1 comments/ 11734 views/ 1 favorites Guilty Tales - Isobel Ch. 01 By: vulp1ne ** Please read my disclaimer as part of my biography for a better understanding of this story. Diana Ross was, and still is, a world wide, multi-million selling record artiste. She conquered the world in the 1960's as part of Mowtown's all girl group 'The Supremes' and then cemented her world domination as a solo artiste in the 70's and 80's notching up a string of best selling singles and albums around the globe. However, it was one of her lesser known singles that would be the catalyst for one of my most amazing and yet highly controversial romantic affairs I'd ever had. The song in question was a relatively minor success in the US, however, way back during the late summer of 1971 it reached the no. 1 spot in the UK charts for four weeks. Much later it would be subject to a then, customary, remix which seemed all the rage back in the early 90's that earned it a place just outside the top 20.. which is where I guess Isobel must have known it from – either that or from her parents who were, presumably, big Diana Ross fans. Either way she was well aware of the song, in particular the lyrics within, and used it to devastating effect. The aforementioned controversy surrounding my affair with Isobel stems from the fact that not only was she sixteen years my younger but that she also happened to be my best friend's niece. She was born to my friend's (Anthony) sister in London. That same summer I had finally concluded my final year of school. My exams were a soon distant memory and I could concentrate on the more serious side of being a young, naïve sixteen year old that being football and dreaming about girls! As that endless summer wore on Anthony received an invite from his sister to spend a week down in London with her so that he could meet the new addition to his family. As we were really close friends he invited me to come down as well and after clearing it with my parents it was not long before we had bussed our way the 120 miles or so to the capital and were accepted into the home of Anthony's sister and Brother-In-Law. It was here I first met Isobel. She was not more than a few weeks old and was wrapped up in all manner of layers. She was pinkish red, wrinkly and generally slept a lot. I even got to hold her for a short while whilst her mother hovered anxiously beside me, nervously hot footing to and fro, arms poised at the ready in case I dropped her. However, way back then, I was a rather awkward, shy teenage boy with no experience of life whatsoever and young babies held little interest to me and so within a short while the novelty on the new born baby girl, for both myself and Anthony, had worn off and soon we were engulfed in a weeks worth of adventure travelling into the big city for the first time. Within a week or so we were safely ensconced back in our relative homes and the memory of Isobel disappeared into the confusing morass of emotion that makes up a teenagers mind coupled with the dawning of the age of responsibility looming large on the horizon. After all, my exam results were due and I had been accepted into the local college. Life just simply moved on. As the years passed I met Isobel very infrequently. Even as a child, though, she was a very 'opinionated' and incredibly smart girl. On the few occasions we did meet (usually birthday parties where she and her mother would travel north to visit) she would be argumentative and loud. We (that is, myself, Anthony and a few other close friends) used to rib her mercilessly and poke fun out of her because we knew she had a propensity to react with gusto! At Anthony's 21st birthday party she had grown into a very precocious 6 year old. Well able to argue with any of the lads there and would actively seek us out to remonstrate quite loudly when she felt she was getting picked on through our playful jibes. Her face would burn a pale iridescent pink, anger etched on her brow as waves of her fury would dash futilely upon the rocky cliffs of our derision. Each remonstration prompting more tongue in cheek taunts until eventually we would get a scolding from her mother for taking things too far and winding her up. Many years had passed and as time moved on Anthony announced that he was getting married. We were both in our mid thirties by this time. I myself was married with two very young children and was given the honour of being best man at the wedding. Isobel had been chosen as one of the Bridesmaids and it became apparent to myself and all my friends what a transformation had taken place since we had last seen her. Gone was the loud, obnoxious child of pre-adolescence, the gangly awkward teenager had long been vanquished to be replaced by a stunning beauty not more than 20 years of age. She was a full grown woman, and everyone who hadn't seen her for a number of years remarked on the fact. Now at this point I should mention that my interest in Isobel was purely an avuncular one. She was my best friend's niece and any thoughts beyond that were quickly dispelled from my mind. Yes, she was stunning – she had the darkest of brown hair, almost black, that cascaded about her shoulder in waves. She was taller than average and her figure was accentuated by the manner at which the bridesmaids dress was designed – nipped in at the waist, long but straight to the feet. Not one of those awful meringue designs that made poor unfortunate girl look like a toilet ornament. The shoulders were sleeveless and a plunging neckline left very little to the imagination for a girl with the fuller cleavage that she possessed. Her eyes were as dark as her hair, deep and rich and would capture your attention the instant your gaze met them leaving you lost amid the