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The Price

By: Bullofthewoods



The ride was long, through the hills of east Tennessee. The winding road and the hypnotic sound of the tires of the old truck against that same pavement soon had you sound asleep. You had asked me three times where we were going and my response had been the same every time. "Trust me." You awoke at the squeal of the brakes as the old pickup came to a halt. You stretched and barely opened your eyes. You turned to me, puzzled, confused, and I took your hand and looked into your eyes. Bill, a large burly man, approached my side of the vehicle and I opened the door, got out, and grabbed the large man around the chest. "Do they know one another?" was the thought that went through your mind as you watched us embrace and discuss the "old days." I walked to your door, opened it, and bid you step out. Bill looked you over and with a hardy tone asked, "Is this your new whore?" He didn't wait on an answer, but instead turned and walked quickly towards a large fire that you had only recently noticed. After all, you had been asleep for quite some time.

The flood of automobiles that pulled up shortly after our own arrival surprised you. The questions that ran amuck inside your head finally made their way out of your mouth and were whispered into my ear. You knew better than to disturb me while I was in the middle of conversation. It simply was not your place to do so. "Is this a party?...a reunion? ...Why are we here?" I grabbed your hair, pulled your ear to my mouth and whispered, "We are here to entertain these fine people." You turned around slowly, looking over the crowd, as I loosened my grip upon your hair. There must have been at least 100 people here, all of them strangers to you. You stood there silent as each person came by and gave their "hello's" and "how are you's." Why had you never met these people? You had been with me now for over a year and all of these folks were strangers to you. How were you going to entertain these people? You had no musical talents, you couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. You were definitely confused at this point and began to become uncomfortable at the continuous stares of the only person in the place that hadn't come and said hello, an albino male of no more than 18 or 19 years of age. You could tell he had undressed you many times in his mind within the last hour, and it was really beginning to bother you. Bill walked back by a few minutes later and whispered these words to you. "Jimmy likes you, he really likes you." The very thought sent shivers down your spine and you sat next to me, wrapping your arm in mine, trying to remove the thought from your mind.

The conversation ran long into the night. Some of the women had become comfortable enough and drunk enough to dance around the fire nude. The men that sat around the fire held their hands out while the 'girls' danced by, teasing the men into a frenzy that would not be ignored. A few minutes later there were a number of sexual activities going on around us. You looked up and Jimmy, still fascinated by you, stood in the same place he had since our arrival. His eyes had never left you and by the look of things, never would. In the distance, the sound of one lone Harley, coming closer, rose above the sounds of lust and fornication, caught both of our attention

The man on the bike roared past us and circled the bonfire a few times before finally stopping next to us. I stood from the hay bale that we were sitting on and walked up to the bike. His hand turned the key slowly to the off position and the rumble of the beautiful jet black bike quieted. The kick stand went down and he took the helmet off. This man fascinated you. He was different from the others here. You could tell by the way he moved....."he was like me." You couldn't explain that passing thought, but instead felt it, inside you. I talked a mile a minute to the man. You couldn't understand the words that were being exchanged but you knew we had been very close at one time. "Are they brothers?" you thought. Still you sat on the makeshift seat. Quiet, still, ladylike. Just as I had told you to do earlier. The man removed himself from atop the "hog" and he and I went to grab a beer. We returned a few moments later and as we approached, a feeling of overwhelming nervousness came over you. You tried to breathe, but could not. You tried to move, but your muscles would not react. I smiled at you and introduced the nice looking man to you as Tim. You sat there, as if you were stone. The realization of the things to come began to course through your mind, and those thoughts of the upcoming "events" made you tremble with both fear and........excitement. 

Tim sat on the bale next to you, placed his hand on your thigh and looked directly into your eyes. His words came to rest, hard, in your ears and on your mind. "You were a very good girl the other night dear. I should be so lucky to take you again in the near future." You turned your head to look at me. The look on your face was one of guilt, wanting of forgiveness, but knowing something else would come first. My stare was one you had known many times. I looked at you and it seemed as if my eyes reached into your very soul, burning like hot coals burning through tissue. You jerked as Tim grabbed your arms from behind you and I took your legs by the ankles. You struggled, but to no avail, as we took you to the motorcycle. The crowd seemed to quiet, and you heard Bill's voice rise above even the sounds of your own screams. "It's 'Showtime', ladies and gents!" 

You were laid out across the seat of the Harley. Ironically, it was that very seat where Tim had taken you only two nights ago. The warmth of the engine, obvious, as your wrists were bound tightly with rope and anchored to the still warm exhaust with cable. Bill held the bike so that it would not tip over and called to a few other men to back two large trailers to either side to support the bike. Your legs were spread by Tim and your ankles bound just as your wrists to the strong railing on the side of one of the trailers. Your only refuge was the fact that your knees rested atop the fenderwell of that same trailer. I leaned down, just above your head and pulled your hair up so that you had no other choice but to be face to face with me. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?" Your lips puckered and as you prepared to spit at me, I wrapped the leather strapped gag around your head, not allowing you the pleasure of the shower you had in mind for me. You hated this particular gag. It held your tongue down and you had to make a conscience effort to swallow while it was on you. You hated the smell, the buckles on the back that pulled at your hair, and the ball with the word "cunt" written on it, that was on more than a regular basis, crammed into your mouth to keep you quiet. The one thing that you could not hate however, was what these circumstances were doing to you. You could feel your pussy getting wetter by the second as your clothing was cut from you and the cool night air found every nook and cranny of your beautiful body. "Damn." was the only thought that currently went through your mind. Had you known what would happen next, that one thought would have been very different.

The crowd of strangers had begun to circle you. You could feel their eyes upon you. You struggled in a futile attempt to free yourself and finally gave in to the bonds. You raised your head and opened your eyes, looking for me. Your eyes scanned the large group around you, but I could not be found. The crowd inched forward and a multitude of hands covered your naked body. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see the who these hands came from. They were touching every part of you, pulling on your nipples, slapping your ass, touching your nasty little cunt. You began to cry. The questions that ran inside your head...."why was he doing this to me?"...."why?"..."how long have I been here?" kept repeating over and over, like a broken record. A hard slap to your ass, harder than any before, brought you back to the reality of the moment. I leaned over and whispered in your ear. "The gag will be removed, but you must remain silent or I will shut you up once more." You nodded in agreement as still the hands of a few of the strangers ran over your back and across your breasts. Your lips were cracked from the gag being shoved in your mouth and ...you were thirsty beyond belief. You wanted for drink, anything to wet your lips and tongue. The inside of your mouth was dry. The need for this overwhelmed you and you decided, even against my instructions, to ask for something to quench this thirst You found the courage to look up, in front of you. It was something you wished you hadn't done. There, standing before you, was Jimmy. You could see the wet spots on the front of his jeans and smell the 'musk' that was his seed. His cock swollen, yet again, inside the pants. Suddenly, the want for something to drink didn't seem to be important.

I walked around in front of you, slapped Jimmy on the back and said, "Jimmy here has never had his cock sucked. Imagine that! Well, Jimmy my man....this IS your lucky night!" I instructed Jimmy to take off his jeans. You looked at me, fear in your eyes, pussy soaked by the hands and fingers that invaded you. Jimmy's cock sprang out and hit your cheek as he released it from his clothing. Your expression was one of disgust. The precum that dripped slowly from his cock, was now on your face. You closed your mouth out of instinct. "Now now dear.", came my calm voice, "Open your mouth for me. Jimmy will be so let down if we don't do this for him. Imagine how my reputation will be ruined in front of all these people. They'll never trust my word again." I reached down and pulled your hair up to look at me. "Now, open your mouth you cheap little slut." Still you would not concede. Jimmy started to back up a few steps and I pushed him forward yet again. "Don't back away from her Jimmy....she will do as I request. Jimmy, remove your belt from your jeans." 

Jimmy bent and slowly removed the belt from his jeans. I held out my hand and he placed it gently in my grasp. I looked at you, giving you one more chance to do as I requested, but you hung your head, needing what was about to happen. I walked around you, teasing you with the leather strap. "Dear, open your mouth for me. Jimmy needs this." Jimmy's cock rested on top of your head. You could smell the sweat of his balls as they were left to dangle in front of your nose. Still, you would not open your mouth. The belt came down, hard upon your fleshy behind. You bit your tongue, still not making a sound. The leather came down repeatedly and your body shuddered from the sting that it left behind. My rhythm, not leaving time for you to feel the warmth of the marks upon your skin. I continued until......finally......you screamed out for mercy. Jimmy, not entirely stupid, took the opportunity to shove his cock into your mouth. Your eyes bulged as his manhood found the back of your throat and your hips moved, your legs shook as you felt my hands upon your hair....forcing your mouth to the base of the albino's hardened penis. The warmth of the lashes hit you at once and you shook as the wave of excitement overtook you. You could feel your juices run down your leg and the wet touch of several tongues behind you, lapping the substance from your thighs. 

The sound of Jimmy's moans brought you back to reality. Your head was bobbing up and down the length of his shaft much like an experienced whore giving a young man his first taste of the pleasures of oral gratification. You tried to remove his cock from your mouth but the firm grip I had on your hair would not allow you to do so. Jimmy's hips drove forward and his balls slapped you on the bottom of the chin as he came in your mouth. You heard me tell you to swallow his offering, and finally, you did as I requested. You raised your eyes to me, and I smiled, finally finding pleasure in your actions. I walked behind you and instructed the many that were taking turns licking your cum soaked cunt, to leave us. I removed my clothing and positioned myself behind you. My cock slid into you easily. I leaned forward and whispered, "never again." The sounds of the crowd blurred inside your head as did the rest of the words I whispered, as I pleasured myself inside of your exhausted body. 

You awoke to find yourself covered in a sleeping blanket. The sound of the truck tires humming against the road and the quiet music coming from the radio brought a smile to your face. You half looked towards the steering wheel.......the wheel that Jimmy held fast in his obscenely white hands.

The Price



It was a total shock. The telephone rang and on picking it up a voice asked, "Mrs. Rawinsky?"

"Yes."

"Look, I know this might come as a bit of a shock, but I think you're my mother. My name is Noel Vane."

I nearly fainted. "Dear God, after all these years."

As I struggled to respond the images of that time eighteen years ago came back, flashing before me with lightening speed.

Michael Vane...I was so young and he so experienced... the pain of child birth...holding the child... feeding him at my breast...and they took it away from me.

"Its best," said the hospital chaplain, and my parents, relatives and friends. All of them told me, "It's for the best. You're so young, your whole life before you. You don't want to be saddled with a child at your age."

So I signed their papers and saw them take my baby son away, leaving me with a great gaping emotional wound that had never healed completely.

They took my child away and I wasn't supposed to know whom he went to, but I heard; heard the social worker whispering.

"His father's taken him. His wife forgave him. They have no kid's so they've taken him."

"Is that allowed?"

"She signed and it went through all right."

"Poor kid, it's been bloody hard for her."

"Shouldn't have let him get into her knickers."

"Suppose so, but I wouldn't mind him trying to get in to my knickers; bloody nice looking guy."

So Marcia Vane had "forgiven him" and taken my baby.

All that was so long ago, but hearing that never before heard voice on the telephone, there it all was, as if it was only yesterday it had happened.

"Mrs. Rawinsky, are you still there?"

I was jolted back into the present; "Yes, I'm here." "Am I right that you are my mother?"

"You are Noel Vane...? I mean your parents are Michael and Marcia Vane?

"Parents by adoption, yes; but I think you're my real mother."

My brain cleared enough for me to think intelligibly.

"How...how did you find me? They're not supposed to tell you things like that."

"They've changed the law. If someone is adopted and wants to know who their real parents are, they have to tell you."

Of course, I'd been away for so long. I met Pyotr Rawinsky at a conference where I was working as a translator. Dear gentle, loving Pyotr. He was representing his government and I met him quite by chance in the corridor during a break in the session. 

I had heard of love at first sight and had always thought it nonsense. When I experienced it, I knew it wasn't nonsense. We looked at each other and in a moment knew. 

We said nothing then, and walked on, but for the rest of the conference he sought me out, finding any excuse to talk to me; and I made sure I was well in his way.

After the conference was over he returned to his country; a land of mountains and flood, but his letters came almost daily. He was considerably older than me, but I knew I was in love and certainly he constantly wrote of his love for me.

His proposal came by letter, but before I accepted I wrote to him of my affair with Michael Vane and the consequent pregnancy. I wanted nothing hidden, and if what I had done was unacceptable to Pyotr, then now was the time for me to know.

He wrote back immediately, and the letter consisted of only three words; "I love you."

It was enough. After months of bureaucratic wrangling I joined Pyotr and we were married. 

I knew that Pyotr occupied a position of some importance in his country, but had no idea of his actual wealth. It was only when we were married and I met many of his friends and colleagues, I realised that I had married someone who in a country with a monarch as head of state, would have been an aristocrat.

I had not even seen our home before we married, and was therefore astonished and a little overawed when I saw the house seeming to cling to the side of a mountain. There were servants who scared me at first; I was still only twenty two and they seemed so haughty and remote.

In fact we spent little time in the house as Pyotr took me everywhere with him as he travelled the world on his government's business. "Took me everywhere" except once. That one time when he said, "Darling, it's a lightening trip and I'll be rushing about so much, I don't think you should come this time." I agreed, but oh God, I wished I hadn't. If only I'd gone with him!

