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Up Against the Wall

By: Rusher



Sometimes you just get an idea in your head and act on it. No hesitation between thought and deed. That’s the way it was the other day. I was on the bed in shorts and a T-shirt watching an old cop show on TV when Renee came out of the shower. She was still moist despite the fact that she had a towel on her head and another one wrapped around her body using the ancient top-secret “boob-tuck” technique that every woman on earth instinctively masters at puberty.

I jumped up from my position lying propped up by the pillows and met her at the foot of the bed. Expecting a hug and a kiss as I came close, she closed her eyes and parted her lips slightly. She was startled as I grabbed the towel and ripped it from her body. She was more startled when I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to me roughly. Her eyes opened wide in awe, and she gasped. For a second, she tried to pull back. Then I kissed her on the end of her nose, and smiled. 

Thinking I was playing around, she laughed and said, “That was a good one,” and reached down to pick up the towel. I reached for the towel on her head and pulled it off with one hand, exposing her long raven hair. With the other hand, I reached under her armpit and pulled her back up. 

“It gets better.” Using the hand under her armpit I spun her around. She gasped again, but this time there was no reassuring smile to set her at ease. Instead, I pushed her forward toward the wall. When she tried to turn around, I held her in place by her shoulders about three feet from the wall. Taking her left arm with mine, I put her hand up against the wall, like a cop preparing to frisk her. Then I did the same with her right arm. 

“What are you…?”

“Shhh…you’re only going to make it tougher on yourself if you resist,” I whispered in her ear as I came up behind her. Putting my hand on her stomach, I pushed her ass back towards me and started grinding my hips against her. She moaned and threw her head back to rest against my shoulder. I reached under her arm with my free hand and stroked her exposed throat, at the same time kissing the back of her neck. 

Taking a step back, I kicked her feet apart, just like on the cop show. “Spread your legs,” I told her, in my roughest, harshest voice. She started to turn her head to look back at me. I stepped directly behind her and whispered menacingly in her ear. “Don’t look at me.”

There she stood, legs parted just past shoulder-width, hands against the wall, bent slightly forward at the waist, and just waiting for what would come next. I glued myself to her body once again, snaking my left hand down her stomach, just past her navel, and just short of her neatly-trimmed triangle of dark pubic hair. Reaching again under her arm with my right hand, I slid up and squeezed her luscious full C-cup breast, finishing by tweaking the hardening nipple just roughly enough to be a little painful. She moaned loudly, though I couldn’t be sure if it was pain or pleasure that had brought it out of her. I continued moving my hand up her body from her breast, until I was gently stroking her cheek and chin. She shuddered at the intimate touch. 

“Get my fingers wet,” I whispered in her ear. Once again she moaned, and dropped her head down to take my fingers into her mouth. “Suck them. Suck them like you would my cock,” I said.

She was greedily sucking on my fingers then, and I could feel the vibrations against them as she moaned. She had begun to grind her ass back against me as she sucked and licked at my fingers. They were thoroughly coated in her saliva in a matter of only a few seconds. After a few more seconds I pulled them out of her mouth, lingering briefly to brush her lips with the moistened tips. She gave them one last kiss before I started to move my hand down her body. 

I snaked a wet trail down between her breasts, slowly grazing over her nipples and then her stomach with just the slightest moist touch. I brought my other hand up to squeeze her breasts, the two hands nearly meeting just below her breast. I once again tweaked her nipple hard, and as she was reacting to that, I slid my wet fingers between her legs. She reacted yet again, gasping, and going up on her toes as though she was trying to escape my invading digits. But I knew better.

Using my index and third fingers, I spread the lips of her pussy. ‘Fuck the romance’ I thought as I roughly slid my middle finger inside her with no warning or foreplay. She pushed back against me as if scalded and moaned loudly. I just as quickly pulled my hand from between her legs, and she thrust her hips forward, trying to keep my finger inside her.

“Oh, baby, you are so hot right now,” I whispered in her ear. As I did so, I shifted my position slightly. Now instead of being directly behind her, I was beside her, with her left leg positioned between my two legs. My cock was in contact with her left hip now instead of grinding against her ass. My left hand rested on her inner thigh, just out of reach of her hot, wet pussy. My right arm was around her waist, my right hand resting on her right hip. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” she hissed.

“You want me to keep going and make you cum, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

I slowly moved my hand up her inner thigh and let it rest just above her mound, feeling the fuzz that she left to grow above her shaved pussy lips. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please keep going,” she practically panted.

I slid my hand down and plunged my index and middle finger into her waiting pussy, and flicked at her clit with my thumb. Her knees started to buckle, and I grabbed her around the waist with my right hand to help hold her up.

“Oh, John,” she moaned, regaining her balance. And now my right hand was free.

The flesh-on-flesh smack seemed ungodly loud as I swatted her bare ass. She nearly jumped out of her skin as she felt it, despite the fact that I hadn’t really slapped her all that hard. As she started to pull back, my fingers were expelled from inside her, and she once again nearly lost her balance. Using my right hand in the small of her back, I pushed her forward. Her hands were still on the wall, which kept her from falling.

“What…?’

“Quiet,” I said, and plunged my fingers back inside her wet pussy. Once again she moaned as my thumb brushed back and forth over her clit, and I slid my fingers in and out of her like a cock. She was up on her toes again, and threw her head back, arching her hips forward onto my hand.

Once again I swatted her on the ass, this time even harder. Her head snapped forward and she gazed at me, glassy-eyed from the stimulation of my fingers, but also questioning the swat from my hand.

“Do you want me to keep going, Renee?” I asked, as my fingers kept working their sensual magic on her pussy and clit. I could see her emotions warring as her hips bucked in rhythm to fingers. I abruptly withdrew them, at the same time pulling my right hand back in preparation for another swat at her exposed ass.

“Do you want me to keep going? You can’t have one without the other,” I said. My left hand, slickened by her saliva and natural lubrication, was resting on her thigh, while my right hand was ready to strike again at her already-tender flesh. “Tell me what you want,” I said authoritatively when she refused to answer right away. “But you can’t have one without the other.”

“I want you to keep going,” she said, through half-closed eyelids rimmed with her lust.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, keep going.”

Again without hesitation, my right hand struck at her ass. She bit her lower lip and winced, then moaned as I plunged my fingers back inside her. I worked my fingers quickly in and out of her, with my thumb flicking quickly back and forth across her clit. With my little finger, I began rubbing her anus when my fingers plunged insider her pussy. I could feel her pussy clamping down on my fingers as they slid into her and spasming to hold them inside her when I pulled them out.

I continued smacking her ass at the same time every few seconds with my right hand. The loud slaps against her ass were turning her cheeks a flaming red, and I could tell they would be burning for a little while after we were finished. I was getting turned on by her movements against my hand and her now almost constant moaning as she came closer and closer to orgasm. I started rubbing my hard cock against her hip, loving the delicious friction as the cotton of my shorts slid up and down against my cock.


“Are you getting close, baby?” I whispered in her ear.

“Yes, I’m close. Don’t stop,” she moaned.

“You want me to keep going?” I asked again as another loud slap sounded against her now flaming cheeks.

“Yes…don’t stop…I’m so close,” she said between clenched teeth. She had a look of rapt concentration on her face as she was in her own little world as the orgasm approached. I was rapidly plunging my fingers in and out her now as I rained rapid but smaller slaps on her ass. 

“Come on, baby. Come on,” I whispered over and over in her ear.

Suddenly she went up on her toes and her whole body seemed to tense up. She leaned forward until her forearms joined her hands on the wall and she dropped her head and rested it on the wall as well.

“OH, GOD, JOHN, OH, GOD, NOW! NOW!” she screamed as I plunged my fingers inside her as deep as they would go and held them there. I wrapped my right arm around her waist and helped support her weight as she bucked her hips against my hand. Once again her knees started to buckle, and I held her there for about thirty seconds as she moaned and came and came. I could feel her pussy spasming against my fingers for several seconds, before it started to subside.

When she stopped moaning and started to calm down, I helped her stand up straight. She pushed herself back from the wall, but kept her hands there to support her weight.

“Are you all right?” I asked her, smiling. 

“I’m more than all right,” she said, laughing.

“Come on, let’s go over to the bed,” I said. I wrapped my right arm around her waist and she put her left arm over my shoulders and we made it over to the bed, where she collapsed in a heap. I lay down on my side a few feet away, propping myself up on my elbow to look down on her. I reached out and stroked her cheek. She smiled up at me, and, taking my hand in hers, kissed my palm. Then she closed her eyes, and I thought she was drifting off to sleep.

After only a few minutes, though, she opened them again, and fixed her gaze on me.

“That was great,” she purred. “But it also hurt, and it was mean. Very mean.” Then without another word she sat up, pushed me onto my back and proceeded to repay me for my wicked behavior...

Up Against the Wall



Disclaimer: All characters are fictitious and any similarities to actual people are purely coincidental. No money has been collected from the writing/posting of this story; it is for entertainment purposes only.

Comment/Feedback is appreciated and welcome.

*************

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that being up against a wall isn’t in their fantasies somewhere. Believe me it’s there. They may not know it, but it’s there. It’s in mine. I’ve always known it. But until last night, it remained just that – a fantasy. 

I’ve never had good experiences with fantasies becoming reality. They always fizzled and I was left with the feeling of disappointment. A hollowness. This time, however, I was not. The reality was better. 

I was sitting at the bar, speaking to the woman next to me about nothing in particular, just bar talk, when I felt a tapping on my shoulder. My first reaction was annoyance. Here I was on a Saturday night; not bothering anyone as I sat at the bar, nursing my beer and some jerk-off was tapping me on the shoulder. My beer mug clanked in annoyance onto the battered wood of the bar top and I slowly turned to the owner of the finger, ready to let lose a string of curses. 

My eyes connected with his and I suddenly found myself unable to speak. My stomach contracted and a thousand butterflies erupted from their cocoons. A cold shiver slid up my spine, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. 

Rich hazel eyes stared back at me, and I felt myself jolt as he stepped forward towards me. One of his hands reached up and gripped my elbow, tugging me off the barstool. An unspoken beckoning to come with him. 

And despite that I knew nothing of this man, I tossed a ten onto the bar and let him lead me away. We struggled to make our way through the throng of dancers but the pace was slow going. I could see him growing visibility angry as he fought his way through the crowd. My arm suddenly felt as if it was wrenched from its socket as he growled in frustration and quickly moved to changed direction. He was now heading to the back of the dance floor. 

He stopped without warning just as we emerged from the dance floor crowd and yanked my arm, causing me to yelp. I realized I couldn’t stop and was going to slam against the wall face first. I spun quickly just in time for my back to contact sharply with the stone wall as he followed through and pushed me up against it, his body pinning me the wall. 

I inhaled sharply as his lips slid almost nonexistently over my right cheek, tickling the sensitive skin there. He dropped his head and kissed my shoulder lightly as he reached down to grasp my wrists. 

Raising my arms above me, he pressed his hips against me and I could feel the growing bulge at the front of his leather pants. Pulsating music pierced my eardrums and I struggled to concentrate on where I was. I saw figures bouncing and spinning to the music and the thought never once crossed my mind that someone would see us. 

I was too lost to care. 

One of his hands dropped from my wrists and disappeared under the hem of my skirt, his fingers grazing lightly over the skin on my upper thigh. I struggled to catch my breath. His chest rumbled with a smooth chuckle when his hand slid even further upward and he discovered only skin and hair. 

His gravelly voice rasped out in my ear. "Bad girl, aren’t you?" 

I could do no more than nod my head, my throat dry and constricted as one of his fingers gently trailed a line from my lower abdomen on down. His jet black hair tickled across my skin as he lowered his head down and pressed his lips into my neck. 

My eyes flew open as his finger slipped between my legs. I noticed a dancer in the crowd staring at us, smiling smugly. Our eyes met and one of her eyebrows raised in the knowledge of just what was happening against this wall. She nodded her head slightly, just enough so that I could see and turned back to her dance partner. The voyeurs’ interest in us had depleted once she knew she had been caught. 

I turned my attentions back towards the man pinning me to wall as one of his knees slid between mine and forced them apart. I struggled to maintain my balance as I moved my legs wider to accommodate his other leg. Never did I once think about what I doing with this man. 

I refused to think and just act. 

His teeth scraped along the skin on my neck and my legs turned to water the instant his teeth sunk into my flesh. His finger withdrew and slid around to cup my ass. Without realizing it, my legs rose and wrapped around his waist, and I lifted my chin slightly as he shifted his head for a better angle on my neck. 

A rainbow of strobe lights flash over us as the DJ cranked up the music and the wall behind me vibrated with the pulsing of the music. My vision suddenly grew dark when he raised his head from my neck and did nothing but simply stare at me. Dark, brooding hazel eyes stared back at me, making me feel as if I was trapped in them. It was an escape I never wanted to make. 

His mouth crushed down on mine sending my senses exploding in a million different directions at once and I instinctively ground my hips against his. A small grunt of surprise rumbled from his throat and he released my wrists, using only his hips to pin me to the wall. 

His hands cupped over my breasts and I could feel the heat radiating from them even through the thick cotton of my t-shirt. I murmured an inaudible protest as one of his hands withdrew from my chest and pushed between us. His other hand slipped down to my waist and he pushed himself back away from me, his hand on my waist our only contact. 

I lowered my eyes to where his hand rested on the waistband of his pants. His fingers played with the snap, teasing me with quick glances of his flesh. Heat flooded my skin as he slowly pulled down on the zipper, each tooth on the metal popped like gunshots echoing in my ears. I gasped silently to myself as more skin became visible with each agonizing pull on the zipper.

It seemed like forever before the zipper finally made its way to the seam in his pants, and I was left staring at the entire length of him. Desperate hunger to have him inside of me must have become evident on my face as a sly smile spread across his. The raw hunger visible on his own face.

He stepped forward, releasing his hand from my waist and once again he used his hips to pin me to the wall. Flesh contacted with flesh and I started slightly at the heat erupting between my legs. He roughly pressed his mouth over mine and I felt as if I was being eaten alive. Consumed by a wild, untamable beast. Even with my eyes closed I felt the world tilt and I struggled to maintain my bearings.

He shifted his hips down and back slightly and I heard myself whimper in pleasure as he pressed himself against me. My arousal was so high; he slid inside of me with little resistance. He cupped his hands around to the backs of my upper thighs again and shifted them slightly higher before burying himself inside of me completely.

A loud intense roaring buzzed in my ears as he filled me, making think I would surely burst. He made no effort to move, as if he sensed that I needed time to adjust to his size. I lowered my arms down from above me and slid them over his cotton covered shoulders stopping only when I reached his lower back. I grasped the thin fabric and pulled it slowly from the waistband of his pants. He shivered slightly as my fingers brushed across his bare skin and his hips thrust forward causing me to gasp.

My nails scraped across his skin, urging violence. I needed what was soaking from his skin, what his eyes silently promised when he had stared at me earlier. 

Wild, uncontrolled sex. 

And I needed it now.

He shifted slightly and withdrew, dropping his head next to mine. I cried out as his teeth sank into my shoulder and thrust forward at the same time, my voice lost in the pounding techno music the DJ has selected.

Within seconds my lower back was beating painfully against the stone wall behind me. His teeth grazed up my neck and he shifted my legs higher again, allowing himself deeper access. The need to mindlessly mate devoured us both. A raging beast inside of us, fighting and tearing for release.

My vision exploded into a thousand lights, then plunged into pitch blackness as every muscle in my body contracted painfully at once. Muscles deep inside of me, that I never knew existed, clenched tightly around him and I heard a low groan in my ear.

The world shattered.

My body went rigid as the climax ignited deep inside of me, a torrent of shockwaves overrunning my system so powerfully that I could barely breathe. I was dimly aware of his continuing movements; the powerful strokes making me feel as if he was going to pound me into the wall.

Despite my head screaming I could no longer go on, my body refused to listen and my fingernails dug into the flesh on his lower back, demanding, pushing him to continue. He raised his head and I could see his eyes were darker, his control slipping. I raised one of my hands from his back to slip up through his thick, black hair and pulled his face roughly towards mine.

Our mouths and tongues met and I was slammed against the wall, his hand sliding from my thigh to slap against the wall for support. Strong, pulsating flesh against flesh caused my body to defy my brain again and I crashed over the edge one last time. He broke the kiss and buried his head back into my shoulder and he thrust upward one last time. 

A loud pounding in my ears brought me back slowly to myself. I realized that it was my heart hammering against my chest at a rapid pace. Swallowing slowly, I struggled to regain my breath. My entire body tingled as the feeling of being well used made me smile. 