brooding smouldering look she could give you, to devastating effect. I think above all, it was her smile for me that highlighted her beauty. It was quick, easy and warm at the same time but was in no way false. The kind of natural smile that richly compliments a person's features and can at once captivate you and yet put you off guard in the same breath. At the time she had a boyfriend and I couldn't help but think that he was a lucky fella, but as I have mentioned before my intentions were purely innocent seeing as who she was, but it didn't stop me and my friends who had seen her grow up, continue where we had left off and before long the jocular but gentle provocation had begun. It soon became apparent that the loud, argumentative and opinionated side was actually still there, just hidden just under the surface of her personality. A few drinks later and the playful jibes in her direction soon scratched away the thin veneer of decorum to elicit some payback of her own. She was quite clearly as sharp as a whip. Each clumsy, denigrating insult was deftly parried with ease and returned with the skill and artistry of a master. Clearly she was more than a match for our half hearted semi-drunken jibes and had done a lot more growing up than we had given her credit for. It was all done in good faith with tongues firmly planted in cheek but it was clear that we had all underestimated her and that she was quite a force to be reckoned with. As the day wore on however I found myself absent-mindedly looking in her direction. Without realising it I would seek her out amongst the crowds of people jostling for position to get to the bridal party. As there were only four bridesmaids and the fact that she was taller than average it made my life easier to locate her, usually smiling and laughing with the guests or blushing at the complements she was being handed or being surrounded by hoards of children, girls especially, who thought she looked like a princess due to the tiara that sat royally on her perfectly sculptured hair. She moved effortlessly through the crowds, danced sensually to the music on the dance floor and I would occasionally catch her laugh as it drifted over the ambient hubbub that pervades any gathered group of people. As the day drew to a close I found myself purposefully seeking her out, drawn to her mere presence as a moth is to a flame. It was madness, of course, to think anything more of this. I was married, with kids and I was her uncle's best friend and yet did I imagine it when I she caught my eye? Was there something more in that slightly prolonged look she gave than the pleasant recognition of one who would greet someone who was no more than an acquaintance? I was probably dreaming it. My imagination had probably taking hold of my senses enough for me to see something that most probably wasn't there. The wedding, as all weddings should, passed off wonderfully. The following day everyone agreed that the occasion had been as good, if not better, that all had hoped for. The weather had been unusually kind (the summers had been very hit and miss in the few preceding years) and everyone had enjoyed a marvellous time. When it came time to go Isobel was quite keen to obtain everyone's email address, especially the lads who were Anthony's best friends. Duly, we all swapped addresses and parted with happy memories of the previous day's celebrations. By the following day I was back at work and, as had happened upon my return from London all those years ago, life moved on and soon things had pretty much returned to normal. My first email from Isobel arrived a few weeks after Anthony's wedding. The memories of that day were relatively fresh in my mind despite the pressures of work forcing them to become ever more distant and as soon as I saw her name appear in my inbox my immediate thoughts ran straight back to the wedding. My memory slipped back easily the first time I'd seen her standing regally in her pale blue Bridesmaids dress, her awe-inspiring eyes and of course that stunning smile. Always, that stunning smile. I must admit to finding myself a little aroused by the thought. "Hey!" was how it started. I later found out that "Hey" was her stock introduction. "How are you? Just thought I'd see how you are after the wedding." I paused..Normally I go straight into replies when I'm emailed but on this occasion I stopped myself. This was unusual. Most people politely swap contact details (phone numbers, emails etc.) but never follow them up so this was out of the blue. I was pleased that she'd emailed though. I must have re-written the email half a dozen times before simply deciding to reply with: "Hey, I'm great thanks. Good to hear from you. How are things with you?" Hardly awe inspiring stuff I'll admit but it was as neutral as I could manage. And so began the start of an amazing period in my life. From that moment on we commenced emailing on quite a regular basis. Upwards of two dozen or more emails a day passed between us as we discussed wide ranging topics from the Wedding to that of Modern Politics, Philosophy and our great passion – reading. It turned out Isobel was quite a voracious reader and would devour books at the rate of three or four a week. Now, I profess to enjoy reading a great deal but that ratio of turnover was way beyond my capacity to absorb. Her range was quite remarkable – she'd read most of the classics and was at the time ploughing her way relentlessly through "War and Peace" whilst counterpointing it with her, current, favourite genre, that of pulp romance – Mills and Boon being foremost among them. Having never read Mills & Boon I didn't pick up on the slight clues as to her real nature. I assumed they were just mass produced, throw away romance