He was on the way home when the plane blew up in mid air. "Terrorists", they told me. "It wasn't your husband they were after. They weren't really after any of the passengers. It was the country who owned the airline they were striking at.

Whatever or whoever they were striking at, it was my husband, my dear, lovely Pyotr they killed. We had just ten years of marriage; ten wonderful years of love and passion; and in seconds it was all over. 

The voice on the phone went on, "You were Sarah Wells before you were married, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"Then you are my mother."

"I don't know...Yes possibly...I can't really say.... Why are you calling me?"

"I want to meet you."

"But we live so far apart."

"Yes, but I'm backpacking for a year and I'm in your country now, as a matter of fact I'm in the city where you live."

After Pyotr was killed I could no longer stand living in the house were we had loved. I moved to the capital and had been living there for three years.

"You've gone to a lot of trouble to find me."

"Yes, I've wanted to meet you ever since I found out I was adopted. Can I come and see you?"

I hesitated. This could be some sort of trick. I was a wealthy woman and had received plenty of offers from men since Pyotr's death. I was no longer the innocent I had been when Michael Vane seduced me. 

Even if I had wanted to remarry I soon discovered that the men who pursued me wanted one of two things; my body or my money; or to be fair, some wanted both. What they didn't seem to understand, and Pyotr had, was that I had more to offer than money and a body. 

If I had the slightest desire to remarry, it would have to be with someone who appreciated what Pyotr had understood and loved in me. After all, Pyotr had taken me without my having money, and as for my body, many would have called it "second hand goods."


Now there was a disembodied voice claiming to be my son. What was he after?

"Please, the voice went on, it really is important for me to meet you." There was something in the voice that touched a chord in me. In all the years since I had seen my baby taken away, that moment had often come back to haunt me. I would be asking myself, "Where is he now? What is he like? Does he look like me? Is he a good or bad person? Would he love me and me him if we were together?

The endless curiosity about what had become of the child I had carried in my young womb now took over. My travelling with Pyotr and meeting politicians, business men heads of departments and all the hangers on had given me a shrewd insight into the scheming ways of the powerful and not so powerful. If the disembodied voice became a fleshly presence to me, I felt I should soon know what his scheme was, if any.

"All right," I said, "I'll meet you. Can you lunch with me at the Coronal Café tomorrow?"

"Yes, I'd love to."

"Have you got pen and paper handy? I'll tell you how to get there."

"It's okay, I'm stopping at the backpacker's hostel a couple of streets away from the Coronal, and I went past it yesterday. What time?"

"Twelve thirty be all right?" 

"Fine?"

"How will I know you?"

"Just look for a guy around six feet three wearing a dark blue shirt. What about you?"

"If the weather's fine I'll wear a green dress, or if not a red coat." I gave a little laugh; "Since we're meeting at the Coronal, I'll wear a little posy of flowers."

"Wonderful; good night mother."

That nearly had me undone; "Mother!" I had never been called that before. A mother who had never heard her child say, "Mother."

"Goodnight...er...Noel."

I put down the telephone and found that I was shaking. There was something both frightening and yet overwhelmingly exciting about meeting the child I had given birth to and never seen since. I suppose I was a little hysterical and I began to laugh and cry at the same time.

I tried to picture what he would be like. He had said he was tall; his father was tall. Would he be good looking like his father? Would he be as charming as his father – the charm that had opened my legs to take him in?

What would Noel think of me? Would he be pleased I was his mother? Would he see me as attractive...a mother he could be proud to be seen with in the Coronal? 

That night was not a good night for sleeping, and when I did drop of in the early hours I had nightmarish dreams of faceless young men, babies and a dead husband.

In the morning I spent a ridiculous amount of time preparing myself for the coming meeting. I checked myself time and again in the mirror. "Do I look all right?" "What will he think of me?" "Will he like me?"

At ten minutes past twelve I got out the Porsche and drove to the restaurant. I was early, but Noel was earlier and was waiting for me in the foyer. From the first moment I saw him there was no doubt. He was the image of his father; tall and handsome.

He saw me and came to me. 

"Mrs. Rawinsky...mother?"

"Yes."

We shook hands in a ludicrously formal manner. 

Suspecting that the Coronal was not a place he could normally afford I took control and we were led to a table in a secluded corner.

While I had no doubt that Noel was who he said he was I still wanted to ask him for proof of identity, but he forestalled me.

He smiled a charming smile that was a reflection of his father's. "You'll want to be sure who I am."

He produced passport and international driver's license with his photograph on it. He also produced some rather battered photographs of himself with Michael and Marcia. These seemed to confirm that he was who he said he was, my son.

I decided to play it very cool and not let my emotions take over.

"You must have gone to a great deal of trouble to find me."

"Not really once I found the adoption papers when I was twelve. After that I kept wondering about you; what you looked like; did you ever think about me. When I made up my mind to find you it was only a matter of following a paper trail."

"It still must have taken some effort. Why did you want to find me?"

"Curiosity," he replied. "I often wondered what you looked like and what you're like as a person. If you don't mind my saying so, you look a lot younger than I expected."

Yes, well, I was very young when..."

"I was born?"

"Yes."

I changed tack a little bit and said, "You look very like your father."

He laughed, "Is that good or bad?"

Before I could answer the waiter came to take our orders, but as soon as he had left Noel took up the question again.

"Good or bad?"

"Your father is, or was, a very handsome man."

"He still is."

It was Noel's turn to change the direction of our talk.

"Why did you have me adopted? Didn't you want me?"

"Noel, I was very young and people kept telling me it was best I had you adopted."

"Best for whom, you, me, your parents?"

"All of us, I suppose."

"You were under age when you got pregnant, weren't you?"

I felt a hot flush diffuse my face. "Yes Noel, I was but I'd rather not talk about it." 

"My father could have gone to jail for that, couldn't he."

So he knew that it had been Michael and me.

Look Noel, he didn't go to jail and he and Marcia adopted you, and I really don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Sorry, mother. Did you ever think about me?"

Hardly a day had gone by over all those years I had not thought about him. I wanted to cry out to him, "Of course I've thought about you...wondered about you," but I managed to stay cool and simply said, "Yes, I've thought about you."

"Did you want to see me...are you glad I've found you?"

"Yes, I'm glad."

The food arrived and for a while conversation slowed down, with me asking the odd question about how long he was backpacking for and where was he going next. I learned that he was taking a year off before he went to university and that he had been travelling for two months so far.

"Of course," he said through a mouthful of chop, "My main aim was to come here and find you." When we finished the meal a feeling of awkwardness seemed to come between us. Neither of us seemed certain what to do or say next. Finally I broke the silence by asking, "Would you like to come and see where I live?"

"Yes, I'd like that very much."

We went out to the Porsche and I saw Noel's eyes light up. 

"My God, that's a beauty; even dad couldn't afford one of those."

"They are rather expensive. It belonged to my late husband."

"Your 'late husband'? Is he dead?"

"Yes, he died three years ago when the aircraft he was travelling in was blown up by terrorists."

"Three years ago? I can remember that, it was in all the newspapers and on the television news. I had no idea, I'm so sorry."

"Thank you." 

There was no further conversation during the drive as Noel's attention seemed to be split between the car and the passing view. On arrival at my house he seemed almost as impressed by it as he had been by the car.

Once inside the unease between us continued, so I decided to take the plunge and asked, "Now you've found me, is there anything you want me to do for you?"

It was Noel's turn to blush and in doing so he turned a knife in my stomach. His embarrassment turned him from the young man I had so far seen him as, into a little boy."

"Y-y-yes, there is, mother, but it isn't something you can ask, not of anybody."

"Here it comes," I thought. "Now we get to the heart of the matter. He won't want my body, so he'll want money." I decided to push the matter and get it over with.

"Come on Noel, you've got me all curious now. What is it you want to ask from me that you can't ask from anybody?"

"Well, you know that people say that if your own mother doesn't like you, who can?"

"Yes, I've heard that said."

"You're my mother."

"You want me to like you?"

"A stupid thing to ask of anyone isn't it. I mean, people like you or they don't, but you can't ask them to." "For what its worth, Noel, from what I've seen of you so far, yes, I like you."

"Would you want me as a son?"

"Noel, whatever is the trouble? Didn't Michael and Marcia like...love you?"

"They were fine, really good parents, especially mum. I think there was always a bit of a distance between dad and me because I reminded him of...of..."

He tailed off so I finished the sentence for him; "You reminded him of me?"

"Yes."

"So what's so important about me liking you?"

He seemed to grow angry at my question.

"Damn it, from the time I discovered I was adopted I wondered about you. Wondered why you gave me away...why you didn't want me...like...love me. I know it's foolish to think like that, and you've explained, but that's how I felt. I needed to know why you let me go. Okay, mum and dad tried to explain, but I had to hear it from you."

I let my guard down at last and the tears came.

"Oh God, Noel, I've thought about you all these years. I've longed to see you but we both had our lives to live, and I didn't dare crash in on yours."

"So I've crashed in on yours?"

"No, no, it isn't like that now. You've done what I didn't dare do, even though I've known where you were all that time. I gave you away, and if it's any consolation to you I've bitterly regretted it so often, but what can I say now. You said you want me to like you; can I ask an even harder thing of you? Can you forgive me?

I broke down completely and sobbed uncontrollably. Noel came and knelt beside me.

"Mother...mother...I didn't come to upset you...I just wanted to see you...to let you know what you made, whether you think I was worth it or not."

I felt his arms go round me and I buried my face in his chest. He spoke on.

"It's not a question of my forgiving you, if it were, then yes, of course I forgive you. Perhaps I shouldn't have come."

"No please, don't think...don't say that Noel. I'm glad, very glad, you've come. You're lovely...all I could have wanted you to be, but let's give ourselves time to get to know each other properly."

"I'd planned to move on tomorrow, mother."

"Must you?"

"Not if you don't want me to. My visa will run out eventually, but I can stay around for a while if you want me to."

"Stay, Noel. Come and stay here. Let's find each other."

"I hoped you'd say that, but didn't dare think you would, mother. I thought you might think I'd come to blackmail or beg some money from you."

He laughed and said, "Of course, I didn't know how well off you are or I might have thought of it."

Still sobbing I gently slapped his face and said, "Well, you young beast, if you want some money you can have it."

"Hey, you are behaving like a mother; I've just got my first slap from you. Do you think I should report you for child abuse?"

I managed through my sobs to laugh with him.

"In case you're worried that I might be a mercenary cad come to fleece you, then don't worry; mum and dad keep me well supplied."

"Well, you can save some of that money by coming here; it's free board and lodgings."

"Mother, that's wonderful...I don't mean the board and lodgings, I mean, being here with you...having you all to myself."

He paused for a moment looking at me speculatively. "I won't be getting in the way of anything, will I? I mean, there's no one around who might object to my being here?"

"Of course not, darling" – the term of affection slipped out unbidden – "and if there was and they objected, I'd send them on their way."

For all the interest I had received from men, there had been no one sharing my bed since Pyotr, and I guessed there never would be. I seemed to have been unlucky in love and didn't want to risk another loss.

It was still only early evening so it was decided we would go to the backpacker's hostel, pick up Noel's gear and put it in the car, then drive to the Coronal for another meal. As the restaurant was more frequented during the evening I telephoned to ensure we would get a table.

It should have been a celebratory occasion but since the police were very keen to book drink drivers, we contended ourselves with one bottle of wine. We waited until we got back to the house, and I opened a bottle of champagne that we let our hair down a bit.

The alcohol loosened us up, and we began to talk about mothers and sons loving each other, and the close bond there seemed to be between them. Noel wanted to know if it could ever be like that for us, but from what I can recall, we arrived at no conclusion.

As we made our way to bed I showed Noel where to find the toilet and shower, and at my bedroom door he kissed me on the cheek and said, "Goodnight, mother, sleep well."

"Good night Noel," I said, mentally adding, "My son."

"My son! I have a son!" I hugged that thought to me and touched my vagina with one hand and my breast with the other as being the place from which I gave him birth and the place where I first fed him. No doubt with the aid of the champagne I went in to deep sleep, and if I dreamed, I am sure they were happy dreams.

I woke next morning to the distant sound of a hissing shower and a baritone voice trying to sing a tenor aria from some Puccini opera and not succeeding very well. 

"Noel...Noel...my son was showering and we had the whole day in front of us. What to do? Where to go? What to talk about? It didn't matter just so long as I had him near me.

Would he grow to love me...be pleased to have me as a mother? Would I love him and be proud to have him as my son?

I had missed his babyhood, his childhood, even most of his teenage years and we had only the time allowed by his visa to get to know each other. I had to make each moment count.




The Price



I stepped out of my bedroom just as he came out of the shower room. He had a towel wrapped round his middle, but the body I saw was a delight to my maternal eyes. "Dear God, I helped to make that beautiful male body," so lithe and muscular and through no action of mine, lightly tanned. I went thoughtfully to take my own shower.

"Good morning mother dear," he said as he passed me. "Good morning son," I replied, once more adding a mental note, "My love."

Over breakfast we planned what we should do that day. He agreed to a suggestion from me that we should drive up to look at the house where I had lived with Pyotr. 

We drove up into the mountains and when he saw the house he was astounded. 

"Mother, you actually lived there? It's magnificent; I feel very jealous that I didn't share it with you."

We both went silent for a few minutes; he realising he might have made a faux pas, and I wishing he had shared it with me.

Since I had sold the place we did not seek to go inside but went on to the nearby village and ate lunch in the tavern. We passed a couple of hours over the meal and talking with the locals, who told us that some of the ski slopes were still in use although we were well into spring. We resolved to go up there and do some skiing.