He dropped his other hand from my thigh and pressed it against the wall, using it to lever himself slowly away from me, withdrawing himself. I dropped my legs back to the ground and quickly slid my skirt back down to cover myself.

Modesty was a little late at this point though; I thought to myself and smiled wider. Despite the fact that I had just came more than I ever had in my life, I felt that I desperately needed this man again.

And soon.

I tugged slightly on my lip with my teeth as I watched him refasten his pants. My intentions must have read clearly on my face because he raised one eyebrow and smiled wickedly. My knees turned to water when I saw the hunger still in his eyes as well. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him and his lips lightly grazed over my ear as he spoke.

Despite the loud noise in the club, I heard every word he uttered. I staggered slightly and he tugged at my waist, guiding me out of the club. 

Whispered words echoed in my head, never to be forgotten.

"I’m not done with you yet."

[End]



Up Against the Wall



Inspired by and dedicated to a smart and sexy natural woman for whom I have the utmost respect. 

..........

Pam opened the door after looking through the peephole and seeing the policeman on the other side. The cop was an physically imposing sight; standing well over 6 foot tall with a husky build, longish dark brown hair and wrap-around sunglasses that only served to make the officer look even more intimidating.

"Good afternoon ma'am," the officer said before Pam could open her mouth. "That your car there in the driveway?"

Pam nodded as the man motioned toward the light blue vintage Mustang on the side of the house.

"Maybe I'd better come in," the cop said and started to walk past the startled woman.

"Wait..."

"Is there a reason you don't want me to come in?" the officer asked.

"Well no, but..."

If you've got nothing to hide, then there's no reason for me not to then, right?" he said as he moved into the living room.

Pam was speechless for once in her life as the cop brushed past her, the heat from his body radiating as he passed. Pam closed the door and followed the man as he began to walk around the room like he owned the place.

"Nice place you have here," the officer remarked as he took his shades off.

"What's the reason that you're here?" Pam asked in an annoyed tone. "You said something about my car."

"Yesterday, you cut me off near the interstate," the cop said, his bass voice deep and authoritative. "I had to slam on my brakes or else the rear end of your car would have been wiped out. 1970, isn't it?"

"Yes," Pam replied. "I don't remember cutting anybody off, and I certainly don't make a habit of cutting off police cars."

"I was in my own car," he answered, and the way he looked at her as his gaze traveled up and down Pam's Rubenesque body made a shiver go down her spine. It was almost like he was undressing her with his eyes.

"Are you sure it was me?"

"Hey, there's a lot of hot cars in this town, and a lot of hot women too, but you don't see them together very often," he leered. "You got my attention even before you almost hit me."

"Well, I don't remember doing it, but if I did, I'm sorry," Pam said, her voice trembling a little. "Just give me a ticket and I'll pay it."

"Slow down there," he said, and moved next to the shaken woman. "Seems like you're trying to get rid of me awful quick."

His dark blue uniform top was sweat stained under his arms and down his back, the evidence of the sweltering day it had become, and the musky and manly scent now filled Pam's nostrils as he came up beside her.

"No, it's just that I have a lot of work to do, and I'm sure you have as well, Officer..."

Pam looked for the cop's name on his uniform, but there was no tag there. Just a badge.

"I'm sorry, I don't see your name and I didn't catch it."

"That's because I didn't throw it, Pam," the cop said. "That's a nice name - Pam."

"How do you know my name?"

"It's my job," the officer said, and as Pam began to move away he followed her. "I know a lot about you, and I'd like to know even more. You married?"

"No."

"Boyfriend?" the cop asked, and after Pam shook her head no, raised an eyebrow.

"Girlfriend?" he inquired in a voice that was dripping with innuendo.

"No! Look, I don't know what this is all about," Pam began, crossing her hands over her chest and inching toward the phone in the hall.

"Where are you going?" the cop demanded. "You're acting very suspiciously. What are you hiding?"

"Hiding? I'm not hiding anything! Look, I want your badge number. This isn't right!"

"I decide what's right," he boomed, and as Pam spun away the policeman grabbed her and moved her against the wall. "Right now, you aren't under arrest, but your actions are leading me to believe that you are concealing something, so I'm going to have to search you. Don't resist."

Pam got moved so that she was facing the wall, the cop was standing right behind her. His minty breath was hot on the back of Pam's head as he leaned over her from behind.

"Let's see what you were trying to hide out there," he said, his meaty hands coming around Pam's body.

Pam's hands came up instinctively, only to be forced back down.

"I said not to resist," he hissed and grabbed the front of her blouse.

"NO!" Pam cried out as the hands tore open her blouse, and the sound of the buttons hitting the hardwood floor as they were ripped from their moorings was chilling.

Pam was shaking as the remnants of her blouse were pulled off of her. Her shorts were yanked down, and the cop roughly pulled her bra straps from her shoulders and down her arms.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice. Now what I want you to do is reach up and grab the wall. Spread em' wide too."

Pam felt the cop nudge her feet apart as she reached out and put her palms against the wall. His hands ran up and down her backside, probing her lush ass cheeks through the panties.

"Have to see what it was you were trying to cover up," he said, while his fingers slowly undid the three hooks on the back of her bra.

The third hook was a little struggle, as it was the only thing holding the harness up, but when he finally got it loose the bra practically flew off of Pam.

"Ooooh," the cop groaned into Pam's ear as his hands replaced the bra cups. 

The cop's hands groped Pam's pendulous globes roughly, kneading the fleshy tits with an intensity that was as savage as it was passionate. Pam's nipples were not spared either, as he tweaked and pulled at the thick nubs while Pam whimpered helplessly.

"Great tits," the cop said as his breathing grew even heavier and more rapid. "Nice, big real ones. Love you big beautiful women... really turn me on.

Pam shuddered as she felt the officer grind himself into her, and her worst fears were realized when she looked down and saw the cop's pants around his ankles.

After massaging her breasts for what seemed like an eternity, the cop's hands slid up to Pam's shoulders. He pulled Pam's curly brown hair away from her neck and bowed his head, kissing and biting her exposed shoulder and neck.

"God, you turn me on," he grunted in a voice that could only be described as feral. "Keep your hands up on the wall."

The officer's hands ran along Pam's plump, pale shoulders and began slowly sliding over her down-covered biceps. Sliding further, his fingers ran through the dense hair that covered Pam's forearms. Back and forth his fingers went, the softness of the hair against his hands making a moan involuntarily escape his lips.

"Love your hairy arms too," the cop said in a guttural tone, grinding himself into Pam's ass as his hands kept stroking. "Tell me... are you hairy all over?"

Pam gasped at the crudeness of his remark, and her body quivered as he chuckled softly in her ear.

"Cat got your tongue?" he quipped as Pam was unable to speak. "Guess I'll have to find out for myself."

With that, his hands began a leisurely trek back up Pam's arms. As they reached her elbows and headed up toward her biceps, he moved his hands to the inside of Pam's arms. Now his fingernails were lightly raking the tender flesh on the underside of Pam's arms, traveling so slowly that the movement was almost imperceptible.

After a painfully slow journey, the cop's fingers felt the warmth and dampness just before they made contact with the timberline of what were dense thickets of hair under her arms.

The cop groaned like a wounded animal as his fingers raked through the damp tufts of hair that filled Pam's armpits, and her knees buckled as he bit into her neck, feeling his hardness against her. He grabbed her armpit hair in his beefy hands and pulled on it until Pam let out a little cry.

Then his hands slid down. Down Pam's sides, which were slick from the rivulets of sweat that were flowing from every pore, and down to her full hips, where the soft cotton of her panties guarded her intimate parts.

"Did you soil yourself?" the cop asked as her hands slid over the front of her panties, the cotton virtually dripping with moisture.

"No," Pam squeaked almost inaudibly, her body now trembling from head to toe, and when his hand slid under the elastic of the undies, her knees buckled and she leaned against the wall for support.

"Mmmmm," the cop said as his hand worked its way through the swirling tangle of hair that surrounded Pam's womanhood, and when his fingers parted the lips of her pussy she let out a groan that sent a shiver down the cop's spine.

The officer knelt down and pulled something off of his belt, and when he assumed his earlier position behind Pam he had something in his hand. Something long, thin and black, and when he showed the plastic baton to Pam, she cried out in fear.

"Please... don't hit me," Pam sobbed, as she looked at the weapon that the man was sliding between her breasts and up towards her face.

"Open your mouth," the cop said, rubbing the stick along Pam lips while his other hand held a fist full of her scalp, forcing her head up and back. "Show me what a good cocksucker you are."

Reluctantly, Pam's lips parted, allowing the officer to slide the baton into her mouth.

"That's it," he grunted as he looked over Pam's shoulder at the woman's lips sliding up and down the tip of the baton. "You can take more of it than that. Take it deep - make it nice and wet."

His cock was relentlessly poking between her plump ass cheeks, grinding into Pam while he watched her fellate the night stick, and the vulgarities he whispered in her ear as she sucked made her shudder.

"Easy to see you've had a lot of practice doing that. There, now you've got it nice and shiny," he said, and with his free hand savagely yanked Pam's panties down, the fabric tearing as he pulled them off. 

"I think you know where this is going now," he chuckled maniacally.

"NO!" Pam howled.

Suddenly Pam was pushed against the wall. The cop leaned on her, holding the baton up against her throat.

"I don't like that word," he spat into her ear. "Who do you think you're dealing with here? No - sounds so negative. Almost makes it seem like you have a choice in the matter."

"You do have a choice, sort of," he said while leaning up against Pam. "You can take it like a woman. Take it like I know you want it."

"Or what?" Pam asked, her voice cracking.

"Or you can resist, in which case I'll take you down and ram this thing up your ass. You decide."

Pam whimpered, but when he felt her body relax a bit and she spread her legs, he took the baton away from her throat.

"Wise decision," he grunted, bringing the baton down Pam's body.

When he reached her damp triangle, the baton easily found her opening. Pam moaned as the instrument parted her pussy lips, and despite herself she began to writhe and push against the weapon as he began to slowly thrust it in and out of her.

"Knew you wanted it," he said with a sick satisfaction. "You seem the type that's always fantasized about having something long and black inside of you. Maybe more than thought about it. Huh?"

While he worked the end of the stick inside of Pam's squirming body, his other hand roughly handled Pam's breasts, plucking and mauling her swollen nipples as she held onto the wall for dear life.

"Gotta see what you look like," the cop said abruptly. 

The cop grabbed Pam's right hand and slipped a handcuff over her wrist and brought it up behind her head. He pulled her left hand up and snapped the restraint on that one as well, leaving her with her hands secured behind her neck.

"Now I can get a better look at you," he said gruffly as he spun her around to face him.

Pam's face was flushed and glistening, and she looked away as she felt the officer's eyes devour her. He leered at the sight of the baton sticking out of her pussy, and his hands were everywhere; her breasts were mauled, her armpit hair toyed with, and the baton was churned roughly between her legs without mercy.

"Look at me," the cop said as he stepped back a couple of paces. "Look what you've done to me."

Pam looked at the officer, and when he nodded downward, Pam saw what he wanted her to look at.

He was naked from the waist down, and his cock was swaying lewdly in front of him. Fully engorged, it was ordinary in length but exceptionally thick, and it almost seemed like it was throbbing. A long string of pre-cum dangled lazily off of the tip before dropping onto the floor.

The cop began to unbutton his uniform shirt, exposing his thickly furred barrel chest, the hair so dense that he seemed more animal than man. He never took his eyes off of Pam as he tossed the shirt aside.

Reaching down, he grabbed his cock in his hand and began slowly stroking his member while staring at his helpless captive, all of her womanly charms fully exposed for his pleasure.

He picked up the remnants of her panties from the floor and brought them up to his face, inhaling deeply as he buried his nose in the damp cotton. He groaned and began pumping his cock harder, bending his knees a little bit as his hand pistoned up and down his engorged tool. Pam wiggled a little bit, causing the baton to slip out of her and clatter noisily to the hardwood floor.

"...."

The cop looked at Pam, seeing her lips move but no sound coming out, and moved closer to her. Her mouth moved again, but only a tiny squeak came out.

"Can't hear you, my dear," the cop said, leaning closer, and her mouth moved again. This time he heard her.

"Fuck me."

The cop looked at Pam, her breathing just as heavy as his. Breasts heaving and body almost convulsing, she shifted her weight from foot to foot as her eyes pleaded to him.

"Please," Pam whimpered.

"Had enough play?" he asked, and Pam answered by leaning down and burying her face in his chest, her mouth finding his nipple and sucking on it with all her might.

"You want this, don't you?" he asked as he wiped the tip of his cock with his finger.

Holding his index finger in front of Pam's face, he was startled to see Pam snap at his semen-covered digit, sucking it clean as she inhaled it.

The officer smiled and led Pam over to the bed. He helped ease her down to the edge of the mattress, her hands still secured behind her head, and as she sat on the bed she leaned over and tried to grab his cock with her mouth.

"Now now Pam dear," he said. "Don't want to make a mess just yet. Here, if you want something to suck on, have a go at these."

He reached down and pulled his cock upward, exposing his scrotum, and Pam leaned forward, taking his left nut in her mouth. She sucked on it eagerly, and he had to pull it out of her mouth before she yanked it clean off of him. After she did the same with the right one, he pushed her gently back on the bed.

"Guess you've had enough play," the officer said, and Pam's answer was to throw her legs up and spread them wide, exposing her furry grotto to his hungry eyes. "Me too."

With that, he climbed between her plump thighs and slid his cock inside her. Despite her being so wet, it was a tight fit, and he slowly worked his thick manhood into her until she had taken it all in.

Pam began bucking herself into him as he started his rhythmic stroking, and the officer knew he had a problem. The sight of Pam beneath him, her arms up high, was so erotic he could not look for fear of cumming. The sound of Pam screaming as he slid his cock in and out of her, was equally intoxicating.

The officer fought to keep the sounds out of his ears as he clenched his eyes closed, and tried to think of anything but this glorious example of womanhood writhing beneath him. In and out his cock went, his husky body driving himself into her with the force of a jackhammer. He felt Pam's pussy clench around him once - twice - and then again, the last time savagely clamping tight around his cock, while her screams echoed in his ears.

The sound of their sweaty bodies slapping together sounded like thunder in the room. Pam was screaming again, and he felt her hands around his neck, scratching and clawing at him like she was possessed, while the handcuffs flew off. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, and the feel of her leg hair on his sides was only adding to the experience.

He didn't want to cum, but he couldn't hold it back any longer. The officer looked down at Pam's flushed and sweaty face and let himself explode inside of her, letting out a wail that sounded inhuman. Pam felt his cock jump inside of her and smiled, squeezing her pussy around him as he spurted into her, wailing and moaning like the animal he felt like, until he was drained and limp.

It was a long time before either of them could even move. He had fallen off to Pam's side, and cradled her in his arms as they laid there, their bodies a perfect fit as they rested.

......

"I've got one complaint," Pam said after eventually summoning up enough energy to move, turning over to face him.

"What's that?"

"These handcuffs," Pam said as she dangled the flimsy shackles in front of my face. "Pitiful! It was all I could do to keep them together."

"I know," I admitted. "I was more concerned that you would laugh at my badge. OFFICIAL DEPUTY isn't that authentic either."

"Well, I was so captivated by your performance that I wasn't paying attention," Pam said with a grin. "Was it good for you?"

"I think you know the answer to that," I replied.

"I love the way you looked at me," Pam said as she toyed with my chest hair. 

"What way is that?" I asked.

"The way you looked at me like you wanted me so badly... more than life itself."

"I love the way you look. My acting was over by that point."

"No accounting for taste," Pam said in her self-depreciating way. "Hey! I thought I killed him!"

Pam's hand had snaked its way down my stomach and had found my cock, which was making a rapid recovery and was nearly erect again.

"Hope I can get these things to close on you," Pam said as she pulled my wrists over my head and snapped the cuffs on my wrists. "Just don't move around much."

I raised my head as she fiddled with my restraint, burying my head under her arm and licking and kissing the damp jungle, making her giggle at the sensation of my tongue caressing her armpit.

"You know what that does to me," Pam said.

"Me too," I assured her.

"Well I don't plan on being as nice to you as you were to me," Pam warned me as she climbed on top of me. "You let me off too easy. I plan on really making you beg for mercy before I let you come."

As she straddled me, she pulled a bag of toys from the side of the bed. Some of them I could figure out, while a couple of the others left me puzzled.