books that were the last refuge of the hopeless romantic, who, unhappy in their own lives would retreat into the paperback world of tall, dark handsome strangers with smouldering looks and tight cut shirts. However, having looked into them since, that's not all that they are about. More of that in another story! About a month or so into our email conversations things began turning more flirtatious. It turned out that Isobel and her boyfriend had split up after 'another' blazing public row and she was now young free and single. This became more noticeable in the emails as she grew more and more suggestive and flirty with each message. I, being a natural flirt, couldn't resist and so played along. Again, nothing was said between us, but ever more my desire was growing inside me. Each email fuelled a need in my heart to take this further. In my mind I found myself fantasising about all the perverted things I would like to do to her. However my feelings were always tempered by the fact that I was married with kids, I was considerably older than her and well over 100 miles away. What on earth could she see in me?! And then one day Diana Ross made her cameo appearance in this story. I had been sending the usual flirty emails to Isobel, asking her about what kind of men she liked to which she replied that she liked 'older' men. I smiled as I read that "She's so good" I thought to myself thinking about her skills as a flirt. She also was being evasive about someone she had mentioned that she had a crush on but was afraid to approach. In return I had been trying to give advice and how best to approach the subject. And then, quite out of the blue, it happened.... "Do you know any songs by Diana Ross?" Came the email from her. That caught me off guard somewhat. It was completely out of context with the conversation we were having at the time. I frowned. Diana Ross? I thought. She hadn't been commercially active for a while at the time. I trawled my memories of the songs I knew about. Even with my limited knowledge I knew that she possessed quite a sizeable back-catalogue. "Yes I do. She's very good." I replied, still puzzled. A few moments later came the response. I had been intently watching my email software waiting for the tell tale 'ding' to sound and the bold unread line to appear at the top of my list of inbox mails. A quick double-click on the message and the contents were revealed to me. "Do you know the song 'I'm still waiting'?" Even more strange. Frowning again I though for a minute. Yes, I knew the song. Not well but I kind of remembered how it went. I sat back and recalled Ross' soft but high mezzo-soprano vocals as they drifted through my mind. I had it but frustratingly the words eluded me and I could just about remember the chorus. I played the melody out in my mind a few times to be sure I could thread the tangled memories into a coherent tune. "Yes, excellent song! What about it?" My fingers tapped out the reply. And then....nothing. Minutes passed and no reply. Normally there would have been an instant response with some continuation of the conversation. I waited. In fact as I waited a nagging feeling was creeping slowly across my mind, tugging at my inner being urging me in a direction I had no idea where it wanted to take me. Minutes passed, still nothing – very unusual. The nagging feeling wouldn't go away. I sat upright, opened up a web browser on my PC and ran a search for 'I'm still waiting – Diana Ross'. The click-clack sound of the keyboard was all I could hear above the office ambience as I typed the letters in as quickly as I could. The search results returned thousands of hits. I concentrated on the top few and saw the headline 'I'm still Waiting – Lyrics'. I selected the hyperlink with my mouse and sat back, intently watching the screen refresh itself with the newly loading web page. As usual there were the annoying 'pop-ups' asking if I wanted this song as a ringtone. Angrily I guided the mouse to the 'X' option on the pop-up window dismissing it into an electronic oblivion and looked beyond to the waiting result. As I read the lyrics my jaw slowly opened. I must have sat and stared at the screen for a good five minutes or so as I absorbed the words and put them into the context of our conversation. It took me a while to snap out of it and compose myself. I'd realised I had stopped breathing and my heart was beating rapidly. The message was clear – now how would I pursue this? "Oh! I see now." Was my reply. I then followed this up quickly with another message "Are you sure about this?" I was slightly incredulous at the turn of events. Yes I'd enjoyed the flirting but never for a moment did I consider the direction that this was turning. It was a frustratingly long, almost eternal, 20 minutes or so before Isobel replied. "You see now? And yes I am quite sure. I have felt this way for such a long time now." From that point on the conversations between us took on a more conspiratorial, clandestine air. The cheeky flirting that had featured so prominently between us was largely replaced by more in-depth but subtle probing. What did she like? What didn't she like? Didn't she mind that I was married? As the days passed the intensity of the situation gathered up like a storm. Soon all subtlety was abandoned, discarded with no pretence at decorum. A fervour had gripped us like a whirlwind and carried us along in its torrid, turbulent wake as a more and more we stripped away the barriers of guilt, responsibility and remorse. Lust filled our hearts and words. Feverish emails flew back and forth filled with hunger and desire, pulling us inexorably into the well of yearning that would lead us to the next phase in this virtual 'relationship'. Eventually things had