I was surprised at how well Noel spoke the language and when I questioned him on this he said rather shyly, "Well, when I found out you were here and I decided that one day I'd come to see you, I also decided to learn what I could of the language. There was a guy at school who came from here, so he and his parents helped." He grinned, "After all, you might have forgotten how to speak English."

"You cheeky boy," I retorted, "I speak six languages and several dialects; I've travelled over most of this world, so a bit more respect for your mother."

"Do you really speak that many languages?"

"Yes, I worked as a translator for a while, that's how I met Pyotr."

"Lucky Pyotr."

"Lucky me, you mean."

"Was he a good man...I mean, to you?"

"Yes, he was a good man and he loved me very much. You know a lot of those people who go around the world on business or to represent their government, like Pyotr, can't stay away from the local women. Pyotr was never unfaithful and always took me with him."

Noel grinned; "I don't blame him for taking you. If I had a lovely wife like you I wouldn't risk leaving her at home."

I got angry at this. "Noel, if you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, then you'd better stop. I was never unfaithful to Pyotr, even in my head."

"Sorry mother, it was just a tasteless joke, but you are..."

"Drop it, Noel."

He dropped it and we went silent for a while.

To smooth over out slight fracas I asked Noel if he'd like to drive the Porsche on the return journey. His face lit up and he yelped, "Would I!"

I lived to regret that invitation as he drove the car round bends at twice the speed I would have risked. I found the only way to stop myself screaming was to shut my eyes. Somehow we did manage to arrive home in one piece and with no police wailing after us.

"I'm not sure I'll let you drive again," I said.

"Oh, did I frighten you," he replied serenely, "I was only trying it out."

The following day was shopping day. Noel had no suitable gear for skiing so mother bought him the necessary. I made a four day booking with one of the skiing lodges and the following day we were off to the slopes.

Noel had never skied so under the guidance of one of the instructors there was a lot of shuffling and tumbles before he finally got the hang of it, but it took nearly the whole of our time before he could manage one of the easier slopes. It made me happy to think I could introduce him to something new in his life.

After the skiing we returned to the city and for a few days wandered around the sights or lounged at home. Then I suggested a visit to The Lake.

There were many lakes in the country, but the largest and most beautiful was known simply as, "The Lake."

I booked us into a hotel for five days and hired a motor boat for us. 

It was while staying at The Lake that I began to get a bit curious about Noel's sexual orientation. At both the ski slopes and The Lake there were many pretty girls. I had expected Noel to take an interest but he seemed almost oblivious to the often clearly available female flesh. I wondered if he was gay, but he showed no interest in the pretty young men either.

It was while we were staying at the hotel that I was reassured as to his sexual orientation, and at the same time disturbed.

During the summer people would swim in The Lake, but during our stay it was still spring and the water too cold for swimming. However, the hotel had a large swimming pool so we took advantage of it.

It was while we were swimming and lounging around the pool that Noel seemed to be taking what some might call, "An unhealthy interest" in me.

We were both somewhat scantily clad, me in a bikini and he in some swimming briefs that were very brief. The second time we used the pool and were laying on air mattresses at the poolside, Noel commented, "You know, mum, you've got a lovely figure."

"Thank you darling." I had been told that before, so I just accepted it as a filial compliment, but then he began to stroke my thigh in a very unfilial manner.

"Darling, don't do that, there are people around." I think the addition of "There are people around" might have been a mistake. It could imply that it was okay for him to stroke my thigh if there weren't people around.

Noel seemed a little put out by this rejection and muttered, "Sorry, it's just that you look so tempting."

I ignored that remark and to cover the moment of embarrassment I jumped into the pool.

At the time I didn't admit that I had liked his touch. Up to that point our physical contact had been minimal; apart from the hug he gave me when I had cried, our contact had been a goodnight peck on the cheek.

I didn't know how long Noel had been without sexual contact with a girl, but he certainly hadn't had any while he had been with me. I on the other hand had not had sexual contact with a man for over three years. This did not bother me since I seemed to have gone in to sexual deep freeze after Pyotr was killed, but that simple touch on the thigh by Noel seemed to melt just a little my frozen sexual self. 

To change my metaphor, soil that has lain fallow for some time tends to be very fertile, and when a seed is planted in it, growth can be vigorous.

I had in a sense lain fallow for more than three years. The men who had approached me I had fended off, but now I had a young and very attractive man living with me. That touch on my thigh was like a seed planted in the fertile soil.

I am not suggesting that I became immediately overwhelmed with sexual desire for him, but the seed began to shoot. At first I hardly recognised what was happening to me, but it was the very exciting nature of our relationship that produced its own problems.

I was Noel's natural mother, yet I had not seen him since soon after his birth. He had come to me as a young man, almost nineteen, and I was still a relatively young woman, thirty five to be exact. 

We had tried to establish a mother/son relationship, but it had really become more like companionship. I not only liked this young man who had come into my life, I had begun to love him. I also realised that he was feeling the same about me.

I analysed none of this at the time, but felt a sense of disquiet. It was like a slow awakening after a long sleep. 

One of the early signs was what I noticed going on around us at the hotel. It was still early in the season, but among the guests I noticed a number of older women with what were obviously their toy boys. Some of them were even trying to pass these vigorous youths off as their sons, but it was really quite easy to see who slept in whose room.

I wondered if people thought that Noel and I were lovers playing the mother/son game. Noel had never entered my hotel bed room nor I his. Even at home the same applied, but it did concern me that the other hotel residents might be saying, "She's just another rich bitch with her hired lover."

I tried to ignore these thoughts, but thoughts are not so easily set aside, especially when reinforced by stirrings within the self. That touch on my thigh had set in motion unwanted feelings. I began to experience sexual feelings, and had to resort to masturbation to give myself relief. On our return home I even went so far as to buy a vibrator to help me control the sexual urges.

What Noel was thinking and feeling I didn't know. He had made no further moves that might have implied a sexual interest in me, but I was still uneasy. Again it was this very uneasiness that exacerbated my own libidinous thoughts, leading to ever more desperate applications of the vibrator.

The seed planted in fertile ground had germinated and was growing with ever increasing vigour.

The ridiculous thing was I was not even sure that the one touch on my thigh had in fact had any sexual connotation. It had been I who had interpreted it as such and even come close to accusing Noel. 

These increasing sexual thoughts about Noel, and my fantasising him during my vibrator induced orgasms, took me beyond uneasiness to a real dread of what was happening to me. 

I started to wonder if I should ask Noel to leave, but what reason could I give? He had done nothing wrong, indeed, he was a delightful companion. We went together to the theatre, concerts and to see films. We took more trips out of the city in to the mountains, often stopping overnight at a local inn. 

Being a "rich bitch" I was able to indulge and spoil him, perhaps trying to make up for all the lost years. He offered to pay for some of our activities himself, but I refused. I wanted to give to him, but it was becoming clear, despite my early attempts at denial, that I wanted to give to him in a way that society would consider inappropriate to say the least.

Our physical contact had moved on a little from the goodnight peck on the cheek, to lip contact. This was like watering the plant that had grown from the seed. The kisses were not the deep kisses of passion, but were none the less tantalising. 

I had ambivalent feelings about this contact. On the one hand I thought I should stop them, given the effect they had on me, on the other hand the beginnings of vaginal lubrication and the little ticking sensation in my clitoris were delightfully teasing.


So, all the warning signs were there, yet I did nothing about them apart from feeling pleasurably guilty. Such is the allurement of the forbidden fruit.

Summer had arrived and the weather was pleasantly warm. Our winter clothing shed, we moved around the house lightly clad. I made sure I never appeared before Noel in my bikini or anything provocative, but he tended to get around in a pair of old shorts. I had these marked down for replacement, but the shorts did reveal what I had both dreaded and hoped for. He often had an erection.

I had little doubt that like me he masturbated to relieve his sexual tensions because as we were constantly in each other's company, I knew he was not copulating with any of the local girls or women. 

The sight of these erections added further spurts of growth to the plant that had grown from the seed. My need to resort to the vibrator grew ever more frequent. I even began to plot how I might lure Noel into having sex with me, but I probably would never have put the plans into operation. It was Noel who broke down the barrier.

Occasionally we watched a television programme or a video. Having the money to afford the best, I had a very large screen. We would sit together on the divan, lounging against the cushions, and I would sometime snuggle up to Noel in what I told myself was a "motherly fashion."

Until the night in question Noel had done no more than put his arm round me as I snuggled, but on that night all that changed.

It was my custom, if we were going to watch T.V. to shower first, and then sit wearing only my dressing gown. That was how I was dressed that night.

I was snuggled up to Noel watching a rather bland film with his arm round me, when I felt his hand reach inside my dressing gown and begin to fondle my breasts.

What followed was almost like a dream. I was already aroused by the physical contact we had been having, and I said nothing to oppose his fondling. He bent over me and kissed me, still touching my breasts. I responded to his kiss, opening my mouth to take in his tongue.

For a while we explored the recesses of each other's mouths, and then Noel unfastened the cloth band round my dressing gown, and opened the gown to expose my body.

No word was said as we ceased kissing and putting a hand under my breast I raised a nipple. He leaned over me and began to suck and nibble the pink little protrusion, as I stroked his hair.

I felt his fingers begin to investigate my sex organ, and as I was already wet, I parted my legs as an invitation to enter me.

He came between my legs and probed with his penis for my entrance. As I guided him in there came the first sounds from us.

"Oh, mother."

"Darling."

I felt him push in to my depths, his shaft tight against the walls of my vagina. When he had fully entered me and his testicles were firmly up against my vulva, we lay for a while unmoving, looking into each other's eyes. Then he kissed me again and took hold of a breast as he began to slide up and down in me.

The strange silence of our coupling was only broken when my orgasm began its relentless journey to full climax. I clung to him shrieking as the exquisite agony rocked me, and I heard him cry out as the first violent release of sperm drove into me.

Each successive ejection of his semen produced a whimper of delight from me, and a gasping, "Ah...ah...ah..." from Noel. With his last ejection he drove in as deeply as he could, and held there. I was still in the throes of my orgasm, gripping and releasing his shaft with my vaginal muscle. 

Our outcries had ceased and as the last of my tremors ended we were once more silent, looking into each other's eyes. Then Noel withdrew from me and we lay on the divan no longer looking at each other, embarrassed and confused at what we had done.

I have heard that it is not unusual for two people, once they have alleviated the sexual tension that brought them together, that they can have a slight feeling of guilt and revulsion. I felt nothing like that and am certain Noel didn't. In our silence seemed to hang the question, "What happens now?" It had been such a strange wordless coupling. No word of love or protest had been spoken. It was as if we had flowed naturally together. 

To myself I now acknowledged the quality of my feelings for Noel. I had started by liking him; that had passed on to love; now I was sexually in love with him. 

I know that many women feel as I did after that first union. They have given themselves to a man, but not all men reciprocate. Rather than behave like an epicurean who, having once tasted the dish, want to return to it again and again, they are more like pigs snuffling in the trough, careless of the swill they consume.

It is the immediate post-coital moments that are the testing time. Michael had been content to return to me until pregnancy stepped in. Pyotr and I had only had sex after we were married, and his appetite for me never waned. How would it be with Noel?

The question that ran through my head was, had I betrayed myself by yielding so easily to his initial advance? Now I would know if the lust was also accompanied with love.

If he had been my "toy boy" I would have understood he was taking my body at a price I paid, but it wasn't like that. Yet there was the ancient taboo of incest and our age difference. How would that now weigh in our relationship?

I felt his arm go round me and he drew me to him and said, "I do love you mother, but not only as my mother, I love you as a man loves a woman."

I was reassured and responded, "And I love you as a woman loves a man."

He gave a deep sigh of content, then drew my legs apart again and entered me. This time it was no silent coupling. He murmured his love for me as he moved, and I spoke of my deep feelings for him. It was a long tender coupling in which I had no orgasm, but simply relished his penetration. 

A strange and foolish thought came to me. "This is like the time when, on a wedding night the first passion is satisfied, and then begins the long process of discovering each other. This is my wedding night with Noel, the consummation of our love."

The thought remained unspoken for there was the fear that he would find it ridiculous or overly sentimental. When he emptied himself into me again and was relaxing at my side I asked, "Will you share my bed from now on?"

He smiled and said, "Always from now on, if you permit."

I returned his smile saying, "I permit."

We shared a shower and retired to my bedroom and the large bed I had once shared with Pyotr. I looked at the bed and felt a cold tremble run through me. Was this unfaithfulness to Pyotr? Of course not; I had mourned and been celibate long enough; my body must have its way with a new beloved.

As I sank down on the edge of the bed Noel came and knelt in front of me. I knew what he would do to me, but I waited, letting him make the moves. He parted and raised my legs, and then gently touching the lips of my vulva he parted them to expose the sensitive pink inner lips.

It was a strange moment as he knelt there looking intently at my pudendum. Was he imagining the time I gave birth to him through that seemingly small aperture? Or had he never seen female genitalia before. I did not ask and he never said. His only word was, "Lovely."

He leaned forward and began to lick the soft little lips, at the same time reaching up with his hand to touch and caress a breast. I held his head to me letting the waves of love and desire flow over me, submitting to his tonguing until he found my clitoris. 

With the touch of his tongue on that delicate nub of nerves, I had to make a new submission, surrendering to another orgasm as I begged Noel, "Don't stop darling...please don't stop," then I could say no more, but only cry out with the anguish and intense pleasure as my climax swept over me.