"You'll find out!" was her answer to my question about a string of beads that she waved in front of me.

Pam cackled with glee as she ground her pussy into my now very stiff cock. "Right now, you have the right to remain silent."

With that, Pam stuffed her tattered panties into my mouth, ending my conversation for the time being. I could have spat them out, I thought to myself as I savored the pungent aroma that filled my nostrils, but what was the fun in that?

Instead, I listened intently as Pam finished reading me my rights, waiting to see what she had in mind. I knew that I had it coming to me, and seeing the fire in Pam's eyes and the lewd and lascivious grin on her face, I was really going to get it.

.........

thanks for reading. 



Up Against the Wall



Dear Reader: This story contains homosexuality and cuckoldry without humiliation. If these subjects do not interest you, or upset you, please move on to another story. If you choose to read this one, at least don't get mad at me. I'm not Pat. This is just fiction. I made it all up. 

*

Have you ever been dumped by a beautiful gal you thought was crazy about you? I guess many guys have and know what I'm feeling right now. I was sitting by the pool at the club talking to a couple of friends, Tom and Carolyn, trying to get some sympathy and support. 

"Rusty, you just have to accept it. You were not her type. Michele gave it her best shot and it just didn't work," said Carolyn.

"What do you mean, not her type?" I asked angrily. 

"She talked to me about it. She said she had talked to you. Don't you remember what she said?"

"Well, yeah, I guess so. I couldn't understand her. She said something about me being too rough, but that's bullshit! I was never rough with her!"

"Of course you weren't," Carolyn said patiently, "that's not what she meant."

"What the hell did she mean?" I asked. Carolyn wasn't making sense.

"Look who she's dating now."

"Johnnie?" I said. "Yeah I've seen him -- kinda wimpy!"

"He's not wimpy. He could be a double for Brad Pitt! He's handsome."

"Okay, but you know what I mean. He's not ... he's not ... "

"I know exactly what you mean. He's tall and slender and clean-shaven and not hairy and he speaks softly. The opposite of you. Look at yourself. You're built like a heavyweight boxer and you move like one -- as though you're ready to defend yourself even when you're walking into the dining room. Your chest is covered with thick curly hair and you have to shave again at night if you're gonna go out because your whiskers will rub a gal's cheek raw, just like sandpaper."

"What the hell? You just described your own husband!"

Carolyn laughed and reached over lovingly to touch Tom's arm. "You're damn right I did and he turns me on and you could be his double. If I wanted to flirt with you, I could have you two macho guys pounding each other right here by the pool."

Tom laughed. "If you think I'm gonna fight a friend for your entertainment you're crazy. You flirt with anybody, baby, and I'll just turn you over my knee and spank you."

Carolyn gave him a sexy smile and said eagerly, "Is that a promise honey?"

Then she turned back to me. "But, seriously Rusty, different women are attracted to different kinds of men -- physically attracted I mean. Michele was not physically attracted to you and her way of putting that into words was to call you rough."

Then Carolyn pointed across the pool. "Look at them. You see LC and Pat over there? Now Johnnie is just like LC. Soft and gentle."

"Light in the loafers," chuckled Tom.

Carolyn responded sharply. "I don't believe that rumor at all. Not one bit! He's just a sweet, sensitive, gentle guy." 

I'd heard the same rumor about LC. Never thought about it seriously. Pat was a real beauty -- the best figure around the pool in a skimpy bikini that showed off great legs and ass and -- well, just about great everything. She was from an Italian family from south Philly and her curly dark hair and sultry looks reflected it. Tom and I had often commented on her looks (when Carolyn and Michele were not around, of course).

I glanced at Tom and he was smiling. Both of us thought it better to remain silent. But it got my mind to working. What if the rumor were true? Pat might not be getting the attention she deserved. She'd married LC several years ago when she was only eighteen and he had been a senior at Penn. This hot-blooded Italian gal might be having second thoughts. Maybe ... I let my mind wander, briefly.

When Tom and Carolyn called it a day and headed off to get dressed, I wandered over to the other side of the pool.

"Hi LC. Hi Pat. Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all. Have a seat," said LC. 

I put my drink on the table and sat down in the shade under the big umbrella. It was not easy to keep my eyes off of Pat's body and I thought maybe she saw me looking and smiled. It happened more than once.

"Sorry about Michele," said LC. Everybody liked her.

"Yeah," I said. "Shit happens. Carolyn said I was just not her type and I guess she's right. She just wasn't attracted to me."

Pat looked at me sympathetically. "That's hard to understand."

Maybe it was my imagination, but I would swear her eyes rapidly checked out my body as we sat there.

We chatted about things in general, about the club, about happenings in San Diego. As we talked, I was somehow conscious of glances exchanged between Pat and LC. Like they were achieving some mutual understanding. I was also conscious of something else. LC was looking at my body. I had seen him do it before and had not thought seriously about it. But now, especially after talking with Tom and Carolyn, I began to wonder. 

The sun was about to set, gold and orange in the clouds of the northwestern sky. We picked up our stuff and headed for the club locker rooms. LC had a locker near mine and I watched his eyes as I pulled my trunks down and stepped out of them. There it was again! Covert glances at my groin. Not to exaggerate, but I was hung pretty well -- not the biggest in the world -- but nothing to be ashamed of either. And it looked to me like LC was admiring what he saw.

We headed for the showers and as I soaped up I gave him opportunities to look. He seemed unable to keep his eyes off of me. Then turning to face him, I soaped my groin in a very obvious and deliberate manner. It was almost like hooking a fish. His eyes became frozen as I stroked back my loose foreskin and showed him the large purple head of my uncircumcised cock. He just stared at it. Even when he knew I was watching, he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Wordlessly we finished our showers and dressed. We waited outside a few minutes for Pat -- who was, no doubt, blow-drying her short, curly, brunet hair. We didn't say anything at all. He knew for sure that I'd seen the lust in his eyes as he stared at my cock. Pat came out wearing a short miniskirt that, with heels, made her legs look even better than her bikini -- long and tan and shapely. She had on a tight fitting white blouse that showed off her large breasts.

"Rusty, I'm fixing a batch of spaghetti tonight and maybe some calamari. If you're not busy, would you like to join us?"

It was as if we were reading each other's minds. I could feel a tingle in my groin. There was an unspoken tension in the air and I could tell all three of us felt it.

"Sure Pat, I'd love to. I haven't had much of a night life since Michele left."

"Great," Pat said. "That's a very attractive sport shirt you have on."

As she said it she reached over as if to feel the material, but as her fingers touched it they strayed, just a bit, into the curly hair on my chest that was visible above my shirt. I always left the top button open to show a bit of chest. Her fingers seemed to linger there, and then she dropped her hand with a smile. Her movements were not lost on her husband -- he watched her intently. My pecker noticed her fingers.

When we got to their place, LC and I sipped Glenlivet, neat, on the patio as Pat bustled around in the kitchen. The window was open and she participated in our conversation. The red sauce recipe was from her mother, she said, and delicious aromas wafted out of the kitchen. When things got to a simmering point, she joined us on the patio. 

"I may be Italian," she said laughing, "but those damn Scots make the best whisky of anybody. LC, be sure to get out the good Chianti for dinner -- not that cheap stuff."

Then she raised her glass in a toast. "Here's to gals and the men they choose and to hell with a gal who doesn't like a man with hair on his chest."

"Here-here," said LC, who had not even a single hair on his chest, but seemed, I thought, to admire mine. 

Calamari, spaghetti with delicious red sauce, washed down with a good Chianti and finally we sat on the patio sipping Frangelico and listening to soft music. It was exactly the way I would have planned an evening of seduction for a young lady at my place. That's what I was thinking as I sat silently staring across the table at Pat's tight white blouse. 

"Would you like to dance?" Pat asked me.

"I'd love to."

I got up and extended my hand. She rose and slipped easily into my arms and we danced quietly on the tiled patio to soft music. It was wonderful! Her body molded against mine, her left hand stroking the back of my neck, my right hand on her waist pulling her close, her legs straddling my right thigh with her pussy rubbing gently against me. 

Her head was resting on my chest and her cheek rubbed against the curly hair she had fingered outside the club, earlier. Her eyes were closed and she breathed softly. We danced to several songs this way, wordlessly. LC watched us, it seemed with anticipation, sitting quietly at the table, sipping his drink. Pat and I were almost in a dream state.

At the edge of the patio there was a masonry wall separating the pumps servicing the pool from view. I danced Pat over that way and then danced her behind the wall, out of LC's view. I leaned her up against the wall and putting my fingers under her chin I lifted her face up to me, her eyes still closed, and kissed her softly on the lips. She took my head gently in her hands and pulled me into a stronger kiss that gradually became more passionate as our tongues stroked together.

My hands were on her ass now and I could feel no panties. I lifted her miniskirt up and caressed her ass lovingly. She raised her left knee up to my waist and I caressed her inner thigh gently -- then more passionately as my hand moved up her thigh to a warm, wet, eager pussy. I played with her for a while until I felt her hands exploring the bulge in my trousers and reaching for my zipper. 

When I eased my aching cock out of my pants, she grabbed it impatiently with both hands. I was hard as a rock.

"My God, you're big," she whispered. "I've never ... ever ... Oh my God. Yes!"

I guided my cock easily into her dripping wet pussy. She moaned softly as she took it. Then holding her buttocks in my hands I began to fuck her slowly and deliberately. She was pumping eagerly at least twice for each of my strokes. We fucked this way, up against the wall, not ten feet from her husband, who was still sipping Frangelico at the patio table.

When she had her orgasm, her moans of pleasure were loud enough for her husband to hear, but she didn't seem to care. I had mine shortly after her, and again I was sure her husband heard me. 

I held her there tenderly and we rested leaning against the wall. After several minutes I pulled her skirt back down and, replacing my flaccid pecker, I zipped up my pants. Then I began dancing with her again and danced her back out onto the patio. I danced her over to the table where I helped her to her seat and took mine.

"Time for some more of that great Frangelico," I said. 

LC poured more of the liqueur into my glass and into Pat's. 

We sat for several minutes sipping our drinks, wordlessly.

Then I said to LC, "You have a lovely place here and a very nice pool."

"Thank you," he said. "Would you like to take a dip? You look warm." 

"Yes," I said. "I seem to have worked up a sweat. I'd like a dip."

"Of course," said LC. "Do you want to borrow a suit or ... " 

"No," I said. "I don't need one. Will you two join me?"

Then the three of us, slowly and wordlessly, started to strip and got into the pool. I had wanted to see her naked and she was as beautiful naked as I had expected. I did not hesitate to embrace her openly as LC watched. I kissed her and caressed her lovingly and LC just watched us passively. We were drinking and moving around in the water and saying almost nothing, a loving murmur occasionally escaping Pat's lips as I caressed her. 

Then, as though it were planned, Pat said, "I'd better go in and put away the stuff in the kitchen."

When she left, LC moved over to where I was standing in the pool and with a great deal of hesitation, giving me many chances to say no, he placed his hand on my thigh under the water and began slowing stroking me. When I gave no resistance he moved his hand to my groin and began to lightly massage my testicles. I was half way surprised when I felt myself developing an erection. 

I got out of the water and sat on the edge of the tub with LC standing in the pool between my spread knees. He stroked my erection gently and then bending down he began to suck my cock. He used his tongue to explore under my large foreskin. He sucked me slowly and gently at first, and then he developed a steady rhythm. I put my hands on the back of his head and pushed him down until my cock hit the back of his throat and I could feel a pair of big fleshy tonsils embrace the head of my dick. My hands showed him the rhythm I liked. 

I had not had a guy suck my cock since college when a bunch of us frat brothers went to a local strip club and got blowjobs in the men's room from some fags hanging out there to meet horny college guys. LC's mouth felt good -- not great -- but good. If this was the price for regular access to Pat's magnificent body, it was well worth it. She was fabulous pussy. However, I decided, after I thought about it a little more, that I didn't want to mention this to Tom.

I looked at Pat bustling around in the kitchen rinsing dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. She could easily see us through the window but she did not look -- at least I didn't see her looking. After several minutes I felt a tingling in my groin and my balls started lifting up and I pumped my second load of the evening into the husband whose wife had received the first. 

We got out of the tub, dried off, and dressed. We were sitting at the table finishing the last of the Frangelico when Pat came out and sat down.

"Did you enjoy your swim?" Pat asked with a bright smile.

"We did indeed," I said. 

"And did you like my spaghetti?" Pat asked.

"I loved your spaghetti," I said, enthusiastically.

"Well then, would you like come back for some more spaghetti Friday night?"

"I was afraid you'd never ask," I said, thinking that this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.



Up Against The Wall



Prologue

'See anything you like?'

Charlie looked up hastily from the woman's cleavage. He was usually pretty good at not looking at women who weren't his wife. But this girl, with her shining blonde locks and plump red lips, had drawn his gaze down into the valley between her full, pert breasts.

She looks, he thought, like Jane did on our first day of university. Caught me off-guard.

He picked up one of the pamphlets from the table, as though the stack was what had drawn his eye.

'Uh, yeah,' he said. 'I'm very interested in...' The pamphlet said Parabolic Resonance Imaging, which he didn't trust himself to say convincingly. '...this.'

'Uh-huh.' The Jane lookalike wasn't fooled, but nor was she angered. She flashed him a perfect smile. 

In high school, Charlie had fallen madly in love with Jane. She wasn't as loud as some of the other girls in his class, but when she spoke, it was with a quiet confidence that enthralled him. He saw her fail many times, but unlike everyone else he knew, he never saw her give up. And when she looked at him with her fierce blue eyes, he had the thrilling sense that she was seeing right through him.

Perhaps that was why she rejected him -- with devastating politeness -- when he asked her out.

Ultimately, that was a good thing. If Jane hadn't turned him down, he wouldn't have noticed Sally in his psychology class at university. The svelte, graceful redhead had a wicked sense of humour and an incredibly kind heart -- both of which might have completely escaped his attention if Jane had wanted to be more than just friends.

When Sally asked him for help with her psych homework, it didn't take Charlie long to realise that she didn't need it. Weeks later, he was cupping her freckled cheek as they shared tender kisses whenever her parents left the room. A year later, they were married. Jane had been a radiant bridesmaid at the wedding.

'Enjoying the show?' the girl asked.

Charlie snapped back to reality. He glanced around at the endless rows of noisy, crowded booths. The rain drummed on the ceiling, drowning out most people's voices and making the exhibition hall sound like a poorly tuned radio. The grey carpet, clean when he had arrived that morning, was already leopard-spotted with coffee stains.

'Sure,' he lied. 'How about you?'

'It's been pretty full-on,' the girl said. She stretched her shoulders back, thrusting her breasts forward, and groaned. 'I'm so sore. I'm really looking forward to my break.'

She waited for him to ask when it was.

Charlie held up the pamphlet in his left hand, so she could see his wedding ring.

'Thanks for this,' he said. 'But I have to run.'

'Oh, okay.' She hid her disappointment so well that Charlie wondered if he had only imagined that she was hitting on him. 'See you later.'

He escaped into the crowd, relieved. He was only average height, with curly hair and a slight build -- he wasn't used to being flirted with. He didn't know the protocols for rebuffing these advances.

Feeling guilty, he got out his phone and dialled Sally. He turned absent-mindedly as it rang, and found himself facing the Jane-lookalike again. She was chatting with a young, handsome man. From this angle, he could see her jeans hugging the pronounced curves of her butt. He turned away again.

His wife's voice came on the line. 'Hi, you've called Sally and Charlie. We're out and about, but if you leave a message, we'll call you back soon.'

A beep.

'Hi sweetie, it's me,' Charlie said. 'I just wanted to hear your voice. Give me a call when you're free, okay? Love you.'

He hung up. When he looked back, the girl was gone. Perhaps her break had begun.

He kept wandering around the trade show floor, weaving through the babbling throng. None of the booths interested him, and very few of them would be of any value to his company. Not for the first time, he cursed his boss for sending him on this fruitless mission. 

After almost half an hour, he had a bundle of pamphlets, a handful of business cards, and a grumbling stomach. The food hall had looked fairly depressing -- stale paninis, weak coffee and not much else. He decided to go for a drive. Even a roadside cafe would be better than this.

His car was a long way from the main entrance of the exhibition hall. If he went out that way, he would be drenched by the time he reached it. He wondered if there were any other exits. None were signposted, but that didn't mean they weren't there.

A dim grey door lay in the shadows between two booths. Promising.