built up into a crescendo of craving and desire. I had to see her. Days had passed since the epiphany of the lyrics and our conversations had heightened to a peak of sexual tension between us that we both had to satisfy. Sadly, Isobel didn't drive which limited us somewhat. She also lived at home with her parents which presented a greater challenge as well as they both worked hours to suit so could be about at any time. However we were both fortunate in that it was late summer and the holiday season was upon us. Isobel had told me that her parents and younger brother were due to spend a week away abroad and that she was staying behind. This provided our opportunity. I checked with my Boss that there was no clash of annual leave as I requested two days off to coincide with the time Isobels' parents were away. Thankfully it was approved. It was a month away – which seemed like an eternity – however we both agreed it was something we needed to do if nothing else but to get it out of our respective systems. The Month that followed dragged interminably on. Each day passed with growing anticipation which also reflected in the emails that were still passing between us. She was beginning to get nervous. Maybe we should rethink? No, I stated categorically. We've come so far NOT to continue, I told her. Hold your nerve, we'll be fine. It was all I could do to keep her onside as doubt ate its way into her original self belief. It was as if the actual act of arranging to meet each other had burst the bubble of anticipation. I suppose I did keep forcing the situation with my reassuring words of comfort and encouragement, cajoling almost. I'd originally stated before that I was more avuncular toward her in the beginning. Now, however, my blood was racing, the hormones were in overdrive – there was no way I was going to let this opportunity slip from my grasp. Eventually the day came. Thursday morning I was dressed for work. Previously, when I'd booked my annual leave, I had told my wife that I was on a client site for two days and would call her later. I packed my overnight bag in the boot of the car and set off for the 3 hours journey south to the awaiting Isobel. The journey took longer than anticipated, which only served to heighten the tension. We text messaged each other throughout my journey. I would relay to her which part of the country I was currently at and also a possible time of arrival. Again, her nerves were creeping into the conversation. What if I didn't like her? What would we do as soon as I walked through the door? Guilty Tales - Isobel Ch. 01 I replied that the first thing I would do was to kiss her long and passionately. Really? Yes, really. I was 15 minutes away and sent a text to Isobel informing her so. I'm so nervous! She finally admitted. Not to worry honey. I replied, so am I. It was a white lie. In truth I wasn't sure if it was nerves, excitement or both that drove me on. I could have turned around at any point in the journey and ended what could have been seen as a foolish notion, but still the thought of being with Isobel and the lust coursing through my veins blocked any notion of me backing out now. One must never underestimate the power of lust. It can spur people on to do things of wondrous yet terrible actions with reckless abandon. Normally reserved people can shed their skin and gorge themselves in the sweet juices of its raw passion. Guilt and reason become but bit players in a production of tumultuous emotions as centre stage is commandeered by desire, yearning and covetousness. The road where Isobel lived with her parents was a narrow thoroughfare leading off the main road. The houses were all pre-war, sturdy and well made with sizeable gardens at the rear of the property but precious little at the front. The pavement was only a yard to two away from the front door so parking had to be done on the road. I gazed along the length of the roads straight sides which ran a half a mile away from me before coming to a T-Junction. Isobel lived at number 2 which was lucky as I entered her road from the correct end. I hated the thought of having to navigate slowly among the parked cars which randomly littered the sides of the road ahead causing a traffic obstacle course which can be such a headache when trying to navigate through one. I parked on the side of the road but not outside the house. I stopped short by about 10 yards next to a large hedge of yellow leylandii which marked the boundary of the corner house at the junction of the main road. I opened the door and stepped out of the car and retrieved my bag from the boot. It was a beautiful day. I gazed about as I basked in the warm glow of the sun. There was hardly a cloud in the sky. The distant murmur of the dual carriage-way half-a -mile or so distant barely registered in my consciousness as I stood soaking up the surroundings. Locking up the car I took a deep breath and strode purposefully to the arched, green, wooden door which bore the dulled brass numeral '2' just above the letter box. I knocked smartly using the door knocker and within a second the door swung open and there before me stood the beautiful Isobel looking somewhat nervous but pleased to see me. There was a moments pause before, without saying a word, I stepped over the threshold, dropped my bag to the ground and embraced her in a deep, warm passionate kiss. Her lips were wonderfully soft and our tongues soon met and entwined feverously as we stood in the hallway locked together. I had a hand full of her long brown lustrous hair at the back of her neck whilst my other had firmly gripped her hip whereas Isobel had both hands wrapped around my back firmly grasping my tensed shoulder blades. The kiss seemed to last forever, long precious