver for one second. She held me in her gaze and captivated my interest.

 

“I heard you were a hot shot Lawyer and didn’t have too many options.”

 

“But these are minor charg…”

 

“And murder” She interrupted me.

 

“I think you had better tell me all about it Linda. Let’s do lunch and see what’s what.”

 

We passed the next hour in my office, chatting about our lives since we had seen each other. I told her of my disasters in the marriage department and gave her a brief synopsis of my sparkling career. Linda told me of her college years, then spending several seasons in Rwanda teaching the locals how to farm and care for animals that largely subsisted on a quarter of the water they needed. She had two books under her belt, both of which had done very well in the limited field of her profession. She was now considered to be one of the leading exponents of Animal Husbandry and was consulted on a worldwide scale.

 

Later, over lunch at ‘Ocean’ a popular restaurant in Albemarle Street; she started to tell me of her, less than public life. I listened to her story and continued listening while we walked in Green Park and later in my little Pied-e-Terre in Chelsea. The story gave a completely different impression of the woman who was telling it.

 

It all started while Linda was in her second year at college.

 

“I fell in with a group of people who were studying the same course. We did the usual stuff of parties, drugs and sex. I change a lot when I went to college. Somehow, in the middle of all that, we took our finals and I ended up with a degree. I started working with the WWW organisation and things looked fine. In so much as, I had an assured future. But it all started to go wrong when I married Roger two years ago. He had been on the same course as me, and we had had a thing going for a while.”

 

“Roger and I dated. We did the usually stuff, did the usually haunts and screwed each other silly. I fell in love with him and thought I would never be able to live without him. How wrong could I have been? Now, he is dead and I am likely to be charged with his murder. But, I am getting ahead of myself….”

 

“It was at yet another party that it all happened. As I said, we were in our second year and things were pretty crazy in those days.”

 

“I had been drinking on and off all day, by the evening, I was well tanked and out of it. Johnny was the host for a change. He had a large flat in Camberwell. The music was loud, it always was and I felt pretty cool. Someone came up with some grass and that was really that. I get out of control on Skunk and this was good gear.”

 

“I took of most of my clothes, nothing unusual about that, we all did, and I was getting pretty engrossed with someone. You know; tongues and fondling. I was still very small then and it was always a joke when someone said, get yer tits out, oh! You have, didn’t notice. I didn’t mind because it was funny, most of the time.”

 

“Anyway, I was getting down and dirty, so to speak. Then it was time to drag him upstairs. I screwed the guy, can’t remember his name, but I screwed him senseless because he flaked out and I returned to the party. I remember that it was in the middle of a discussion when I came into the living room. The rest that had stayed awake were discussing the aptitude of animals to training. I said that it was possible to get a dog to do anything if it was trained or coaxed right. What’s more, I would prove it. I ordered someone to find a dog, any old dog, even one off the street.”

 

“A dog was produced, a scruffy street urchin as I recall. But, I got it to sit and beg and stuff like that. I think it must have been trained, because it takes time to get dog to learn. Then someone suggested we try to get it to lick pussy instead of chasing it up trees. I guess it was a joke, but never say never. I had a go.”

 

“I must’ve smelled of the guy who had fucked me upstairs. Semen was still oozing from me and the dog latched onto this straight away. A dog will always clean up after it, something that men leave to the woman. He got right at it and licked my pussy until a screamed in pleasure. That tongue took me to places I had never been and the audience encouraged the little dog. That went on for sometime, until I couldn’t take any more. I was very hot by then and had experienced several crashing orgasms. At last, I pushed the animal away, but the rest of them said that it was unfair I got all the pleasure and he got nothing but a tongue full of me. I guess it was the mixture of wine and grass, but in no time, I had that little fellow in my mouth.”

 

“I sucked his little dick, making his balls scrunch up and his knot expand. He shot a load into my mouth, which I spat out. It tasted awful. But that was my initiation to bestiality. I liked it and wanted to do it again, but didn’t really get the chance. Until that is, I met Roger. Roger had been at the party and had remembered what I had done in my drug-fuelled exuberance.”

 

“After we had got over the re-introduction stages and had learnt our way around each other’s bodies and sensitivities and got married, things changed dramatically. Roger had been promising a weekend away for ages. Had I known what he had planned, I would have stayed home.”

 

“I was taken to a farm, somewhere in Buckinghamshire. As soon as I got there, I knew I was in trouble. I was blindfolded until I was grabbed and a gag was put in my mouth. It had a ball that forced my teeth apart. My clothes were ripped from me and leather manacles were put on my wrists and my ankles were fettered. They took the blindfold away; someone who I couldn’t see said that I should be able to observe all that was going on.”

“Two women in leather harnesses took me to a room without any windows in it. They washed me from head to toe, paying particular attention to my breasts and genitals. I can’t tell you how bad those girls made me feel. I had dabbled with a woman once before, but decided it wasn’t for me. Anyway, they scrubbed me and then washed my vagina with a spray, pushing the nozzle into me and then flushing me through. I tried to get free, struggling all the while, but the manacles and gag did their job. Worse was to come. My anus was given the same treatment, a long thin hose was inserted into my rectum, and it seemed to go on forever and must have been all of two feet long. Then the water was turned on. Christ on a stick! It was the most uncomfortable sensation and there was shit and water all over the place. I remember I cried, but it was no use, they carried on until they were satisfied I was truly clean inside and out.”