Charlie hesitated with his fingers on the handle. What if opening the door activated the fire alarm? What if the whole building had to be evacuated and it was his fault?

But no signs indicated that this was a risk. And hell, Charlie thought, at least that would get me out of the trade show.

He pushed the door open a crack. No good. It wasn't an exit -- just a storage closet, which currently held mountains of sticky notes and whiteboard markers.

Charlie was about to let the door fall closed when he heard an agonised moan.

He popped his head through the door, wondering if someone had fallen off a ladder inside--

And saw the girl, laying on her back on a stack of notepads. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and some of her hair had fallen over her face. Her tank top was pulled down to expose her bulging tits, which jiggled as her hips shifted on the pile. Her nipples stood straight up in the air, as though recently pinched. His jeans were tangled around one ankle, and her legs were spread wide.

A man was crouched on the floor before her, his head buried between her thighs, his muscular, naked back to Charlie. A shaded motorcycle was tattooed across his shoulder blade. It was hard to tell from behind, but Charlie thought it was the man he'd seen her talking to after he left.

'Yeah, yeah, yeah,' the girl hissed. 'Keep doing that. Oh, fuck.'

Charlie stood frozen for a second, hypnotised. It was the first pair of breasts he'd seen in the flesh since his wedding, other than Sally's -- and he hadn't seen Sally's in a long time, either. He could hear the soft, wet sounds of the man slurping at the girl's pussy.

'That's it.' The girl was breathing hard and fast. 'Yes, yes...'

Charlie bit his lip. Enticing though the sight was, it was wrong to watch. But when he closed the door, they might hear him.

His dick was throbbing in his pants. It was like his teenage fantasies of Jane, nude and horny, had come to life before his eyes.

'God!' the girl gasped, and she slid a hand down to her groin, rubbing in tiny circles as the man plunged his tongue into her. 'Fuck! Yes! Ah!'

She threw her head back and wailed. Her legs quivered on either side of the man's head. Figuring that she was making enough noise to cover the sound, Charlie stepped back and let the door fall shut.

He wondered if they had heard. He wondered if that could have been him, licking the girl's slit. He wondered how guilty he should feel about what he had seen.

He wondered what Jane was doing right now.

Chapter 1

The lipstick, sports-car red, gleamed as she blew a kiss to her reflection. Yes, Jane decided. That's the right shade.

She swept the tissues, stained with her previous attempts, into the bin and unhooked another button on her blouse. The bumps of her nipples were barely visible -- should she wear a thinner bra? And was that too much cleavage? Did she look comical?

She pushed her breasts together, examining the valley between them and the fringe of lace around the cups. No, not comical, she decided. Sexy.

The bathroom was the cleanest it had been in weeks. The makeup bottles which usually surrounded the sink were neatly lined up in the cupboard. The tiles had been swabbed with a soapy rag. The bathtub gleamed, free of hair and dust. She wasn't exactly sure why she'd had this sudden urge to clean. She wasn't expecting visitors. Perhaps the desire stemmed from subconscious guilt -- what she was about to do made her feel dirty.

She spritzed a little perfume onto her wrists and left the en suite, twirling in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door. She smoothed down her satin skirt, and bent over, looking back at her reflection. The skirt slid up, but didn't reveal her lack of underwear until her chest was parallel to the floor. Unless she had to change a tyre, no-one would see. No-one who wasn't supposed to.

Sitting down on the duvet, Jane rolled up the thigh-high stockings and strapped her feet into the three-inch obsidian heels she had chosen. Then she grabbed a leather bag from the dresser, and tossed in her phone, her keys, her wallet and a tube of lubricant.

As she returned to the mirror to examine her mascara one more time, she caught her own gaze and felt a sudden tightness in her lungs.

'Am I really doing this?' she asked, aloud.

The empty apartment offered no reply.

She reached up under her skirt, and traced a fingertip across her labia, trying to get herself aroused. It didn't work. She was too nervous.

Taking a deep breath, she waved away a fallen blonde lock like it was a troublesome fly. Then she left.

* * *

The further from the entrance she walked, the warmer it was. Jane could already feel a droplet of sweat tracing down her belly.

The neon lights under the bar threw shadows of the patrons onto the ceiling, where the plaster was carved into delicate patterns. A DJ with gel-crisped hair and a designer-faded T-shirt stood in the corner, ignoring everybody and largely ignored himself as he selected thumping house tracks to blast through the speakers. The air was thick with lust.

'Can I buy you a drink?'

She turned to face the boy. He was young, with scruffy hair and a shy grin. His sneakers were so white they almost glowed. His eyes, warm and brown like freshly-baked cake, never left hers.

'You wouldn't owe me anything for it,' he added. 'I'm just looking for someone to talk to. Want to tell me about yourself?'

He seemed genuine, which disqualified him. 'Sorry sweetie,' she said. 'I'm bad news. You don't want to know me.'

His smile faltered. 'I'm sure that's not true.'

'Tonight it is,' she said. 'Don't worry. You're cute; there'll be other girls.'

She turned away, and he let her go.

The man she was looking for would be on his own. Young-ish. Handsome, but maybe not as handsome as he thought. Eyeing the crowd, rather than his phone or a book. A wedding band on his finger.

Once she had ruled out all the couples and groups, few men remained. Most were too old, or ugly, or distracted. But one stood out.

Jane watched his biceps swirl under his skin as he lifted the beer to his lips. His hair was thick but close cropped, and a trace of stubble grazed his chin. His silk shirt was stretched across broad shoulders, and his jeans were tight around muscular buttocks. A golden ring gleamed on his left hand.

She imagined her legs wrapped around his hips, his hands tangled in her hair, his breath hot on her lips.

This was her last chance to back out. To admit that this had been a stupid idea, to come up with a new plan, to go home before he saw her.

After all, he was married, and not her usual type -- she might not be his type either. He may not even be interested.

But his royal-blue eyes, when they locked onto hers, left no room for doubt. He was interested.

* * *

Striking is the wrong word, Eric thought. Even stunning doesn't cover it.

As he took in the toned legs, the short skirt, the plump breasts, the tresses of silky blonde hair, his first thought was that she must be with somebody. She wasn't wearing a ring, but no woman who looked that good would be here alone.

But as she walked, her skirt hugging her smooth thighs, he realised that she was headed his way.

He told himself that this wasn't what why he was here. He had gotten all his projects done and come home from work a few hours early. Irene -- his exquisite wife, with her terracotta skin and eyes like black glass -- wasn't there. Nothing good was on TV, and he didn't want to strain his eyes on the laptop, so he came here. Just to have a drink and listen to some music until it was time to go to bed. He wasn't here to flirt with strangers.

But if all that was true, why hadn't he looked away, when the beautiful woman met his eye?

You're a bad man, he told himself. 

The woman gave an apologetic smile as she squeezed past him to get to the bar. Her breasts grazed his stomach.

He swallowed the last of his beer. It was bitter, and too warm.

'I'll have a screwdriver,' the woman told the girl behind the bar. Her voice was dark and sultry.

The girl nodded, shaking loose some feathery hair. She started scooping ice into a glass, which jingled like sleigh bells.

'Can I get you another?' the woman asked, and it took him a moment to realise she was looking at him.

'Uh, sure,' Eric said. 'Crown.'

'And a Crown for my friend,' the woman told the bar girl, before turning back to him. 'I'm Sally.'

'Thanks,' he said. 'You don't look like a Sally.'

She looked shocked rather than amused, and suddenly he suspected that it was a false name.

'I don't?' she said.

He shrugged.

'Who do I look like?'

He considered the question. 'Serena,' he said. 'Or Sophia. Definitely something ending in A.'

The bar girl returned with the beer and the cocktail. The woman handed her fifteen dollars, and waved away the change.

'They're pretty names,' she said, passing him the beer.

'I agree.'

She clinked her glass against his. 'Cheers.'

'Cheers,' Eric said. 'I'm Grant.' You lie to me, he thought, and I lie to you.

'You do look like a Grant,' she said.

'Thanks, I think.' As he sipped his beer, he watched her tongue probe the straw and her lips purse around it.

'You from around here?' she asked, almost shouting over the music.

'Ten minutes' drive.'

'Sorry?' She offered her ear.

He leaned in closer. Her hair smelled of wild berries.

'Ten minutes' drive,' he said, practically cheek-to-cheek with her.

'I'm not sure I can wait that long,' she whispered, right into his ear. He felt her nails drag across the growing lump in his jeans.

Eric had never cheated before -- not exactly. Once, when Irene was visiting relatives in Vietnam, he went to a party without her. He got talking to a skinny brunette in a sequinned dress, and offered her a lift home. On arrival, he barely had time to pull the handbrake on before she wrapped her arms around his neck and slipped her tongue into his ear. He found his hand sliding up her smooth thigh toward her panties before he caught himself and asked her to leave the car.

This time, he was drunk. And the woman was gorgeous. Would he be able to resist?

'I'm married,' he said.

The woman leaned back just enough to meet his gaze. She was looking for loyalty to his wife, and not finding it.

'So am I,' she said. 'But my husband isn't available right now.'

She drew closer, her lips almost touching his. He could smell the toothpaste she had used. Her eyes, huge and blue, swallowed his gaze.

'Is he better off if I go hungry?' she said. 'Is your wife?'

Her palm was flat across his cock. He could feel it pulsing in her hand.

'Let's get out of here,' he said.

She spun and walked away, hips swaying. For a moment, he thought he had offended her. Then he realised he was supposed to be following.

* * *

As they emerged into the cool night air, the woman turned left instead of right. Her bouncing hair was glossy in the moonlight.

A few sedans coasted past along the blacktop, looking for parking spaces. Posters which advertised local bands fluttered in the breeze. Eric could hear the sizzling of a churros stand somewhere nearby, and smell the sweet batter.

'My car is this way,' he said, pointing over his shoulder.

She kept moving in the same direction. 'Like I told you. I can't wait.' 

'Where are we going?'

She rounded a corner, and he followed her into the gloomy alleyway. A crow cawed at them indignantly, and, when they kept approaching, fluttered away. Ancient oil stains patterned the ground.

Ten steps in, Sally turned around and placed her hands on his chest.

'Here,' she said, and fell to her knees in front of him.

'Jesus.' He watched her release his belt buckle and drag his jeans down his legs. His penis, already thick and heavy, sprang free and slapped her cheek. He thought he caught a momentary look of horror on her face, but then she laughed.

'Something wrong?' he asked.

'Nothing at all,' she said, and gently kissed the tip.

He closed his eyes, and felt her nails raking through his pubic hair, up his shaft and under his balls as her breath cooked the tip of his dick.

I shouldn't be here, he thought. I shouldn't be doing this. Then he felt her lips close around his shaft and her tongue swirl across the head, and these thoughts suddenly felt like too much effort.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. She pushed forward, swallowing more and more of him, then choked and pulled back. She didn't seem to be an experienced fellatrix, which surprised him, given that she was married and clearly adventurous. But her lack of skill didn't reduce his pleasure as she suckled on the tip of his aching cock, her breaths hissing through her nose. He let his eyelids flutter closed as the warmth expanded to fill his whole body.

Then something cold spilled onto him, and he yelped.

Sally was squirting him with a tube of lubricant. She grinned up at him. 'Spermicidal,' she said, as she clenched her fist around him and slid it up and down his shaft.

He hadn't used spermicidal lubricant before. It didn't feel any different. As her fingers squeezed his flesh, rubbing him into slippery ecstasy, all he could do was moan. His heart was pounding in his ears.

Think of your wife, he told himself. Think of Irene.

The knowledge that he was cheating, breaking through a boundary that he'd promised himself he would never cross, didn't help him resist. If anything, it turned him on more.

Looking down, he saw that the woman had her other hand under her skirt, where she was tickling frantically at her clit. Her breaths were heavy and her eyes were squeezed shut.

'You like that?' she hissed. 'You like me jerking off your cock?'

He did like it. But the longer she kept it up, the less time he would last inside her pussy. He could already feel an eager twitching in his penis.

'I want to fuck you,' he said.

'In a minute,' she whispered. Her hand was a blur beneath her skirt. Her fist was making wet sucking sounds around his dick. He could smell the medical tang of the lube.

'Please,' he said. 'Please let me fuck you.'

She let go of him, and wiped her hand between her thighs before rising to her feet and turning to face the wall. Then she spread her legs and hiked up her skirt, showing a bare, perky arse. She put her palms flat against the wall, as if preparing for a strip-search.

'Well,' she said. 'Since you asked so nicely.'

The contrived spontaneity of this one-night stand struck him as suspicious. But she was a beautiful woman, bent over with her high heels a metre apart and her pussy glistening in the moonlight. He wasn't going to back out of this on a feeling. So he walked up behind her and rubbed the head of his cock over her swollen labia.

'God, yes,' she whispered. 'That's it.'

Her entrance was tight, but warm and wet. He pushed a little, prying her butt cheeks apart so he could watch the head of his cock slowly disappear.

She groaned. 'More!'

He eased forwards, gasping at the friction. One of her hands left the wall and started frigging at her clit again. She pushed her hips back and her pussy swallowed him whole.

'Holy shit,' he hissed.

They stood still for a moment, fused together. He slid his palm up her thigh, marvelling at her ivory flesh, so different to Irene's milk chocolate skin.




Up Against The Wall



'Fuck me,' she said.

He pulled back until his penis was almost free, then he shoved it all the way back in. He reached around her torso and slipped his hand into her bra, pinching a soft nipple as her pussy lips stretched around his cock.

'Faster,' she gasped.

He obliged, pounding her with a steady rhythm. Her butt bounced against his hips, sending shock waves of pleasure into his balls. He buried his face in her hair and breathed deeply, swimming in the floral scent of her conditioner.

Her teeth were chattering and her abdomen was starting to quiver. 'Yes, yes, yes,' she breathed. Her heavy breasts were jiggling in his hands.

All his muscles were behind every thrust, from his calves to his abs. His shaft was tingling as her pussy sucked it up, over and over and over again. The slapping of his flesh against hers echoed through the alleyway like applause.

'Oh, God,' he gasped.

'Cum in me,' she chanted. 'Yes, that's it, come in me, come in me, oh fuck!'

He grabbed her butt as her body spasmed from the hips outward, and it was all he could do to hang on. He pumped his hips into her, feeling the pressure build in his groin as she wailed and screeched and yelled 'Sally!' and before he had time to wonder why she was shouting her own name he felt himself explode, filling her pussy with spurt after spurt of semen.

She reached back and dug her nails into his buttocks as he came. Gyrating her hips, she milked every last drop out of his throbbing cock head, before standing taller to let him slither out. His dick was shiny with lube and come, and his head was spinning. When she moved aside, pulling her skirt down over her blushing cheeks, he collapsed, panting as he rested his forehead against the wall.

When he was ready to talk again, he said, 'You don't really have a husband, do you?'

Sally didn't reply.

'It's okay,' he said. 'I just thought...'

When he turned around, the woman was nowhere to be seen.

Chapter 2

Irene tapped the remote. The improbably beautiful forensic pathologist vanished from the screen, to be replaced by a baby elephant being hand-fed by a zookeeper.

She had drawn the grey curtains, since the window was uncomfortably visible from the neighbour's bedroom. The candles had burned down to a third of their former height, filling the room with an unsteady glow. If Eric didn't come home soon, she would have to extinguish them.

She ran a gloomy hand over the sheer fabric of her new bra, and adjusted her lacy thong. The trouble with surprise parties, she thought, is that the guest of honour doesn't know he's late.

Perhaps her husband had been delayed at the office. Or the traffic could have been worse than usual. Either way, he would be home soon. Surely.

She caught sight of her reflection in a polished picture-frame, and couldn't help but chuckle. A 28-year-old brunette with freshly conditioned hair and carefully applied makeup, trussed up in exquisite lingerie -- slumped on the couch with a TV remote in her hand.

She had met Eric eight years ago, when she was in middle management at a small pharmaceutical company. He had applied for a position in the sales department, and had charmed her during the interview. He answered every question without hesitation, and yet his answers never seemed rehearsed. He was polite enough for the occasion, but witty enough that she enjoyed talking to him. 

'Hell, I'd buy drugs from you,' she said. He laughed, they shook hands, and two weeks later they were working together.

She found herself making excuses to call him into her office. Sometimes they discussed sales, sometimes morale, sometimes overall company strategy. She noticed that he always managed to work in one or two personal questions. What sort of music did she like? How about films? Did her boyfriend work in pharmaceuticals too? Oh, no boyfriend?