moments passed, the silence only broken by the slightest of muffled, contented sighs which occasionally emanated from deep within her throat. At last we broke. Staring down at her I met those deep brown lustrous eyes and that smile which made me go weak at the knees. Even now years later I still get shivers down my spine at that so stunning, yet captivating of combinations. She looked over my shoulder and I followed her gaze. The door was still open behind me. We both laughed. Lord knows who could have walked by and seen the spectacle of us kissing. I lifted my right leg up behind me slightly and found the door. With a swift flick of my foot the door slammed shut.. we were now, truly alone. The next few hours were quite surreal. I so wanted to just rip her clothes off and take her to bed but I felt that approach was too crass. Yes I wanted to make love to her right there and then, no I lie – I wanted to fuck her. Insensitive as that may seem I wanted nothing more than to fuck her hard and fast. My emotions were carrying me away and the blood pumping from my heart into my veins was causing a roaring sound in my ears which meant I just had to have her right here, right now. But I stopped myself. Hard though it was for me I tamed my beast within. Isobel had looked nervous and apprehensive. Almost as if that was what she was expected of me. I didn't want to ruin everything for a short burst of feverish sex. I wanted more than that, so I took a hold of my self and stepped back from the situation. We held each other still, my dick was pulsing away keen to get into the action. I could tell Isobel was able to feel it and as she looked into my eyes again I could sense the feeling that she was not quite ready. I had to remember that confident though she was she was still a very young woman. Despite the fact that she knew me we were still relative strangers. All the knowledge we had was crammed into the last few months of steadily growing emails. "Any chance of a cup of tea?" I smiled at her. I saw the sense of relief cross her face as the tension broke. She smiled that smile again and laughed. "Yes, come on through." She led me by the hand down the hallway, past the lounge and into the kitchen which was situated to the rear of the house. The kitchen itself was a mess! Her parents (actually it was her mother and step-father who lived there – her real dad had divorced when she was four and moved a few hundred miles away) were not the tidiest of people. Isobel kind of followed suit. She'd been living alone there for most of the week and the remnants of take-aways, unwashed plates, cups and glasses stood testament to this fact. The kitchen was, I suppose, not unlike those from most families where there are younger kids and parents with busy lifestyles. Piles of books and papers lined the surfaces, shopping that had not been put away lay abandoned in small, isolated, piles, obviously intended for the cupboard that they were left outside of. There was a smell of slightly off milk about the place, bowls full of half eaten cat nibbles littered the floor. "How do you take it?" she asked. I looked at her as she filled the kettle up. She looked so gorgeous. She was wearing a pair of tight blue jeans and a loose fitting sleeveless top which clearly showed that she wasn't wearing a bra. The bright sunshine pouring in from the window behind her caught her in profile as she turned. The top turned translucent in the rays and my heart again, quickened substantially. I've never been one for large breasts on women, in fact big or small has never been an issue for me however Isobel was very well blessed without being too large. I'd have said a D-cup looking at her silhouette through the top. She looked magnificent. Again, I controlled the urge to ravish her there and then as the fires rose from deep within my soul. As I mentioned before, the surrealness of the afternoon was equalled only by the magnificence of the glorious weather. We sat outside and simply talked and talked and drank cup after cup of tea. However, the conversation was about anything and everything NOT related to our email conversations of the past few weeks and months! Like two veteran prize-fighters we danced, weaved and skipped our way around the issue, ducking the subject whenever the conversation looked like it was heading in that direction, sidestepping any attempt at a subtle, probing jab regarding the situation at hand. Instead we held each other closely, kissed on occasions and whiled away the time talking beautiful nonsense. By evening time the shadows were lengthening and the air was feeling cooler. We decided to make our way back indoors. "Would you like something to eat?" She asked. I looked back at her as she stood framed by the doorway to the hall. "No." I replied She nodded knowingly in reply. She smiled again and led me back down the hallway to the foot of the stairs. She held my hand all the way, slowly tracing each footstep as we ascended the staircase and into her room. The room was quite large, long and narrow. The walls were painted a pale yellow colour and true to form the room itself was a mess! Clothes lay strewn about the place along with make up bags and their contents, shoes – endless shoes scattered across the floor. Posters adorned the walls of various pop bands as well as some that were of profound political statement. She apologised for the mess. She'd not known what to wear (usual girl stuff!) and had only made her mind up when I'd sent my last text. She looked sheepishly around but before she could add any more I took two strides toward her and took her in my arms again. We kissed as though we were still at the front door earlier. Slightly taken aback by my approach she soon recovered and was running her