As I slipped down on the other side of the pinnacle I found my voice again; "Darling...oh my darling...my love..."

I was still on the edge of the bed, and Noel moved me back and speared me once more with his shaft. His face was wet with my lubricant, but I kissed him and licked, tasting myself. As he once more began to shoot in to me, for the first time he called out my name, "Sarah...oh Sarah."

He was empty now, and I was satisfied for the time being. We slept, entwined in each other's arms.

When I woke the next morning it was to see Noel beside me, resting on his elbow looking at me.

"You're very lovely, Sarah" – it was to be "Sarah" from now on. He bent to kiss me as his hand found my breast. Soon he was suckling my nipple like a hungry child. I was to learn that Noel was always ready for sex when he woke and this matched my own needs.

For the next few days after our first coupling we could not leave each other alone. Looking back I think we coupled on every chair, table, and couch and in every corner of the house. It was an ecstatic time when set free from past restraints we sated each other, but then we began to calm down. 

The weeks seemed to pass with lightening speed, and then two events came together.

I was pregnant, and Noel's visa was about to run out. That I was pregnant should have come as no surprise, since neither of had taken any precautions; but Pyotr and I had tried all our marriage for me to get pregnant, and it had never happened. Now, within weeks of our starting a sex life together, Noel had fertilised me.




The Price



I was distraught because at the very time I would need him most, Noel would have to leave the country unless his visa could be extended.

Noel was equally distressed. I had not told him about my being pregnant. Still retaining some of my insecurities, I wanted him to stay with me because he wanted me, not because of the coming baby.

His distress at the thought of leaving me reassured me. He begged me to go back with him to the country from which he, and in the past I, had come from. I think if all else failed I would have gone with him, but the thought of having to meet with his adoptive parents when I was pregnant to their adopted son, and my natural son, horrified me. Even if I could cover up who the father of the child was, I could only do so for a short time if Noel and I were to live together. Once that happened they would surely realise what had happened between us.

Added to this was the fact that I had become devoted to the country that had been Pyotr's birth place, and which he had served so loyally. Noel also had clearly fallen in love with the place and hated the thought of leaving it.

This being the case, I decided to try my luck with Pyotr's colleagues in the government. Perhaps Pyotr's widow could still wield a little influence.

I took the necessary steps to get in touch with the correct authorities, and finally got an interview with a high official who had been a close friend of Pyotr's.

At the interview I said only that my son was staying with me, and it was his and my wish that he continue to do so. Instead of asking for an extension of his present visa I went the whole way and asked if he could be issued with a permanent visa with a view to his eventually becoming a citizen.

The official smiled on me benignly.

"It is possible," he said slowly, "Yes, possible."

With his elbows on his vast shiny desk, his hands steepled in front of him, he ceased looking at me and seemed to go off somewhere into space for a couple of minutes. I waited to hear his verdict.

Eventually he glanced up at me and said again, "Yes, possible. I think, however we should discuss this further, in a place more comfortable and private. Could I suggest that I book a hotel room for us, just for one night, and then we can talk things over at our leisure?"

I would have been an idiot not to know what he was getting at. I would get a permanent visa for Noel in exchange for sex. I felt as if I wanted to vomit. This man, once a close friend of my late husband, was blackmailing me. I wanted to run from the room, but he could give me what I wanted, at a price.

A terrible battle raged within me. To keep my son/lover with me I had to be unfaithful to him. Choking back the bile that was rising in my throat I decided to find out just how much I would have to pay.

"Just one night?"

He gave his benign smile again; "Just one night, my dear, and you get the documents you want. Come, it's not such a high price to pay, is it? Well, perhaps; it depends on how much value you put on keeping...what's his name...?" He consulted a note in front of him. "Ah yes, Noel, with you."

My mind was twisting and turning. I was a one man woman, and fidelity was of vital importance to me. What did I value most, my fidelity to Noel and losing him, or keeping Noel with me through an act of infidelity?

Something I had read long ago arose in my mind. The writer, a man if high moral and ethical principles, had referred to what he called, "The necessary deed"; he had said that there comes a time when the necessary deed must be done and principles, conscience, freedom and virtue must be sacrificed for the sake of it.

He was growing impatient. 

"Perhaps keeping your son near you is not so important?"

"Yes...yes, I agree. One night and I get the papers?"

He smiled; "There, it wasn't so difficult was it? I shall not treat you harshly, and you have my promise that you will get the papers in the morning."

I knew I risked being deceived and he might not give me what he promised, but I had to take the chance.

"When do you want me?"

"Why not tonight?"

"Very well." I thought it best to get it over with as soon as possible.

He reached for the telephone saying, "I shall call my wife."

He pressed in some numbers and after a pause began to speak.

"Darling, I'm afraid I won't be able get home tonight. An emergency has arisen and I have to leave town. I'll be back tomorrow. Say goodnight to the children for me." 

It was sickening, but to step back now was to lose Noel. He was pressing in another number and shortly was booking a room at one of the most expensive hotels in the city.

He put down the telephone and grinning at me said, "There, it's all done. We can go there straight away."

"But I have to make a telephone call," I protested, "my son will wonder where I am if I don't go home."

He gestured to the telephone and watched me with a sardonic grin on his face as I pressed in the numbers. Now it was my turn to lie.

Noel answered and I said, "Mother here Noel. I've just met up with an old friend and she's asked me to spend the night with her. We haven't seen each other for a long time, so I thought it would be nice to accept her invitation. Is that all right?"

The man was watching me and listening so I avoided any terms of endearment. I was just a mother letting her son know she wouldn't be home.

Noel seemed to detect something in my voice because he asked, "Is everything all right, Sarah, are you okay?"

"Fine," I said, trying to sound bright. "I'll see you in the morning." I rang off quickly before Noel could quiz me further and I broke down.

The man signed two official looking documents, put them into his briefcase and said, "There are the documents you want, we'll take them with us, and they're yours in the morning."

I drove my own car to the hotel and we met in the reception hall. The receptionist looked as curiously since we had no luggage, but when the man showed his identity card she said nothing. She gave the key to a young man who escorted us up to the sixth floor and opening a door I could see that it was not a room that had been booked, but a suite.

I saw a handsome tip change hands, no doubt meant to be hush money. Then we were alone. 

"Perhaps you'd like to have a shower, my dear, while I order some food. Don't worry about dressing when you've finished showering, just go straight to the bedroom and I can wheel the trolley in."

I went to the shower and stripped off. I felt numb at the thought of what I would soon be doing with this man, and what he might do to me. Perhaps he was a sexual sadist who would hurt me, or a sexual masochist who would demand I inflict pain on him.

I finished my shower and went into the adjoining bedroom and sat naked on the bed. I heard the shower start up and knew he was in there. After a while the noise from the shower ceased, and there was a pause for several minutes, then he came in pushing the trolley of food. I noticed three bottle of wine on the trolley.

He had obviously re-dressed after his shower, and sitting there naked I felt very vulnerable. He seemed to sense my helplessness and said, "Its hardly fair, is it, for you to sit there naked while I'm still dressed."

With that he stripped off and stood naked before me. He had a throbbing erection and he said hoarsely, "I've ordered a cold collation, so it can wait. We've got the whole night before us."

Looking at him it wasn't as if he was horribly ugly or repulsive. Many women would not have been displeased to have him bed them.

"That at least," I thought, "makes it a bit easier to do what I have to."

He eased me over to the middle of the bed, and began kissing me and fondling my breasts. Despite myself I began to feel aroused, and when his finger sought and found my clitoris I was quickly ready to surrender to him.

Feeling my vagina lubricating he came between my legs and guided by me he penetrated. 

It might sound virtuous if I now wrote that I hated it, but it would not be true. As I yielded to him, so I yielded to the demands of my body. As his penetrations intensified I felt my orgasm coming upon me irresistibly. It raged through me as I clamped my legs round him and tore at his back with my nails. 

As his sperm rocketed into me he gave a loud howling cry and then proceeded to grunt with each spurt of semen. I thought he would never stop pouring into me as he pumped and pumped, filling my vagina until it overflowed.

Passionate though this first coupling had been, its value to him was quickly revealed when, having thrust his last drop into me, he withdrew, leaving me still gasping in the throes of my declining orgasm.

Even as I lay there struggling with the aftershocks, he sat up and began to eat. It was as if for the moment he had no further use for me.

When I had recovered, feeling hungry myself, I began eating. He had a bottle of wine open and had poured a glass for himself and for me. When we had finished what turned out to be a silent meal, he suggested another shower, this time together. 

Since I had gone this far there was no point in denying him this further pleasure. In fact it did turn out to be quite pleasant. As I washed his genitals he carefully washed out the sperm from my vagina. He made no attempt to take me in the shower, and I wondered what was to come next. I soon found out.

We got back on the bed and he lay on his back, his penis jutting up at full stretch and said, "You can suck me off, sweetheart."

I took his penis into my mouth and with his hands behind my head he pushed in uncomfortably deep. I sucked and licked him and soon felt the first impulse of sperm up his shaft; then it was exploding into my mouth.

Having ejaculated once he had less juice to expel this time, but it was still beyond my ability to swallow all of it. It ran out of the corners of my mouth and down the outside of his shaft to spread over his groin. 

Again when he had finished he withdrew almost immediately. He went back to his wine and drank a couple of glasses while I went to wash my mouth out.

From then on he continued to drink the wine. I made sure I sipped on the first glass making it last. 

He gradually grew voluble and during that night I learned a number of things concerning myself and Pyotr. Well into his cups he made me give him oral sex again and that meant another mouth wash.

It was after that session as he explored my body with his hands that he told me how many of Pyotr's colleagues had lusted for me; how they all new why Pyotr always took me with him.

"It wasn't just so he could fuck yer, sweetheart, but to make sure nobody else did while he was away. Do you know the guys used to hate coming to your place for those dinner parties yer gave, because they were horny the whole evening looking at you."

"Yer a cruel bitch yer know. Yer so damned sexy looking yer drive a man mad."

I didn't seek to respond to that and all his other talk. What had begun as a potentially pleasant if enforced night of sex, gradually turned into a slobbering groping misery. He made one last attempt to cum in me and managed no more than a dribble. But that wasn't the end. I thanked God I was already pregnant so that there was no chance of his fertilising me.

Thoroughly drunk by then, he insisted on licking my vagina which still had his semen in it. After that he fell back on the bed and went into a snoring grunting drunken sleep.

I tried to sleep myself, and would have left that bed it there had been another one, but there wasn't.

I thought I might make my escape with the papers while he was snoring his head off. The brief case was clearly visible, but the damned thing was locked. In despair I went back to the bed, and at some time in the early hours I must have dropped off.

I was awakened my him shaking me and saying, "Come on sweetheart, one for the road."

Without preamble he pushed me onto my back, pulled my legs apart, and entered me. It was an unpleasant experience. His breath stank of stale booze, and he took ages to eject another dribble of his juice into me.

After he had completed his pathetic fucking, he got off the bed and said, "Shower, honey, we mustn't go home stinking of each other, must we?" 

I let him get his shower over before taking mine with the door locked. When I'd finished and dressed I knew the testing moment had arrived. He could walk out with those papers and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

For a moment he played with me; "Do you think you've been a good girl? Have you earned your reward? Suppose I want just one more with you, eh?"

"If that's what you want," I replied, feeling utter contempt for him.

"No," he grinned, "you've been a good girl and done as you were told, so here they are."

He tossed the papers on to the bed.

"Well look at them," he said, "See that they're all in order; you've worked hard enough for them, so enjoy. You've got your son waiting for you."

He started to leave the suite, but turned at the door and called back, "If you want any more favours done, just come and see me. I'm sure we could come to a mutually satisfying arrangement again."

He gave a sardonic laugh and departed.

I stood staring down at the papers for a minute or two. Throughout the night I had managed to contain my emotions, but as is so often the case with pent up feelings, when the events that have given rise to them are over, the barriers come crashing down

I collapsed weeping on the bed. He had defiled me and I loathed him. I was overwhelmed by a feeling of self-disgust. 

At the beginning of our night together there had been a promise of at least some giving on his part, and I had responded to that. Had it continued like that we might have parted in the morning at least amicably – might even have looked back on it with some degree of pleasure. But in the end I was just his slut for the night. I was a cunt he had wanted to fuck for years, and having had me, he treated me with contempt.

I thought of the loving sexual couplings with Noel when nothing was ever dirty or sordid. We loved, this man had lusted, and in the end not even successfully. 

I felt as if no shower or bath could ever make me clean again. It was not the sexual act that made me feel defiled, but the manner of that act. "How," I thought, "could I face Noel? I have earned his permanent visa, and if he so wishes, his citizenship one day. But if he ever gets the slightest hint of what has taken place this past night, will he ever want me again?

Clutching the documents that I had paid so dearly for, I left the hotel and drove home. I felt sick and ill and dreaded Noel seeing me. I no longer had the strength to try and hide my wretchedness.

As soon as Noel saw me he said, "Sarah, whatever is the matter, you look dreadful?"

I had my pathetic excuses ready. 

"We had a late night darling, and I think I've eaten something that's upset me. I'd like to go to bed."

He helped me to our bedroom and helped me to undress. I fell into the bed and he covered me up and was on the point of leaving when without thinking I called out, "Don't leave me, Noel."

He turned and looked at me; "Are you sure it's just a stomach upset? Do you want me to call a doctor?" 