 

“I was taken to another room. It was to be my room for the duration of my stay. The women towelled me dry and started to rub some sort of fragrant oil over my body. Again, they spent an inordinate amount of time with my tits and genital area. Their hands and fingers massaged the oil into every crack and then one of them pushed her fingers into me. I couldn’t do anything about it. She pushed harder and harder, until she had forced me to accept her whole hand. I thought my guts were going to explode. The bitch fist fucked me until my legs gave out.”

 

“They took the gag out of my mouth. I think I must have said something because the one, who had been holding me up, slapped me across the face, hard. Another gag was found. This one was quite different, in the shape of a phallus. They forced my mouth open and shoved it in. It was just long enough to sit at the back of my throat, making me swallow, but not gag on it. They tied it off so that I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t breathe at first. The automotive response shut off my airway. But the brain will override when oxygen is needed. Even though I had this long cock shaped thing in my throat, I started to breath through my nose. I soon became used to it. Just as well, because it stayed there for several hours. The two bitches left me alone in the room, hooked up to a pole with the dildo strapped in my mouth”

 

“Later another cock shaped strap was shown to me. I had no idea what they were going to do with it and feared they would shove that into my mouth, but no. It was shoved into my arse and the strap tied off so it couldn’t come out again. It felt huge and I thought my arse had been split. One of the women said that they would start small. After they tied my wrist manacles to a ring on the wall, they left me alone again, alone in the room.”

 

“I lost all sense of time. My body felt ravished and I was in pain from the fisting and this fucking great big dildo in my arse. My muscles wanted to push it out and tried for a long time, but eventually, I got used to having this thing sitting there.”

 

“Over a period of a few days, I was treated the same. Every so often, they took out the butt plug, as they called it, allowed me to defecate and then put a larger one back in. The same with the one in my mouth, but that was in smaller increments. I still cannot believe my body could learn to cope with that. By the time my training, as they called it, had been completed, my anus could accept a rubber dildo with the circumference of my fist without trying to shit it out. I had also learned to swallow a cock shaped dildo of about ten inches. Don’t sound a lot I know, but you look at it on the tape and then tell me it isn’t. Just try swallowing a banana and see how far you get and all the time, remembering to breathe.”

 

“The whip was the worst though. Those two bitches whipped me like they enjoyed it. I have scars on my back from the flaying they gave me. It will teach you respect and humility, they said. It taught me all right. It taught me to hate and to plot revenge.”

 

“Then suddenly, it stopped. The two bitches, as I had named them, came into the room. They untied my hands, took out the butt plug and removed the gag. They washed me inside and out as before, then, put some clothes on me. I wanted to throttle them, but my muscles had cramped from being immobile for so long. I did manage to kick one of them in her cunt, the bitch.”

 

“When they had me dressed, a blindfold was shoved over my eyes. They said that if I so much as touched it, they would flail my skin off. I believed them. I was taken from my room and led across the courtyard of the farm. Mud oozed between my toes, I remember that I enjoyed the coolness of it. One of them knocked at a door and asked to be allowed in so they could present their charge.”

 

“I was led into a room that was warm. I could hear several people were in there and I remember asking to be freed. I also remember the laugh that my pleading produced. Suddenly, new manacles or something were tied to my wrists and rings were locked onto my ankles, but without a chain between them. Then I was forced to kneel and something was shoved into my guts, making me bend at the waist. My hands were yanked forward and tied to a ring in the floor. My ankles were also attached to the floor and whatever I was laid upon supported my body. The clothes the bitches had put on me were ripped from my back. I was naked and knew I was being shown to whoever was in the room.”

 

“Several hands and fingers felt me. Some of them pushed at my groin and explored my pussy. Some of them were shoved up my arse, which was no problem after the way the butt plug had stretched me.”

 

“I remember screaming at them to let me go. I remember someone whispering into my ear that, if I didn’t shut the fuck up, I would be whipped until I bled. I shut up to a whimper.”

 

“After a while, a large dog was brought into the room. I couldn’t see it of course, but my sense of smell told me what it was. Something was smeared on my exposed pussy and the dog licked it off. God help me, but the dogs tongue felt good and I soon had a wracking orgasm. Then it was lifted off of me, only to be placed back again in the traditional doggy fashion. He began to hump at me, but was missing the mark by a long way and I thought, thank fuck for that! But, someone helped the brute out and guided his cock at my soaking pussy. Without any warning, this dog shoved a massive cock right into my abused cunt. He shoved it so far up and with such force that my body was lifted from whatever I was resting on. He kept on shoving at me, driving his cock further and further, fucking me at a rate that only a dog can. I felt his knot growing and pushing at my cunt, but not quite in me and again, I thanked God. But the combination of his tongue and then being shafted to there and back rendered me incapable of any control. My body took over in what is known as an ecstasy throw. I had to have the dog until I would blank out. I trembled; I howled and fucked the dog right back. Then His knot forced its way past my outer lips and sunk into me. I could feel several things at once. His knot, growing and expanding inside me and the tip of his cock finding the neck of my womb and forcing its way into my opening. The pain was bad, but at the same time, I needed it. I wanted the dog to fuck my insides out. And then he came. A dog’s temperature is quite a bit higher than ours, so the semen that flooded my womb felt scalding hot. The dog stopped pounding at me and just let his come flood me in spasms that I thought wouldn’t stop. I guess we remained tied for fifteen minutes until he pulled out of me. I thought my womb was going to be pulled out through my cunt. The come had created a vacuum.”