hands frantically up and down my back, her breathing heavy from her nose as our lips were locked tight, again our tongues probing, darting, entwining. Again the slight sighs from her throat just audible as our passion and lust ignited, consuming us in an all powerful grip of incandescent emotion. I began to peel her top from her body. She raised her arms as I pulled the garment up and over her head freeing her magnificent breasts. She gasped audibly as I firmly took one in my left hand and began massaging it gently. Using the tips of my forefinger and thumb I began to tweak her nipple, which was fiercely erect, causing her to shudder slightly with desire at my touch. Her head flew backwards and her back arched slightly, a deep guttural moan emanated from her throat as I bent down and flicked her nipples with my tongue before engulfing it in my mouth sucking it gently, biting ever so carefully. She clawed my back with her nails as her moaning got slightly louder. I straightened up and looked her in the eyes as I reached down and unzipped her jeans. I tugged desperately at the button. Somehow it had gotten caught on something. She took my hands away and deftly removed the button before sliding both her jeans and her pants down to her ankles and stepping out of them. She left her one foot in the crumpled mass of clothes skilfully flicked them aside to stand fully naked before me. She looked down slightly as I gazed in awe and wonder at her beautiful body. She had a gorgeous curvy figure. Not skinny by any means but not overweight either. My eyes quickly focused on her shaved pussy. Again my heart skipped. I loved girls who shave their pussy. It's such a turn on for me. She noticed me staring. "I hope you don't mind?" she asked meekly. "Not at all!" I exclaimed. "I absolutely love it." She started shivering. Nerves? It certainly wasn't that cold. I took over. I led her to the bed and pulled back the covers allowing her to slip inside. There was no light in the room, the only source of illumination was from the dusk outside. I slowly removed my clothes and slid into bed beside her. I could tell she was nervous. This wasn't her first time, obviously, but still the enormity of the situation must have gotten to her. I was, after all, her favourite uncles' best man. "Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?" I asked looking at her directly. It sounds pretty corny I admit. But even though my head was screaming inside to not ask the question if she had wanted to back out at any stage I would have done. I may be a self-confessed pervert but I'm not a rapist. She looked up at me, her big, deep brown eyes holding my gaze steadily. "No it's okay," She said. "I want to." Again she was nervous but this time there was more conviction in her voice. We kissed again, softly and slowly. I allowed my hand to explore her naked body. She trembled every time I ran my fingers over her stomach, down her thighs or across her breasts. I could literally feel her heart thumping rapidly in her chest as I caressed her nipples gently with my fingers. Inevitably my wandering hand found its way to the centre of her desire. I gradually caressed her pussy lips and she jumped slightly at the touch, a sharp intake of breath escaping her lips. I could feel how wet she was as I plunged my fingers between her lips and began running them slowly up and down, feeling the moisture between my fingers, enjoying the warmth of the sensation. She let out a soft, shuddering gasp as she clung to me tightly. I couldn't wait any more. My cock was rock hard and was straining at the leash to be let loose and plunder her inner depths. I kissed her again, forcing my tongue into her mouth feeling her yield as I slowly rolled over and lay on top of her. He legs parted allowing me to settle into position. Our lips still locked I could feel the tip of my cock resting against her labia. I adjusted slightly before thrusting forward. I eased my cock gently into her waiting pussy. The deliciously warm feeling engulfed its head as I inched my way deeper inside her. She held my kiss for a second longer before pulling away he eye's clenched shut. "Oh god!" she gasped as the full length of my penis buried its way inside her. I held there for a moment. Savouring every second as I looked down and saw this young girl, 16 years my junior gasping in pleasure after having received my cock all the way to the hilt. She clung on tightly to me, her arms locked around my neck, her knees and thighs had clenched my sides as I began to rock back and forth slowly at first. She was very wet but she was also very tight. My prick was in seventh heaven feeling the muscles of her pussy walls tighten firmly around my shaft with every thrust. "Oh God! Oh God!" she cried breathlessly again. My thrusting had become more aggressive. She buried her head in my chest as I raised myself up onto my elbows. I reached behind her and grabbed a handful of hair and pulled it back sharply so that her head now shot backward and she was facing toward the head of the bed. My tamed beast within was no longer captive. An animal grew inside of me, possessing my very soul. I began thrust and pounded her harder and harder, all thought of consideration gone. She was mine and I was taking her the way I saw fit. With each deep penetration she cried out, not in pain but with desire. Loud gasps and moans escaped her lips with every thrust. I let go of her hair and she looked back at me. Those dark dangerous eyes were ablaze with lust. She placed her hands either side of my head and lowered her chin to her chest and watched as my cock plunged furiously in and out of her pussy. The passion had overtaken us both. We were lost in the moment where all senses seem to merge into one. Our