"No, darling, just come and be with me for a little while." He undressed and got into the bed with me and put his arms round me. I hid myself in him like a frightened little animal shivering in its burrow. Feeling his strength and love peace came to me and I slept.

I woke intermittently throughout the day to find Noel still with me. I was in fact ravenously hungry, but taking my stomach upset at face value he brought me light foods that he thought suited my condition. He asked me no further questions and was content to be with me.

Sleep is the cure for many ills. I have a theory that in sleep the brain sorts out many of our problems, and by late afternoon I had recovered from the worst of my distress. I had no great desire to engage in sexual intercourse, but I could feel that Noel had an erection. It must have been difficult for him with our naked bodies close intertwined for most of the day, and I felt compassion for him. 

"Darling, make love with me if you want to."

"Are you feeling well enough?"

"Yes, darling, but be very gentle."

He hesitated for a moment, and I turned my back to him and pushed my buttocks against his penis. 

"Take me like this," I said.

He brought his shaft between my legs and I guided it to my vagina and he pushed in carefully.

He penetrated as far as he could in that position, and then stopped still. As we lay there tenderly united, it seemed to serve as healing for me. To feel his love for me; this man whose child I carried inside me, was to put me on the road to wholeness.

I almost told him then of my pregnancy, but restrained myself, knowing it was best to wait until he had his new visa in his hand.

As for the visa, I decided to withhold it for a few days. I didn't want it in any way associated with what I had passed off as a stomach upset because however remote the chance, he might begin to make connections.

Noel lay still inside me for a long time as if he understood my need simply for the close physical bond. Eventually, however, he had to release himself into me, but when he had done he still stayed with me. I slept again for a while with his penis still in my vagina.

Without knowing the true cause of my condition Noel's love had begun the healing process. While I don't suppose I shall ever entirely forget the ugliness of that night, its harsher aspects began to dissipate over the following days; the mere knowledge that I was deeply loved attended to that.

Five days after my "night", I produced the documents and gave them to Noel. I had already told him I was trying to use what influence I might have to get them for him, and so he just accepted that my influence had indeed worked. I suppose it had in a way, but Noel will never know what sort of "influence" I had to use.

He was almost beside himself with happiness. He said over and over gain, "We won't have to be separated...we won't have to be apart..."

To demonstrate his point he carried me off to bed and made sure we were not "apart."

When we had both gratified each other and lay still I decided to make my next revelation.

I began in true Sarah style by letting my insecurity take over.

"Darling, you do want to stay here, don't you? I mean, you want to stay with me?"

"Hey, what's this about do 'I want to stay' with you? Who else would I want to stay with?"

"Then I think you'd better know, darling, we're going to have a baby."

He lay staring at me to at least two minutes, as if he was having difficulty processing the news, then he burst out, "You beautiful wonderful woman...you...you love of my life...how long have you known?"

"For sure, about two weeks, so it's about five or six weeks ago when it happened."

"Ah," he said, "I'll bet it was that thing called "morning sickness" you were suffering from when you came back from your night out."

"Yes, probably," I replied, unwilling to disabuse him. The truth was, throughout the entire pregnancy I don't think I ever felt better in my life. That remained true for my other two pregnancies as well.

There were a couple more hurdles to be jumped over before our lives as lovers could settle down. Noel had to let Michael and Marcia know he would not be returning to them. And we had to do something about completing his formal education.

A long letter went to Michael and Marcia in which he thanked the for their years of care, and making the point that he had found, and decided to live with, his natural mother for the foreseeable future. This was followed up by a series of telephone calls that seemed to produce tears at both ends, and love and best wishes for the future.




The Price



Regarding Noel's education, I felt that although I could easily afford to keep him in idleness for the rest of his...our lives, this would not be good. He had set his heart on electronic engineering, and since the university had a very reputable school in the subject, and our country has a thriving electronics industry, it could hardly have been better.

I am afraid I came the heavy mother over the matter of his studies, telling him that if he didn't work hard, "There'll be no sex my boy." I am not sure whether that spurred him on or not, but he certainly succeeded and I didn't deprive him of sex – or myself for that matter.

As I write I can see Noel playing with our eldest daughter in the garden. He is balding a little at the temples and after three pregnancies I'm a little fuller round the hips and larger round the bust. If we do not copulate as frequently as we did in the first frantic days of love making, when we do come together two or three times a week, the ardour is still there.

Well, it's time to breast feed my youngest. I'd better call Noel in because he likes watching me while I breast feed.



The Price



Kat stood in the middle of their bedroom, a guilty blush turning her face scarlet. On the carpet in front of her, where they had fallen from her purse, were a handful of parking tickets, still unpaid. Andrew stood and watched as she picked them up, one by one, his face a cold mask. A moment ago, she had playfully tried to steal a kiss as he had been buttoning his shirt and fastening his tie, before she changed from her working suit into an elegant gown for their anniversary trip to the theatre. Then he had pressed her back onto the bed and straddled her as he covered her face and the base of her throat with hungry, passionate kisses. She had moaned, deep in her bosom, and reached up to pull him down onto her, opening her lips invitingly. At that moment, her purse, forgotten in their passion, had sprung open and deposited its contents in a flurry of papers and cosmetics across the bed and onto the floor. Laughing, he had slid off the bed and bent over to help her pick the things up and that was the moment he had noticed the handful of unpaid parking fines. Picking them off the floor, he had glanced over them, ticking them off one at a time.

"I thought we'd sorted this out," he growled, "This isn't an emergency, this is sheer idleness. You could have parked on the multi-level at the mall, but these are for parking on Main Street."

Kat just stood in front of him, trying to look meek and crestfallen. Andrew flicked through the tickets again and she could almost hear him totalling the fines in his head. At last, he put them carefully on the dressing table and sat on the stool in front of the mirror. Kat stood with her head bowed and her hands clasped in front of her. Andrew sighed and ran his fingers through his dark wavy hair, flecked in one or two places with grey. He took his eyeglasses off and polished them on a tissue from the box on the dressing table and then looked at her, still standing in the middle of the space at the end of their bed.

"Did you think they would just go away?" he snapped, "Twelve hundred worth of parking fines would just vanish, if you waited long enough!"

"No," Kat whispered, "I thought I could borrow the money and then pay it back a little at a time."

"Borrow the cash? Who from?" he demanded, "What about interest? Collateral?"

"I hadn't thought about that," she confessed, "I just thought that it would let me pay the fines without having to borrow from you."

"And now?" he asked.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"I suppose you would like me to make you a loan so you could pay the fines off," he snapped.

"Oh please!" she exclaimed, "I'd be sooo grateful."

"I'm not going to do this for nothing. You'll have to pay me back," he warned, "with interest."

"Oh yes!" Kat gasped, "Anything."

"Right!" he snapped, "I'll pay the fines, and you will pay me back over the next twelve months. I think you should pay one hundred a month, plus interest."

"How much interest," Kat asked, warily.

"I think that, rather than money, we should agree a form of interest that will act as a reminder of how you got into such a mess," he told her, "I think that each month you should receive twelve stripes of the cane, as a reminder and as interest. One stripe for each hundred."

Kat swallowed nervously and thought furiously for a moment. It would not be the first time that Andrew had spanked her although, until now, he had only ever used his hand or a moccasin. She knew that he had a thin rattan cane in the closet and had even, once or twice, ran her fingers over the smooth wood and wondered what it would feel like to bend over and surrender to a caning at his hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the gleaming leather of his shoe moving as he tapped the toe of his foot with gathering impatience. She lifted her eyes and looked him in the eyes, for a moment, then nodded.

"Good!" he murmured, his voice barely louder than a sigh, "I'll pay these in the morning. You, however, will start with your first interest payment, right now."

Andrew stood up and gestured to the stool he had been sitting on. Kat moved across the carpet and stood in front of the stool, waiting nervously. Andrew stood in front of her and slowly unbuttoned Kat's blouse, pushing the material aside to reveal the swell of her ripe breasts, nestling in the soft silk cups of her bra, under a coral coloured silk camisole. Kat closed her eyes and let her breath out in a long, trembling sigh as Andrew cupped his palms over the taut globes, squeezing gently, tenderly, feeling the hard points of her nipples against his palms. Sliding his hands over the silk, he moved them down to her hips and unfastened her skirt, letting it drop to the floor, so that she stood in front of him, wearing only her underclothes and her work shoes. Her French-cut panties were coral coloured silk, to match with her camisole and bra, while her hold-up stockings were sheer black silk. Andrew ran his hand over the front of her thighs, pressing his fingertips against the silk of her panties, making it cling to her shaven skin.

"You know where the cane is, go and fetch it," he ordered.

Kat opened the closet and took down the smooth length of wood, carrying it over to Andrew. She held the cane out in front of her, waiting obediently. He took the cane out of her hands and flexed the wood, gauging its flexibility. Kat watched, worrying her bottom lip with the edges of her teeth, as she imagined the burning sting as the cane cracked across her buttocks. She blushed as droplets of her sweet nectar oozed out of her pussy and she felt the walls of her cunt tightening in excitement. Andrew swung the cane through the air, making it hiss close to her skin. Kat bit her lip again as she felt the points of her nipples hardening and pressing against the soft silk of her bra.

"Bend over the stool," Andrew ordered.

Kat knelt and lowered her belly onto the cushion of the stool. She gasped as Andrew pressed down on the back of her neck, forcing her head lower and lifting her ass higher in the air. She smelt the dry dustiness of the carpet, almost touching her nose, and felt the tightness of the backs of her thighs as she arched over the stool. Andrew hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slid the silk smoothly down to her ankles. Kat trembled as the cool air played over the backs of her thighs and the taut globes of her buttocks. Andrew's fingers were warm against the smooth skin of her bottom as he stroked her tenderly, from the dimple at the base of her spine to the shallow creases at the tops of her thighs.

"Now we're about ready," he told her, "You will count each stroke you take, out loud. Do you understand?"

"Y-y-yes," Kat replied, hesitantly.

Kat took a deep breath and steeled herself for the first stroke. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the pale wooden rod arch into the air. The cane hissed as he brought it down and around, with a flick of his wrist, so that it slammed hard into her taut buttocks with an echoing 'CRACK'! Kat's breath hissed between her teeth as she felt the burning sting of the cane on her taut backside. She could feel the welt rising across her buttocks as she opened her mouth to cry out.

"Oww!, One, Sir," she sobbed.

Andrew flexed the cane and waited for the burning in the welt to subside. Carefully he examined the stripe across her buttocks, red and raised against the milky smoothness of her ass. Kat squirmed a little, feeling the muscles of her cunt tightening and squeezing a few more drops of her juices from between her pussy lips. Watching to see that Kat was beginning to relax, Andrew lifted the cane again and cracked it smartly across her ass. Kat's back arched as she screamed softly.

"T-t-two, Sir. Please, Sir, not so hard," she begged.

Andrew ignored her plea and watched as her buttocks trembled and a second line, exactly one fingerwidth below the first slowly swelled and reddened against the smooth skin of her ass. Andrew lifted the cane again and flicked his wrist, bringing the cane whistling through the air to crack against the taut globes.

"Oww! Three!" she gasped.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Andrew's arm swung the cane harshly against Kat's taut buttocks, lifting bright red, burning weals across her ass. Kat's body jerked with each stroke, her back arching as she threw her head back, howling, as she counted each stroke.

"Aaah, four! Five, Six!" she moaned.

Andrew paused, watching Kat writhing on the cushion of the stool. The air was scented with the sharp tang of the juices that had oozed from her pussy to stain the velvet covering the top of the stool. Kat moaned and tried to press her swollen clit against the rough material. The lips of her pussy were puffed and swollen sprinkled with pearls of her sweet juice. Andrew reached out and ran his fingers along the backs of her thighs, sliding them between her legs and along the oozing slit of her pussy. Kat moaned as he pressed his fingers into the hot, bubbling hole, exploring her sweet wetness. The tip of his finger brushed the hard pearl of her swollen clit and she shivered as sparks of dark pleasure shot through her nerves.

Andrew withdrew the tip of his finger, from between the lips of her pussy, and gazed curiously at the slick film of moisture coating the end. Slowly, tormentingly, he ran the tip of his finger along Kat's lip, sliding it into her mouth as she pouted against the slippery finger. She could taste her own juices as he slid his finger in and out, smearing her tongue with her own juices. Kat groaned when he slid his finger out of her mouth and sighed, disappointed that he did not return to caressing her pussy and the hot cheeks of her ass.

Andrew waited for a moment and then picked the cane from the floor, where he had laid it while he explored the hot wetness of her dripping pussy. The pale wood seemed to gleam in the light of the room and he took a moment to admire the functional simplicity of his chosen implement. Lifting his arm a little, he gripped the cane firmly and brought it swishing through the air to land on the tightly rounded curves of Kat's ass. Kat arched her back, trying to avoid the stinging impact of the wooden rod as her breath hissed sharply between her teeth. The movement scraped her nipples against the velvet cushion of her stool and, even through the layered silk of her camisole and bra, Kat could feel the friction against the swollen points. 

"Seven!" she gasped, "Oh please stop! Fuck me do anything you want, but I can't take any more punishment."