The break room was narrow. She often followed him in, and enjoyed squeezing past him while she reached for the jar of instant coffee, or the box of tea bags. One day she shuffled along excruciatingly slowly, her butt pressed against his upper thighs, and she felt his hands on her hips. His breath tickled the follicles on the back of her neck, sending warm shivers through her groin.

She asked him to stay late and help her with the marketing strategy for a new product. He accepted. Hours later, he was shuddering in his office chair while she gulped down spurt after spurt of his come, eager to impress him, enjoying the feeling of his throbbing cock in her mouth. Later that night she took him home. All the pleasure she had given him, he repaid threefold.

She earned more money than he did, but he enjoyed his job more. When they were married, she quit. His salary was enough to sustain them both, especially after he was promoted to her old position. He enjoyed it more than she had.

Since then, she'd been watching a lot of TV.

Irene changed the channel again, and found a re-run of a nineties sitcom, with more laughter than dialogue. On the next try, she reached a foreign film. A handsome, caramel-skinned actor paced through a fake kitchen, speaking with great passion in a language that Irene couldn't identify. There were no subtitles.

She was about to change to something else when the man lunged towards a nearby actress and kissed her -- a hungry, violent movement.

The actress struggled at first, pushing at his shoulders with dainty hands, but soon she succumbed, weaving her slender arms around his neck as she kissed him back.

Irene snorted at the cliché, but didn't look away. The actor swept some ingredients off the kitchen bench, lifted the woman by her buttocks and placed her on top of it. Her skirt rode up, exposing lean legs, which the man pulled apart. He dropped to his knees and buried his head between her thighs. The actress threw her head back and moaned.

The living room seemed suddenly warmer. Irene blew her hair out of her face. She loosened the straps on her stilettos, and then dragged her fingers up the smooth stockings to her thong.

The actress grabbed desperately at the actor's scalp, pulling his face against her crotch. Irene knew it was fake, but she couldn't help breathing a little faster. Her finger hesitated against the fabric of her panties. Then she started rubbing out slow circles, where her clitoris throbbed underneath.

Why not start the party early? she thought.

The actor stood, facing away from the camera. He unbuckled his belt and thrust himself into the actress, all in one smooth motion. The actress squeezed her breasts with delicately manicured fingers and wailed with pleasure, her brows crinkled, her spine arched.

Craving more friction, Irene slid her index finger under her thong, past the freshly trimmed pubic hair, between her soft labial lips and into the wetness beneath. Sitting up a little higher, she spread her legs, imitating the actress. She held one hand in the air in front of her crotch, as though clutching the back of a man's head. Eric's, or the actor's -- it didn't really matter, so long as it had a tongue. As she plunged her finger deeper and deeper into her pussy, she tried to imagine that the man's tongue was slithering into the darkest, most secret centre of herself--

Then she heard a key in the front door.

Irene froze, feeling irrationally guilty. Then she fumbled with the remote until the TV clicked off and ran to the bedroom, heels clicking across the floorboards, before tossing herself onto the bed.

Four sets of handcuffs were already attached to frame. She tightened two of them around her ankles, holding her legs apart, and then attached one of her wrists to the head of the bed with another. A silk blindfold rested on the pillow. She pulled it over her face, attached her other hand to the bed frame with the last set of cuffs, and waited, spreadeagled. The satin sheets were soft beneath her bare buttocks and shoulders.

She heard footsteps approaching the bedroom, but no voice. She had a moment of panic -- what if it wasn't Eric? What if a strange man with a skeleton key had let himself into their house, and was about to discover her, helpless and nearly naked?

The door creaked open. She listened.

'Hmmm...' Her husband's voice was already rich with desire. 'Is it our anniversary?'

She grinned. 'Nope.'

'Well, it's not my birthday. Is it yours?'

She wriggled, wishing he would start touching her already. 'Can't a girl do something nice for her husband every once in a while?'

'Evidently she can.' She heard him walk back toward the bedroom door.

Irene frowned. 'Where are you going?'

'I thought I might have a shower, check my email, read that book your dad loaned me...'

'One more joke like that, and you can forget about getting lucky tonight.'

Her husband chuckled. 'You're handcuffed to the bed. How are you going to stop me?'

Her loins tingled with anticipation. 'How about you come over here and find out?'

'Not yet. I'll be right back.'

His footfalls padded out the door and up the hall to the bathroom. She heard the sink hiss, the toilet flush and the sink hiss again, for longer the second time. The bathroom door opened and closed. The floorboards in the hall creaked. The hinges on the door squeaked, and his footsteps thudded softly around the bed.

'Is that a new bra?' he asked. Closer now.

'Yes. I found it at -- hey!'

He had tugged it down, exposing her breasts to the air. She shivered.

'It looks better around your stomach,' he said.

She laughed. 'Then how come the models don't wear it that way in the catalogues?'

'Sure they do. I've seen them.'

She laughed. 'Those aren't catalogues, darling. They're -- ah!'

His teeth closed around her nipple.

'Oh my god,' she whispered. 'Please, be gentle.'

He pinched her other breast. 'If you wanted it gentle, you wouldn't be tied up.' Even so, his lips were careful as they traced their way down her ribs, across her belly, and over her left hip bone.

It was only now, as she wondered whether his next move would be a kiss or a bite, that she realised two things. One: while they had been married for more than six years, she had never really trusted Eric. Two: if she did trust him, he wouldn't be nearly as sexy.

Something grazed her labia. Too smooth and dry to be his tongue. Possibly his thumb.

'God, Eric,' she groaned. 'I've missed you.' Trust or no trust, this was true.

He said nothing. The mattress creaked under his weight, and she felt his elbows pushing her knees apart. His kisses, scattered inside her thighs, sent warm tingles through her belly as his fingers prised her open wider. Then the slick heat of his tongue squirmed between her pussy lips.

She moaned, and tried to close her thighs around his head. The cuffs rattled around her ankles. A finger slipped into her pussy, putting delicious pressure on her G-spot.

'You like that?' he whispered.

She couldn't reply -- the tremors were too strong. As the finger probed deeper and deeper, she felt the tip of Eric's tongue trace upwards towards her clit. She suddenly wished she could remove the blindfold. She wanted to watch, to see the sweat on his brow as he slurped at her pussy.

The friction on her labial folds was unbearable. Her belly was a furnace of pleasure.

The bed wobbled as Eric moved, taking his fingers away from her vagina for a moment. The bed creaked as his weight shifted. When his fingers returned, it was from a different angle.

Irene detected a familiar musky scent. He was kneeling beside her head.

She tilted her face sideways, and opened her mouth. Her husband's cock brushed against the tip of her tongue, hot and slippery. She pursed her lips, gently kissing the sensitive skin, before wrapping her mouth around his dick and suckling it.

He groaned as his fingers pumped in her pussy a little faster. She could feel the hot wetness of his tongue, sliding up her thigh towards her clit. Electric shivers ascended her spine.

His cock throbbed in her mouth -- she could sense his heartbeat in the bulging veins. She clamped her lips over the shaft and rolled her tongue around the head before probing his urethra, as if trying to penetrate him.

His mouth had reached her clit. She could feel him swirling his tongue around it, sending shocks of pleasure through her groin.

'Oh, fuck yes,' she mumbled around his cock. It bulged against the inside of her cheek. 

He hummed with desire, vibrating her tender flesh.

His heart rate was increasing. Soon the dick withdrew from her mouth, slapping the pillow beside her head. He kept slurping at her pussy for a moment longer before announcing, 'You're ready.'

She trembled as his weight shifted on the bed again. His hands slid beneath her, up and down the backs of her thighs, then her buttocks, belly, her breasts. His lips, still moist from licking her, pressed against hers. She returned the kiss hungrily, and he tugged at her lips with his teeth.

His hips were squeezed between her thighs. A gently breeze grazed her pussy.

'What are you waiting for?' she asked.

The head of his cock stroked her clit.

'Come on!' she cried. 'Do it!'

His dick slipped into her entrance, and pushed.

She cried out, a desperate yelp of lust. It surprised her every time, just how big he was. It always felt like she was completely full -- right before he gave her an extra inch.

He pulled back, his cock dragging across the inside of her pussy, skin on skin. He hands wove into her hair, pulling her head back and her chin up. His stubble scraped her neck. His lips nibbled on her ear as he shoved into her a second time.

'Yes,' she whispered. 'God, fuck me!'

And it was like being fucked by God. He was everywhere. He was all-powerful. She was completely at his mercy.

They bounced on the bed, his hips slapping against hers. The impacts shook her blindfold loose, and she found herself staring into his eyes, bright with need. Looking down, she could see his fat penis disappearing into her over and over.

He put his index finger in his mouth and sucked it for a moment.

The gesture surprised her so much that she lost her rhythm, and they shuddered to a halt like a broken clockwork toy.

He didn't seem to mind. He reached beneath her and stroked her crevice with his finger, working his way in towards her anus.

She squeaked and lifted her hips, but with the cuffs, she couldn't get away. His wet fingertip pressed against her arsehole.

'Keep your hips up, slave,' he said. 'Or it goes in.'

'Eric,' she began. She had never had anything bigger than a rectal thermometre up her butt -- although the thermometre had excited her at the time. 'I don't think --'

His hips slammed against hers, shoving his cock into her pussy. They both growled with pleasure, like dogs from rival packs.

His slippery fingertip exerted a pressure on her anus, gentle but constant. Her legs trembled with the strain of keeping her hips up.

'Eric,' she whispered. 'I can't!'

He ignored her. His penis filled her up, over and over again. Her clit felt electrified. Tingles of pleasure washed up and down her skin. His breaths were hot and dark in her ear.

Her thighs were quaking. 'Eric!'

He just kept pumping.

'No!' Her legs gave way, and she collapsed onto his finger. It slipped up her arsehole, wrong and scary but irresistably exciting, and she screamed as the pleasure erupting from her hips trebled in force. Her body shook like a plane in turbulence, her orgasm setting off his, and he roared as his cock pounded her, increasingly slippery with semen.

They groaned to a halt, high on the dopamine and endorphins swirling about their brains. Eric slowly withdrew his finger -- to Irene it felt disconcertingly like releasing a turd. His penis slithered out much more easily. She could sense the come dribbling out of her.

Eric rummaged through a drawer beneath her bedside table, correctly guessing where she had hidden the handcuff key. He unlocked the four cuffs without speaking.

'That was wild,' Irene murmured, breathing him in. 'I love you.'

Eric kissed her cheek. 'You too. I'm going to have a shower.'

As he turned to leave, Irene saw the pink scratches on his muscular buttocks, and realised she'd never asked him why he was late.

Chapter 3

'Shit,' Jane muttered. 'Shit, shit, shit.'

She was naked, sitting on the edge of the porcelain bathtub with her knees together and one arm covering her breasts for warmth. Her hair dripped down her spine. The shower was supposed to calm her nerves before the test, but it hadn't worked. She supposed she should get dressed -- but what was the point?

She glared down at the pink line, and shook the stick again, as though it might change its mind. But the colour refused to fade, so she tossed the stick in the rubbish bin and put her face in her hands. Then she remembered that she hadn't washed her hands. She went to the sink, scrubbed her palms in the water, and covered her face again. Then she worried that her face had urine on it from the first time, so she washed her face, then her hands, then put the two together.

She wasn't obsessive or compulsive. She just needed something to take her mind off her failure.

His failure, she told herself. I've been tested. I'm fine. I wonder if his wife knows he's infertile.

She wiped the steam off the mirror with her palm and stared at her reflection. Her blonde hair was limp. Bags hung beneath her eyes. Even her breasts looked saggier than usual.

Jane pulled a towel off the rack, wrapped it around her body, and lifted a hair-dryer off the hook. 

'No big deal,' she said aloud. 'I'll try again.'

But the idea of finding another man in another bar revolted her. She knew she couldn't be with the one she loved -- she had accepted that at the wedding, after drying her tears on the hem of her bridesmaid's dress -- but she wasn't ready to resign herself to a life of screwing strangers.

She switched on the dryer. Her hair made a fluttering halo.

One more time, she told herself. Then I'll try something else.

* * *

'Damn it!' Charlie fumbled with his phone. He had never got the hands-free setup working in his car, so to answer the call, he would have to switch on the speakerphone function and clip the phone to the dashboard so as it was close enough to hear. A difficult task at 100 kilometres per hour, even on an empty highway like this one.

Ordinarily he would let it go to voice mail. But the ring tone -- an acoustic cover of Raspberry Beret -- told him the caller was Sally, who had lately seemed distracted and reclusive. He'd been getting more and more worried about her. If she wanted to speak to him for once, he couldn't afford to miss the call.

'Hey sweetie,' he said, when the phone was in place.

'Hey handsome.' His wife's voice was cheeky. 'Where are you?'

'I'm still --' He glanced at a passing road sign and ran some quick calculations. '-- uh, forty minutes away. Is everything okay?'

A bunch of flowers rustled on the passenger seat. He was terrible at deception, and hoped he could make it through this conversation without mentioning them and ruining the paltry surprise.

'Everything's fine,' she said. She sounded like she meant it. 'How was the trade show?'

He sighed. 'A waste of my time and the company's money. I missed you.'

It had been worse than a waste of time. It had taken him away from his wife when he most wanted to be with her. He wouldn't have gone if he thought he could have refused without losing his job.

'I missed you too,' Sally said.

Charlie felt a pang of guilty relief. 'Have you had dinner already?'

'I was waiting for you.'

'Thanks. What do you want to eat?'

'Right now?' she said. 'Your cock.'

Charlie's dick twitched in his pants. 'Uh, really?' he said.

'I want you to pull over.'

'Why?' Charlie asked.

'Because I love you and I don't want you to have an accident.'




Up Against The Wall



He smiled. 'I can drive and picture you sucking my cock at the same time.'

'That's not all you're going to be picturing.'

Charlie turned on the indicator and eased over onto the shoulder of the road. A hawk, silhouetted by the sunset, wheeled around the jagged mountains.

'Ask me what I'm doing right now,' Sally said.

'What are you doing right now?'

'I'm unwrapping my towel, and climbing onto the bed,' she said.

Sally usually wore a tracksuit to bed. Charlie hadn't seen her naked in some time. He pictured her freckled shoulders, her pert little breasts and the tuft of red hair above the cleft between her smooth thighs. His cock was swelling by the second. 

'I'm on all fours and -- ah! -- squirting lube into my anus,' she gasped. 'God, it's cold.'

Charlie ran his fingers through his curly hair, painfully aroused. This was incredibly out of character for his wife. Sally came from a family of strict Protestants, and she was a virgin until her wedding night. Other than some frequent but fairly conventional sex on their honeymoon, they had made love only once every month or two, and it was always Charlie who initiated it. The thought that she wasn't attracted to him had led him to shave off his beard, to take up jogging until he was lean and flexible, to try every aftershave in the supermarket. They had certainly never tried anal play -- what had brought this on?

'Unzip your pants,' she said.

He looked around guiltily. The highway was still empty, so he unbuckled his belt and pulled down the zipped. His dick bounced against his belly. 'Done.'

'Are you hard?'

'Hell yes.'

'Squeeze your cock for me.'

He wrapped his fingers around the shaft. He could feel the blood pumping.

'Now I'm pushing in a butt plug,' she groaned. 'The one I found in your chest of drawers.'

'I don't have a butt plug,' Charlie said, honestly but with embarrassment.

'Well, someone must have gotten horny and bought it for you, then. God, it's so big!'

Charlie stroked his shaft. A car zoomed past, and he turned his face away in case they could see his dick, or in case his rolling shoulders gave away what he was doing.

'Mmmmmm,' Sally whispered. 'Now I'm fingering my pussy.'

This, at least, was true. Charlie could hear the squelching sounds behind her heavy breaths.

'Feels so good to be filled in two places at once,' she continued. 'I just wish your cock was in my mouth to make three.'

'Oh God, Sally.' The head of Charlie's cock was shiny with pre-come.

'Or I could fill my mouth with a gag, and put your cock in my arse instead.'

Charlie moaned, his dick throbbing in his grasp.

'You like that idea, baby?' Sally asked. 'You like the thought of humping my butt?'

'Yes,' he hissed.

'Say it.'

'I want to hump your butt.'

'Well,' Sally giggled, 'what the hell is keeping you?'

Charlie gaped for a moment, and then zipped up his pants and stopped on the accelerator. The growling tyres kicked up dust as he zoomed back out onto the highway.