lovemaking had become all consuming, oblivious to the world around us we writhed and twisted in our own sensual dance, all track of time gone. We were both breathing hard and a thin film of perspiration had covered our bodies. Isobels' hair had become slightly matted on her forehead as we paused briefly to stop and look at each other. "Are you okay?" I panted in a whisper to her. She nodded breathlessly in reply and smiled. I kissed her again but remained motionless, my cock filling her pussy almost as if pinning her down to her bed. I wanted to change things around so I carefully withdrew and moved backwards, sitting on my haunches. At the same time I pulled her forward and motioned for her to roll over. Compliantly she turned over and raised herself on all fours, presenting her perfectly rounded backside to me. She had a tattoo of a large winged bird right at the base of her back which stretched out wide across her soft white skin. I shuffled forward slightly grabbing her waist with one hand and using my other to guide myself in to her awaiting pussy. Again, I entered her slowly and easily. I watched the back of her head tilt slightly to the side then back slowly as I probed deeper and deeper. A slight gasp came from her mouth as I reached her cervix and just held there. I ran both my hands gently down her back from shoulder to base, allowing the soft tips of my fingers to softly trace their way down her spine. She shivered slightly at the touch. The throbbing from my cock reminded me that it was in need of action. The tightness of her wet pussy was causing it to throb uncontrollably, each pulse sending nerve tingling sensations through my lower abdomen. I began to thrust again eliciting a loud moan from Isobel. Her head dropped down slightly her whole body rocking to and fro rhythmically from the repeated pumping from my cock. I, again, reached my hand to the back of her neck and grabbed a good fistful of her long brown hair and pulled it back sharply. Her head snapped back and she groaned. "Oh fuck!" she exclaimed. "Oh fuuuck!". I increased the tempo and power of my thrusts and each time she uttered a deep, gutteral moan. I could feel myself readying for climax. That familiar sensation rising up from within my crotch, the warm tingle slowly spreading across my body. I slowed down to a stop. I didn't want this to be over so soon. Just looking at her body before me, her rounded arse cheeks below and her brown hair splayed across her smooth back was enough to make me come on the spot. I took some deep breaths. I could see Isobel breathing heavily as well, her chest and back rising and falling rapidly. I used the pause as an opportunity to reach down and cup a hand under each breast. I gently rolled her nipples between my finger and thumb, all the time with my rod impaled deep within her, holding her in position. After a few seconds I withdrew my hands, placed them on her hips and began again.. slowly, gently and then a sudden sharp thrust right to the hilt of my cock. She squealed loudly, not in pain but more surprise than anything. "God!" she breathed, turning her head to look back at me. "You can't do that to a girl!" "Oh can't I?" I replied and did it again. Once more she cried out. "FUUUCK!" she exclaimed. "Do you like it rough then?" I asked leaning forward so I could whisper it firmly in her ear, again grabbing her tit but this time more roughly. She nodded vigorously.. I asked her again more forcefully this time. Eventually she whispered back hoarsely "Yes." Needing no more prompting I pushed her head down into her pillow and then reached down and grabbed her wrists, pulling them behind her back holding them firmly in my hands. I then proceeded to pump harder and faster than I had before, my cock ramming home harder and harder. A red mist had descended in my mind and I abandoned all premise of tenderness with each hard thrust the slap, slap, slap sound of my rampant cock burying itself into her tight snatch could be heard. Isobel was also lost. Each deep forceful penetration caused her to cry loudly into the pillow into which her face was pushed. It was too much for me.. after a few seemingly short minutes I couldn't hold back any longer. The sensation was too strong to overcome and I just had time to pull my dick out of her sopping wet pussy before I unleashed a torrent of my cum all over her back. I was somewhat taken aback by the amount! Jet after jet plastered her backside and back. I called out loudly "Ohh FUCK!" as the sensation was just so overwhelming. My mind swam in a heady cocktail of hormones sending shudders all over my body with each ejaculation. A few moments later the feelings started to subside and I looked down at Isobel who was still trapped beneath me. I let go of her wrists and slowly let go of my shrinking member. She lifted herself up on all fours again and felt the back of her head. I looked and noticed that I had inadvertently hit her with the first one or two jets of my cum squarely on the back of her head. The sticky, shiny liquid glinted in the low light of the room as it matted her hair together. Guilty Tales - Isobel Ch. 01 "Nice shot!" she remarked examining the seminal fluid on her fingers as she sat on the bed. I laughed "Thanks," I looked at her meaningfully. "You okay?" She grinned at me and nodded shyly. "That was pretty awesome!" she sighed. "Really?!" I asked. Typical male reaction, always keen to bolster my ego! "God yes!" Her big beautiful brown eyes flashed momentarily as she looked back at me. "I've never had a boy treat me like that before and I quite enjoyed it.. Boy!? I laughed inwardly. I had to remind myself that she was just 20 years old. "I haven't finished with you yet." I smiled at her. She bit her lower lip and looked