Andrew ignored her tearful plea and slowly raised the cane, taking a long, deep breath as he watched the line, where the cane had struck her taut flesh, swell and redden. He imagined the burn of her blood rushing to the silky skin and pooling within the weal, reddening it like a ripening cherry. Kat bit her lip as she trembled, anticipating the next lash in a welter of nervous anticipation. The cushion beneath her pussy was sodden and sticky where she had oozed onto the absorbent material and she wriggled against it , the rough material harshly rubbing the sensitive nub of her erect clit. Andrew swung the cane four times, quickly, choosing unmarked patches of her buttocks as his targets.

"Aaaah! Eight. Pleeease! Nine! Ten! Ooooh noooo! Eleven!" Kat squealed and sobbed.

Her whole body was shaking and her pussy had begun to drip, the sticky liquids smeared over her shaven skin and the tops of her thighs and stockings. Andrew paused, his arm lowered, as he waited for the burning in the welts across her ass to subside. Kat desperately wanted to reach back and touch her burning ass cheeks, to trace the ridges left by the blows of the cane and to spread the soothing juices from her pussy across the cheeks of her flaming ass. Andrew watched as Kat tried to relieve the building tension in her pussy by rubbing her clit against the rough, damp velvet cushioning the top of the stool. Kat was sobbing with frustration and the burning sensation from the welts across her ass. Andrew waited, with diabolical patience, for the sensations and Kat's sobbing to tail off. When he was satisfied that Kat had relaxed sufficiently, he raised the cane again and cracked it across her tender ass with a single, precise twitch of his wrist. Kat convulsed with the burning sensations that coursed through her body, setting her ass aflame and making her pussy gush fragrantly over the stool and her stocking tops.

"T-t-t-welve!" she wailed.

Andrew laid the cane down in front of her and then slowly undressed, folding his clothes neatly and sitting on the side of the bed. Kat heard the rustle of his clothes as he laid them carefully aside and knew that he would be waiting for her but that, if she moved before his command released her, he would punish her further. She knew that his cock would be swollen and erect, jutting upwards from his groin. 

"Put the cane away and come here," he commanded.

Kat slowly raised herself from the stool and, resisting the urge to reach back and caress her burning bottom, carried the cane back to the closet. Slowly she walked over and stood in front of him, waiting for Andrew's next command.

"On your back," he growled.

Kat lay down on the bed, wincing as she lowered her tender buttocks onto the cool sheets. Leaning back, she hooked her hands behind her knees and pulled her legs up and as wide apart as she could. She felt the mattress shift as Andrew stood and leaned over her, the tip of his cock brushing along the wet lips of her oozing pussy. Reaching down with one hand, he rubbed the swollen head of his cock along the damp slit, working it between the lips and easing it to the entrance of her aching cunt.

"You got just what you deserve," he gloated, "and you loved it, just as I'm going to love fucking your juicy cunt."

Kat just nodded and pulled back on her knees, the opening to her cunt wet and ready to receive his thick, swollen cock. Andrew shoved, hard and fast, ramming his cock deep inside her. Kat squealed and grunted as his weight bore down upon her, driving his cock deep into her cunt. The sensation of his thick meat stretching her already tormented pussy was too much for Kat to bear and she bucked beneath him, her cunt squeezing his throbbing cock and milking the pre-cum into her womb. Andrew arched his back and rammed his cock hard into her cunt, pinning her down as his cock jerked and sprayed hot wads of his cum deep inside her. Breathless they clung together as their heaving breaths eased and their skin cooled. Andrew glanced at the bedside clock and smiled as he realised that they were already too late to catch the theatre.

"Now that you've paid your interest for this month," he whispered, "I'll take you to dinner. Then we'll come back to bed and I'll help you soothe your hot backside," he promised.



The Price



Jenny awoke in the morning in a state of near-panic. Events of the night before were scattered through her brain like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. She shook her head, repeatedly trying to collect her thoughts and sort those pieces into a coherent image. The slight headache she had wasn't helping her at all.

Jenny remembered the early part of the evening, having a light dinner with Rose and Tania. And two--no, three--glasses of wine. One was usually her limit. Especially if she had to drive. Like last night. Especially in the rain... like last night.

But they had been having so much fun and no one wanted the night to end. So, against her better judgment, Jenny had ordered second and third drinks. They had been talking and laughing and enjoying their girls night out. God, it had been a long time since they had gotten together like that. Probably before any of them had had kids.

She wasn't entirely sure what time they had finally left or what time she had gotten home. Now, in her panic, she wasn't even sure exactly how she had gotten home. That is, she knew she had driven herself home, but she couldn't remember her exact route and that was causing her heart to skip and her panic to rise.

Somewhere along that only partially remembered journey, Jenny's car had struck something. She didn't know what or where. There had been a loud THUNK that had shaken the whole car. Jenny, in a moment of blind panic, hadn't stopped to see what she had hit. Fearful of consequences, she had hurried home, pulled the car into the garage and, once she stopped shaking, fallen asleep on the sofa.

In the morning the incident was like a vaguely remembered nightmare. But as events slowly came back to her, the panic started to build. It was almost an hour before she worked up the nerve to go out to the garage and inspect the car. Sure enough, the front right of the car was visibly damaged. Jenny stared at it for a moment before fleeing back into the house.

She had hit something... or somebody. A chill caused her whole body to shudder. What if it had been a person? And she had left them to die on the side of the road. Her head went swimmy and for a moment, she thought she was going to faint. She managed to sit down on the sofa before she fell over. Then the tears came and it was ten minutes before Jenny could get herself under control again.

Jenny was still shaking slightly when she got up off of the sofa. She headed into the office to check the local news on the internet. If someone had been hit by a car, surely there would be a news report.

In five minutes Jenny had her answer. Sure enough, a pedestrian had been struck and killed in a hit and run incident the night before. The road where it occurred wasn't one directly on Jenny's way home, but it wasn't that far out of the way either. It was quite possible that Jenny, driving in the rain and under the influence, had taken that road. She couldn't for the life of her remember her exact route, but all the facts were adding up against her.

She wished her husband, Drew, was home. Then thought that it was lucky that he wasn't. How could she explain this to him? What would he say to her? What would he think of her?

Drew was supposed to return from a business trip last night, but now had to stay at least another few days to finish things. The kids were spending the weekend at his parents' house so Jenny and Drew could have a weekend alone together. The plan had been for Friday to be Jenny's night out with the girls and Saturday to be spent with Drew. It was to be a long needed break for both of them. Jenny started to cry again as she thought about how wrong everything had gone.

When Jenny finally collected herself, she decided that she had to do something. What could she do? Turn herself in? No, that was too scary to even contemplate. She thought of calling Rose to ask her, but quickly decided against it. Rose was a great friend if you needed to get something off your chest, but this was a very different problem. Talking about it wouldn't make it go away. No, Jenny needed more than just a sympathetic ear. She needed someone who could help her hide what she had done.

None of her friends were particularly useful in this situation. They would be just as lost as her when it came to getting the car fixed. And not only did Jenny need to get the car fixed, she had to get it done quickly and discretely. She wracked her brain, but the only person she could think to call was her husband's friend Tom.

Tom wasn't someone Jenny was particularly fond of, and certainly not a person she wanted to turn to for help. He was too blue collar for Jenny's taste, and he seemed to know it. He surely knew that his unpolished behavior and off-color jokes irritated Jenny and that seemed only to encourage him. He had a shady side to him, too. Nothing too overt, but Jenny suspected he wasn't above bending a few laws for his own benefit. That was what made her think that he might know how to handle her current situation. 

Tom and Drew had been friends since before high school, so Jenny did her best to tolerate him. Fortunately, Drew didn't see that much of Tom and when he did, it usually wasn't when Jenny was around. Not that Jenny was happy about that either. Tom had a reputation for being a womanizer and Jenny, much as she trusted Drew, didn't really want her husband around a guy like Tom.

Over the years Jenny had learned to be nice, if a little distant, toward Tom. On the occasions she had to endure his presence, she forced herself to be courteous, if not actually friendly. Tom was obviously aware of Jenny's polite-but-not-friendly demeanor. He made a point of saying and doing things around her that he knew would bother her. It wasn't that he was mean spirited, just that he enjoyed needling her. He probably had as much disdain for her manners as she had for his, and it was just his way of showing it.

Jenny was naturally loathe to call him and ask for his help. But she was also scared out of her mind and couldn't think of a single other person she could call. At the very least, Tom was one of her husband's oldest friends. He might not be particularly keen on helping Jenny, but he'd probably do just about anything for Drew's sake. It didn't matter. Jenny knew of no one else she could call.

It took Jenny another fifteen minutes to figure out exactly what she should say and how she should say it. She didn't know how much she should tell him over the phone. And she certainly didn't want to sound as desperate and vulnerable as she felt. When she finally had a conversation composed in her head, she reached for the phone and started to dial. Her hands started shaking half way through dialing and she hung up. It took her another ten minutes and three more tries before she managed to dial Tom's number.

"Hello?" Tom's voice had the leathery, groggy sound of someone just awakened.

"Tom?" Jenny asked. She realized that it was only 8am and that Tom was almost certainly still in bed. 

"Yeah?"

"This is Jenny Cartwright. Drew's wife." That was dumb, she thought to herself. Of course he knew she was Drew's wife.

"Yeah?" Tom's voice was a papery croak. Jenny could picture him lying there with the phone to his ear, eyes closed, just waiting for this conversation to be over so he could go back to sleep.

"Well, Tom," Jenny's well-rehearsed dialog was deserting her. "I, uh... I... there's been, well, a problem with the car. And Drew isn't home. And I was, uh, wondering if you could, uh..."

"Can this wait till later?" There was no mistaking the gruffness in Tom's tone. Jenny was tempted to tell him to forget it, but knew there was nowhere else to turn.

"Um... It's kind of an emergency," Jenny said, almost apologetically.

"Mmm hmm," Tom rumbled. "Where are you?"

"I'm at home," Jenny answered, annoyed at herself for allowing him to intimidate her so easily.

"And where's the car?"

"Here," she answered. "In the garage."

"So what's the emergency?"

"Could you just come over and I'll show you?" Jenny asked, trying to keep her voice steady. Her hands were starting to shake again and she knew she had to end this conversation before she began crying. "It really is an emergency."

"Okay," he answered and hung up. Jenny sat there for a minute, phone still in her hand. Was he really going to come over or had he just rolled over and gone back to sleep? She wanted to call back and ask, but for some reason she was afraid to.

Jenny didn't know what she should do. Her nerves were frayed and she couldn't think clearly. She decided that she had better get a shower and get dressed, just in case Tom actually did come over. She didn't want to meet him at the door in her bathrobe. She felt far too vulnerable already.

Jenny stood in front of the mirror as she dried her shoulder length dark brown hair. She looked herself up and down with a critical eye. Her body wasn't too bad for a thirty-one year old woman who had had two children in the past five years. But she was not the hot little number she had been in college.

Her breasts were once perky C cups. Now they were D's and a bit on the saggy side. Her belly bore the stretch marks of two pregnancies and, despite her regular workouts, it was still far from the flat, tight stomach of her pre-baby days. Her hips and thighs were bigger than they had been, but at least her exercise routine kept them firm. Jenny was curvier now than she used to be, which Drew told her was a good thing. She wasn't sure she totally agreed, but she did agree that her figure was now more womanly.

Jenny's eyes wandered back up to her face. There were the beginnings of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth, but otherwise her complexion was still smooth. Her squarish jaw had always bothered her as not being very feminine. Her mouth too, always seemed to be too wide, revealing almost all of her teeth when she smiled. Fortunately, those teeth were straight and white, but Jenny still felt like she showed too much of them. Her nose, at least, was delicate and feminine. Her eyes too were soft brown and lady-like with long lashes and neatly kept eyebrows.

Jenny finished towel drying her hair and went into the bedroom to dress. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a red sweated that was just baggy enough to conceal her belly. She pulled her hair back in a pony tail and took a look at herself in the mirror. Would her vulnerability seem as obvious to others as it did to her?

Jenny went downstairs, wondering if she should take another look at the car or if maybe she should call Tom again. She was still standing in the kitchen, her attention split between the door to the garage and the phone, when the doorbell rang.

The house was strangely quiet without the kids and Drew around and the stress of the moment combined with the sudden intrusion of the doorbell jolted Jenny, sending her heart racing. She had to take a few deep breaths to steady herself before going to the door.

Half way there, a thought occurred to her. What if, instead of Tom, the police were at the door? What if someone had seen her car and taken down her license plate number? The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Her head reeled. The door looked like it was a mile away, down a long, dimly-lit tunnel. As Jenny stood there, barely keeping her balance, the doorbell rang again.

"Jen?" It was Tom's voice. A little cough of relief escaped from her. She took another deep breath and went to open the door.

"Hi," Jen said, trying to smile and failing miserably. Part of it was the stress of the current circumstances. But part of it was also because she knew she wouldn't ordinarily offer Tom a big smile. It felt wrong to do it now, just because she needed his help. It smacked of insincerity and surely he would realize it. She waved him inside and closed the door.

"So what's so urgent that I had to get up before ten on a Saturday?" Tom looked around as he spoke, as if expecting to see something that would answer his question. "Where's Drew and the kids?" 

"Drew's on a business trip. He was supposed to be home last night, but they need him there next week too, so..." Jenny shrugged. "The kids are spending the weekend with his folks."

"And your emergency?"

"The car," Jenny replied. "In the garage." She gestured in the appropriate direction, though it was hardly necessary. Tom knew where the garage was. He walked past her, through the kitchen and out to the garage. He came back in a few minutes later.

"Yeah, you hit something alright," he reported. "Looks like a couple grand worth of damage. But I wouldn't exactly call it an emergency." He gave her a look that under normal circumstances Jenny would have found unbearably condescending. "What did you hit?"