* * *

It was a small house in a small suburb, surrounded by tall, deciduous trees. A primary school stood nearby, which had seemed important when he and Sally bought the place, but now it seemed unlikely that they would ever have kids. She had been keen, at first, and he had not. Now it was the other way around.

Charlie fumbled with his keys, wondering why he had so many. All he really needed was one for his house and one for his car. How had he ended up with a key ring which weighed as much as a kettle and made him look like a janitor?

He was still fiddling when Sally opened the door. Naked.

Charlie stared at her supple, firm breasts, her soft nipples, the smooth skin leading down to the freshly shaved cleft between her legs.

He looked around, checking that none of the neighbors were out on the street. He couldn't see anyone, but there were several windows with curtains open.

Sally tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear and beamed at him. 'Hi to you too,' she said.

'I brought you flowers,' he said, unnecessarily.

She laughed, took the bunch from his arms, and sniffed them. 'We're already married,' she said. 'You don't need to woo me.'

Charlie wasn't sure what to say. Sally didn't give him time to think of anything. She turned around and padded away up the corridor, her neatly rounded buttocks bouncing. She turned her head when she was halfway there. 'Are you coming in, or what?'

Idly wondering if his wife had been replaced by a pod person -- and if it was cheating to have sex with a pod person -- Charlie scrambled inside and kicked the door shut. Sally was already walking away, turning the corner toward the bedroom.

Her voice echoed through the house. 'Take off your clothes for me. All of them.'

Charlie peeled his shirt over his head. He heard one of the seams crack, and didn't care. He kicked off his shoes, tugged off his socks and dropped his trousers, which coiled around his ankles like rippled quicksand. His cock burst forth from his underwear -- it had been hard since Sally's phone call.

'I left something for you on the bench,' he wife called.

Charlie trotted into the kitchen, where he found a bottle of lubricant standing upright on the otherwise bare bench top.

'Found it,' he called.

'Put some on,' she said.

Charlie squirted a dollop into his palm, and slid it up and down the length of his shaft.

'Now start masturbating. Get good and hard for me.'

Charlie laughed nervously. 'I'm already hard!'

'I want you harder. I want you ready to explode.'

Charlie started rubbing his dick with his slick palm, wondering what his wife's goal was. Surely she would want him to last longer?

The friction was unbearable. His balls were already tingling.

'How does that feel, baby?' Sally called.

'Feels good,' he panted.

'Almost ready?'

'I'm ready.'

'Are you about to come all over the floor?'

He inhaled. 'Pretty much.'

'We can't have that. Come on in.'

He opened the bedroom door and stepped onto the plush carpet. His wife was on her knees on the mattress, facing away from him. Her face was pressed against the satin sheets, and her butt was high in the air. She had lubed up, too -- the cleft between her cheeks was glistening.

A half-empty glass of red wine stood on the bedside table. 'Would you like a top-up?' Charlie asked.

'Fuck that,' Sally said. 'Get over here before I lose my nerve.'

Charlie climbed onto the bed. He rested his knees between hers and traced his fingers down her back, watching her butt wiggle as she shivered.

He waited for her to say something, but she didn't. He placed his palms on her buttocks, gently parting them. Still nothing.

He nestled the tip of his cock at her anus. She took a shaky breath.

'Are you sure about this?' he asked.

'Do it,' she said.

He held his dick steady at the entrance, still uncertain.

'Be careful,' she added.

'Okay.'

He pushed forwards, very slowly. Thanks to the lube, the head of his cock slipped in quite easily.

'Whoa,' she whispered. 'Okay.'

'Are you all right?'

'I'm good. Feels weird. Keep going.'

He nudged forward a little more. An extra inch disappeared. It felt like he was pushing his cock into a clenched fist.

'God,' Sally said.

Charlie reached under her and found her clit, a slippery bud between her legs. He stroked it, and felt the inside of her arsehole quiver.

'You don't have to do that,' she said. 'This is for you.'

He fingered her some more. 'And this is for you,' he said.

She gasped as he pushed his cock a little further into her anus. Her slick skin was incredibly tight around him.

'It's so big.'

'Sorry.'

'Don't be.'

She pushed her hips back a little, swallowing even more of him. Her head was twisted sideways -- he could see she was frowning.

'Does that hurt?' he asked.

'Not exactly. Feels wrong. Like doing a poop in reverse.'

'That's hot,' he joked.

Sally smiled. 'In a good way.'

He was all in. Her anus was clenched tightly around the base of his cock. He circled her clit a little faster.

'Oh yeah,' she said. 'That's it.'

He pulled back, emerging from her butt inch by inch, before thrusting all the way in.

She groaned. 'Fuck my arse,' she said. 'Come on.'

He eased back and forth, gradually increasing the tempo. Her buttocks jiggled against his hips. He kept one hand on her freckled back for balance and felt the muscles tense under his fingers.

The pressure was growing in his scrotum. He felt lightheaded. 'Oh, God,' he whispered.

'Are you going to come, baby?' she asked. 'Are you going to come in my arse?'

'Yes,' he moaned. 'Yes.'

'Do it,' she begged. 'Come in me!'

'I love you. I love you, I love you...'

He slammed his hips against hers. They cried out at the same moment as his cock twitched inside her, spurting ropes of semen into her butt. His own buttocks quivered. Her thighs wobbled against his.

He gave her a few more gentle thrusts before slithering out and collapsing onto the sheets. She flopped down beside him, her face turned away.

He kissed her hair and ran his hands across the smooth skin of her ribs. 'That was amazing,' he whispered.

'Mm-hmm.'

He could see the come leaking out onto her buttock. He reached over for some tissues. 'Let me wipe your arse,' he said.

She laughed. 'You're so romantic.'

'It's good practice,' he said. 'For when we have a baby.'

She didn't respond to that. He gently swept the tissues through her crack, cleaning up most of the mess.

'Or when we're old,' he added.

She exhaled. A small laugh.

He sensed that she didn't want to cuddle. Suddenly things were back to normal -- or at least, back to how they had been lately. She wasn't speaking to him, and didn't want him nearby.

'I'm going to take a shower,' he said. 'Okay?'

'Mm-hmm.'

He kissed the back of her head again. Then he clambered out of bed and padded naked into the en suite.

If he had looked back, he would have seen tears on her face. But he didn't.

Chapter 4

'It's these damn jeans,' Eric said.

Irene eyed his naked buttocks. Normally the sight would arouse her -- she would want to spank him, and invite him to reciprocate -- but today, the faint scratches left her feeling anxious.

'They wrinkle funny when I sit down,' Eric continued. 'I might have to throw them out.'

Irene smiled. 'Don't worry, sweetie. We'll find you a new pair.'

He grunted, and stuck his toothbrush back into his mouth.

He seemed genuine, but he'd always had a knack for false confidence. Had another woman dug her nails into his butt? Or was it really just his jeans?

She struggled to remember if he been wearing those jeans on the day when she first noticed the scratches. But she had been blindfolded and handcuffed when he arrived home, and he was fully undressed by the time she could see again.

Eric spat into the sink and looked at his watch, which hung from the edge of the towel rack. 'Shit. I have to go,' he said.

Irene followed him to the bedroom and watched him pull on a pair of woollen suit pants. 'You're leaving early.'

'Yeah, sorry. Breakfast meeting. I'll try to use it as an excuse to get out early this afternoon.'

Eric buttoned up his shirt, shrugged on a jacket and padded out to the front door, where his polished leather shoes waited.

Her heart throbbed. She loved her husband. It was physically painful not to trust him.

'I love you,' she said.

He stopped tying his laces and smiled up at her. 'You too, sweetie,' he said.

But he seemed to look away too quickly.

That was when Irene decided to follow him.

* * *

Tailing a car, Irene thought, is surprisingly difficult.

She had pulled on some big sunglasses and borrowed her neighbour's hatchback, which was not distinctive -- a white Holden Barina -- but there was still a chance that Eric might recognise it. Once she caught up to him, she tried to stay three or four cars behind his.

It would have been easy if she knew where he was going. But this wasn't the route to his office. This made her even more determined not to lose him.

He switched on the indicator, so she changed lanes abruptly. Another driver honked at her, and she made an apologetic wave.

What if the breakfast meeting wasn't at his office? She would feel so guilty if she followed him all this way and he turned out to be telling the truth. Or worse -- what if he was trying arranging a surprise for their seven-year anniversary, and she ruined it?

She almost turned the car around. She would have, if she thought she could do a U-turn without blowing her cover.

This is ridiculous, she thought. I shouldn't be doing this. I'll take the next exit and go home.

Then Eric parked the car.

Irene frowned. She didn't think there were any restaurants or cafés around here. She drove past, keeping her head low, and parked a few spaces further up. She shut off the engine and watched in the wing mirror as Eric ambled up the street.

What are you doing? Irene wondered. Where are you going?

With a final guilty glance each way, Eric disappeared into a doorway. Irene tilted the mirror so she could read the sign above the doorway.

FAMILY PLANNING CLINIC.

She jumped out of the car and ran, without closing the door behind her. Surely he was just picking up a pamphlet. He was thinking they should have a baby. That must be it.

She ran to the window and peered through the tinted glass. Eric was sitting on a spongy grey chair, reading a magazine, while he waited.

For an appointment.

With a doctor.

To test for STDs, presumably.

She backed away from the window, too quickly. The movement caught Eric's gaze, and he looked at her. Their eyes met for just long enough to register the horror on one another's faces. And then Irene was running again, back toward the Barina, her vision already blurred with tears.

She heard the door open behind her. 'Irene!'

She didn't stop. She jumped into the Barina, locked the doors and started the engine.

'Irene!' Eric slapped his palm against the window. 'I can explain!'

She had no doubt that he could. He would make something up, and it would sound very convincing, and she would forgive him, and then she would once again be the oblivious wife with the cheating husband.

She swerved out onto the road, leaving him standing in a cloud of exhaust.

* * *

She didn't really want to talk to her neighbour. Fortunately, he didn't answer when she rang the bell. She left the borrowed car in his driveway, and stumbled over to her house.

Eric's house, she thought. Not mine. He's the one paying the mortgage. What am I going to do?

She unlocked the front door, slipped inside, and locked it behind her. Then she remembered that he had a key, so she dragged a chair out from under the dining table and propped it up under the handle, bracing it shut. Then she slid down the wall, shaking with violent sobs.

How could he do this to me? she thought. Where can I go?

A key rattled in the lock.

She gasped and scrambled away from the door. The chair creaked as someone tried to push it open, and failed.

'Irene?' Eric's voice. He must have come straight home instead of going to work. 'Irene, please let me in.'

She said nothing. She walked into the living room and shut the door, muffling his voice.

'Irene!' he called, louder. 'Just listen to me!'

Lucky the neighbour isn't home, she thought. I could never face him if he overheard this.

She glanced out the window, which overlooked the side wall of the house next door--

And she saw him.

Her neighbour was sitting on the edge of his bed, naked, facing the window. His eyes were closed, and his square jaw hung slightly open. Irene's gaze traced down his broad shoulders, his furry chest, his muscular abdomen, and then stopped at the bobbing head between his thighs.

A woman was on her knees in front of him, sucking his cock.

Irene watched the woman's black ponytail bounce as she took him enthusiastically into her mouth. Her naked butt swayed from side in front of the window as she adjusted her position on the carpet.

The front door rattled. 'Irene!'

Eric's voice shook her out of her trance. She reached up and grabbed the curtains, intending to draw them closed--

And then she saw that her neighbour had opened his eyes. He was staring at her.

Irene felt a blush creep up her cheeks. But he didn't look embarrassed, or angry. He kept his expression neutral, watching Irene as the brunette fellated him.

Irene let go of the curtains. Her neighbour smiled slightly.

'Irene, let me in, God damn it!' Eric pounded on the door.

Irene took a deep breath through her nose, blocking him out. He didn't matter. He wasn't real. Nothing was real except what was happening right in front of her.

Very slowly, she pulled up her skirt, revealing her pale thighs and her lacy underwear. She could feel the neighbour's gaze on her crotch, warming her up like a laser. The movement of the brunette's head changed. The oscillations became longer and slower, as though she was taking his dick all the way into her throat.

Irene lowered herself onto the table. The wood was cool under her bare buttocks. She stroked her damp underwear and shivered.

The woman wiggled her nude butt again as she switched from blowjob to handjob. Suddenly Irene could see her neighbour's cock -- a long, thick rod, circumcised, shiny with saliva. The woman's fingers looked tiny as they slid up and down his shaft. Her mouth, dark with lipstick, was otherwise occupied, suckling on one of his balls.

Irene imagined that it was her hand wrapped around that beautiful penis, her lips kissing that bulging testicle. The vision was so vivid that she could almost feel the pulsing veins against her palm, and taste the sweat on her tongue. 

Irene tugged her underwear down over her hips, past her knees and let it fall onto the floor. Her clitoris throbbed as the air brushed past it. She slipped a finger into her mouth, swirled her tongue around it, and then slipped it between her labial folds. Her delicate skin tingled. Her neighbour stared at the exposed flesh, hypnotised.

The woman released his cock and rose to her feet. Irene groaned with frustration, and wondered if he was doing the same. Her finger hesitated against her budding clit. It didn't look like her neighbour had reached orgasm. Why was she stopping?

The woman stretched like a house cat, lithe arms up, head thrown back. The neighbour tore his gaze away from Irene and pinched one of the woman's hard brown nipples between his teeth. As she kissed the top of his head, his hand reached around to squeeze her smooth buttock.

Irene's fingertip quivered against her clit. Her breaths were fast and shallow. Come on, she thought. I need this.

The woman climbed onto the bed and lay on her back with her head toward the window, unintentionally giving Irene a perfect view of the rest of her body -- firm breasts, high cheekbones, a downy tuft of pubic hair. The neighbour climbed on top of her and pushed her legs apart. He lined his cock up with her entrance carefully. Irene shifted on the table so as it was lined up with her entrance as well.

'Ah!' Irene heard the woman squeak through two panes of glass as the neighbour thrust forward. She stuffed two fingers into her pussy, trying to imagine he was fucking her instead, trying to imagine she was cheating on Eric like he had cheated on--

Don't think about it, she told herself. Think of anything but that.

The woman's eyes were closed in rapturous ecstasy. The neighbour was staring at Irene again as he pumped his hips, watching her rub desperately at her clit.

The banging on the front door had stopped. Irene didn't notice until she heard her phone buzzing in her handbag, which muffled the tootling of Eric's ring tone. She ignored it.




Up Against The Wall



The neighbour was thrusting faster and faster. The woman's hands clawed at his scalp. Irene wished she could feel what the woman was feeling. She wished she could be that woman instead of herself, instead of a girl whose husband--

'Don't think about it,' she hissed.

The phone was still ringing. She dug it out of her handbag with the intention of hurling it across the room. Then she felt the vibrations in her hand and had a better idea.

The neighbour's eyes widened as he watched Irene press the phone against her clit. She gasped, electrified as the humming screen sent tingles through her body. She hadn't used a vibrator since before she was married. She had forgotten how good it was.

She bucked her pelvis, humping the phone, not caring if it never worked again. Wanting more, she tilted it to an appropriate angle, ignoring Eric's grinning face on the screen, and slowly pushed it into her pussy.

'Oh my God,' she whispered. The shape -- smaller than a penis in some ways, bigger in others -- pushed her open at strange new angles. The vibrations spread throughout her body, turning her into a cello string.

She looked back up at the neighbour, who was pumping his hips as though his life depended on it. His hungry stare magnified Irene's pleasure as she slid the phone in and out of her pussy, praying that Eric didn't stop calling.

The pressure was growing. Her toes curled painfully inside her shoes.

With a mighty roar, the neighbour slid out of the woman. His cock flopped onto her belly, spurting jets of semen onto her heaving breasts.

The sight of the twitching penis, the come-spattered nipples and the two open, gasping mouths set Irene off. She squealed and collapsed backwards onto the table, letting the orgasm wash through her. Every limb quaked against the wood as her pussy clenched and unclenched around the phone. For a moment she was blind and deaf to everything but her own pleasure.

Soon the phone stopped ringing, perhaps because Eric had stopped calling, perhaps because she had damaged it. She lay still for a while, listening to her own breaths in the otherwise silent room.

It's over, she thought.

* * *

Eric paced back and forth in front of the house, chewing his lip. What should he say? What could he say? What was she thinking right now, as she waited alone inside the house?

After the third call, her phone had started going straight to voice mail. He hadn't left a message. Now he was trying to compose a text, something which would make her feel better -- and, more importantly, wouldn't result in her leaving him.

The door rattled. He looked over in time to see Irene emerge, dragging a large suitcase.