 

“That was the first of three times. I was taken away to my room again, cleaned up and then all of the training objects inserted or tied as before.”

 

“For three days, I was taken to the room and fucked by this dog until it had shot his load deep into me and eventually got free of my cunt.”

 

“The fourth day was different. It started out the same, being blindfolded and tied to the floor over the cushion and the dog giving my pussy a good slavering until I came. But this day, he was pulled off of me. Instead of the dog being guided into my cunt, I was bodily lifted onto something else. My hands and feet were off the floor and tied to something else. I had a sense of being up in the air. Suddenly, the unmistakable smell and noise of a horse came to my awareness. Without so much as a warning, I felt its hooves land either side of me and to my horror, the cock of the horse being helped into my arse. Powerful thrusts from the animal drove his cock deep inside of me. My anus allowed his penetration from the training it had received. The animal seemed to thrust forward and drive this huge cock into me, then back off to the point of almost pulling out. A return thrust shoved him straight back and the process repeated. I was lifted off the cushion from the force of his surging thrusts until, with a final massive push forward; he shot so much semen into me that it squirted backwards and onto the floor.”

 

“I thought that this would be the final spectacle, but was wrong. After the horse was led away, the people in the room flipped me over onto my back and back onto the lower cushion. Someone started to fuck me, but next to the horse’s dick, it felt puny and did nothing for me. Then the dogs cock was positioned at my mouth and my head yanked back. I had no choice but to open my lips at which point, the whole of the dogs cock slipped straight into my throat. He fucked my mouth while others fucked my cunt or arse. The dog’s pointy end was nudging my tonsils, gradually getting further and further with each push until his knot was banging on my lips. I could not open my mouth wide enough for him to get it all in, but it didn’t matter. Someone grasped him and it must have felt as if he had entered me all the way, because he stopped jerking and instead, shot so much red-hot come down my throat, that I thought I would gag. The training I had received helped me to breath and not suffocate.”

 

“I felt the men who had been watching, yanking themselves off. Then their semen was being splashed all over me. It was in my hair, over my tits and belly, in my mouth, but worst of all, in my newly uncovered eyes. Come in the eyes burns like fuck. But I had seen Roger in the brief time between the removal of the mask and eyes full of come; that was enough for me.”

 

“Afterwards, everyone said how well I had done. How well I had responded to the training and how photogenic I looked on film. The bastards, not content in humiliating and degrading me, had filmed the whole thing.”

 

“Roger took me home afterwards. He seemed pretty pleased with himself and even made some comment about having the ultimate slave who would be so good in servitude. Well I fixed him.”

 

“A few days later, the Postman brought a copy of the videotape along with a cheque for one hundred thousand pounds. The payee had been left blank, so I took it and banked it in my account; that was a mistake it seems. Roger told me that he was selling copies of the tape over the Internet for two hundred pounds each and they were going like hot cakes. He had set up an Internet account and was making money so fast he couldn’t believe it.”

 

“Anyway, one night, soon after we had returned, he thought he would be able to screw me. I let him for a while, until he forced his filthy cock into my mouth. My defence will be that it was a nervous reaction or a tic that made me clamp my jaws together. I didn’t mean to swallow the bastard’s dick whole, but it happened. He bled to death inside five minutes and the ambulance arrived in fifteen. Shame that eh?”

 

“But it seems that by taking the money means I was a willing participant as far as the Police are concerned.”

 

Her story had taken most of the afternoon to tell. I have tried to relate it as accurately as possible, but she gave so much detail and emotion to it, that it is impossible to really do it justice here.

 

Justice was indeed, what she got. I had won her back and lost my first case. The Judge was a mean old bastard who was of the opinion that women should be tied to kitchen sinks and shouldn’t have a life other than procreation and servitude to man. Our appeal brought the conviction down to one of involuntary manslaughter; she only had to serve twelve months with remission.

 

The film is still realising huge amounts of money. Linda has now set up the account in her own name and has begun to practice her advice line for African farmers. We have bought a house in Wiltshire with several bedrooms and a few acres of land sitting at the foot of a valley and secluded to the rest of the world. We also have a dog. She tells me, that it is a Ridgeback, something the South African farmers use to herd cattle or hunt lions. He is a big sod and as mean as hell until Linda comes home. I can’t compete with him, but then again, I don’t really need to because she really can swallow head and I like mine attached.