Jenny swallowed hard, unable to look in Tom's direction. She gave a weak shrug and shook her head. Suddenly, there was a lump in her throat making it impossible for her to talk. Wordlessly, she led him into the office and pointed at the computer screen, where the hit-and-run story was still displayed.

Tom sat at the PC and read the story. Then he got up and went back to the garage. Jenny heard him make a call on his cell phone, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. Everything was whirling around her and she felt like a tiny boat at the mercy of a tempest. Waves rolled through her brain, drowning out her thoughts, spinning her out of control.

When Tom came back in from the garage, his manner was very matter-of-fact. It had a calming effect on Jenny. He was taking charge and handling a situation that was clearly beyond her capacity. At that moment she felt a rush of gratitude toward him, followed by a smothering feeling of guilt for the way she had treated him all along. True, he was doing what he was doing out of loyalty to Drew. But he was going to help her and that was all that mattered.

"When does Drew get back?"

"Wednesday, maybe Thursday." Tom nodded.

"Okay, you can't get a car fixed that quickly, but we can at least hide the damage. Should be good enough for now." Tom stood stroking his chin, eyes focused on a distant point. "I'll take your car now and leave you my truck. Later, I'll bring back my wagon with your car seats so you can pick up the kids tomorrow."

He continued staring in the distance, figuring out the plan and relaying it to Jenny step by step. She didn't follow all the details, trusting him with that and saving her concentration for things she needed to do.

When Tom finished, Jenny realized she hadn't heard much of what he had said. He must have seen the glazed look in her eyes and he quickly went over the whole thing with her again. This time, most of it sank in. He had someone lined up to fix the car and have it back to her before Drew got home. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would be enough. Tom would bring it over and take his car back as soon as it was done and Jenny would be responsible for paying Tom's friend.

"How much will it cost to fix it?" Jenny asked, almost afraid to think about it.

"Probably a couple grand," Tom told her. "But I don't know for sure. Since it's my buddy taking care of it, he might be able to cut you some slack. But I'd think you'd be less worried about money and more worried about secrecy." He shrugged. Jenny felt a chill go up her spine.

"Should I just give you a check?" Jenny asked. She felt the shakes starting in her hands again. How would she ever hide that kind of money from Drew?

"Nah, check's a bad idea. Cash only. No incriminating paper trail." Jenny nodded and gulped. Tom reached in his pocket and took out his keys. He pulled one off the ring and handed it to Jenny. She took it absently then went into the other room to get her own car key to give to Tom.

Tom pocketed her key but made no move to leave. He stood looking at Jenny in a way she found most disturbing. There was a slight smile on his lips, but it was neither warm nor reassuring. 

"Just one thing left to seal the deal," Tom said finally. His hands reached for his belt and unbuckled it. Jenny watched with a strange detachment, unable either to believe her eyes or comprehend what they were telling her. He unsnapped his pants and started to unzip his fly. Still Jenny watched without reacting. It was surreal, almost like she was watching something on television. It wasn't until he pulled his pants down and she saw his cock that she snapped out of her trance-like state.

"Whu.. whu..." Even as it began to dawn on Jenny what was happening, she couldn't move. She was a deer in the headlights, staring at Tom's exposed cock, unable to react.

"Yeah," Tom said, kicking his pants off and stepping closer to her. "Just one last piece of business we need to take care of." His approach finally triggered a self-preservation response in her and Jenny began to back away, quivering. He watched her back away and slowly followed.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "You can run, but what's the point?" He looked at her and shrugged. "You wanna call the cops, do you? I don't think you want me to talk to them now, do ya?" Jenny's whole body went cold. Suddenly it hit her just how bad a position she was in. 

Tom held Jenny's life as she knew it in his hands. He could fix everything or destroy her. It was entirely up to him. And he was standing in front of her, his semi-erect cock exposed telling her that she had to... had to what? She didn't even know exactly what he wanted. She was frightened to even think about it.

"Wha..." Jenny's mouth was dry, she could hardly speak. "What do you...?"

"What do I want?" Tom finished for her. Jenny nodded. "Something I've been waiting a long time for," he said with a wicked grin. "Yeah, you think I don't know what you think of me? How you think you're better than me? But that's okay," he said, winking at her. "You may think your shit don't stink, but you're going to suck my cock."

"I don't think so," Jenny retorted without thinking. Tom just stood there smiling at her.

"Yeah," he told her. "You are." He gestured toward the garage. "I don't have to take care of your dirty little secret for you, you know. I could just let you get found out on your own. Or," he said, his tone now menacing, "I could call the cops with an anonymous tip. I think vehicular homicide'll get you a minimum of six years." He shrugged.

Jenny stood there, she had backed into a wall and she leaned against it, shaking once again. She remembered how happy she had been, sitting there with her friends yesterday. How had that pleasant evening devolved into this nightmare? Then the tears came and all she could do was stand there sobbing.

After a while, she regained her self control, dried her eyes and looked up. Tom was still standing there, patiently waiting for her to realize that she had no other choice.

"Please," Jenny said at last. "Isn't there any other way?" Tom snorted and shook his head.

"Nope," he added. She looked up into his eyes. They were locked on hers with a gaze so intense she was forced to look away. There was no sign of pity in that gaze.

"Pleeease?" she whined. "I'm begging you, Tom. Please let's work this out some other way."

"Nope."

Jenny tried to think of something she could do or say, but her thoughts were completely jumbled. No coherent arguments or suggestions came to her. She looked at Tom's cock, hanging down between his legs. It was only partially erect, but it was enough for her to see that he was well-endowed.

Oh, my God, Jenny thought to herself. He really expects me to put that in my mouth! Up to this point, the deed itself had been more of an abstract concept. Jenny had been far more focused on the humiliation of it. Now the actual physical part, putting it in her mouth, was starting to sink in. She trembled slightly, then a little more. It took a supreme effort on her part to keep herself from relapsing into a shaking bundle of nerves again.




The Price



I grab your hair, throw you up against the wall, and begin to rip your cloths off. You moan in protest. "No! Please don't do this to me. Please," you said.

"Stop talking." I retorted.

And continued to rip your clothes off. With you against the wall, your head turned sideways, as to not even look at me. Tears streaming your face. I cup my hands over your covered breasts, and rip the straps down your arms. And pull down your bra, I take my hands and cup your beautifully sculpted breasts, massaging the aureoles watching them rise into hardened peaks. I begin to pull on them making them a full ½ inch each. Pulling and pinching. Rotating and twisting. You scream, in pain, but I have turned a deaf ear.

I pinch your nipples again, and twisted them. You scream again. I take my hand and slap you across your beautiful colored, tear streaked face. Leaving you stunned. "Now see what happens when you disobey me."

You stay silent. Afraid of what I may do to you next.

I bend down and take my hands and cup your beautiful sculpted 38d breast and begin to suckle one, and play with the other. You moan, but this time not in protest. You love your tits sucked. Sucking one, playing with the other. Then switching breasts. Laving, sucking. Then I did the unthinkable.. I bit down on your nipple so hard I almost bit it off. You scream even louder than before. I realized what I had done, and felt so sorry. So sorry, that I went and bit down on the other nipple just as hard if not harder. Again you scream. Your fist hit the wall beneath you. I let go of your nipple, and laugh. Laugh hysterically.

Then I stand up and grab your face, turn it towards me, and plant a kiss so deep on your lips, probing my tongue in your hot steamy mouth. Then traveling my kisses to your neck, your ear. You turn your head away from me. And again I slap you. I take my fist across your face, and the palm on my other hand connects with your tit. Jolting you, with tears still streaming down your beautiful face. Your makeup is about wore off. But God, you are still so damn gorgeous. A 38d-25-35, for 5'10, that's perfect!! The biggest tits I've ever sucked, and the hottest, sweetest cunt I've ever tasted.

I travel my kisses further down your beautiful body, suckle your tits again. You moan in protest. Probably afraid I might chop off your nipples or something. Then I take my hands and undo your skirt, and pull it down to your ankles, and instruct you to step out of it. Your feet lift off the floor, one at a time, allowing me to take away your skirt. I toss it aside. Then I take my hands and cover your gorgeous sculpted ass, and my other hand runs over your crotch through your panties. I then place my hands inside the waistband of your panties and pull them down. You lift your feet one at a time. I commend you on your doing so. I guess by now you feel as though you have no choice in this matter, so you might as well just go along with it.

And you are right. You have no choice.

As I begin to lave your belly button, I am intoxicated by your femininity. The aroma emanating from your furry paradise. My hands molding your gorgeous ass like playdough, as I travel my kisses down each sculpted thigh, then each leg, and back up again. I hear you sobbing as I reach the vortex between your beautiful thighs. But that doesn't stop me. I take my long snake like tongue and run it along your pussy lips. Parting them, and sucking them. One at a time. Before entering my long snake like tongue into your pussy.

My tongue laves the walls inside your rose like cunt. I inhale deeply the scent emanating from your crotch, savoring the aroma. Musty, but with the sweet scent of fresh cut flowers. I continue to lave there, as you continue to sob. But as I said I am totally lost in you, and oblivious to your moans of protest. I lave the inner walls of your sweet cunt, with my long snake like tongue. Oh God you taste so damn good! I thought.

I was so turned on by you. It's your fault. You look so damn good! So damn sexy! So damn scrumptious! I can't help but want to fuck you. My tongue laves your inner walls a few more times. Then my long snake like tongue finds your huge budding clit. I immediately attach my lips to it, sucking furiously at it, with them. I then take my fingers 2 then three, then four, and finger fuck your cunt. In and out, in and out, thrusting my fingers deep into your dripping hot wet pussy. Sucking furiously still at your huge budding clit. Then I did the unthinkable, at least to you anyway. I entered my thumb into your dripping wet cunt. Pretty soon I had my whole hand inside your cunt. You screamed in pain, without a beat, I looked up at you, as your eyes flew open like saucers, and the tears still streaming down your face. I continued to suckle furiously at your clit. Then when I bit down on it hard, you screamed again. I continued to fist fuck you, into oblivion. And suckle your clit, this time when I bit down on it with my sharp teeth, you screamed in pain, but also in orgasm. Your sweet cum spewed forth onto my tongue, like Niagara Falls. And you flow more than others too. You just kept flowing, as I kept suckling, and fisting you. I swallowed every bit of your sweet cunt juice that I could. As your hips finally leaned back towards the wall. I removed my fist from your sweet dripping wet cunt, and sucked your juice from my fingers. 

As I was sucking your sweet cunt juices from my hand. You collapsed in a heap, sobbing on the floor. This time I realized what I have done.

Seeing you laying there, nude, in all your glory. So sweet, fragile and vulnerable, just tore my heart out. I reached for you, but you turned away. I thought how could I have done this to you, my sweet sister, my love. I wanted to say I'm sorry. The words just formed on my lips, but not a word was uttered. At that moment, I knew it was futile to say anything more to you. You didn't want to hear any of my excuses for what I did anyway.

I really am sorry. If you could see the look on my face, you could tell. I wanted to reach out and touch you, comfort you, and hold you within my arms. But you would have no part of that now. I raped you, my sister, my love. And had no reason to do so. You begged me to stop, and I didn't. The trust that once was between you and I, is now broken. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me forever. But I hope you wouldn't hold this against me.

You just lay there, sobbing uncontrollably. But my heart ached for you. The touch of you, the feel of your sweet soft skin against mine. Your breath upon me. The sweet smell of your hair mingled with mine. But I knew I could not. I know you love me, want me. But now, I must give you time.

I mean, just because you are my sister, my love, doesn't give me the right to rape your balls off whenever it pleases me. I must wait for you my sweet sister. But for now I must pay the price. 



The Price



I was in a real fix, I thought, as I sat staring dumbfounded at the computer screen and its multitude of pop-up screens, each filthier with triple-x porn than the last. Every time, I closed out one window, it seemed three or four more popped up to prove that I was beaten. I'd been surfing online porn and sure enough had landed in a site that had infected by computer with some kind of virus or spyware I just couldn't get rid of. 

Unfortunately, I was not a computer expert. I'd deleted my temporary internet files, run my anti-virus software, re-checked my firewall settings and even ran a spyware removal kit. I prayed to the great computer in the sky. Nothing worked. In a few hours, my wife and the kids would be home from a day trip to her mother's and as soon as they were home they'd want to log onto their favourite chat rooms, where they would see nothing but porn poured upon porn. It wouldn't take my wife a minute to figure out how those windows got there in the first place, and she was not one to approve of pornography. She sure didn't expect me to be surfing porn sites on her computer. 

I sat scratching my head, wondering how the Hell I was going to get out of this one. When I had exhausted every option I could think of, I knew I needed help if I was to avoid severe embarrassment and humiliation–if not divorce.

There was a guy at work I knew, one of those guys like everyone knows, who had no real training but knew the workings of a computer better than the experts. His name was Cliff and we were on good enough terms that I could call him and ask him for a favour. I'd have to swallow my pride and hope he could help me without spreading the word about my predicament around the office. Even that would be better than allowing my wife to find out about this little adventure. Guys understood about porn-surfing; they might have a laugh at my expense, but they wouldn't take it far because it might be one of them getting caught next time.

I made the decision, grabbed the phone book and dialled Cliff's number. He picked up on the second ring... thank God!

"Cliff... it's me, Brian."

"Hey."