back at me. "Oh..?!" she smiled coyly. Before she could say anything else I moved forward and kissed her deeply on the lips. She curled her arms around my neck as I pushed her back down onto her bed again. We petted heavily for a while before I began my descent. I moved down slowly to her awaiting breasts. Eagerly I began sucking on one of her nipples. It wasn't long before I felt it harden again and I began nibbling very gently. I could feel the increase in her breathing, her chest rose and fell slightly quicker as I continued my feasting on her breasts. I moved further down kissing her quivering belly. He breathing had become a little more ragged and her hands began to run through my hair as I reached the ultimate sanctity of a womans' femininity. I parted her thighs slightly and began lapping at her swollen pussy lips. She groaned again as soon as I'd made contact. A different kind of sound than before, this time it was more deeper, feral almost. He juices flowed and tasted so sweet. Her scent was deep and musk. The aroma of her filled my nostrils as I hungrily ate her pussy with all my vigour. Her fingers dug into my head, her nails clawing at my skin as I moved my attention to her engorged clitoris. She jerked and cried out as soon as I took it in my mouth and flicked my tongue frantically about its fleshy mound. She was close. The gyrating of her hips and the tearing at my hair counterpointed with the heavy breathing and the occasional cries soon culminated in her entire body convulsing into spasms of orgasm. Loudly she cried out, gripping my head like a vice, her thighs involuntarily clamping round my ears. "Ohhh Gooooodddd!". Wave upon wave of her climax broke about her body, crashing down like a storm of emotion battering her senses before subsiding into a gentle swell of satisfaction and contentment. I looked back up the length of her naked body. Her breasts were heaving rapidly and I could see her head, eyes closed and hair smeared across her sweaty forehead resting back on her pillow. Too exhausted to smile she merely lay there panting. Each breath clearly audible. I sat up and just watch the spectacle before me. She slowly ran her hands up her body, caressing her stomach and breasts before stretching them out wide. She smiled. "Wow" she whispered. She was a vision before me. Completely naked before me was a beautiful, young 20 year old girl who I'd had the most amazing sex with. She lay there coyly looking back up at me with her deep sultry eyes biting her lip. "Was that okay for you?" She asked shyly. I laughed inwardly. Was she kidding?! "Of course!" I replied reassuringly. I lay down beside her and held her in my arms. We were both still warm from the glow of our sweat and the heat from our bodies radiated between us. "That was the most amazing sex I've had," I went on. "I don't believe you!" She said. "You've probably shagged loads of girls!" I propped myself up on one elbow and looked at her again. "Don't you believe it! Yes I've slept with a few women but I don't 'sleep about'. Besides," I added "I'm married remember?". The conversation continued on in that vein for a while. Each of us trying to reassure the other that the sex we'd had was one of the best we'd experienced. Eventually the pauses between our sentences lengthened, the room was totally dark by this time and we finally drifted off to sleep in each others arms wrapped in the blankets of Isobel's' bed, oblivious to the world outside. The next day was Friday and I had to be gone by lunchtime to achieve the set deadline I'd told my wife I'd be home. The morning was spent lying naked in each others arms and exploring a more sensual side to lovemaking. The wild abandon of the previous night had been spent. The morning was for tenderness and gentleness as we took more time to explore each others bodies. In time we rose, showered and ate. I made ready to leave. I was back in my suit and tie, overnight bag at my feet as I stood in the hallway with my back to the front door. We kissed our good-byes, long and tender. We held each other in our arms not wanting to let go, daring the other to be the first to break the bond. Eventually I had to separate us and reluctantly I moved for the door. She caught me as I turned and we kissed once more this time short and urgent but as if to say we'd do this again. I said my farewells and left her waving from the door step. It was another gloriously sunny day, however it could have been pouring with rain and it wouldn't have changed my outlook on the day. I sighed deeply as I pulled away toward the main road. I could see Isobel in my rear view mirror standing at the end of the small front garden to her home. She again looked gorgeous, her dark hair shining in the reflective glow of the midday sun bathing her in the warmth of a late summers' day. She waved as I turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. The car was stuffy as I drove away. I flicked the air con to max and waited for the cold air to breeze across my face. Within a few moments I felt the fresh rush of air blowing from the vents cooling my warmed face and bringing much needed parity to the temperature levels. My thoughts lingered on the events of the morning and more specifically the previous night. A deep warm smile crossed my face. I could hardly believe what had happened in the last 24 hours as my mind focused on the girl I had just left behind. As soon as her warm, deep chocolate eyes flashed into my mind I heard the tell tale bleep bleep of my Mobile phone sound off informing me I had a text message. I picked up my phone from the cup holder in the centre console and opened up the message and smiled again at its contents. "Hey! Can't wait to see you again and I'll still be waiting! xx"