'Irene,' he said. 'Please.'

She looked over his shoulder. When he turned, he saw a taxi approaching.

He fell to his knees on the asphalt. 'Baby,' he said. 'Please don't go. I love you. I'll do anything to keep you.'

The taxi pulled up, and she loaded her suitcase into the boot. When she finally looked at him, he was astonished to see that she looked neither sad nor angry. Her face held a nothing but peace.

'Sorry, Eric,' she said. 'But it turns out I don't need you.'

She stepped into the cab and closed the door. Eric stood on the side of the road, confused, lost, as the taxi took her up the street, around the corner and out of his life.

Chapter 5

You can do this, Jane told herself.

She scrubbed her feet, her calves, her thighs, her buttocks. The loofah was painfully rough, but the cascading water soothed her skin immediately.

The air was thick with steam. She had shampooed her hair, conditioned it, shaved her legs, her armpits, trimmed her bikini line, rubbed shower gel into her shoulders and cheeks and breasts, rinsed it off. She was already clean. There was no reason to still be in the shower, except that she wasn't looking forward to what came next.

Another man, in another alley. The thought left her stomach churning.

Come on, she thought. It's easy. You can just stand there.

The doorbell rang.

Jane froze, and then shut off the water. 'Just a minute!' she called.

She grabbed a towel and quickly dabbed herself dry. Then she wrapped it around her torso, and picked up another one for her hair.

The doorbell rang again.

'I'm coming!' Jane shouted. She wound the second towel around her hair and ran toward the front door, slowing down as she approached it. What if it was the man from the other night? What if he had tracked her down somehow? What if--

She peered through the peephole, and sighed with relief when she saw the skinny redhead. She pulled the door open.

'Sally!' she cried.

* * *

Sally looked at the towels, the damp skin, the wet footprints on the floorboards.

'I'm disturbing you,' she said. 'I'm sorry.'

'Not at all!' The busty blonde adjusted her towel and then hugged Sally. She smelled like the blueberry shampoo she sometimes used. 'It's good to see you. Come in.'

Sally hesitated on the threshold. 'I can come back some other time, if--'

'No, no. Come on in.'

Sally entered, and closed the door behind her.

'Sorry about the mess,' Jane said, leading her into the living room. 'I've been rearranging the place a bit, trying to clear out the study.'

'Oh, don't worry,' Sally said, stepping over the binders and folders scattered on the floor. 'The place looks great.'

Jane looked back at her, examining the brown leather boots she'd chosen to go with the midnight blue cotton dress and the matching eyeshadow.

'Are you on your way somewhere?' she asked.

'No,' Sally said, feeling self-conscious. 'Charlie bought me the dress -- I just thought I'd try it out.'

'It's lovely.' Jane looked down at her towel. 'I'll just quickly put some clothes on. Can I get you something to drink, first? Tea? Wine?'

Sally bit her lip. Wine did sound good.

'A glass of wine would be great,' she said. 'Thank you.'

'Red or white?'

'Red.'

Jane disappeared into the kitchen. 'So how's Charlie?' she called.

Sally had a momentary flashback to the satin sheets clenched in her fists, her husband's breaths in her ear, his fingers on her clit, his dick up her butt.

'He's good,' she said. After a pause, she added, 'They're pushing him pretty hard at work, I think.'

'And how about you?' Jane walked back in with two glasses of wine in her hands. 'How are you doing?'

Sally took one of the glasses. 'Thanks. Yeah, I'm great. Cheers.'

She tried to clink her glass against Jane's, but Jane held it back.

'You sure you're okay, sweetie?' she asked, frowning. 'You sound...'

'I'm fine.' Sally took a gulp of wine. It burned on the way down her throat. 'I came to see if everything was alright with you, actually.'

'Me?'

'Yeah. When we spoke the other day...'

'Oh.' Jane shrugged, nearly dislodging the towel wrapped around her torso. 'Yeah, I was just having kind of an off day.'

Sally took another sip. 'What was going on?'

'Oh, you know, just...' Jane waved her hand in an airy way. '...stuff.'

They stared at one another for a moment. Sally wondered what Jane was thinking. Then she wondered if Jane was wondering what she was wondering. Then she wished she hadn't drunk quite so much wine so quickly.

She took another sip.

'Okay,' Jane said. She sat down on the leather sofa and crossed her legs, apparently abandoning her plans to get dressed. 'I'm trying to have a baby.'

Sally choked on the wine. 'You're what?'

'I'm trying to get pregnant.' Jane met Sally's eye defiantly, as though daring her to tell her this was a bad idea.

'Do you, um, have a boyfriend?' Sally didn't ever remember seeing Jane with a man. She hadn't even brought a date to the wedding.

'Are you saying I can't do this by myself?'

'No, but--'

'I'd make a great mother,' Jane said. 'I know I would.'

Sally sat down next to her. 'That's not what I meant. Who are you trying to get pregnant with?'

Jane sipped her wine and put the glass on the coffee table. 'No-one. Strangers. I picked up a man the other night at the Saga Bar--'

'You had a one night stand?' Sally's voice became a hushed whisper. Jane had always seemed more daring than her, but this revelation left her shell shocked.

'It didn't take,' Jane said. 'I'm not pregnant. But I'm going to give it another shot.'

'You're twenty-six,' Sally said. 'Surely you don't need to have a baby right now. You could wait until you meet someone, and fall in love--'

'No.' Jane looked away. 'The one I love, loves someone else. If I wait, I'll be waiting forever.'

'Who is he?'

Jane said nothing.

Sally tugged anxiously at her dress. 'You had unprotected sex with a total stranger? How do you know he didn't have an STD?'

Jane shrugged. 'Easy. He was married.'

'Married?! What if his wife comes looking for you? What if--'

'That won't happen. I told him my name was... I gave him a false name.'

'What name?' Sally asked.

'What does it matter what name?'

'Why won't you tell me if it doesn't matter?'

'I told him my name was Sally. Okay?'

Sally's jaw dropped. She was baffled, and drunk. 'Why did you give him my name?'

'I didn't give him you full name,' Jane muttered. 'It's not like he's going to come after you.'

'But why not just choose a random name? Why would you call yourself Sally?'

'Because I wanted him to want to fuck me, okay? I wanted to seem stylish, and sexy, and...' Jane trailed off. Tears were gathering at the corners of her eyes.

Sally's heart was thundering in her chest. She hadn't felt so nervous since before the bungee jump on her honeymoon.

Jane's voice echoed through her head: The one I love, loves someone else.

'Jane,' she began.

'Sorry,' Jane said. 'I don't know what I'm saying. I'm not saying anything. I'm tired. I'm drunk.'

None of these excuses rang true. Sally was seeing everything in a different light. Jane's lack of a boyfriend. Her disinterest in all the men Sally had introduced her to. Her tears at Sally's wedding.

'Sally,' Jane said. 'Maybe you should go.'

Sally kissed her.

She didn't remember deciding to do it. She had wanted to for so long that perhaps no decision was required. One moment she was sitting beside her closest friend, and the next, Jane's soft lips were pressed against hers. 

She had missed, slightly. Most of her mouth overlapped with Jane's, but part of it rested against her smooth cheek.

The two women sat frozen like that for a long, long moment. Sally memorised the taste, the smell, the feeling, afraid that she might never experience this again.

Their lips parted. Sally searched Jane's eyes. Please, she thought. Please, please, please.

'Do that again,' Jane said.

Sally obliged, more hungrily this time. She nibbled at Jane's lips, and when they parted, she probed the other woman's teeth with her tongue. She felt Jane's hand caressing her cheek, then her fingers sliding into her tangled red hair. Sally's spine was twisted uncomfortably to face Jane, but she dared not adjust, for fear of losing this long-awaited, forbidden kiss.

Soon, Jane pulled back, and said the words Sally had been afraid to hear. 'What about Charlie?'

Charlie was the reason this hadn't happened sooner. By the time Sally met Jane, she was already dating Charlie. By the time she realised she'd fallen for the curvaceous blonde, she was already engaged to him -- and calling off the wedding would have meant explaining why to her very religious parents. It wasn't until her wedding night that she discovered that she didn't enjoy sex with men. And after that, even if she could have faced her parents, she couldn't bear the thought of breaking Charlie's heart.

She had tried to be his fantasy wife, fucking him and sucking his cock and shaving her pussy and even trying anal, but nothing had assuaged the guilt.

'Please,' she said. 'Let me have just one night when I don't have to think about Charlie.'

She tugged the towel down, exposing Jane's ripe, off-limits breasts. Then she fell forward into them, cupping them with both hands while she sucked on Jane's nipples.

'Oh, God,' Jane whispered. 'You don't know how much I wanted you.'

Not as much as I wanted you, Sally thought, but she said nothing. Her lips were pursed around a long, hard nipple, and she never wanted to let go.

She felt Jane's hands fumbling at the straps of her dress. She shrugged her narrow shoulders without releasing Jane's breasts from her mouth, and then felt the other woman peel down the dress and unhook her bra.

She was suddenly nervous. Jane was so busty, while Sally had the small, inconspicuous breasts of a shop window mannequin. What if she was disappointed? What if--

Jane pulled Sally's head away from her chest and pounced on her, feasting desperately on Sally's pert little boobs as the towel slithered all the way off. Sally didn't have time to feel relieved before the tingles of pleasure started radiating outward from her nipples.

Her eyelids fluttered closed. This finally felt right. This was heaven. This was bliss.

As Jane's mouth shifted from one breast to the other, Sally looked down. She had dived into Jane's chest so soon after tugging down the towel that she hadn't had a chance to ogle her. The sight of Jane's smooth shoulders, her muscular thighs and curvy hips gave her almost more pleasure than the sensation of the blonde's frenzied kisses -- almost.

Jane's lips were descending. They traced down to Sally's belly button, and then down to her hip. Jane pulled the blue dress down with her, and soon it lay coiled around Sally's ankles, leaving her clad in only a pair of tight cotton briefs.

Jane hooked her fingers under the elastic.

'Jane,' Sally breathed. 'I don't...'

Jane looked solemnly up at her. 'Do you trust me?'

Sally's heart skipped a beat. 'Yes.'

Jane tugged on the briefs, exposing Sally's shaved pussy to the light. Sally trembled. Jane's face was so close to her crotch. What must she look like from that angle? What must she smell like?

'But,' she said. 'I've never...'

She was going to say she had never been with anyone but Charlie. But Jane misunderstood.

'Never had anyone go down on you?' Jane asked. 'Don't worry. I'll be very gentle.'

She leaned forward, and planted a soft kiss on Sally's inner thigh. Gentle though it was, it sent a shockwave through Sally's whole body. She took a deep, shuddering breath.

Jane left a trail of careful kisses up Sally's thigh to her labia, where she let her lips rest for a long moment. Sally could feel Jane's warm breath on her pussy.

'Oh God,' she whispered. 'Yes.'

Jane's tongue slipped into her.

Sally bucked her hips, shuddering with pleasure as Jane tasted the very centre of her. Charlie had gone down on her many times, but since he didn't have a vagina of his own, he was only guessing at what felt good. His clumsy mouth couldn't match what Jane was doing. She knew when to roll her tongue around Sally's throbbing clitoris, sending fireworks of ecstasy through her belly, and she knew when to push deeper, hooking her tongue up toward Sally's G-spot. She even knew when to pull back and simply kiss her labia while her nails raked across Sally's ribs.

'Jane,' Sally hissed. 'Oh, Jane.' The name felt beautiful in her mouth.

She tore the other towel off Jane's head and grabbed handfuls of the blonde hair beneath. Jane hummed and breathed gently as she lapped at Sally's pussy.

Goosebumps swarmed up Sally's arms. Her whole body quaked with pleasure. 'Jane,' she whispered. 'I'm... I can't... I'm going to... oh!'

Jane's lips closed around her clit. Sally felt a finger slither into her pussy, and then she lost it.

She wailed and cried and thrashed, unable to exert any control over her limbs as the orgasm crashed down onto her like a waterfall. Her thighs clamped over the sides of Jane's head. She couldn't believe how good this felt. She had never been so happy.

As the last few tremors rocked through her, she released her grip on Jane's hair. 'Oh Jesus,' she breathed. 'Oh Christ.'

Jane placed her warm palm over Sally's pussy, as though protecting it. 'You okay, sweetie?'

'Thank you.' Sally could feel the tears pricking her eyes. 'Thank you so much.'

She pulled Jane back up onto the couch with her and covered her face with feverish kisses. She tasted her juices on the blonde's lips and didn't care.

'I love you,' Jane gasped. 'I've always loved you, Sally.'

Sally nuzzled at Jane's breasts for a moment before sliding off the couch and kneeling between her legs. Seeing Jane's vagina for the first time -- neatly trimmed hair, pouting lips, a perfectly hooded clitoris -- brought a blush to her cheeks.

'You don't have to do that,' Jane said.

'No,' Sally said. 'But I really, really want to.'

She leaned forward and pressed her lips against Jane's beautiful pussy.

'Oh!' Jane squeezed her eyes shut and raised her face to the ceiling, mouth agape.

Sally marvelled at the softness of Jane's labia -- even softer than the lips on her face. A slightly salty fluid coated the smooth skin. Sally licked it cautiously at first, and then slurped at it greedily when she discovered that she liked the taste.

I'm eating Jane's pussy, she thought. Please, God, don't let this be a dream.

Jane moaned as Sally's tongue probed deeper and deeper. Sally squeezed the blonde's beautiful thighs as she kissed and nibbled.

'Sally,' Jane whispered. 'You're amazing.'

Encouraged, Sally slipped a finger into the warm, slick opening and pumped it in and out as she tickled Jane's clit with the tip of her tongue. She wished she could make time stand still, and do this forever.

Looking up, she saw that Jane was pinching her own nipples and twisting them. Sally used her free hand to take over on Jane's right breast, stretching the rubbery nub as much as she dared.

'Oh, fuck,' Jane hissed. 'Yes, yes, yes!'

Scarcely aware of what she was doing, Sally mounted Jane's outstretched shin. Soon she was sliding her pussy up and down Jane's leg like a horny dog even as she feasted on the blonde's clit and labia. The friction was incredible. She could feel another orgasm building in her abdomen.

'Sally!' Jane wailed. 'I'm going to come! Oh fuck, oh fuck...'

Sally gobbled desperately at Jane's pussy as she pumped her hips back and forth on her leg. Yes, she thought. Come for me. Come for me, you beautiful, amazing goddess.

Jane shrieked and struggled as the orgasm hit. Perhaps it was the sound, perhaps it was the shuddering shin between her thighs, but it set Sally off too. She moaned into the other woman's vagina as it squeezed tightly around her finger.

They quivered like a single organism for a long moment before collapsing. Jane's head lolled back against the couch, while Sally's cheek came to rest against Jane's belly. They were both breathing like they had run a marathon, but Sally was delighted to realise that their inhalations and exhalations were perfectly in sync.

'Stay with me tonight,' Jane panted.

Sally wrapped her arms around Jane's nude torso. 'Of course I will.'

When they had the strength to rise, Jane switched off the lights, took Sally's hand and led her to the bedroom. They collapsed onto the soft cotton sheets and wrapped a heavy blanket around their bodies. They spooned, Jane's naked breasts pressed against Sally's back, her hand resting on Sally's thigh.

They lay in silence for a long time before Sally heard a snore. She smiled at the sound.

She freed herself from Jane's embrace, slipped out of the bed and crept back into the lounge room. She dug her phone out of her handbag and sent a text.

Had a bit to drink. Staying the night at Jane's place. See you tomorrow.

Then she put the phone in flight mode, dropped it into the bag and walked back into the bedroom. Jane had rolled over. Sally slid under the covers and wrapped her arms around Jane's warm, smooth body. She kissed the back of the blonde's head tenderly.




Up Against The Wall



'I love you,' she whispered, thrilled to say the words out loud.

Then she closed her eyes and slept.

Chapter 6

He dreamed of Sally.

Her soft breaths in his ear, her thighs clamped around his hips, her breasts bouncing above him.

The dream was so hypnotic that when he woke, and realised that Sally wasn't in bed beside him, he shut his eyes and tried to recapture it. He pictured her red hair cascading down her shoulders and imagined the feeling of her nails raking down his chest. He wrapped his hand around his throbbing erection, trying to convince himself that he was sheathed in her pussy.

It didn't work. Charlie sighed and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He could almost hear the sneers of his co-workers: 'You fantasise about your own wife? What the fuck's the point of that?'