"Look, I'm having a little computer problem... and it's kind of embarrassing, but it's an emergency. Do you have a minute?"

"Sure. I'll be right over."

No hesitation at all, just a knowing answer that sounded like it was said through a smile. I blushed a little, trying to tell myself that it would be okay. Cliff would figure it out and put everything back to rights. I gave him the address of the house and he was pulling up in front of the house barely ten minutes later.

"So let me guess," he said. "Triple-x pop-up problem?"

I felt my ears go red with shame. "Uh, yeah," I said, probably a little too quickly. "Yeah, I don't know how that stuff gets in there, but I definitely want it gone before the kids get back and see that filth–"

"And the wife," Cliff said with a laugh. "I'll bet you don't want her to see what sort of sites you've been visiting on the family computer, eh?"

"Uh, yeah..."

He sat down in front of the computer and clicked a few windows closed, whistling between his teeth. "Nasty stuff, Brian. You've got some interesting taste."

I was getting impatient. It was noon, and I expected the wife and kids home in just a few short hours. "Can you do anything, Cliff?"

"Well," he said, "It's like this, Brian. I'm pretty sure I can help you..."

I sighed out loud with relief. I should have waited to hear the rest of what he had to say.

"Yeah, I can help you, but I am going to need you to help me too."

"Of course, of course," I said, "how much do you want?"

"Not money," he said. He turned the desk chair away from the computer and was sitting facing me. He was looking me right in the eye. "I want your mouth on my cock."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I expected he might want to be paid, after all he had me over a barrel and we weren't close friends or anything, but what did he say? 

"You heard me," he said with a trace of a smile. "I want you to pay me with a blow job, and that's just an installment. I want something before I start and I want the balance after I'm done. Otherwise that relief you just felt can go out the window... with your marriage. If it comes to that; it's not like the stuff you like there is illegal or anything...." It was a full blown smile now. "Take it or leave it; I've got other places I can be on a nice summer afternoon...." 

He made as if to get up and leave. I stammered something and he settled back in the chair, leaning back all the way and putting his hands behind his head, making himself really comfortable.

My mind was racing through the options and it was a short run. There was really no time to argue or negotiate. I didn't know anyone else that could help me, certainly no one available today. My choice was clear. Don't do it and I could lose any respect I ever had from my family, perhaps lose them altogether. Do it, and there was a chance, a real chance, everything would work out alright. After all, I wouldn't have to worry about Cliff spreading word of this around at work, because the guys would look at us both funny. 

Come on, I told myself, it's just a blow job; I like to get 'em, now I have to give one. I looked at the computer screen and saw more and more pop-ups. I can do this. I have to. 

I nodded to Cliff, hating him for making me do this, telling myself it served me right for getting into this mess, realizing he deserved something for getting me out of this mess, and recognizing with a little fright that this taboo thing I was about to do, which I was always taught was wrong, was hardening my cock in my pants.

There was no use delaying. It took me a full minute to work myself up to it, but I dropped to my knees. My hands reached for his waist, undid his belt buckle, and his fly. He lifted his hips off the chair and I pulled his pants down around his ankles. He groaned. I looked at his crotch, a stiffening cock clearly outlined in his y-fronts. I was scared to continue, but I knew that I had to. He raised his ass off the chair again and I tugged his underwear down out of my way. 

He reached down and put his hands on my head and began to pull my head down over his cock. It was not a particularly large cock, a bit smaller than my own seven-incher in fact. "Lick," he commanded. I did. I put out my tongue and began licking around his crotch. He began to moan. The scent and the taste of his sweaty skin was thick, pungent and though I hated to admit it, arousing. My lips traipsed over the soft flesh of his thighs, my nose rubbed deep into the fragrant bush of his pubic hair and my tongue washed his wrinkled ball-sac. I could not understand why I was not sick at this experience; in fact, I was enjoying it deeply. My cock was rock-hard and dribbling pre-cum already, and I was moaning too. We both groaned as I sucked one of his balls into my mouth and rolled my tongue over it repeatedly.

This went on for a few minutes until I found the nerve to move to target. With my hands on his thighs for support, I pulled my head up over his fully-erect cock and began to lick it from base to tip, where I tasted his pre-cum. My own cock was now lathering my underwear and my cock was straining at my pants. I couldn't believe how turned on I was by this forbidden act!

"Alright," he rasped, "suck!"

I did not hesitate now. I took the tip of his cock fully into my mouth and began to roll my tongue over it with rapid strokes before taking more of his shaft into my mouth. He was groaning loudly now, in time to my activities. I began to move faster, bobbing my head up and down over the deliciously hard cock, sucking and rolling it around in my mouth, savouring its taste, its texture, its desire for my mouth, a mouth which desired him now as well. The movement of my upper body was causing my entire body to vibrate, assuming a sex-like thrusting rhythm and it made my hardened cock rub against the inside of my jeans in a very stimulating way.

"Suck faster now, man," he said, "I'm close!"

So was I, though I could hardly believe it. The thought of being a completely submissive cocksucker to my co-worker was a huge turn-on. I knew he would not ask for permission, nor would he pull out. He was going to come in my mouth, and from the tempo of his moans and groans, so like my own, it was going to be soon. I was going to taste the cum of another man and I could hardly wait!

I did as I was told. I continued to suck him, increasing the pressure on his cock as I massaged it with my tongue in much the same manner as an old girlfriend used to do for me back before I was married. Faster, faster, faster, my movements, our moans, our build-up to explosion synchronizing...

And then, I heard his breathing go fast and shallow and I increased my speed to full. This stimulated my own cock, chafing faster and faster inside my pants, and I could barely believe it when I began to feel the semen making its way from my balls to my cock. I was going to come! But not first. Cliff let out a howl and a second later my mouth was filled with a salty bitter taste and a viscous fluid as well as a live wire of pulsing cock, and somewhere not far away I shared his exhilaration as my own cock blasted wave after wave of pleasure through my body. We must have been loud enough in our release to have been heard outside, but just for the moment I did not care.

The moment passed though and Cliff, now overstimulated by my continuing ministrations to his cock, roughly pushed me back, off his cock and onto the floor, and when he looked down at me and saw the wet spot through my jeans from crotch to knee, he laughed. "Cocksucker," he said. "Alright, that's your first installment, and Jesus Christ that was a good faith payment if ever I saw one!"

I lay in a heap on the floor where he had discarded me as he turned back to the computer and with ridiculous speed and ease restored the machine to its pristine order. Then he stood up, pulled up his pants and said he'd collect the balance of his payment soon, but he hadn't counted on me being such a natural cocksucker and he was drained right empty. I licked my lips unconsciously, and said thanks, odd as that may seem. Still laying on the floor beside the computer desk, completely satisfied myself, I watched him leave, wondering how this strange day's doings would affect me in the days to come.



The Price



I knew I was being watched, a feeling that just came over me, like someone wanted badly for me to notice something. I lifted my head from my work and turned to see my wife in the doorway to my home office. She was dressed in her yoga pants and a sleeveless half-shirt, unsurprising since her yoga class was that day, but it was the look on her face that claimed my attention, a look so plaintive it made my heart want to shelter her.

But I'd seen that look a lot lately, and this time, I was prepared. I hit a hotkey to save my work, since nothing else work-related was going to happen tonight, and gave no outward appearance of my anticipation.

"How was yoga, dear?" I let her see some of how glad I was to see her.

She swallowed and blinked as though a memory had intruded. "Good," she answered belatedly.

That was too obvious to pretend I hadn't seen. "Are you alright?" I said in mock alarm and stood.

"I'm fine," she said too quickly, all but confirming my suspicions.

"Are you sure? You know I'm here for you, whatever the issue." I stepped to her and embraced her shoulders, pulling her into my chest. She trembled against me, and before I could speak again, she lifted her face and captured my mouth with hers, putting her arms around my neck.

"Mmmmmm..." we each moaned into the other's mouth, lips opening, tongues dancing. My hands, pushed off her shoulders by her ardor, found their way up the back of her flimsy shirt. Finding no bra, further confirming my theory, I kneaded the toned muscles of her back toward her shoulders, pressing her torso into mine as a consequence.

"Yoga's been good for you lately," I tease, breaking our kiss and casually probing for information. "Something new in class?" Or somebody. "And isn't there something missing under your shirt here?"

She flushed prettily, hesitating, and I knew I was on the right track. "Some new students. And a couple new stretches that make my athletic bra pinch. I haven't had a chance to look for a new one."

I ran my hands around to her breasts inside the shirt, smiling to find erect nipples, which I tweaked gently. "In this shirt? You must give the other women a real eyeful, some the poses I've seen you do."

She gasped at my attention and then looked at me, biting her lip. I'd known that look for years. She wanted to tell me something but hadn't worked up the courage. Then I knew what I'd seen in the yoga studio parking lot a few weeks ago had really been what I'd thought.

"You know I can't resist that lip biting thing you do," I say, pretending to be sidetracked and returning to our open-mouthed kiss. Our mouths spoke without words for a minute, my hands pulling her shirt up to expose her chest to their attention, caressing and squeezing. Her breath betrayed her mounting excitement, and I pressed the advantage, breaking our kiss again.

"You're really in heat. You need this don't you?"

"Please..." she replied in a plaintive whisper.

"I think you need this bad enough to pay a price."

Her eyes widened in surprise, but before she could fully react, I pinched her nipples exactly how I knew would short circuit her brain straight to her pussy. She threw her head back in a stuttering gasp and thrust her breasts at me as I relaxed the pinch somewhat but still kept hold of her hard little bullets.

"Well? Do you?"

Her head came up to look me in the eyes, hers half glazed in lust, and opened her mouth to speak. She hesitated again, wondering what my game was, and I pushed my leg between hers to press against her crotch. I was rewarded by seeing the last vestige of rationality leave her eyes.

"Will you pay a price? Anything I ask?"

"Yessss!" she hissed, involuntarily humping against my thigh, her breath fast and uneven.

"Your price will have two parts, one before, one after."

"Yesss! Please! Anything!" she panted.

I peeled her shirt over her head and took a grip in her hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her head back slightly, looking intensely into her widened eyes.

"Part one," I said evenly and pulled downward on her hair, forcing her to her knees, presenting my tented trousers to her face. "Unzip me and take me in your mouth."

Smiling lustily up at me, her hands went to my fly, pulled down the zipper, and reached inside to touch my hardened manhood through my boxers. Working fingers inside my underwear, she stroked my shaft and tickled at my balls, biting her lip again, this time in playful anticipation. Taking a firmer grip on me, she pulled my dick out in front of her face, dropping her gaze from my eyes down to look at it hungrily.

"Go ahead. I'm waiting," I murmured to her.

Looking back into my eyes, she opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the head of my cock. After pausing for a long moment to swirl her tongue around my glans, she began to slowly inch down the shaft, her tongue moving forward a fraction, then her lips opening slightly and moving to catch up before closing again.

Once her mouth was comfortably full, keeping her eyes on mine throughout, she languidly pulled her mouth back to hold only the head once again before repeating her pilgrimage toward my root. Once her mouth was full of my cock again, I tightened my grip in her hair and held her still, savoring the feel of her lips and tongue on me.

"Now we figure out part two," I said sternly, looking down at her face with belying affection. "You may not speak, only nod or shake slightly when I ask you a question. Understand me?"

She nodded fractionally, her eyes wide in wonderment and submission.

"I know most of it. Don't deceive me, or there will be a much more terrible price to pay. Understand?"

Another tiny nod, a trace of fear entering her eyes.

"There's someone new in yoga class, isn't there? Someone special."

Nod.

"She's why you've been coming home horny as hell?"

Nod.

"Tall, olive-skinned brunette? Slim hips and nice tits?"

Nod, surprise evident on her face.

"I saw you two the night I picked you up, before you saw me in the parking lot. You looked like trapped prey, nervous and unable to escape. She looked cool and confident and like she had you under her thumb. She's why you stopped wearing a bra to class, why you're showing off your beautiful tits to a room full of women."

Nod, lust beginning to overpower fear and surprise.

"She wants you and you know it." Not a question.

Nod.

"And you want her to have you."

A pause while fear crept back into her eyes at what my reaction might be, then an almost imperceptible nod, her eyes pleaded with mine, tears forming.

She needn't have worried. My cock hard with excitement, I pulled her head toward me slightly, pushing into her throat. After a moment's shock, she swallowed and accepted my length until her lips were buried in my pubic hair.

"I'm going to release you, and you will suck me like a wanton slut. This is part one of your price. Show me how much you want relief, how much you worship my dick. Earn your fucking."

I let go of her hair, and she did exactly that. No subtlety, none of her usual languid skillful strokes, just pure lustful abandon as she devoured the object of her desire. Her lips slid back and forth on my increasingly wet cock, slick with her saliva.

"While *uff* you're busy with that *mmm*, I'll tell you part two of your price. You're committed now, and I will not allow you to renege. You will do this or pay a more terrible price."

Never pausing in her duty, she looked up at me in total submission. I knew she would do anything at all just then.

"You will let her ensnare you. No more running from her advances. You will flash her and touch her and entice her. Make her as hot for you and as you obviously are for her. When she must have you, you will tell her you are only available with my participation. If she is reluctant, it is your task to convince her. Use every wile you have. Bring her to meet with us, and together she and I will own your body, your heart, and your soul."

While I was speaking, her eyes glazed over with lust once more and finally closed as she imagined the possibilities, her horny body in automatic, giving the wildest blow job of her life. I didn't need to ask. I knew she'd accepted my price.