He pulled on some socks -- his slippers had been ruined when the cat took a dump in them -- and stumbled out of the bedroom. Sally had sent him a text late last night, saying she wasn't coming home. He hoped she would arrive before he had to leave for work.

Charlie padded into the kitchen and glared at the coffee machine for a moment, knowing that he wasn't awake enough to operate it, and that he wouldn't be until after his first cup. One of life's paradoxes, he thought.

Usually Sally, who was somehow fully alert from the moment she woke up, would make him a latte while he sliced the fruit for her breakfast. In her absence, he decided to use instant coffee instead.

The kettle had almost boiled when he heard a key turn in the front door. He ran out into the hall in time to see Sally close it behind her.

He grinned. 'Hey sweetie.' His voice was still croaky from sleep.

'Hi.' She smiled back, but looked away quickly.

'I was about to have a mug of coffee. You want one?'

'Sure.'

Charlie walked back into the kitchen just as the kettle clicked off. After a moment's hesitation, he put the instant coffee back in the cupboard. He didn't want his wife thinking he was completely helpless. He placed a mug under the nozzle of the coffee machine and, frowning in concentration, pressed what he thought was the right combination of buttons to produce a long black.

The machine rattled, gurgled and drizzled until the mug was full. Charlie switched it off, stirred in half a spoonful of raw sugar and brought it back out to Sally, who was sitting on the couch.

'Thanks,' she said. 'Where's yours?'

'Oh.' Charlie had forgotten it. 'I'll make it in a minute. How's Jane?'

'She's good. She's great. We're, uh... we're moving in together.'

Charlie let out something half way between a polite cough and a confused laugh.

Sally looked down at her shoes.

'What?' Charlie said. 'I don't understand.'

'We're in love.' Sally said quietly. 'Jane and me.'

Charlie suddenly felt ridiculous in his cotton pajamas, with his sideways smeared hair and probably bad breath. She's leaving me, he thought. I should look better than this.

He had a vision of himself in an immaculate suit, inside an open coffin.

'I'm sorry, Charlie,' Sally said. 'I'm so sorry.'

She took his hand. He let her do it.

'You're a good guy,' she said. 'You don't deserve this. But I can't pretend any more.'

The word "pretend" hit Charlie like a truck. Had every kiss, every fuck, every tender word been counterfeit?

'I don't understand,' he said again.

'I know.' Sally's eyes filled up with tears. 

'Oh, I'm sorry baby.' Charlie hugged her, his throat closing up. 'It's okay.'

Sally's voice was muffled by his pajamas. 'Why are you comforting me?'

'Because you're crying.'

'I'm supposed to be comforting you.'

'Don't worry about that.' Charlie stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head and breathed her in, wondering if it was for the last time.

'I didn't plan this,' she whispered. 'When I married you, it was forever.'

Charlie said nothing.

'I was hiding what I felt for Jane,' she continued, 'even from myself. But when I found out she felt the same way, I couldn't ignore it any more.' She pulled back and looked at Charlie.

'You were a good husband,' she said. 'Someday you'll make someone else very happy.'

I don't want someone else, Charlie thought. I want you.

He blinked, willing himself not to cry.

'I hope we can still be friends,' Sally said.

Charlie had read somewhere that when a girl said, "I'm breaking up with you, but we can still be friends", it was like a parent saying "Your dog died, but you can keep it." He didn't know if he could ever be Sally's friend, because that would mean looking at her without thinking about what he had lost.

Not that he had other friends to fall back on. Jane, who had been his best friend since rebuffing him in high school, had betrayed him. She had privately lusted after his wife, and since Charlie didn't think he would survive this, she had basically murdered him.

But shouting, weeping, begging -- none of these would convince Sally to stay. They would just magnify the guilt she already felt.

And Charlie loved his wife.

'I'll always be your friend,' he said. 'But I need some time alone.'

Sally nodded. 'I understand. Call me when you're ready.'

She leaned over and kissed him -- a tender, fragrant kiss that Charlie hoped would never end. But soon she pulled away and stood up.

'I'll go,' she said. 'I'll send someone to pick up my things.'

'No, no,' Charlie said. 'It's okay. I was just about to go to work. You can stay to pack.'

He walked into the bathroom. His reflection was a sorry sight -- pink-rimmed eyes, flushed cheeks. He stuck a toothbrush into his mouth and scrubbed it out. Then he discarded his pyjamas and pulled on his work clothes from the previous day. They were only slightly crumpled.

He wet his hair in the sink, dried it with a towel, and walked back out. 'I'll be back at five thirty,' he said.

Sally nodded. 'Okay. I'll be gone by then.'

He stood a moment longer, memorising every detail of her appearance and wishing he'd appreciated what he had while he had it.

As he walked out the front door, he intended to go to work. By the time he'd climbed into the car and started the engine, he had changed his mind.

* * *

The strip club was a tired-looking thing by day -- the neon lights were dark and dusty, the gold paint around the blacked-out windows had faded. Charlie parked his car right out front. He was too shell-shocked to feel embarrassed. He was too shocked to feel much of anything.

A little guy wearing a lanyard stood by the front door. Security. Maybe they saved the big guy for nights, and weekends. Charlie held out his driver's license, and the guy waved him through.

He had expected the club to be almost deserted -- two or three dancers, one or two bar staff, zero patrons. In fact, five middle-aged men were seated separately around the glitter-spattered stage, on which a pair of nude women writhed in one another's arms. The blonde nibbled at the brunette's lipstick and dug her acrylic nails into her muscular buttocks. The brunette threw her head back slowly, as if underwater.

Charlie looked away. He went to the bar, where a barmaid was polishing a tumbler. She had neatly coiffed hair and a tank top with a plunging neck line.

'Can I get a gin and tonic?' he asked.

The barmaid showed no trace of surprise, despite the early hour. 'Sure thing, sweetie.'

She turned to face the bottled spirits, giving Charlie a clear view of her pert butt. He stared at it, long and hard, feeling nothing.

The barmaid turned back, and poured his drink. 'That'll be five dollars.'

He gave her eight. 'Keep the change.'

She smiled, and went back to polishing the glasses. Charlie sipped his drink. There was more gin than tonic, but still it wasn't as strong as he would have liked.

Charlie wasn't the only man at the bar. Another guy, young and thin with frameless glasses, sat on a stool at the other end. A lean, busty woman in a thigh-length semi-transparent dress stood beside him, closer than he looked comfortable with.

'How about a private dance?' she said.

'I don't know,' the guy said, too slowly for a sober man.

'I have a lot to show you.' The woman tugged the strap of her dress down past her shoulder and left it there.

'I, uh...'

'Excuse me,' Charlie said.

The stripper and the drunkard both looked at him.

'I'll take that dance.'

The stripper smiled at Charlie. Her teeth were luminous, even in the dim light.

'Follow me,' she said.

'I... what?' the drunkard said.

Charlie gulped down the last of his drink and followed the stripper's swaying hips across the stained purple carpet. She disappeared into a narrow doorway, covered in hanging beads. When he pushed through, he found her standing on a low, round table. Electronic chillout music played softly from speakers in the ceiling.

The stripper pointed an immaculate nail at a leather couch. 'Take a seat.'

He collapsed into it. He had been in bed only two hours ago, but already he was tired again.

'You can leave twenty dollars on the table,' she continued. 'I'm Dana, by the way.'

Charlie dug a twenty-dollar note out of his wallet and put it down. 'Charlie. Nice to meet you.'

'Likewise.' Dana traced a finger from her lips down to her chin, her throat, the space between her breasts. 'I haven't seen you in here before, Charlie.'

Charlie shook his head. 'First time.'

Dana winked. 'Well, I'll try to make it special for you.'

Charlie heard echoes of his own voice, saying almost those exact words on his wedding night. He stared at Dana's breasts, knowing they would soon be revealed. They were perfectly rounded, with nipples that bulged under the fabric, but somehow he didn't feel aroused.

Dana's finger continued its downward journey over her dress, crossing her belly and coming to rest between her legs. The dress hugged her, revealing a slender waist and smooth thighs.

She turned around, sending the fabric of the dress twirling. She shrugged out of the shoulder straps and shimmied slightly. The dress slithered down her body and puddled around her high heels. Charlie examined, with all the passion of a coroner, the butterfly tattoo above her bra clasp and the thong between her perky butt cheeks.

Spinning to face him, Dana twisted in the air like a charmed snake. The lacy cups of her bra were a size too small -- her jiggling flesh looked ready to overflow. The front of her thong barely covered her pubic hair, if she had any.

She walked closer to Charlie, heels rapping the tabletop, and blew him a kiss with dark, shiny lips. She slid her thumbs under the side straps of her thong, stretching them out, peeling them down, but not far enough to reveal her pussy. Turning around again, she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, leaving her gracefully muscled back completely bare. She tossed the bra over her shoulder, and Charlie caught it. It was warm in his fingers, and smelled faintly of her floral perfume.

When Dana turned back to face him, her breasts were concealed by her arm, which looked too thin to support their bulk. She swayed from side to side, against the beat of the music, and Charlie watched the shadows crawl up and down her skin.

Dana winked. 'You want more?'

'Yes,' Charlie lied.

'For another twenty, I'll show you everything.'

Charlie took back the first twenty and replaced it with a fifty. 'Keep the change,' he said.

Dana exhaled as though the money itself gave her sexual pleasure. Keeping her arm over her nipples, she slipped her other hand into her thong and rubbed at herself for a moment before wriggling out of it. Now she was completely nude but for her high heels, but Charlie still couldn't see anything -- her genitalia was concealed behind her cupped palm.

With a casual kick, she flung her thong over to him. It smelled of lust, but Charlie felt none.

Dana pirouetted slowly, showing off her firm butt. When she bent over, she slowly removed her hand from her pussy, exposing a puffy labia and a tight, slick opening. When she turned back to face him, she had a breast cupped in each hand. A small tuft of coarse black hair was nestled above her slit.

She jiggled her tits, as though showing off their weight, before releasing them. They swung free, full and soft, nipples erect.

'You like what you see, Charlie?' she purred.

'Yes.'

She struck a pose, legs apart, hands clasped behind her head. 'How about you tell me what to do?'

Charlie was still so numb that he may as well have been watching a cooking show. But he was desperate to be turned on by someone who wasn't his wife. He needed proof that his life wasn't over.

'Pinch your nipples,' he said.

Dana smiled, and moved her hands back to her breasts. She trapped her nipples between thumbs and forefingers, and stretched, elongating them further than Charlie had thought possible. 'Like this?'

'Yes,' Charlie said. 'Now twist them.'

Dana pinched her nipples harder, and turned the elongated nubs a full 180 degrees. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she made a little humming sound.

Charlie took the opportunity to touch his penis through his suit pants. It was still soft.

'Keep doing that with your left hand,' he said. 'With your right, I want you to rub your clit.'

Dana's right hand crawled down her body as gracefully as a spider, and scuttled through her pubic hair. Her finger probed gently at the front of her pussy, and started making tiny circles.

'Harder,' Charlie said.

Dana took a deep, shuddering breath as she obeyed. Her fingertip quivered at her clit as though scribbling a signature.

Charlie stared at her trembling breasts, her lean legs, her exposed pussy. His dick was unaffected.

'Sit down,' he said. 'And then keep going.'

Dana sprawled across the table, her legs spread wide. Charlie watched her finger dip into her pussy before returning to her clit, vibrating with furious energy.

'Finger your butt,' he demanded.

Dana's eyes popped open in shock. 'What?'

'I want you to stick your finger up your arsehole.'

She grinned. 'Naughty boy.' She slipped her finger out of her pussy and into her mouth, either to taste her juices or for additional lubrication. Then she pushed her fingertip into her puckered anus.

'Deeper,' Charlie said.

She dug her finger in further, gasping, her brow furrowed in concentration. A blush spread across her cheeks. Her nipples stood straight up. Her enjoyment didn't look like an act, but perhaps Charlie was just being naïve.

'Is this what you want?' she whispered. Her eyes were still closed.

'Yes,' he said. 'Keep going.'

Her finger slid in and out of her arse, a little deeper each time. Charlie thought of the last time he had made love to Sally, how she had asked him to masturbate for her before she took him in her butt. She, like Dana, had been pretending.

'Oh my God,' Dana whispered. 'It feels good.'

She was beautiful -- her angelic face, her gleaming hair, her full breasts and her swollen labia and her willing arsehole -- but she wasn't Sally. Charlie couldn't be attracted to this woman. It had been a mistake to come here.

He stood up. She didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Her breaths were hard and fast.

He wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what. So he just walked out of the room and out of the club before getting into his car and turning the key in the ignition.

Chapter 7

That month was the best of Sally's life.

She was in non-stop bliss. Every morning, she awoke cradled in Jane's arms. Sometimes she woke her lover with the smell of frying bacon and hash browns. Other times, she roused Jane by crawling between her legs and slurping at her pussy until she started moaning.

On weekdays, she drove Jane to work. Sometimes they breakfasted together at a café around the corner from her office. As she stared at Jane over the rim of the disposable coffee cup, Sally wondered why she had waited so long. How could she have considered a life without Jane?

Jane said Sally didn't have to do any housework, but she did it anyway. She liked to feel useful, and she liked to keep the evenings free. So while Jane was at work, Sally washed clothes, she pulled weeds out of the garden, she vacuumed and prepared lavish dinners.

When Jane came home, sometimes Sally answered the door in lingerie. Sometimes she was naked. Sometimes she had a towel draped over her arm and a bottle of massage oil in her hand. She liked the idea of having a new gift for her lover every day. 

On the weekends, they hiked to lookouts on the tops of nearby mountains and snuggled together on park benches, Sally's face buried in Jane's blonde locks. If the lookout was deserted, Jane would bend Sally over the bench, fall to her knees and nibble at her clit. Sally would scream as she orgasmed, and hear her voice echo back from the distant valleys.

At Sally's request, Jane brought home some divorce papers from her firm. Sally signed them and mailed them to Charlie. She told herself that she would wait a month before following up -- but the signed papers arrived back before the end of the week. The divorce would be final after a mandatory twelve-month separation period. Jane took her to an expensive Morrocan restaurant to celebrate, and they drank sparkling wine until they giggled.

Sally was relieved, but also worried. How was Charlie coping? And how could she find out without violating his request to stay away?

Charlie wasn't her only concern. During their second month together, she often saw Jane staring at the wall, arms crossed over her breasts, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth.

'Are you okay?' Sally asked.

'Hmm?'

'Are you okay?'

Jane smiled. 'Yeah, just thinking.'

Sally wrapped her arm around Jane's bare shoulders. 'What about?'

'Nothing important.' Jane would then change the subject as deftly as only a lawyer could.

It wasn't until nine weeks into their relationship that Sally found out what was on her lover's mind. They were in bed, sheets coiled around their ankles. Sally was glowing in the aftermath of an orgasm. She kissed Jane hungrily, tasting her own juices. Her nails raked down the blonde's back.

'I still want to have a baby,' Jane said.

Sally froze. 'What?'

'I don't know how much longer I can wait. Raising kids takes a lot of energy, and I'm not getting any younger.' Jane met Sally's gaze. 'But I know it's a big step. I'll understand if you're not ready.'

'You want to raise a child... with me?'

Jane nodded.

A warmth spread through Sally's chest. In a strange way, this felt like the highest compliment she'd ever been paid.

'Okay,' she said. She kissed Jane again, and squeezed her a little tighter. 'Let's do it.'

Jane chuckled sadly. 'It's not that simple. We're not married. We've only been together two months.'

'We'll get married,' Sally said. 'Marry me.'

She clambered out of bed, and got down on one knee on the carpet. 'Marry me,' she said again.

Jane's eyes filled up with tears. 'I would if I could. Believe me. I would marry you a thousand times over. But it wouldn't solve the problem. We'd have to be together for years before any adoption agency would consider us. Maybe decades. We might be old and grey before--'

'The sperm bank, then,' Sally said.

'Same deal. They have background checks. They wouldn't give us anything.'

Sally's heartbeat quickened in her chest.

'Don't worry,' she said. 'I'll think of something.'

She already had.

* * *

The apartment looked nicer than Charlie remembered. The cobwebs had been scrubbed out of the corners of the window frames. The old brass doorknob had been replaced. White roses bloomed in the window box.

Charlie could still smell the aftershave he had used -- he wondered if he had put it on too strong. Even knowing that there was no chance of winning Sally back, he had taken a long shower, dressed in his best suit, styled his hair with wax, shaved. It made him feel as though he had some control over his life.